Courtyard House: Initial Donation of 50 Million

The atmosphere in the secret meeting room of S.H.I.E.L.D. fell completely silent.

Nick Fury looked at the unyielding and extremely arrogant Tony Stark before him, a deep-seated helplessness flashing in his single eye. He had long known that this brilliant arms tycoon possessed an extreme spirit of freedom and rebellion, and detested being bound by the system and power. The initial failure to recruit him was entirely within his expectations.

But compared to Tony's rejection, what truly weighed heavily on his mind and made him increasingly wary was Wang Huanbo, who remained calm, silent, and impeccable throughout.

From the World War II archives of 1943 to the blank trail of the stolen super soldier serum in 1945, and now to his unchanging appearance and superhuman combat power over the decades, countless doubts are intertwined, weaving a fog of mystery around Wang Huanbo.

Fury had seen all the secrets of the world, led S.H.I.E.L.D. for decades, and witnessed countless supernatural phenomena and superhumans, but he had never encountered anyone so enigmatic. There was no evidence to convict him, yet his intuition screamed at him—this man was hiding secrets that would overturn all existing knowledge: the whereabouts of the super-soldier serum, the truth about immortality, martial arts and understanding far ahead of his time—each one posed a significant threat.

"Since you two have no intention of continuing this discussion, our meeting is now adjourned." Fury slowly rose, the hem of his trench coat brushing against the table. His tone was unreadable. "S.H.I.E.L.D. remains open at all times. Whether you two are in danger or are willing to cooperate with the investigation and join the Guardian program, we are always ready to go."

Tony scoffed, too lazy to exchange any more pleasantries, and turned to leave: "No need to wait for me. My men and I can protect ourselves. I trust my Palm Cannon more than you guys."

Wang Huanbo nodded slightly, his expression calm, and said nothing more, following closely behind Tony as they left. From beginning to end, his emotions remained completely unchanged, as if he was utterly unaware of Fury's relentless scrutiny and suspicion lurking in the shadows.

Once the two figures had completely left the conference room and their footsteps had faded into the distance, Coulson, who had been standing silently to the side awaiting orders, stepped forward and asked in a low voice, "Chief, what are the next steps?"

Nick Fury stared intently at Wang Huanbo's back on the monitor screen, his single eye deep and his suspicion and wariness more intense than ever before.

"Tony Stark is out of the picture for now." His voice was deep and husky, carrying an undeniable decisiveness. "Keep a close eye on Wang Huanbo."

"Deploy the bureau's most elite covert surveillance team, activate the highest level of covert monitoring privileges, and track his every move seamlessly 24/7." Fury spoke calmly, his instructions clear and strict. "No disturbance, no contact, absolutely no trace of surveillance. Record his every move, his ability in every action, every contact with people, even a single breath or a casual remark, archive and encrypt it all, classify it as top secret."

Coulson paused for a moment, then nodded seriously: "Understood, Chief."

He instantly understood: Fury had completely prioritized Wang Huanbo as a high-risk, unknown individual. Compared to Tony, whose personality was frank and whose strengths and weaknesses were extremely distinct, this mysterious figure with an enigmatic background, unfathomable strength, and flawless mind was S.H.I.E.L.D.'s biggest unpredictable threat.

Fury stared at the empty corridor, a dark light flickering in his eyes, his mind churning with thoughts.

Without evidence, he would not act rashly. But he would never allow such a powerful figure, possessing top-secret information and whose strength was unknown, to remain outside his control. He would patiently gather all the clues, and one day, he would uncover all of Wang Huanbo's secrets and find out where the lost super-soldier serum had gone.

Meanwhile, the black limousine drove smoothly through the Los Angeles night.

Tony leaned against the car window, his hands behind his head, and complained impatiently, "What a waste of time. This Nick Fury is full of scheming. He keeps talking about world security and responsibility, but what he really wants is to recruit me as his henchman to clean up S.H.I.E.L.D.'s messes."

He has always been arrogant and capricious, and despises all institutional constraints. In his eyes, S.H.I.E.L.D.'s grand vision is nothing more than another scheme by the higher-ups in power.

Sitting in the passenger seat, Wang Huanbo gazed at the fleeting street scenes outside the window and said calmly, "His concerns are valid; the future crises do indeed far exceed the comprehension of ordinary people. It's just that his desire for control is too strong, and he cannot tolerate any unknown that escapes his sight."

Tony raised an eyebrow: "So you figured it out a long time ago? He's been suspicious of you all along?"

"It's alright." Wang Huanbo chuckled lightly, seemingly unconcerned. "Suspicion without concrete evidence is ultimately just wishful thinking. Let him keep an eye on things."

He knew that Fury's surveillance was pointless. With his abilities, he could sense the spying from the shadows the entire time, but he simply couldn't be bothered to point it out.

……

At the same time, at Stark Industries headquarters, in the top-floor president's office.

The thick soundproof walls blocked out all outside noise, creating a suffocatingly oppressive atmosphere in the large office.

Obadiah Stanislav's obese body was slumped in the leather seat, the encrypted satellite phone in his hand had long since been slammed onto the table, the body shattered, the piercing busy tone completely gone, leaving only a deathly silence.

The intelligence that his subordinates had just sent him struck him like a thunderbolt, leaving him utterly shaken.

The assassination squad, composed of elite members of the Ten Commandments, dispatched to the Malibu villa late at night, was completely wiped out, with no survivors. The assassination plan, which had been in preparation for months, was a complete failure.

"A bunch of useless trash! They're all complete idiots!"

Obadiah abruptly raised his hand, sweeping away documents, pens, and expensive decorative items from the table. A piercing shattering sound erupted instantly, leaving the table a mess. His burly chest heaved violently, veins bulging in his neck, his obese face contorted in a grotesque grimace, and his eyes burned with an almost manic rage and a deep-seated fear.

