American comic: From Beijing with Love, starting with a mutant.

This is the first time in all his years that Stephen Chow has ever sat on top of a fire truck, eating a steamed bun in the wind.

"The deputy battalion commander is awesome!"

A head popped out of the carriage and started yelling.

Stephen Chow was hit by a mouthful of air, and crumbs of steamed bun in his mouth choked him, causing him to cough several times.

"Bullshit! I got all those bumps on my head from those pebbles he kicked up! If my face gets disfigured later, the station'll have to treat it as a work injury!"

He cursed, but his eyes remained fixed on the tornado.

The engine speed was more stable than in the Brooklyn basement. The airflow convergence radius precisely matched the convoy's route, without affecting the surrounding greenery in the slightest.

After joining the organization, even his superpowers have taken on the rigorousness of standardized operations.

Shortly after, the fire truck came to an abrupt stop outside the chemical plant gate.

The scene before us was straight out of a disaster movie.

Dark green toxic smoke shot straight into the sky, estimated to be over forty meters high.

Thick, toxic gases obscured the sunlight, turning midday into dusk.

Yellow and black striped cordon tape was set up around the perimeter. The white mist sprayed by water cannons was a drop in the ocean in the face of the toxic fumes. Several firefighters in hazmat suits were dragging a comrade whose hazmat suit was leaking out.

"Everyone back off! The wind has changed! Back off!"

He landed on his feet and turned to look at Zhang Tiezhu.

Zhang Tiezhu gritted his teeth and shoved the hazmat mask into Jiliu's hand: "You better come back alive."

Zhang Tiezhu was really unsure.

Jiliu's first real-world mission was fraught with such a high-risk chemical fire, and as the team leader, he couldn't bear the responsibility of losing manpower.

Drills are drills, but real combat is all about life and death.

The rushing water pushed aside his mask, and a smile appeared on his lips.

Stephen Chow recognizes this expression all too well.

Back in the Brooklyn underground lab, before this guy rushed in to save his brother Anton, he had this same "I'm about to show off" attitude.

A strong wind arose, sending sand and stones flying.

The torrent transformed into a high-speed tornado, plunging straight into the dark green wall of toxic smoke.

Stephen Chow flipped off the roof of the car, brushed the dust off his trousers, took out an apple from his pocket, and used a butcher's knife to peel it.

"Director Zhou... Director Zhou, what time is it and you're still eating?" A young firefighter next to him stared wide-eyed at the apple peel falling.

"rest assured."

Stephen Chow took a big bite of fruit and mumbled, "This kid survived being shot with a Gatling gun in New York. This bit of poison gas is nothing compared to the bitter melon and scrambled eggs in your cafeteria."

Zhang Tiezhu turned his head and glared at him, but did not utter a word in rebuttal.

Inside the toxic fumes, it was pitch black.

The toxic smoke cloud continued to expand and become sharper, its internal airflow disrupting the entire sky.

The dark green column of smoke began to deform.

The strong crosswinds split it into layers in the middle, twisting it into several long, narrow cyclones, which, driven by the wind, dispersed into the high-altitude clouds.

Two minutes and seven seconds later, a gasp of surprise erupted from inside the command vehicle.

Stephen Chow leaned over and glanced at the big screen.

The countdown timer for the gas diffusion model jumped directly from "estimated two hours" to large green text: the danger has been averted.

The commander slammed his hand on the table, stood up straight, and shouted, "This soldier is amazing! I want him! No matter which unit he's from, I have to recruit him today!"

Upon hearing this, Zhang Tiezhu's dark face was filled with smugness as he puffed out his chest: "That won't do! Our deputy battalion commander is one of a kind in the entire brigade; we won't replace him with anyone else!"

Emerging from the toxic zone through the raging torrents, their protective suits were covered in chemical residue, and their faces were coated with a layer of dust.

The three rescued firefighters took off their protective suits, gathered around, and their eyes were red.

