Tesla

Now that they had more or less discussed the situation, it was time to set out after this meal.

Though it was not the same world, Su Ming quite liked this quaint courtyard house and the bustle drifting over from the alley outside the gate.

But sightseeing could wait. Their first priority was to see what S.H.I.E.L.D. was planning. It would be even better if it had nothing to do with that Celestial Fetus.

Most of the roast duck was eaten by Su Ming and Strangle. Zheng Xian did not eat much, but he drank nearly all the baijiu they had ordered.

"Director Zheng, are you really all right after drinking three jin of Moutai?" Su Ming asked as he watched Zheng Xian take out some banknotes and place them on the table, patting down his trousers as he rose.

It was not that he was worried about Zheng Xian getting a perforated stomach. He was worried whether the man would still have any fighting capability if it came down to a fight.

Zheng Xian still wore that same smile, as though a smiling mask had been glued to his face and would not budge.

"I am a warrior tempered by alcohol. Three jin of baijiu merely wet my throat. But for this matter, I can only accompany you personally. I cannot bring anyone with me."

Su Ming nodded. They still did not know what was happening over there. Bringing people along would only escalate the situation.

Matters involving underground organizations generally had to be settled in the shadows. Even if war broke out, they could not make the earth-shaking spectacle the Avengers did.

Assassinations, conspiracies, ambushes, politics—those were the methods they excelled at.

Su Ming had known from the beginning that even if Zheng Xian intended to join them,