Courtyard House: Initial Donation of 50 Million

July 14, 1941, 7 p.m., Warehouse District, Long Island, New York.

The sky was overcast, with leaden clouds hanging low and the air thick with moisture, brewing a summer thunderstorm. Inside an inconspicuous little warehouse in a remote industrial area of ​​Long Island, the light was dim, with only a few rays of sunlight filtering through a dusty vent high up.

The warehouse was filled with discarded machine parts and wooden crates, and the air was thick with the smells of machine oil, dust, and rust. At the innermost part of the warehouse, a secluded corner was partitioned off with thick canvas and old wooden planks.

Wang Huanbo was here, conducting the final checks.

He took off his usual suit and put on a set of sturdy, dark gray work clothes and soft-soled black canvas shoes. This outfit was commonplace and unremarkable in Brooklyn's working-class neighborhood. He placed a plain canvas tool bag at his feet, containing the modified "liquid nitrogen injector," a few simple repair tools (for camouflage), and a pair of thick industrial gloves.

His gaze fell on the bulge in the corner covered with tarpaulin.

Lifting the tarpaulin, the dark, alien-tech-inspired Predator armor was revealed. In the dim light, its surface absorbed the faint glow, appearing even more menacing and silent. Wang Huanbo reached out, his fingertips brushing against the cold, smooth shoulder armor; the intricate patterns provided a strange tactile sensation. With a thought, the plasma shoulder cannons on his chest emitted an almost inaudible charging sound, a flash of eerie blue light disappearing within the muzzle; the wrist blades on his arms silently sprang out, three gleaming blades carrying a murderous elegance, before quietly retracting.

"Optical camouflage, initiate testing," he commanded in a low voice.

A ripple seemed to sweep across the armor's surface in an instant. Then, his figure, along with the armor, began to fade and distort rapidly, finally disappearing completely into the air. From the outside, only the empty ground and walls remained in that corner. Wang Huanbo raised his arm; to the naked eye, the area where his arm was was a blurry, distorted mass blending into the background, like a visual illusion caused by viewing objects through hot air. He moved slowly, almost silently, with only the faint hum of servo motors almost drowned out by the wind outside the warehouse.

"Camouflage system stable. Thermal signal suppression normal. Pangu, connect to armor sensing system and synchronize environmental data," Wang Huanbo silently recited in his mind.

"Connection established. Environmental scan initiated. External temperature: 24 degrees Celsius, humidity 87%, wind direction southeast, wind speed level 3. No stable life thermal signals within 200 meters of the warehouse, only three rodents are active." Pangu's cold voice echoed directly in the internal communication unit connected to his armor.

Excellent. Wang Huanbo removed the camouflage, and the armor reappeared. He carefully inspected all the joints, the energy core (a miniature nuclear fusion battery, sufficient to support 48 hours of high-intensity operations), the communication and target acquisition systems, confirming that everything was in optimal condition. For tonight's operation, this hunting gear from the future would be his most reliable guarantee and his greatest asset in concealing his identity.

He covered the armor back with the tarpaulin, but set the activation permission to "ready". If needed, he could remotely summon and automatically put on the armor within thirty seconds using a miniature controller disguised as an ordinary copper bracelet on his wrist - a small convenience of combining Ironblood technology with the system space, but he would not use it before evacuation unless absolutely necessary, as that would leave uncontrollable energy fluctuations and traces.

Finally, he retrieved a small, leather-wrapped metal box from his system space and opened it. Inside lay a syringe, the syringe containing a pale blue, slightly glowing liquid—a basic healing potion, a medical supply from the system space, capable of accelerating wound healing and restoring strength in a short time. Beside it were a small roll of hemostatic bandage and two highly concentrated energy tablets. These were for any potential accidental injuries. He placed them in a hidden pocket inside his work clothes.

Everything is ready.

He glanced at the ordinary watch on his wrist; it read 6:30 PM. An hour and a half before the operation began. The drive to Brooklyn from here would take about forty minutes. He needed to arrive early to conduct a final on-site observation and environmental confirmation.