His chest heaved violently, veins bulged on his neck, his fat face was twisted and ferocious, and his eyes were churning with mad anger and extreme anxiety.

The three-day ultimatum from Lazar, the leader of the Ten Commandments, hung like a sword of Damocles, constantly threatening his life. Now, the assassination plan had completely collapsed. Not only had Tony failed to be eliminated, but the war in Afghanistan had also allowed Tony to redeem himself and become a legend, with the name "Iron Man" resounding throughout the world, his reputation, power, and influence reaching their peak. On the other hand, he himself had been secretly plotting for years and smuggling arms, all of which had fallen into the hands of outsiders, leaving him completely passive and in a dead end, where the slightest mistake could lead to utter ruin.

Looking at himself, he had gained nothing but empty effort and had even gained countless weaknesses to use against him, putting him in a completely passive position.

"A bunch of idiots who can't even handle two targets!" Obadiah gritted his teeth, growling, his eyes blazing with malice. "Tony! And that Wang Huanbo who suddenly appeared! You've ruined my plans again!"

Anger, anxiety, panic—countless emotions intertwined and writhed, tearing at his mind.

Forcibly suppressing his rage, Obadiah abruptly pressed the intercom button, his tone icy and chilling, laced with extreme brutality: "Summon everyone from the underground lab to my office immediately! Now!"

Within minutes, several chief scientists, dressed in white coats and looking exhausted, rushed over. They all looked fearful and dared not look directly at the furious Obadiah.

"How is the progress of the power core of the Iron Monger prototype?" Obadiah stared intently at the group, his eyes fierce like a hungry wolf, exuding an overwhelming sense of oppression.

The chief scientist, pale-faced, forced a bow and reported, "Mr. Stanislav, we...we have repeatedly disassembled the remains of the original Arc Reactor and simulated countless data, but we still cannot replicate Mr. Tony's miniature Arc Reactor technology."

"Currently, we can only manufacture large, fixed energy cores, which are bulky, consume a lot of energy, and have very unstable power supply, resulting in frequent power fluctuations. They are completely unsuitable for miniaturization or portability, and cannot be mounted on the Iron Monger armor for continuous combat."

"Mr. Tony's miniature reactor, whether in terms of magnetic confinement technology, palladium energy conversion rate, or closed-loop power supply system, is a technology that completely surpasses the current era. We simply cannot crack it..."

Before the words were finished, a dull, loud bang resounded.

Obadiah slammed his fist hard on the solid wood desk, instantly denting the surface and causing cracks to spread.

"Useless! All of you are useless!" he roared, his anger completely out of control. "With Stark Industries' top resources and the most abundant funding, a group of people have been researching for so long, and you can't even build a miniature reactor?!"

The scientists trembled with fear, and no one dared to speak.

They knew perfectly well that Tony Stark's genius was beyond the comprehension of ordinary people. That miniature Arc Reactor was a unique technology created solely by Tony, and no one could replicate or imitate it.

Obadiah gasped for breath, the anger in his chest gradually cooling, replaced by a chilling coldness and utter despair. Only now did he fully realize that he had driven himself into a dead end.

He finally realized that he was in a dead end.

Tony has successfully built the Mark II armor, completed high-altitude testing and combat missions, and its technology is becoming increasingly mature and its combat power is growing stronger. However, the Iron Monger prototype, which he has built with the full resources of his laboratory, is still unable to perfect even its most core power engine.

Clumsy, crude, with poor range and extremely unstable power, the Iron Monger prototype he built at great expense was at best a pile of crudely made steel scraps, completely incomparable to Tony's exquisite, powerful, and near-perfect Mark II armor. Tony's technological prowess was a level he could never reach, no matter how much resources he exhausted.

What terrified him most was Tony's almost superhuman intelligence and insight.

The attack on the Malibu villa late at night, a precise terrorist raid on a private laboratory, was no coincidence. If Tony does a little reanalysis and digs deeper along the clues of the weapons leak and the Ten Commandments' movements, he will soon be able to identify him as the mastermind.

From secretly selling arms to the Ten Commandments gang to colluding with terrorists to plan the kidnapping and assassination of Tony, each and every one of these acts is an undeniable crime of treason.

Once Tony uncovers the truth, given his current power, reputation, and methods, he will leave himself no way out. Treason, arms smuggling, colluding with terrorists, and premeditatedly murdering the company's heir—each one is a capital offense. Only death and utter disgrace await him.

He had no way out, and no time left. Time was always on Tony's side; Tony's armor was becoming more and more perfect, and his strength was growing stronger, while he would only become more and more passive and more and more dangerous.

A chilling panic completely consumed Obadiah; the cowardice in his eyes vanished, leaving only a desperate, ferocious madness. To sit and wait for death was certain; to fight to the death offered a chance of survival!

Their own team couldn't replicate the miniature Arc Reactor, and would never be able to create Tony's cutting-edge technology. The only solution was to steal it.

Steal Tony's Arc Reactor and all his armor technology! Once he gets that core, the Iron Monger will be ready, allowing him to turn the tables on Tony and take control of everything!

Steal Tony's Arc Reactor, steal all of Tony's technology!

He clenched his fists so tightly that his knuckles turned white, and his eyes were filled with murderous intent, completely abandoning all his concerns and bottom lines.

"Continue assembling the Iron Monger prototype!" Obadiah's voice was low and hoarse, carrying a desperate, obsessive intensity. "Don't worry about stability, don't worry about battery life! I don't care how many flaws or hidden dangers it has, I just want it to stand up, fight, and kill!"

He suddenly looked up, his gaze ruthless and resolute, and said each word with a violent intensity: "I will take Tony's things myself. I will take his life myself."