"So the Shining Light business is wrapped up, then?"
"You already nabbed their leader in New York and wiped out their network in America. To go any further, you'd have to fly to the Philippines in person."
"Forget that, then."
In the hotel, with two blonde white women lying on either side of him, Qi Li shook his head the moment he heard the Vought representative say that over the phone.
He wasn't like Homelander, whose love for America ran so deep that even his cape was the Stars and Stripes.
Word had it his underwear and bedsheets were too.
Saving a batch of people and dismantling a human trafficking pipeline here was already plenty.
As for going all the way to their home turf?
Whether he would be seen as a self-righteous savior or an outright invader by then was anybody's guess.
While Shining Light was hardly a force of good, Qi Li didn't even need to guess to know its founding was bound up with the dirty deeds America had pulled over there.
Otherwise, after all these years, Shining Light wouldn't still be bent on delivering a sucker punch to the Yanks.
Wherever the CIA went, blood and fire followed.
Qi Li had no desire to wipe those bastards' asses.
The Vought representative chuckled. "The military bill hasn't passed yet. Even if you wanted to go, the White House wouldn't allow it. Besides, every superhero needs a high-profile villain or villainous organization. A Shining Light that's still drawing breath is an ideal long-term asset for you, Bronze. According to our latest polling, the public association between 'Bronze' and 'Shining Light' has reached ninety-two percent. That means moving forward, as long as we keep hyping up the Shining Light threat, your fame will keep climbing. Then we bring Shining Light to the big screen—say, in *Bronze 2*. Trust me, the audience will eat it right up!"
Whether anyone else would eat it up, Qi Li didn't know.
What he did know was that on his right, the moment Anya Taylor-Joy heard "big screen" and "*Bronze 2*," she leaned close to his ear like a cat eyeing cream, trying to catch every word.
She had been the female lead in *Bronze 1*. Watching Qi Li's star rise higher and higher, she naturally cared more than anyone about the career she had hitched to him.
On his left, Lily Craag was half a beat slower to react, but she quickly fixed an ardent gaze on Qi Li as well.
She was still a newcomer whose only credits so far were a cameo in one of her mother's films and a short. If she could land a role in *Bronze 2*, she would literally laugh herself awake from her dreams.
With that on their minds, Anya and Lily couldn't help making little moves beneath the sheets.
Soon, though, their eyes met in surprise. After silently cursing each other as "bitch," both doubled down, deploying their best moves.
Just as well.
Taking this opening, Qi Li shared a rough pitch or two of his vision for *Bronze 2*.
The Vought representative was thrilled. "That's a fresh take! Bronze, you're an absolute genius! Trust me, even if you weren't a superhero, you'd make a brilliant screenwriter!"
Qi Li smiled and said offhandedly, "Screenwriters don't get enough respect. I think I'll direct instead."
A director who didn't want to cast couch actresses wasn't a good director.
"Whatever you want," the man agreed immediately. "I'll call a meeting with the development team right away to draft a new script for *Bronze 2* based on your ideas. If all goes well, cameras can roll by year's end, and we'll hit theaters next summer."
Originally, Qi Li's new film wasn't slated to shoot until next year.
Yet as his fame skyrocketed, Vought took him ever more seriously. Not only were they moving up production, but Vought also promised a production budget benchmarked to an A-list blockbuster.
Before this, *Bronze 1* had been low-budget, costing under ten million, yet raking in more than a tenfold return—and that was just at the box office.
Once Qi Li hung up, he found that Anya and Lily had transformed into ravenous vixens starved for a century, staring at him with shining eyes.
"My superhero..."
"Teacher..."
For the safety of all humanity, Qi Li set to work once more, subduing demons and exorcising spirits.
This was merely the appetizer.
The real meat on the table was yet to come.
Night fell.
Once the two benefactresses had been purged of demonic energy and returned to mortal form, Qi Li changed into an ordinary hoodie and sweatpants, pulled up his hood, and slipped back toward Homecrest.
Inside a Southeast Asian-themed bar, King Kong was dead drunk, listening impatiently to his manager's nagging on the phone while nodding vaguely.
"Yeah, yeah, I get it. Really, I've got nothing to do with Isla's family. Look, I love Isla... Alright, alright! I obviously won't say that in public! Look, I honestly didn't know their real identities, and I definitely didn't know they were doing all that bad shit behind my back. I swear to God..."
A quarter of an hour later, King Kong hung up and sat frozen for a full minute. Finally, he crushed his beer bottle in his fist, his eyes bloodshot, cursing relentlessly.
"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck..."
He truly had no real ties to Isla's family, but that hadn't stopped him from pocketing a hefty monthly security fee from them.
He genuinely hadn't known their true identities or what racket they ran in secret, but even when he occasionally overheard the cries of women and children, his superhero status had come in handy to help sweep it under the rug now and then.
To him, minor stuff like that was nothing. In America, the chosen land, far crazier stunts went down every day; there was zero cause for concern.
Sometimes at superhero gatherings, he would even mock Blue Hawk, an old classmate who had always clashed with him.
Why bust your balls harassing the black folks on your patrol route? Take a cut, keep the peace, and let everyone get by smoothly—wouldn't that be great?
Instead, that idiot had to get caught on video dropping racial slurs or accidentally killing a black kid every few months, sparking nonstop protests across the community.
King Kong had never imagined disaster would one day land squarely on his own head.
"Fucking Bronze! Fucking Vought bitches!" King Kong spat out a few more curses.
Now, he hadn't just lost the woman he loved and a major source of income—it looked like his superhero career was about to take a nosedive as well.
From what his manager said, Vought was furious with his performance this time and planned to reassign him, exiling him to some godforsaken backwater in the South.
At the thought, King Kong felt an overwhelming surge of grievance and rage.
He didn't dare cross a behemoth like Vought, but Bronze...
"It's all Bronze's fault!"
Eyes blazing with fury and murderous intent, King Kong dialed a number immediately.
"Hey? What's the status on the intel I asked you to pull on Bronze? ...Too sensitive? I'll pay double! Especially his girlfriend—I want every scrap of information you can get!"
He was going to get revenge! Vicious, ruthless revenge!
An hour later, after downing several more bottles, King Kong stumbled out the door and plunged into the night.
On the street corner, Qi Li watched his retreating back, pulled his hood low, and soundlessly followed.
Chapter 61