"Attorney Chen," he said to the empty warehouse. His voice wasn't loud, but it came through clearly through a miniature microphone he had placed beforehand, connected to a communicator in an inconspicuous black Ford sedan outside the warehouse.

"Mr. Wang, I'm here." Attorney Chen's voice came immediately from the car, tinged with nervousness.

"Vehicle condition, route, backup plan, final confirmation," Wang Huanbo said calmly.

"Yes. The vehicle is a black 1940 Ford V8, with the license plates replaced with counterfeit Pennsylvania plates. The engine is in good condition, the gas tank is full, and there's a New York Electric Company uniform and tool kit in the trunk as a second disguise. There are three planned routes: Route A goes back to Manhattan via the Brooklyn Bridge and blends into the traffic; Route B goes through the underground passage to Queens and transfers to the planned subway; Route C is an emergency route, going along the abandoned coastal highway to the designated shore point, where a speedboat with a full tank of gas is prepared. The weather warning indicates thunderstorms, which may affect visibility and roads, so rain gear has been prepared. Also, this is the latest internal layout of the 13th District Recruiting Office, which I just received half an hour ago." Attorney Chen spoke quickly but clearly, handing over a hand-drawn but detailed architectural floor plan, even marking the locations of the main ventilation ducts and electrical switches.

Wang Huanbo quickly glanced at the drawing, memorizing the key information, and then handed it back to Attorney Chen: "Burn it. As planned, drive to the vicinity of the B-line evacuation point and wait, but do not enter the predetermined radius of 500 meters. Do not approach without my signal. If you hear an explosion or intense gunfire, or if I am not at the evacuation point to meet you before 3:00 AM, immediately destroy all items in the car that are related to me, then return to your residence and forget everything that happened tonight. Someone will contact you later to arrange the follow-up."

Attorney Chen's face paled, but he nodded vigorously: "Understood, Mr. Wang. Please... please be careful."

Wang Huanbo patted him on the shoulder without saying anything more. He picked up his canvas tool bag, put on his low-brimmed baseball cap, and walked out of the warehouse. A fine drizzle had begun to fall outside, and the sky was getting darker. He got into the back seat of the Ford, and Attorney Chen started the car, driving into the increasingly rainy night.

7:20 p.m., Brooklyn, near the 13th District Recruiting Office.

The rain intensified, large raindrops pelting the car roofs and streets, creating a white mist. Streetlights cast dim, yellowish glows through the rain. The street where the recruitment center was located was usually quiet, but tonight was clearly different. Several military jeeps and black sedans were parked in front of the recruitment center, with soldiers in raincoats standing guard around. Inside the recruitment center building, the lights were on, and shadowy figures could be vaguely seen moving about.

The Ford pulled up in a quiet alley two blocks away. Wang Huanbo got out, carrying his tool bag, nodded to Attorney Chen, then pulled his hat down low and quickly disappeared into the rainy night. His steps were steady, his figure slightly hunched, like a worker rushing home from a night shift, completely unremarkable.

Instead of approaching the recruitment office directly, he circled around and approached the four-story apartment building opposite his target from the side. There was a fire escape at the back of the building leading directly to the roof. He surveyed his surroundings; the rainy night and dim light provided excellent cover. Like a nimble cat, he silently climbed the fire escape, his movements swift and precise, making no unnecessary noise.

The rooftop was flat, paved with asphalt, and somewhat wet. Several abandoned pigeon coops and rusted water tanks were piled in the corner. Wang Huanbo placed his tool bag behind a dry vent, then hid behind a huge, abandoned GG sign frame, which provided shelter from the wind and rain and an excellent view overlooking the main entrance, back entrance, and side parking lot of the conscription office.

He took out something wrapped in black tape that looked like an old-fashioned pair of binoculars—it was actually a futuristic military observation scope with low-light enhancement and thermal sensing capabilities, deliberately aged and disguised. Through the lens, the situation inside and outside the recruitment office became much clearer.

