Marvel: I became an ancestor by sacrificing offerings.

The sealed room, which had been sealed for many years, was violently pushed open.

The thick layer of dust and the strong musty smell inside made the Baron instinctively cover his nose.

Zemo surveyed the secret room that his father had only told him about before his death.

The secret room was so small that it was completely visible, and it contained only a small safe.

Zemo opened the safe using the password left by his father and took out a tightly sealed waterproof bag.

There was only one thing in the bag.

A rolled-up, yellowed map.

The map has an exceptionally fine texture, clearly not made of ordinary paper or animal leather.

As for the specific materials... well, those who know, know.

Zemo carefully took out the map and first wiped it inch by inch with icy vinegar.

Then, they carefully shone the map with an ultraviolet lamp, which finally revealed the densely packed routes and coordinates.

After confirming the map's authenticity, Zemo breathed a sigh of relief.

He then pulled out a satellite phone and dialed a number he had only recently learned.

The phone rang seven times before being answered.

"Long live Hydra!"

After hearing this standard code, the other side finally spoke:

"Spit it out."

Zemo clutched the map made of human skin tightly in his hand, his voice tinged with resentment:

"Hydra needs guidance from Mr. Schmidt's descendants."

There was a few seconds of silence on the other end of the phone, followed by a hoarse female voice:

"The Schmidt family has been away from Hydra for over sixty years, Baron Zemo. You should know what this call means."

"I know," Zemo said.

"A dead snake is worthless. I am willing to give up everything I have now if it can bring a weakened snake back to life."

"That's easy for you to say." A sneer came from the other end of the phone, followed by a slow, deliberate question:

"So... what are your chips?"

Zemo glanced at the map in his hand, suppressed his various thoughts, and then spoke:

"Take me away from Eastern Europe immediately."

"I will give you a power that even your father never received."

There was a long silence on the other end of the phone.

It went on for so long that Zemo thought the other party had hung up.

Then the voice said:

"Eight hours later, at the Old Cathedral in Budapest. Don't be late."

Snapped.

The call was abruptly ended.

Zemo put down the satellite phone, took several deep breaths, and then stuffed the strangely made map into his inner pocket before starting to pack his escape gear.

Before leaving, he took one last look at the television.

The global live broadcast on television has ended, and now it is showing summary reports from various countries on the incident.

Bang~!

Zemo pulled the trigger, blowing the television to pieces.

"This time you've won," he muttered to himself, staring at the dark screen.

"But the game isn't over yet; until the very last moment, no one can claim to be the final victor!"

A specially made bulletproof car drives on an empty highway.

Behind this car, the entire Hydra base in Eastern Europe had been reduced to a sea of ​​fire.

In order to cut his losses and survive, Zemo decisively sacrificed the remaining 340 Hydra agents in the base.

These people didn't even know what had happened before they, along with that secret base, silently marched towards their demise.

They will never be remembered by anyone again!

Inside the car, Baron Zemo, focused on driving, had already imagined how the official investigation report would describe it:

Hydra suffered a devastating blow after the Battle of Chernobyl, and its leader, Baron Zemo, detonated the base to escape punishment, perishing along with all his subordinates.

Seven hours later, in Budapest.

Baron Zemo changed his clothes four times and took seven detours along the way, and waited by the trash can at the alley entrance for a full five minutes.

Only after confirming that no one was following him and that he had not attracted anyone's attention did he rush into the dilapidated old church.

Inside the church, a young nun was praying devoutly, but the Bible in her hand was quite different from the usual Bible.

The cover features a skull with octopus tentacles.

There were no unnecessary pleasantries, no secret signals, and not even a step to confirm each other's identities. The nun simply glanced at him and then pushed open an iron gate on the side of the church, where an inconspicuous van was parked.

The truck first drove out of Budapest city, then got on the highway, then got off the highway, and then turned onto a dirt road that had no signs.

Zemo completely gave up on memorizing the route during the thirteenth turn.

The other party was much more vigilant than I had imagined.

From trucks to ferries, and from ferries to private planes.

After more than ten hours of travel, the plane finally landed on an unnamed island on the western side of the Pacific Ocean.

The buildings on the island are very old, and look like they were built in the 1940s.

"Welcome to the Island of Exiles."

After the plane landed, the nun finally spoke, her first words since leaving the church.

Zemo instinctively gasped.

As a high-ranking member of Hydra, he had seen the island in top-secret files.

During World War II, Red Skull started many private projects outside of the Hydra system.

This island was one of them, and according to records, it was used to imprison difficult criminals who could not be executed by conventional means.

But now it seems that things are far from that simple.

Led by the nun, Zemo arrived at an office.

In the office, a woman sat behind a desk, her back to Zemo, so Zemo couldn't see her face clearly.

He subconsciously glanced around the office.

The most eye-catching thing in the office is the oil painting hanging on the wall—it depicts a strange man wearing a Nazi uniform, but with a head that is entirely made of red skull.

Just as Baron Zemo was examining the portrait of this Red Skull man he had never seen before.

The woman turned around and got off the chair, allowing Zemo to see her true face.

The blood-red flesh clung only to the bone, without pores or the texture that normal skin should have.

It looks almost exactly like the Red Skull in the oil painting, except that its facial features are relatively softer.

"Cynthia Schmidt," Zemo introduced first, his tone revealing no surprise at the face.

Or do you prefer to be called "original sin"?

The woman took off her sunglasses.

"Any one will do." Original Sin sized up Zemo, his eyes showing neither wariness nor respect.

"Enough with the nonsense. Give me what I want, and I'll ensure you can live peacefully on this island from now on."

Zemo frowned slightly in dissatisfaction, thinking to himself:

How dare a bastard born from an affair with a maid act so disrespectfully in front of me, a dignified baron!

He understood that circumstances were beyond his control, so he obediently pushed the map of human skin towards the original sin.

Original Sin admired the map as if it were a work of art, casually uttering:

What's hidden inside?

"A hammer that your father summoned, but which he could not lift."