Qi Li had guessed right.
Thanks to the towering fire at the factory, Los Angeles's major television stations, newspapers, and radio all scrambled to report that Steelclaw Man had died in the line of duty that very night—before the next day had even dawned.
Vought TV worked overtime to cut a documentary memorializing Steelclaw Man and ran it on a loop, honoring the perfect superhero their promotional copy described as great, selfless, dedicated, family-loving, and possessed of a heart of gold.
Many superheroes recorded videos too, solemnly mourning Steelclaw Man on camera.
Among them were Homelander, Queen Maeve, Translucent...
And, of course, Bronze.
That is, Qi Li himself.
Compared to the supes in those videos who had never crossed paths with Steelclaw Man, he was the best friend and finest comrade Steelclaw Man had personally acknowledged in life—undoubtedly the man most qualified to mourn him deeply.
Sure enough, Qi Li hadn't just recorded a video. He had also been formally invited to Steelclaw Man's memorial to speak onstage as his closest comrade-in-arms.
It was a little morbid, but Qi Li accepted anyway.
They weren't inviting him for free.
Besides, it would do wonders for his exposure and fame.
Thanks, old buddy Steelclaw Man. One favor wasn't enough—you had to give me a second. As expected of my "close comrade."
...
Vought Group and City Hall moved fast.
On the day of Steelclaw Man's memorial, Los Angeles was wrapped in "grief." Over a thousand citizens, hearts heavy, paid for tickets and filed into the Staples Center to honor the true superhero in their minds.
As if the Steelclaw Man who had been repeatedly condemned only days earlier—the man who drank and popped pills every other day, shirked responsibility, and had committed manslaughter more than once—had never existed.
It wasn't that no one scoffed at his death.
But under Vought Group's relentless media brainwashing, most of the unthinking public remembered only the various "achievements" of Steelclaw Man's life, and their hearts suddenly brimmed with gratitude.
In the same way, under the banner of superhero political correctness, anyone who failed to fall in line was simply branded an oddity—one of the tiny, unwelcome minority in everyone else's eyes.
Qi Li was still in his blue-and-gold battle suit, seated in the front row with the upper crust, the grieving family, and Hollywood stars. With a "grief-stricken" expression, he listened as guest after guest came forward to address the crowd before the coffin holding Steelclaw Man's fire-ravaged remains.
"Steelclaw Man was a good man, a responsible man, a superhero who devoted his life's work to saving the world..."
"Our country has lost one of the brightest stars of our age. He was a giant of his generation and, more importantly, a devoted husband, son, Christian, and patriot..."
"He dedicated his life to fighting drug crime. Right up until death came for him, he was still doing exactly that..."
"He was humble, upright, kind, and responsible, and he never turned his three steel claws on the people. He was also a man of great compassion who loved small animals..."
"He had a kind soul and a heart of gold. He loved his family, loved life, and his neighbors all adored him..."
Below the stage, Qi Li was pressing his lips tightly together, his brows locked.
He must not laugh.
Absolutely must not laugh.
If he laughed now, his career would be over.
Except... it really was hilarious.
Qi Li had no idea how the people giving speeches managed to keep straight faces.
If Steelclaw Man had really been the man these speakers described, how was it that Qi Li had never noticed?
As Qi Li listened to the elite dignitaries praise Steelclaw Man—"upright" in one breath, "caring" in the next—the image kept flashing through his mind of Steelclaw Man's savage face, snarling "fuck you" over and over.
Sure enough, the real world was just too absurd.
No—there was something even more absurd.
To Qi Li's left sat Steelclaw Man's widow, the former supermodel Miranda Jackman.
She was wearing a white women's suit rather than the customary black, and weeping and wiping her tears beside him—that was one thing.
But as she cried, her body somehow ended up leaning against his shoulder.
Lady, this is being broadcast live!
Can't we do this somewhere else?
For a moment, Qi Li didn't dare move. He could only let that head of brilliant blonde hair tremble against the underside of his chin.
The widow's former profession spoke for itself; her looks and figure were genuinely tempting.
If anyone saw this...
Just what he dreaded happened.
At that very moment, the director cut the camera to them.
Seeing this, Qi Li could only solemnly reach out a hand, a look of sincere concern in his eyes, and pat Steelclaw Man's wife comfortingly on the shoulder.
Miranda responded by pressing even closer to Qi Li and sobbing harder.
Applause broke out at once.
The people around them turned angelic gazes on Miranda and Qi Li, their faces full of understanding and consolation.
All right, he still wasn't on their level.
He'd have to try harder.
After that, it was his turn to speak.
To polite applause, Qi Li exchanged a light hug with Mrs. Miranda and walked up onto the stage.
He didn't rush to speak. Instead, he first walked a circle around Steelclaw Man's coffin.
The thing was transparent.
He could clearly see Steelclaw Man's body, burned to charcoal.
Brother, you died horribly.
What? This was my handiwork?
Don't worry, I won't hold it against you.
Your wife and children—I'll take care of them for you.
After saying his farewells to his close comrade, Qi Li finally stepped to the microphone and spoke in a heavy tone:
"Just a couple of days ago, my good brother, my close comrade-in-arms, the honest senior who taught me so much, was still patting me on the shoulder, his face full of sincerity, proud that I had struck a successful blow against crime. Who could have imagined that after he turned away that time, it would be our final farewell?"
"I don't want to believe it. I can't believe it... I have lost my best comrade, lost the lighthouse that guided me forward in life. These past two days I've been in a daze, not knowing what I should do, completely lost."
Originally, Qi Li's agent had said they would hire a professional to write the eulogy, and all he would have to do was read it onstage. He refused.
He wasn't one of those fellow supes who, where book learning was concerned, burned the books and buried the scholars.
In his past life, nine years of compulsory education had given him plenty of writing experience.
Brought into the present, that experience meant his eulogy was definitely far superior to speeches like "He was a good man" or "He had a heart of gold."
Sure enough, Miranda Jackman stared at him blankly from below the stage and cried even harder.
At the venue, quite a few others had red eyes and couldn't hold back their tears.
Get a good taste of this crushing superiority from across the ocean, you academic underachievers!
Finally, Qi Li declared with impassioned sincerity:
"Only today! Only when I saw Steelclaw Man's proud head—even in the face of death, even with fire consuming his body—still refusing to bow to evil, did I finally understand!"
"Look! Steelclaw Man has made his aspirations perfectly clear. Even death did not shake his resolve."
"I am fully awakened! I will waver no more! Steelclaw Man has gone on ahead, openly and honorably to meet God. Then I, who am still alive, must inherit his will and defend the cause of justice to the death!"
"Finally, before Steelclaw Man's remains, I swear to everyone..."
"Evil and I cannot share the same sky!"
Qi Li's words fell.
Steelclaw Man's widow, Mrs. Miranda Jackman, instantly went from the depths of grief to delight.
Immediately after, the applause at the memorial soared to the heavens.
Chapter 4