Four armed soldiers stood guard at the entrance, vigilantly scanning the street. Dark curtains were drawn in the windows, but shadowy figures could be seen moving about. Several cars were parked in the side parking lot, including a black Cadillac that Wang Huanbo recognized as the one Howard Stark often rode in. It seemed Howard had already arrived. The back door was tightly shut, leading to a narrow alleyway with several trash cans piled up, and the streetlights were dim.

Time ticked by. The rain came and went, sometimes heavy, sometimes light. Occasionally, a car would drive by, splashing water. Wang Huanbo remained motionless on the rooftop, like a stone, his breathing long and steady, his body temperature almost indistinguishable from the surroundings in the rain and under his camouflage. He silently counted the seconds, recalling every detail from the movie: Steve being injected with the serum, entering the life ray irradiation chamber, growing tall and strong, emerging from his cocoon, chasing the spy, Dr. Erskine being shot and falling to the ground, the spy stealing the box and jumping into the getaway car to escape, Captain America giving chase, the car exploding…

Movies are artistic creations, and reality will inevitably differ, but the core chain of events remains unchanged. What he wants to capture is that fleeting moment when the spy Severin grabs the box, rushes out the back door, jumps into the car, but before the car starts moving.

At 8:05 PM, the rain subsided slightly. Several more cars arrived and stopped in front of the recruitment office. A few people got out, one of whom was a tall, uniformed man with a serious expression—Colonel Chester Phillips. Beside him was a beautiful but resolute blonde woman in a sharp suit—Peggy Carter. Several civilian staff members in white coats or suits also joined them. They strode into the recruitment building.

The main characters have all arrived. Wang Huanbo held his breath.

About twenty minutes later, a commotion seemed to break out inside the building. Faint cries and the hum of some kind of machine starting up could be heard, even through the rain and walls. Then, a more intense, lightning-like blue-white light burst out from the gaps in the curtains, lasting for more than ten seconds before abruptly disappearing.

"It's starting," Wang Huanbo thought to himself. Serum injection, Vita Ray irradiation—Steve Rogers was undergoing the most painful, yet greatest, transformation of his life.

A few minutes later, even louder voices came from inside the building, as if many people were running and shouting. Wang Huanbo aimed his observation scope at the back door. He had to judge the timing precisely. Severin would only make his move when the demonstration ended, when everyone's attention was drawn to Steve's changes, or when there was a brief lull in the atmosphere due to the commotion.

Suddenly, the back door was flung open from the inside! A man in a U.S. Army lieutenant colonel's uniform, his hat askew and his expression panicked, rushed out, clutching a silver metal briefcase tightly! It was Heinrich Severin! Behind him, gunshots rang out, and shouts rang out: "Grab him!" "He's a spy!"

Here it comes! Wang Huanbo's muscles tensed instantly, like a cheetah poised to pounce. He didn't act immediately, but stared intently at what was below.

Severin rushed out the back door, not running deeper into the alley, but heading straight for the parking lot on the side! There, a black Chevrolet sedan that had been parked beforehand, with its lights off, started up almost at the same time he rushed out, made a sharp turn, and aimed its front at the alley exit; the passenger door had already been pushed open!

The time! Now is the time!

Wang Huanbo moved. Like a ghost blending into the night, he silently leaped from the edge of the rooftop. The four-story height was more than enough for his current physical condition and the initial enhancement of his physique by light energy. But he didn't land directly. Instead, during his descent, he reached behind his waist with his right hand, and an almost invisible, extremely tough nanocable (from a Predator armor accessory, but used independently at this moment) shot out, precisely wrapping around an external fire hydrant on the second floor. This cleverly neutralized and redirected the force of his fall, allowing him to swing in an arc like a pendulum, landing silently in the shadow of the recruitment office building's back wall, precisely between Severin and the pick-up car, but still more than ten meters away from both.

The entire process, against the backdrop of the dim rainy night and the chaotic scene, was so fast it seemed like a hallucination, without making a single noticeable sound. The guards at the parking lot were all focused on Severin rushing out the back door and the people chasing after him from inside the building; no one noticed the extra "thing" lurking in the shadows of this corner.

