Barbara paused for a moment in thought, a glint of light flashing in her eyes behind her glasses.
"Director, from my professional perspective, this goes beyond the realm of science."
"This ability doesn't change matter; it commands matter. In some ancient civilizations, this ability is called divinity."
"Divinity?"
Peggy's brow furrowed even deeper. How was this getting more and more absurd?
"Yes."
Barbara nodded, her expression becoming even more serious.
"I once came across a similar description while researching ancient texts about Sumerian civilization. A power capable of disintegrating and reshaping all things was worshipped by an ancient cult."
She paused, as if uneasy about the information she had "unintentionally" revealed.
"Of course, that's just a myth; I never thought it could actually exist."
These words opened a brand new door for S.H.I.E.L.D.., but it led to a dead end.
Peggy's eyes changed.
Mysticism, cults, ancient mythology...
This direction is somewhat absurd, but it's more acceptable to her than the conclusion that "the laws of physics have failed."
"Continue the investigation."
Peggy decisively gave the order.
"I need all the information about this cult."
"Yes, Chief."
After Barbara left the office, Peggy Carter rubbed her aching temples.
Just then, an emergency communication line was established.
It's Alexander Pierce.
"Chief!"
Pierce's voice was filled with an unprecedented urgency and sorrow.
Something's happened.
" Howard and his wife Stark... were involved in a car accident on Long Island."
"Them..."
They're all dead.
Peggy stood up, her face drained of color.
His hand instinctively braced itself on the table, his knuckles turning white from the excessive force.
Images of Howard, full of vigor and winking at her, flashed before her eyes, finally settling on the rare, tender smile on his face as he held his newborn son.
The legend of a mysterious swordsman swept across this chaotic land like the wind from west to east.
Some say that he once severed the limbs of an entire gang member in a second with a scabbard that was not yet drawn, without killing a single person, simply because they were blocking his view of the sunset.
Someone even posted a blurry video online.
I swear I saw it with my own eyes: on the plains of Kansas, this man walked leisurely through Stormfront powerful enough to tear a truck apart, and the terrifying Wind Wall parted automatically three feet in front of him like a docile pet, making way for him in peace.
These legends, whether true or false, have, through the spread of the internet, coalesced into an increasingly resounding name.
" The Unforgiven ", Yasuo.
In an era filled with panic and unease, such a powerful, aloof, free, and unbound-by-rules lone wolf becomes an enviable legend.
He became the only certainty in the chaotic order, a "Tao" that walks on the earth yet cannot be defined by anyone.
At this moment, in Palisades Park, New Jersey.
Yasuo stood on the edge of a cliff, across the wide Hudson River, gazing at the sickly steel jungle on the opposite bank— Manhattan.
The cold winter wind blew through his tattered clothes, and the gourd at his waist swayed gently, making a soft sound.
In his eyes, the urban jungle made of steel, glass and lights presented two completely different appearances.
One picture is the prosperity as seen by ordinary people.
The other one was visible only to him.
He saw countless invisible black lines, formed from sorrow, hatred, and despair, clinging to each skyscraper like a malignant tumor.
These negative emotional energies are being continuously drawn from every corner of the city and converge on the same center.
Empire State Building.
The tower that once symbolized human ambition and hope was like a heart to him.
Countless black lines, like blood vessels, connect its body.
Each pulse of life spreads a silent lament throughout the city.
The entire island of Manhattan resonated with this painful resonance, groans inaudible to mortals.
Yasuo's gaze fell upon the spire of the Empire State Building.
The focal point of that "deconstruction" will lies there.
The soul that calls himself an "artist" stands atop the tower, greedily absorbing the city's suffering, preparing for his final chapter.
"A tower built on the desires of all beings will ultimately crumble due to the suffering of all beings..."
Yasuo untied the gourd from his waist, tilted his head back, and took a sip.
The spicy liquor slid down his throat, but it couldn't wash away the weariness in his eyes.
"What a... boring cycle of fate."
A true swordsman cannot tolerate such a poor performance in his field of vision.
That so-called " Deconstructionist " treats pain as paint and destruction as aesthetics.
True power lies in control, not indulgence.
True art is the calmest stroke of the sword made in the eye of the Stormfront.
Instead of acting like a madman and dragging the whole world into his own madness.
Yasuo covered the gourd and hung it back on his waist.
The wind began to gather at his feet.
The Empire State Building is no longer a monument to human civilization.
It became a tombstone that pierced the sky.
The New York Police Department deployed police cars to create the most comprehensive security cordon that any human could erect around it.
But this defensive line is more like a ritualistic mourning.
It cannot prevent despair.
Even that couldn't stop death.
Countless Flash formed a sea of light outside the police cordon.
Media helicopters hovered in the air like Vulture, greedily capturing every detail of the city's wounds.
"We have to do something! We can't let this continue!"
In the crowd, a street hero whose body was covered with a layer of hard chromium metal, codenamed " Chrome Alloy Comet," let out a grief-stricken roar.
He ignored his companions' advice.
Amidst gasps of surprise, it burst through the police cordon like a silver cannonball and plunged headlong into the wide-open main entrance of the Empire State Building.
The crowd held their breath, countless eyes fixed on the skyscraper.
One minute.
Two minutes.
Hope is stretched out and diluted with each passing second.
Suddenly, a black dot was thrown out from the top of the building.
The black dot traced a parabola in the air, plummeting rapidly with a whooshing sound.
"Bang--!"
A deep, guttural thud.
The object crashed heavily onto the plaza in front of the building, creating a deep crater in the hard ground.
That's a " Chrome Alloy Comet ".