Chapter 63: Stark Is Holding Back

Cohen communicated with the system and understood the meaning of his new title, God of Hammers: it granted him the favor and recognition of all hammer-like weapons.

Mystery solved. This tricky system clearly has a grudge against Thor! But seriously, what use is this title while Odin is still alive?

The four-star gift pack is as disappointing as the three-star one.

Determined, Cohen decided: starting today, he would study a thousand ways to kill Nick Fury. The first diamond-level gift pack must be five stars!

Having made this decision, he leaped off the mountain peak, flying gracefully into the distance.

The wind brushed his cheeks, the sun warmed his back, and the sensation of flying was incredible! From his lofty height, the world below seemed insignificant. An overwhelming sense of superiority filled him—because he soared in the sky, while others trudged through mud.

---

In a run-down apartment in Russia, Cohen, dressed in a formal suit, was preparing to meet his future top two scientists.

"Knock, knock!"

Dust fell from the peeling wooden door as Cohen knocked. No one answered for a while.

He knocked again, patient.

Finally, a disheveled, drunken man with stubble opened the door, staring at him with vulture-like eyes. "Who are you looking for?"

Cohen smiled, "Hello, my name is Cohen Wang—"

"I don't buy insurance. Get lost!" The man slammed the door in Cohen's face.

Cohen's smile faltered. He looked down at his suit—seriously? Have you ever seen such a handsome salesperson? Can't you sense my billionaire aura?

He adjusted his breathing and knocked again.

The door opened, and the man, seeing it was Cohen again, growled angrily, "Go knock on the other door! Don't make me say it a third time!"

As he started to close the door again, Cohen grabbed it. "Ivan Vanko, if you close that door again, I'll shove your head up your rear!"

The man's anger flashed, but then he noticed something strange—Cohen's hand had sunk deep into the solid wood door! That shouldn't be possible!

Cohen, seeing Ivan stunned, slowly withdrew his hand. "Young man, no need to be so hasty. Who told you I was selling insurance? For all you know, I could be selling… houses."

With a smirk, Cohen pushed his way into the apartment.

The small living room was cluttered with junk, and on a cot in the corner lay an elderly man with white hair.

Ivan snapped, "You're trespassing. Get out, or I'll call the police!"

"Shut up!" Cohen's sudden menace silenced Ivan.

The old man on the bed stirred, waking from the noise. Cohen sat beside him.

"Anton Vanko, are you dead? If not, say something."

Unlike his son, Anton was calm and composed.

"Who are you? What do you want?"

"Cohen Wang. I've come from far away to offer you an opportunity."

"What kind of opportunity?"

"The chance to take revenge on Howard Stark."

Anton Vanko's eyebrows shot up, and he laughed, then began coughing, "He's already… cough cough... dead."

Cohen chuckled. "There's an old saying: The debt of the father is repaid by the son."

Anton stopped laughing and studied Cohen closely. "Who are you?"

Cohen extended his finger, a flash of red light glowing on its tip, surrounded by tiny arcs of electricity.

"I am Cohen Wang."

Anton's eyes widened in shock, and he took a deep breath, his expression turning sorrowful. "I don't have much time left. If you're willing, take my son. He's a genius beyond me. He shouldn't live in such poverty and hopelessness. Please, take care of him!"

Cohen glanced at the now-pale Ivan and smiled. "Don't worry about your illness. As long as Death hasn't claimed you, I can save you. I want you both."

---

In a cave, Tony Stark was exhausted and covered in grime.

The terrorists had been acting strange lately—frantic and desperate, like crazed rabbits, pushing him to complete the device faster.

After days of torture, he had finally completed the Iron Armor.

In a blind spot from the cameras, Yinsen helped him as they began to fit the armor onto Stark's body.

Footsteps echoed from outside.

"Yinsen, Stark! Where are you? Don't hide from the cameras!"

The two didn't respond.

Annoyed, the guard pushed the door only to find it bolted shut. Angrily the guards managed to knock the door down, only to be blown back by an acetylene tank explosion.

Stark, fully armored, watched as Yinsen operated the computer, starting the power-up process.

The progress bar crawled slowly.

Outside, the footsteps and shouting grew closer, but the bar remained sluggish.

Yinsen pushed his glasses up. "There's not enough time. We need more time!"

He gave Stark a knowing look. "I'll buy you some."

Stark, shocked, yelled, "Stick to the plan! Don't do anything stupid…"

But Yinsen was already charging out with a rifle.

"Yinsen! Yinsen!"

Stark's anxiety grew—Yinsen had been his savior, his companion in captivity. He couldn't bear to lose him!

The progress bar on the computer edged forward—almost there, almost…

A few terrorists burst into the room, unaware of the iron-clad figure in the shadows.

The power surged through Stark's body. Enraged, he rushed out, sending the terrorists flying.

A sense of dread filled him. If they were inside, it meant Yinsen…

Fury boiled within him.

The despair of being attacked, the terror of awakening in captivity, the humiliation of being coerced, and the pain of losing a friend all exploded inside him.

Kill!

He wanted to kill them all!

But just as he charged out, a familiar voice rang in his ears.

"Hey, Stark, long time no see!"

Stark froze in disbelief. The figure from his recent dreams appeared before him.

The figure grinned, "You're saved, Stark! Don't worry, I already took care of the terrorists. You're free!"

Looking at the smiling face, Stark felt as though all his anger was stuck in his chest. It was like when you came home after a long trip, took a shower, had your medicine, got hyped, and right before you hit the peak with your girlfriend—your girlfriend's relative unexpectedly shows up.

Too early or too late would've been fine. But right at the climax? It felt like his chest was about to explode, with no way to release it.

Half an hour later.

Yinsen, stunned, murmured, "I can't believe Stark… he's a… sadist… that's so twisted!"

Cohen shrugged, "Not too twisted, really. All he did was neatly slice them up before cremating their bodies."

"I get it, though. His stress levels must be through the roof lately."

Cohen smiled, recalling that time when Nine Spiders handed him a hallucinogen. Did she mention any side effects? Eh, he couldn't remember.

Once Stark returned home, he'd definitely need a good therapist.

(End of Chapter)