Severin was frantically speeding towards the Chevrolet, less than five meters from the door. Inside, the driver leaned out, anxiously urging him on. Inside the building, the pursuers had reached the door, led by a tall figure—Steve Rogers, who had just undergone a transformation and was still only wrapped in a military overcoat! His face still bore the marks of pain and confusion, but his eyes were already locked on Severin.

Just as Severin's hand was about to touch the car door frame, Wang Huanbo burst out of the shadows like lightning! He didn't activate his armor, relying solely on his physical speed and strength, but it was already far beyond that of an ordinary person! He lowered his body, like a night wind rushing along the ground, covering more than ten meters in three steps, and was already close to Severin's side the instant he subconsciously turned around because of Steve's roar!

Severin was, after all, a trained Hydra agent with extremely high alertness. Caught off guard by a shadowy figure approaching, he was horrified. His left hand still gripped the box tightly, while his right hand swiftly drew a Walther P38 pistol from his waist and, without even looking, pulled the trigger towards the shadowy figure beside him!

"Bang!" The gunshot was particularly jarring in the rainy night.

But Wang Huanbo was even faster! The instant Severin drew his gun, he seemed to anticipate the other's movement, sliding to the side with incredible flexibility and speed. At the same time, his right hand, like a venomous snake emerging from its hole, precisely grabbed Severin's wrist holding the gun, pressing down and twisting it!

"Crack!" A sickening sound of bone breaking. Severin screamed as his pistol flew from his hand. Wang Huanbo twisted Severin's gun-wielding arm behind his back, simultaneously wielding a knife in his left hand and striking Severin's neck with perfect force. Severin groaned, his body going limp, but his fingers, still gripping the briefcase, remained clenched tightly due to spasms and his last vestige of will.

All of this happened in the blink of an eye. From the moment Wang Huanbo appeared to the moment Severin was hit, it was only a little over a second. The driver inside the car only saw a black shadow flash by before his companion fell to the ground. In shock, he instinctively slammed on the gas pedal, and the Chevrolet roared forward, trying to smash through the black shadow (Wang Huanbo) and the fallen Severin!

Wang Huanbo's eyes turned cold. He hadn't intended to kill the driver, but the other man had courted death. He released Severin, sidestepped the oncoming car, and in the instant the car passed him, his right fist, gloved in thick work gloves and enveloped in a barely perceptible rigid force field condensed purely from Ultraman's telekinesis, slammed hard against the driver's side window!

"Crash!" The tempered glass window shattered with a loud crash, shards flying everywhere. The fist, still carrying its momentum, landed squarely on the driver's temple. The driver didn't even utter a sound as his head slammed against the other side window, instantly losing consciousness. The out-of-control car veered and crashed into a fire hydrant on the roadside with a deafening thud, sending a jet of water shooting skyward.

Just then, Steve and several soldiers who had chased after them from the back door arrived. All they saw was: Severin lying on the ground, his briefcase lying beside him; a car crashed into a fire hydrant, the driver's fate unknown; and a figure in gray overalls and a baseball cap, whose face was obscured, bending down to pick up the briefcase.

"Put down the box! Hands up!" A soldier pointed his gun at Wang Huanbo and shouted sternly. Steve also watched this mysterious man who had suddenly appeared and whose movements were strange, with suspicion.

Wang Huanbo's movements didn't falter at all. He picked up the box; it was slightly heavy, suggesting some kind of insulation or shockproof design. Without even glancing at the gun barrel behind him or Steve, he reached into his tool bag at his waist, pulled out the "liquid nitrogen spray canister," turned, and, facing the soldier with the gun and Steve, pulled the trigger!

"Hiss—!" A plume of extremely cold white mist shot out violently, rapidly spreading and condensing in the damp, rainy night air, forming a vast, white, and extremely cold barrier of ice mist that enveloped an area of ​​several meters in radius! A bone-chilling cold instantly permeated the air!

"Ah!" Both the soldier and Steve were enveloped by the sudden burst of low-temperature fog. Although they weren't directly hit, their exposed skin felt a piercing chill and temporary blurred vision as it came into contact with the icy fog and condensed ice crystals. Steve's physique had just been strengthened, giving him better resistance, but he still instinctively took a half-step back and raised his hand to shield his eyes.

