People have beautiful things to say about you, but you must die first.
~ Fyodor Dostoevsky
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"The Guardian, do you remember those big financial tycoons who invested earlier? They want to meet you."
Edgar visited early in the morning.
He knew that making a phone call was useless; The Guardian usually wouldn’t answer, and even if he did, it would be a thunderous voice.
He handed a list to Hillel, who was only wearing loose shorts, his muscular physique resembling an ancient Greek sculpture.
A perfect golden ratio.
That list only had a string of names and titles, but behind every name was a giant mountain capable of swaying national policies.
These were the true tycoons controlling America.
"Not seeing them."
Hillel picked his nose with an impatient look. "They should come to see me. Do I look like Homelander’s sidekick?"
"Edgar, I am very happy that you took the initiative to visit, but with this attitude of yours, I have become a little unhappy again!"
"Guardian."
Edgar’s tone was unusually patient. "You took a whole ten billion dollars from them. For the sake of the money, at least humor them a bit. Even if it’s just face-saving work, you still have to give some commitment."
"When I report a project to the board of directors, I still know how to make a PPT. You can’t just dismiss them with a crappy script!"
Hillel turned around to get dressed.
Edgar obediently waited in the living room.
In Vought Tower, no one had ever made him like this; even Homelander only deserved to wait outside.
"BlackRock, Blackstone, Vanguard..." Hillel flipped through the list. "As expected, real bosses are all very low-profile. I haven’t heard of a single person on this list."
Those old money controlling the behind-the-scenes of this country were reportedly mostly old squids.
They usually didn’t show their heads, but their big hands had long controlled the White House, Congress, and Wall Street.
Stormfront jumped around so joyfully, practically carving ’I am a Nazi’ on her forehead, yet these people were never seen coming out to move around.
Did they look down on Stormfront’s small vision, or was there another reason?
Hillel was purely a bit curious.
"Fine."
Hillel lazily got up. "You arrange a simple meeting; I want to see how many heads these people actually have."
Edgar imperceptibly let out a sigh of relief.
He knew the energy of these old money too well; if this bunch moved a finger, the entire World would tremble three times.
Although the young man in front of him had a body full of power, in the secular World, those people’s energy was astonishingly huge.
...
Vought Tower, the top-floor private parlor.
Not very many people came.
But added together, the wealth held by these few people was enough to buy half the Earth.
These people were all old men wearing custom suits of unknown brands, and not a single person wore luxury goods, but that aura no longer needed luxury goods to decorate the facade.
They held red wine, their gazes scanning back and forth over Hillel.
As if looking at a piece of cargo.
They had paid ten billion dollars for this piece of cargo.
Hillel also looked like he was watching a rare animal, using his perspective vision to look through each person’s body.
"This is a bit interesting!"
Just like the Five Elders from One Piece, each of them has quite an aura.
Their bodies are also quite healthy. Even at such an old age, they’re still like young men. Your organs don’t look like first-hand goods, but they are transplanted very compatibly. Were they specially cultivated?
Wherever Hillel’s eyes reached, nothing could block them.
"Long admired, Guardian."
A white-haired, emaciated old white man slowly spoke while holding red wine.
He seemed to be the leading big brother among this group, responsible for communication.
As for his tone of speaking... it was considered polite, but that condescending feeling could not be hidden at all.
"To be honest, our investment of this ten billion is more based on strategic considerations! A Supe who can influence public opinion and is not completely controlled by any institution in the World is a good hedge for our investment portfolio."
"As for your personal abilities..."
"Pardon my bluntness, your strength seems a bit greater, but compared to Homelander, there isn’t really any fundamental difference. Little St. James Island was indeed kicked out of place."
The old man gently shook the red wine in his cup. "But our nuclear bombs can also do this kind of thing, so we need The Guardian to demonstrate the corresponding ability, at least making our investment worth more than its value."
In the parlor, several other old farts slightly nodded, deeply agreeing.
Military, money, power... they lacked nothing.
In their view, The Guardian was merely another form of power, which could be quantified, purchased, or even... possibly replaced.
Hillel raised an eyebrow.
"Nuclear bombs?"
"In your eyes, a nuclear bomb is the strongest weapon?"
"Then to be blunt, you haven’t seen any good stuff at all!"
That old geezer slowly put down his wine glass.
"And..."
Hillel floated in front of the old man, his tone unhurried.
"Don’t compare me to that failed experimental product. All his abilities rely on Compound V, while I have at least nine ways to strip away his abilities, nine!"
Hillel suddenly flashed a develish smile. "You want me to show a little bit of strength? Sure! Then I’ll let you old farts open your eyes wide!"
Before he finished speaking.
An invisible Bio-field spread from Hillel, completely shrouding everyone in the entire parlor, and even those tables and chairs.
Those old men hadn’t reacted yet when they felt their bodies grow light.
The next second.
Boom!!
The ceiling, walls, and the reinforced concrete roof above of the entire top-floor parlor were forcibly torn apart by an invisible and mighty force.
The night sky was exposed without reservation.
Those lords who controlled trillions in wealth had never experienced such a spectacle; they subconsciously opened their mouths wide.
But to their horror, they discovered that their bodies were still rising.
Manhattan rapidly shrank, quickly turning into a patch of matchboxes.
The countless lights of the entire city were reduced to ribbons, then turned into dense lights, and finally merged into one.
Clouds swept past them.
Followed by that deep blue arc of the atmosphere.
"What are you doing?"
"What on Earth are you trying to do?"
Seeing that they were about to leave Earth, those people finally couldn’t hold it together anymore, panicking one by one.
The majesty of superiors, the experience of seeing through worldly affairs...
All vanished into thin air at this moment.
The primordial darkness of the Universe soon surrounded everyone.
Hillel turned around calmly with his hands behind his back, and those people also turned around.
An azure Planet, half hidden in darkness, half lit up by the Sun.
Earth.
The entire Earth.
Those old men fancied themselves having seen all the prosperity of the World, climbing to the top by stepping on the heads of countless people, but this was the first time they looked down upon their home beneath their feet from such an angle.
Staring at Earth for a long time, they seemed to feel that Planet breathing, beating powerfully like a heart.
The overview effect!
Mortal brains simply couldn’t comprehend this scene.
But an insignificance capable of shattering the soul instantly overwhelmed them; some people had trembling lips, tightly gripping the arms of those beside them.
They saw the scene beneath their feet.
Up, down, left, right, front, and back—all six directions were unfathomable darkness.
As long as Hillel let go, these people would plunge into the abyss.
"Motion sick? Don’t throw up, or this daddy will throw you into the Sun!"
Hillel turned his head back, grinning widely. "Pucker up your old farts, this is nowhere near close; we have a lot more things to see!"
He didn’t use faster-than-light movement, but deliberately maintained a slow speed so that this bunch of old things could see clearly what true power was called.
Money is power? True.
But in this crazy world filled with supes...
Power is power!
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