An older firefighter patted Jiliu on the shoulder: "Deputy Captain, your skill is truly amazing!"

A young man holding a mobile phone gimbal squeezed from the outer edge of the crowd into the inner circle.

The online celebrity reporter pointed the camera directly at the face of the rushing water.

"Dude! Are you a mutant? Aren't you afraid of being treated like a monster by society?"

"Was your ability something you were born with or a mutation? Is there anything you'd like to say to the viewers in the live stream?"

Jiliu stood frozen in place, his gaze sweeping over the long lenses and short lenses.

He hesitated for a long time before finally uttering five words.

"Serve the people."

The reporter was taken aback and was about to ask a follow-up question when the veteran firefighter stepped forward.

He shoved the phone gimbal away and yelled at the camera.

"What monster nonsense! Who do you think you are, yelling like that?! He's our deputy captain!"

"They're on the payroll! Do you understand?! They're on the payroll! They're fed by the government!"

The reporter shrank back as he was yelled at, while the live stream chat was filled with rapidly scrolling comments.

Holy crap! He's got a government job, hahaha!

[This guy's fighting prowess is off the charts; he should just go straight to work for the Ministry of Foreign Affairs!]

[Reporter: I asked him if he was a mutant, and he showed me his organizational chart? He really knows how to mess with people.]

Mutants taking civil service exams? This is the first time I've ever seen anything like it!

Stephen Chow stood aside, recorded the entire process, and sent it to Director Wang with a message attached:

Chief, we have the year-end promotional materials for Bureau 749. We must capitalize on this wave of popularity. By the way, could you share some of the money from monetizing this traffic with me to cover our losses?

It was already 2 PM when the team returned to the detachment.

As you push open the cafeteria door, the rich aroma of soy sauce fills your nostrils.

The cafeteria lady brought out braised pork that had been kept warm in the pot, the skin of which was translucent from stewing.

The pork belly was cut into bite-sized pieces, the sauce was thick and dark, and it was steaming.

"Before Captain Zhang left, he instructed that even if you came back late, you should still have something hot to eat."

The aunt placed the stainless steel basin on the table and turned to serve rice.

Jiliu stared unfocused at the braised pork in front of him.

Stephen Chow didn't care about any of that; he had already picked up a piece of meat, stuffed it into his mouth, and was chewing it with his mouth full of oil.

He looked up at the rushing water and mumbled, "What are you staring at? If it gets cold, Auntie will have to heat it up again. It's a waste of electricity."

As soon as he finished speaking, he stretched out his chopsticks, picked up the largest piece of pork belly, and pressed it into the bowl of cascading water.

He bent down to eat, his chopsticks moving faster and faster as he ate his rice.

Stephen Chow leaned back in his chair and took out his phone to scroll through the screen.

The rescue video has gone viral, with views climbing rapidly and comments flooding the screen.

[Mom, I saw the real Captain China!]

Just as he was about to lock his screen, a comment popped up at the top of the comments section.

I recognize this person; I saw him in the sewers of Queens, New York, three months ago!

Stephen Chow raised an eyebrow and clicked on the person's homepage.

The profile picture is blurry, but upon closer inspection, it reveals a donut with a bite taken out of it.

I don't know him. I need to have someone investigate this guy's background.

The cafeteria lady brought out a pot of pork rib soup, muttering, "Young people should drink more soup."

Jiliu picked up the soup bowl and took a sip, only to grimac in pain from the heat.

Zhou Xingxing looked away, locked his phone screen, and continued to focus on eating the white rice in his bowl.

No matter who that donut is, no matter how big the world is, rice is the most important thing.

Ok……

The braised pork was cooked well!

Next time I visit, I'll have to choose a mealtime.

"Alright. No need to see me off." Stephen Chow waved his hand. "I have to rush to my next event. You better do your job well here and don't embarrass our Overseas Investment Office."