In that brief moment, amidst the thick white fog and impaired visibility, Wang Huanbo moved! Instead of running deeper into the alley, he charged towards the wrecked car and the fire hydrant. Using the water jets and the white fog as cover, he vanished in a flash into the shadows on the other side of the car. He didn't immediately activate his optical camouflage, as the energy fluctuations might be detected at close range by the rudimentary detection equipment Steve or the SSR might be carrying. He relied on speed, a pre-planned route, and familiarity with the environment.

"Chase him!" Colonel Phillips' voice came from the back door. He led more soldiers out and saw Severin lying on the ground, the wrecked car, the billowing white mist, and the mysterious figure dissipating. "Catch that man! Seal off the block!"

The soldiers snapped out of their daze and rushed through the white fog, chasing after the direction where Wang Huanbo had disappeared. Steve followed without hesitation, his speed far exceeding that of ordinary soldiers.

Wang Huanbo darted through the piles of debris and the shadows of buildings in the alley. He tucked his suitcase tightly under his arm, his other hand already pressed against the "bronze bracelet" on his wrist. The footsteps and shouts of pursuers came from behind, growing closer, especially Steve, whose footsteps were steady and swift, rapidly closing the distance.

"I can't let him get me involved!" Wang Huanbo's mind raced. He abruptly turned a corner filled with wooden crates, a blind spot. Just as he rounded the corner, the controller on his wrist lit up slightly.

"Optical camouflage, activated. Ironblood armor, remote donning activated."

Silently, the briefcase under his arm disappeared—instantly stored in his system space. Immediately afterward, his rough work clothes seemed to be torn away and shed by an invisible force, while grotesque armor components from the Predator civilization appeared to emerge from the void, automatically covering his torso, limbs, and head at a dazzling speed! The entire process was completed in less than two seconds, almost without a sound, only a slight distortion of the air and a barely perceptible energy fluctuation.

When Steve rushed around the corner, all he saw was a dead-end alley filled with clutter, and a set of gray overalls, a baseball cap, and an empty canvas tool bag scattered on the ground. The mysterious man, along with the silver briefcase, had vanished without a trace, as if into thin air!

Steve stopped abruptly, scanning his surroundings with a mixture of surprise and disbelief. The rain was still falling, washing over the ground. Apart from the clothes on the ground, there were no footprints, no drag marks, no signs of climbing—nothing at all. It was as if the person had vanished into thin air.

"Captain! Where is he?" the soldier who caught up from behind asked breathlessly.

"It's gone," Steve said in a low voice, crouching down to examine the clothes on the ground. The work clothes were ordinary coarse cloth, without any markings. The tool bag contained wrenches, screwdrivers, and that strange, empty metal canister, which felt icy cold to the touch, with condensation on its surface. He picked up the canister and examined it closely. Its construction was rudimentary, but the design of the nozzle and the lingering pungent odor (the smell of evaporating liquid nitrogen) clearly indicated that it was not an ordinary object.

"What the hell is this thing?" a soldier muttered.

"I don't know. But it's definitely not a good thing." Steve stood up, his brow furrowed. He looked around at the walls and roof, then at the dark night sky. Could that person fly? Or did they possess some kind of ability they couldn't comprehend?

At that moment, Colonel Phillips and Peggy Carter arrived. Seeing the empty dead end and the clothes on the ground, Phillips' face was so dark it could drip water.

"Report, Colonel! Spy Severin is alive but unconscious, with a broken right wrist and severe frostbite marks, as if he was instantly frozen by something at extremely low temperatures! The driver is seriously injured and unconscious! The box... the box is missing!" A soldier ran over to report.

"Search! Turn this whole neighborhood upside down! Leave no stone unturned!" Phillips roared, then looked at Steve and Carter, "Did you see that guy? What does he look like? Any distinguishing features?"

Steve and Carter exchanged a glance and shook their heads. It was a rainy night, the light was dim, and the other person moved with ghostly speed, wearing a hat, making it impossible to see their face clearly. Steve only remembered that the person was of medium build, moved extremely swiftly and decisively, possessed great strength (capable of knocking out a driver and smashing a car window with a single punch), and used some kind of mysterious weapon that could spew out extremely cold white mist.

