Card Disciples Gather

Outside the gala venue, the area within a hundred-meter radius had been forcefully brought under the control of various factions in just a few minutes.

Helicopters and armored vehicles formed three rings around the area. Countless armed personnel, as if conducting a rescue operation, even used night-vision equipment as they stood guard with weapons in hand, sealing off the scene.

Symbol of Peace.

Upon hearing those four words, Stanny seemed crushed by the title, as though all strength had been drained from him at once. His eyes were hollow and dull, his limbs trembled uncontrollably, and his aged face was bloodless.

Perhaps young people of the new era only knew a little about that person from history books and statues on street corners, regarding him as a national spiritual symbol, a heroic idol, or a legendary figure.

But only those of the older generation who had personally lived through World War II could truly understand what the Symbol of Peace represented.

He had been the light of a dark age, the strongest combat force on Earth. Calling him a god would not have been an exaggeration.

"Mr. Karr… it was actually him." Stanny muttered bitterly, then strangely began to laugh. He laughed at his own impatience and stupidity, at how foolishly he had provoked the one person he should never have provoked.

None of the representatives from the various factions noticed Stanny’s loss of composure. At that moment, all their attention was focused on the gala entrance.

Just as they were preparing to send in special soldiers and agents first, a faint hum suddenly sounded overhead in the night sky. It came from an engine and rushing airflow, sharper and more forceful than the whir of helicopter rotors.

When everyone looked up in uncertainty, a black steel fighter jet disengaged from its stealth camouflage and abruptly appeared less than fifty meters above the ground. It forced more than a dozen military helicopters to move aside before landing swiftly and smoothly on the lawn before the gala entrance.

The cabin ramp lowered. A one-eyed, bald, dark-skinned middle-aged man in a black trench coat strode out with an imposing air, followed closely by Coulson, whose suit was stretched taut over his broad frame.

"S.H.I.E.L.D.’s former director, Nick Fury."

The representatives’ expressions changed at once upon seeing him, and they hurriedly saluted him with due respect.

Those within the organization all knew that Nick Fury had been Major General Kyle’s right-hand man during his military service, personally groomed by Kyle throughout World War II.

Now that S.H.I.E.L.D.’s authority and scale had grown ever greater, Nick Fury, as its former director, showed faint signs of inheriting the title of God of Slaughter. He secretly roamed and fought across the world, giving Hydra remnants and terrorists endless headaches.

"What are you doing here?" Fury stepped forward, his presence stern without anger as his gaze swept over the large number of armed personnel at the gala entrance.

"Mr. Fury, we heard there are armed terrorists inside. We planned to send armed soldiers in first," the military representative, Rhodes, explained.

"Terrorists?" Fury grinned instead and asked in a low voice, "If that person is inside, why would you need your soldiers to act? If a few guns could threaten him, then how did he earn the title Symbol of Peace!?"

The representatives from every faction fell silent. Indeed, even elementary school students knew that the Symbol of Peace was the Symbol of National Power, a single man who represented the top combat strength of World War II!

"Keep the rest of your men outside. You few can just come in with me." Fury shrugged. Without waiting for their response, he strode into the gala venue with decisive efficiency.

Inside the gala at that moment, the vast and luxurious ballroom had fallen into dead silence after the music ended.

Having completed the final beat of the dance, Kyle held Yutong’s slender, soft waist in one arm. He calmly and indifferently raised his eyes, looking at the enemies around him as they continued firing until their magazines were emptied.

All six terrorists wore masks, so no one could see their expressions. Yet the hands holding their pistols trembled slightly, cold sweat soaking their hoods and clothes. With the cold air from the air conditioning blowing over them, both their bodies and hearts felt chilled to the bone.

With their limited understanding, they clearly could not comprehend the scene before them—no matter how many shots they fired, every bullet was unable to break through, unable even to approach their target.

Pistols that could easily endanger ordinary lives were as laughably useless as children’s toys before Kyle and Yutong.

An ant could carry something fifty times its own weight, but its strength could never shake a human. The same principle applied here!

"Run! Split up and run!"

The terrorist leader’s teeth chattered as he forced out the command. But the moment he turned around, he saw a red-haired woman wearing a black-and-gold mask with a demon’s grin and a one-piece dark leather suit.

"Where do you think you’re running?" The woman in black had somehow appeared behind him, less than a meter away, her icy gaze meeting his.

Not only the leader, but the other five terrorists also discovered in shock that one or two masked figures in black stood behind each of them. Some wore Vibranium Bracers, others carried Sodium-Carbon Steel blades on their backs, and all were equipped with Energy Pistols. Like ghosts, they had silently approached and taken position behind them.

"Leave one alive." Yutong’s voice sounded like a death sentence being pronounced. Her face was frosty, and the silver light in her beautiful eyes dimmed.

The dozens of suspended bullets clattered to the floor. At the same time, a series of crisp cracks of breaking bones rang out.

The five terrorists had no chance to resist. Their necks were twisted simultaneously, and they collapsed lifelessly onto the cold ballroom floor.

The leader was simply knocked unconscious. Though he was built tall and strong as a bear, the woman in black lifted him with her slender hands and threw him backward five meters, smashing him into a table.

After finishing everything, the people in black collectively dropped to one knee in excitement and saluted Kyle in unison. "Greetings, Patriarch!"

"You’re not too late." Kyle smiled faintly and released his arm from around Yutong’s waist.

A strange glimmer surfaced in Yutong’s beautiful eyes, carrying a trace of reluctance, but it quickly vanished without a trace. Her gaze returned to its gem-like clarity.

Kyle removed his sunglasses. His golden eyes glimmered faintly as his gaze settled on the woman in black. Her blood-red shoulder-length hair had directly revealed her true identity.

Santana. Tonight, she had not come as a S.H.I.E.L.D. employee, but as a Card Disciple. It showed her loyalty to the Karl family, and that after all these years, she had never forgotten her roots.

Who are these people? Patriarch? Who exactly is he?

Ellie remained hidden behind a table in the corner, holding her breath as she watched the people in black efficiently eliminate the terrorists in the ballroom, as well as Kyle, who stood with his back to her.

In just five minutes, the Black Queen had appeared, terrorists had attacked, and the mysterious people in black had counterattacked… everything seemed to have begun because of the silver-haired young man who had spoken with her earlier.

There had been far too many sudden changes and twists tonight. Any one of them alone could have become an ordinary day’s news headline!

There will be another chapter later tonight.

Also, when I said top three in monthly votes, I meant in the ACG category, QAQ. We’re only a few dozen votes away—won’t you let me sit up there for a while? 233