Chapter 185: Tony’s Pride, the ‘Level 5’ Magic Card

"Professor Lockhart, thank you for your recognition of SHIELD. I will leave first."

After the conversation, Coulson clutched the space extension bag tightly and walked outside briskly. He had asked all the necessary questions and gained more than he had imagined, leaving him thoroughly satisfied.

Lockhart watched Coulson's departing figure, lost in thought. He was impressed with SHIELD's quick progress, which was a testament to Tony Stark's genius.

Meanwhile, Iron Man Tony Stark was in his New York lab.

"Arche," Tony sneezed, rubbing his nose. He wondered who might be talking about him. Shaking off the thought, he focused on the rotating pancake-shaped machine—or more appropriately, weapon—before him. The corners of his mouth lifted in a proud smile.

This was his special creation, based on the unknown radiation found on the wizard's Gold Galleons. After communicating with Lockhart and learning about magic, he had discovered this unknown radiation on the wizard's gold and aptly named it "Magic Radiation."

In retaliation for the last surprise, he planned to give Lockhart a taste of his ingenuity.

At that moment, Coulson had just exited Study Room 101 and re-entered the spacious book cafe hall. This time, he was alone and could observe freely. With keen observation, he noted that the wizards in yellow robes looked at him as if watching a show.

However, their gazes didn't bother him. He was focused on memorizing the layout of the Vientiane Bookstore and the faces of the sorcerers present, planning to report everything to SHIELD's information department later.

Click!

With the sound of the door closing, Coulson walked out of the Vientiane Book Cafe and headed toward his antique car, Lola, reviewing the facial information and layout he had just observed.

However, with each step, his memories grew blurry. The more he tried to remember, the blurrier it became. By the time he reached his car, he vaguely recalled being there for a book cafe.

Walking up to his red antique car, he turned to look back at the street, his eyes blank. He couldn't find any book cafe. Why was he here?

Puzzled, Coulson picked up a black card from his pocket and examined it closely. As he wondered what it was, a cold sensation spread from his palms to his body and brain.

The next moment, he saw the Vientiane Book Cafe on the street. The silver-white walls, dark blue lines, and dark plaque with light golden text all came back to him.

His memory returned, and he remembered coming to see Professor Lockhart. However, when he tried to recall the most crucial information—the layout and faces of the sorcerers—it remained blurry. He could only vaguely remember yellow robes.

The cold sensation in his mind stopped, and a series of messages emerged:

"The Vientiane Bookstore has been cast with magic to determine mental power."

"Insufficient mental strength judgment. The target is not a sorcerer, and the memory is being erased."

"It was found that the holder has a level five magic card. Due to limited mental power, some effects of the magic card are exempted."

"Holders are welcome to obtain more advanced magic cards or improve their mental power and enter the Vientiane Book Cafe again."

Coulson smiled bitterly. Professor Lockhart never gave anything without expecting something in return. The professor's generosity in allowing him access to the Vientiane Book Cafe came with strings attached. His efforts to remember were in vain.

But what was this "magic card"? He would have to ask next time. The "level five" magic card reminded him of SHIELD's authority levels, which stimulated agents to upgrade their levels for higher intelligence access.

Just then, a voice came through his earphone.

"Sir, status... Are you there, sir? If you hear me, please answer."

Coulson touched his earphone. "Received. Is there any valuable information? Is the positioning system still valid?"

A regretful voice responded, "Sir, since you approached the target area, both machine and manual observation have failed. You disappeared from our sights, and the positioning system also failed."

Hearing this, Coulson simply acknowledged and drove toward headquarters. It was almost impossible to get something from Lockhart without paying a price.

Driving, Coulson glanced at the space extension bag on the passenger side and thought of the shampoo inside. Looking at his sparse hair in the rearview mirror, he felt a glimmer of hope.

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