Marvel: The Sorcerer in America

Vivi lifted her chin gracefully, revealing her swan-like neck. She was an independent woman, someone who never compromised her principles for anyone, not even for the man she loved. This trait fascinated Lance, even though it often left him frustrated.

Lance sighed softly. "Whatever."

With a satisfied smile, Vivi patted Lance's shoulder. "Come on, darling. It's time for us to move." Vivi no longer thought about their conversation, as Ethan's task inside the building was nearly complete. Now, it was their turn to finish the rest.

On the top floor of the building, the atmosphere felt quiet yet tense. In the luxurious room, dozens of men in black—who appeared to be guards—lay helplessly on the floor. Most were merely injured and unconscious, while some of the less fortunate lay lifeless, their lives taken by bullets.

At that moment, Ethan was tying Mustache to a chair for interrogation. The air in the room felt charged, filled with unspent energy.

Vivi casually walked past several guards sprawled on the floor. Her voice was calm, almost emotionless, as she spoke, "I don't know whether to feel satisfied or not with the temporary work done like this."

Vivi's expression clearly showed dissatisfaction, though her tone remained controlled. Ethan, on the other hand, could not hide his anger at all. With a sharp gesture, Ethan pointed to a group of dark-skinned guards lying helplessly in the corner of the room. Ethan's voice rose, full of frustration, "You told me it was just one person! But there are at least ten here. Who are they?!"

Vivi replied casually, without haste, "I don't know." Her response sounded soft yet full of indifference.

That answer only fueled Ethan's anger further. "You don't know?! Or do you really not care?!"

Vivi merely glanced at Ethan briefly, remaining unshaken. "I don't care," Vivi replied tersely, as if there was nothing to debate.

Ethan clenched his fists, his voice trembling with the anger he struggled to contain. "I hope those who died at my hands were the bad ones..."

Vivi smiled faintly, but the smile was cold and full of sarcasm. "Then you will never be a great leader, my friend." After saying that, Vivi turned her attention away from Ethan and approached Mustache, who was still tied to his chair. With slow but firm movements, Vivi aimed the gun at Mustache's head. "Hey, I'm looking for an accountant. When will that person return to New York?"

Mustache was sweating profusely, his body trembling under Vivi's cold gaze. "I... I really don't know!" Mustache replied, his voice nearly breaking.

Vivi stared at Mustache for two seconds that felt like an eternity, then lowered the gun. Mustache sighed in relief, but that relief lasted only a moment before Vivi's soft yet terrifying voice echoed again, "Then die."

"NO!!" Mustache screamed in panic, struggling with all his might in the chair. However, the ropes tied by a professional agent were not easily released.

Ethan, unable to bear witnessing this murder, stepped forward. "Wait, I can make him talk..." Ethan said urgently, trying to stop Vivi. But before those words were fully spoken, Vivi, without a hint of hesitation, aimed the gun at Mustache's chest and pulled the trigger.

"Bang!"

Blood spurted, leaving a small red flower that contrasted sharply with Ethan's clothing, a color so striking and vivid. Ethan froze, staring at the red stain on his clothes with an expressionless face.

In the corner of the room, Lance merely rolled his eyes and let out a long sigh. "I knew this would happen," Lance muttered with an embarrassed tone.

Although Lance was no longer a novice and had experience killing in Mexican gangs to capture "demons," even killing many gang members in the process, Vivi's style of treating human life as worthless still made it hard for Lance to adapt. There was something cold and cruel in Vivi's demeanor that always made Lance feel uncomfortable.

Ethan stared at Mustache's lifeless body on the floor. He fell silent for a moment, but finally shouted in a low voice, filled with repressed emotion, "Do you have no heart?!"

Vivi, with a flat expression and unwavering demeanor, holstered the gun. Vivi's voice sounded as cold as steel as she replied, "To deal with these terrorists, no heart is needed. Their gain is a loss for me."

Ethan met Vivi's gaze sharply. His eyes conveyed anger and disagreement, but beneath that was deep exhaustion. Lance, who was observing this interaction, thought Ethan would strongly refuse. However, what came out of Ethan's mouth was quite different.

"I want a raise!" Ethan exclaimed in a low, trembling voice. He continued, more softly, "I... I don't want to leave my daughter with just a pathetic pension."

Lance was taken aback, but he knew that behind that request was a strong reason. The cost of living in the United States was very high, especially for education. Top universities charged skyrocketing tuition fees, leaving many unable to pay off their loans even into their forties or fifties. Ethan didn't want his daughter to be one of those trapped in an endless cycle of debt. He wanted to ensure his daughter's future, at least financially, before death came for him.

Vivi smiled faintly, showing no surprise at all. Vivi had suspected Ethan would reach this point. "I can give you $25,000, but I want you to kill six people," Vivi said bluntly.

"Six people?" Ethan pointed to Mustache's body on the floor, half-mocking. "I guess I'm halfway there."

"You know what I mean, Ethan." Vivi looked at Ethan, her tone firm yet calm.

Vivi took a wooden box from Lance's hands, pulled out a syringe from inside it, and gently shook the liquid. "You can try the effects first. If it doesn't work for you, I won't force you again."

Lance, who was watching this from the side, could only let out a long sigh.

Ethan hesitated, his hand slowly reaching out, but his eyes were filled with doubt. "Are you sure this medicine is effective?" 

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