“He’s not one of Severin’s accomplices,” Carter analyzed calmly. “If they were, they would have gotten in the car together and escaped, not fought amongst themselves. This guy had a clear objective: the box. He knocked Severin unconscious, stole the box, and then used that… freezing fog to get rid of us, mysteriously disappearing from here. He came prepared, and his methods… are quite peculiar.”

"Strange? It's eerie!" Phillips tugged at his collar in frustration. "The serum and Erskine's lifeblood... stolen right under our noses! Howard! Where's Howard?!"

"Mr. Stark is still inside, checking the equipment. He said the ray generator seems to be showing signs of energy backflow, which could be one of the causes of... the accident," another soldier replied.

Phillips cursed, turned, and strode back to the recruiting office building. He needed to interrogate Severin immediately, mobilize more forces to seal off New York, and find the mysterious man and the serum no matter what!

Steve stood there, staring at the ordinary work clothes on the ground, then looking up in the direction Wang Huanbo had disappeared. Raindrops pattered on his face, cold. He had just gained the power he'd always dreamed of, and before he could even savor it, he'd suffered the blows of his mentor's murder and the theft of his serum. Who was that mysterious person? Another group of enemies? Or… something else entirely? He clenched his fists, the new power coursing through his veins, yet he felt an unprecedented sense of bewilderment and heaviness.

Meanwhile, the real "mysterious man," Wang Huanbo, already moving at high speed through the shadows of buildings like an invisible ghost, aided by optical camouflage and armored armor. He activated the armor's acoustic and thermal scanning capabilities, avoiding the soldiers and police searching the streets below, as well as several areas where sirens might be installed.

He did not choose any of the escape routes pre-planned by Attorney Chen. Those routes were reserved for the identity of "Wang Bo." Now, he was an invisible "Predator."

Like a giant, silent bat, he used the armor's suction function and powerful leaping ability to traverse between building walls, rooftops, and awnings. Rainwater hit the armor, slid off automatically, leaving no trace. A few minutes later, he was several blocks away from the recruitment office, landing on the flat roof of a warehouse.

He deactivated the optical camouflage and checked the armor's status; everything was normal. Energy consumption was within the expected range. He quickly removed the armor, stored it in his system space, and took out another set of similar gray overalls to change into. However, this set of overalls was dry and had no distinguishing features.

He walked to the edge of the roof and retrieved the silver briefcase from his system space. The briefcase had a combination lock, but that didn't stop him. He condensed his Ultraman telekinesis into an extremely fine probe, inserted it into the keyhole, sensed the internal structure, and gently turned it. With a soft "click," the lock opened.

Upon opening the box, one finds soft, shock-resistant foam padding inside, with two test tubes emitting a faint blue glow fixed in the center, alongside a thick, leather-bound notebook. The liquid within the test tubes, even in the dim light, seems to flow slowly, brimming with immense energy. It's the Super Soldier Serum! On the notebook cover is Dr. Erskine's neat, cursive German signature.

Wang Huanbo didn't waste time examining it closely. He took out a small, pre-prepared, airtight metal box with shock-absorbing and heat-insulating layers, carefully placed the two serum test tubes and the notebook inside, and sealed it. Then, he stored the metal box, along with the silver briefcase itself, into his system space. The time-stopping properties of the system space could perfectly preserve the serum's activity.

Having done all this, he breathed a sigh of relief. The most important goal was achieved.

Next comes the evacuation and cleanup.

He didn't return to the warehouse on Long Island, nor did he meet up with Attorney Chen. That place was likely already under surveillance or searched. Following the backup plan, he went to the hold of a long-abandoned, half-sunken small barge in the Brooklyn docklands. This was a temporary hideout he had previously rented under a false identity; it contained only some water, compressed biscuits, and a change of clothes.

He stayed there until 4 a.m. During that time, sirens and vehicle noises could be heard intermittently outside, indicating a large-scale search by the SSR and NYPD, but the focus seemed to be concentrated around the recruiting post and several main roads leading out of the city. This abandoned corner of the dock was, for the time being, safe.

At four in the morning, the rain had stopped, but the sky was still pitch black. Wang Huanbo changed into an inconspicuous sailor jacket and work pants, made some simple disguises on his face (using the disguise materials in the system space to darken his skin and attach a small mustache), and then quietly left the barge, like a dockworker getting off the night shift, and mingled into the earliest ferry to Manhattan in the early morning.

As he disembarked from the ferry with the crowd and stepped onto Manhattan soil, dawn was just breaking. The streets were already bustling with early risers and vehicles. He found a cheap coffee shop that had just opened, had a hot coffee and something to eat, and waited quietly.

At eight o'clock in the morning, he went into a public phone booth, inserted coins, and dialed the phone number for his room at the Plaza Hotel.

The phone rang a few times before being answered. It was Attorney Chen's anxious voice: "Feeding?"

"It's me. Same place, 2 PM. Bring a copy of today's *New York Times*," Wang Huanbo said calmly, then hung up the phone. This was a pre-arranged code to indicate that he was safe and needed to be met.

At two o'clock in the afternoon, on a quiet bench near Fifth Avenue in Central Park, Wang Huanbo had reverted to his current attire, dressed in a suit and tie, leisurely reading a newspaper, appearing as if he were simply a gentleman enjoying the afternoon sun. Attorney Chen arrived on time, holding a copy of *The New York Times*, and sat down beside him.

"Mr. Wang, it's so good to hear you're alright!" Attorney Chen said in a low voice, unable to hide his excitement. "There was chaos in Brooklyn last night! The military and police blocked several streets, and I heard they were searching for some dangerous spies and stolen military secrets! The newspapers only vaguely mentioned a 'laboratory accident' and an 'unsuccessful sabotage operation'."

"Hmm," Wang Huanbo responded casually, flipping through the newspaper. The front page did indeed have a related report, but it was vague, focusing on "Strategic Science Legion successfully thwarts enemy sabotage, one enemy agent captured," without mentioning the serum or the mysterious man. SSR's news control was very effective.

"The car and supplies we've prepared..."

"As you instructed, everything was taken care of thoroughly after your call. The car sank at the designated location in the East River, and the clothes and other belongings were burned to ashes and scattered into the sea. The warehouse on Long Island has also been terminated and cleaned up," Attorney Chen reported quickly.

"Very good." Wang Huanbo closed the newspaper. "Keep a low profile lately, keep an eye on SSR and police movements, but don't inquire about them. Our 'investment' projects will proceed as usual. If Mr. Howard Stark has any news, let me know immediately."

"Yes, Mr. Wang." Attorney Chen hesitated for a moment before asking, "That matter...was it successful?"

Wang Huanbo glanced at him, his gaze calm and unwavering. Attorney Chen immediately lowered his head: "I was being nosy."

"Just do your job." Wang Huanbo stood up, straightened his suit, and said, "I'm going back to the hotel. Don't contact me for the next couple of days. I'll come to you later."

"clear."

Wang Huanbo strolled away, blending into the crowd taking an afternoon walk in Central Park. His back was calm, as if the thrilling nighttime hunt of the previous night had nothing to do with him.

He knew that neither SSR nor Hydra would let this go easily. Phillips would relentlessly pursue the serum's whereabouts and the mysterious man's identity. Hydra, having lost Severin, a crucial pawn, would also be more vigilant and secretive. The dark clouds over New York City had not yet dissipated.

But for him, the most crucial step had been completed. The serum and the notebook lay safely in the system space. The bond with Howard Stark had been established and was deepening. Captain America had been born, and the wheels of history rolled ever onward.

And he, this infiltrator from another world, had obtained what he wanted, and left no trace.

Now, it's time to go back and continue playing the role of "Wang Bo"—the mysterious investor of Stark Industries and Howard's brilliant partner—to observe the situation, wait for the next opportunity, or create the next opportunity.

The air in New York was fresh after the rain. Wang Huanbo looked up at the Stark Tower, a barely perceptible smile playing on his lips.

The game continues. And he's in the lead for now.