Lord_Immortal_0170

Chapter 163: Flight

"You have the right to save him. As long as you give up your position, you can save his life."

"How about it? Is it worth it? Think about it—you only have ten seconds..."

On the TV, an old man with a slicked-back "airplane" haircut appeared. Judging from his robes, he looked like an ancient priest.

His voice was mocking, layered with yin and yang tones, while smoke curled around him—clearly presenting himself as a powerful figure.

Meanwhile, far away in the White House in Washington, D.C., a group of people nervously stared at the TV screen. No one spoke, and the atmosphere grew heavy with tension. The man on the screen, however, seemed completely unconcerned.

"10, 9... 3, 2, 1... Well, since you don't care—bye-bye..."

Pong.

A gunshot rang out, and the broadcast cut off abruptly.

"Bang..."

"Damn it! This is provoking the entire United States! General James Rhodes, send in the Iron Patriot. I want to see this terrorist crushed by tomorrow morning!"

At the square table, a middle-aged man in a suit slammed his fist down. He was clearly the President of the United States.

But he didn't realize that all of this was part of the enemy's plan. He also didn't realize that the Iron Patriot mission was a trap. Not only would James Rhodes be captured, but his armor would be stolen and repurposed.

"Ah…"

After finishing up, he ate a few slices of bread. Whether it was because Gali had left or because he was simply tired of it, the bread now felt tasteless.

He retrieved his equipment from the hunter's space, strapped on his gear, and slung the Elemental Bow across his back. The Cursed Blood Knife rested against his shoulder.

He tugged down the brim of his hat.

In the blink of an eye, Blaine vanished from where he stood and reappeared at his doorway. A second later, he disappeared again—this time a hundred meters away.

Teleportation. The speed was terrifying.

But this was just practice. He couldn't teleport all the way to Tennessee—burning through that much mental energy would exhaust him completely.

So, after a few blinks, he chose the safer method: flight. It was still faster than most aircraft.

Even Tony, wearing his latest Mark 42 armor at full throttle, would struggle to match Blaine's speed.

More importantly, flight consumed far less mental power than teleportation.

"It seems I still need a way to increase my maximum mental capacity… Meditation can restore it, but it doesn't expand it. What a pity."

Because it was broad daylight, Blaine avoided flashy tricks—no flame wings or other elemental displays. They were impressive, but also too conspicuous. A passing plane might mistake him for an alien.

Still, he was fast. Traveling from Queens to Rose Hill, Tennessee took him only three hours—a trip that would normally take five or six by plane.

Since learning the skill from Gali, Blaine had grown more comfortable with flight. It saved money on airfare and made missions much more efficient. Leaving at 8:00 a.m., he arrived by 11:00.

No need to search—he extended his mental energy, activating [Hawkeye], and his perspective soared. Tennessee wasn't large. Within moments, he had located the Rose Hill compound the Mandarin had used.

Retracting his sight, he meditated briefly to recover the energy consumed during his flight, then hid near the manor.

It wasn't that he couldn't storm the place, but that it wasn't worth the trouble.

Blaine's goal was Tony, not the guards. A bounty hunter valued efficiency—cutting corners when needed. Besides, barging in would ruin his chance to make extra profit. Surely, at this very moment, someone important was already tied up, waiting for him to play the savior.

"Well, if it isn't Tony, the famous Iron Man. Remember me?"

Killian sneered, watching the man tied to a rack like a slaughtered pig. Years of planning had all led to this moment.

"Sorry, it's like trying to remember the taste of a cake from the neighbor's grandmother. I don't remember you—even if I never ate her cake in the first place."

Even bound and weakened, Tony's humor didn't falter. The jab stung—reminding Killian that Stark still saw him as insignificant.

"It's fine if you don't remember me," Killian said coldly, smirking as he pulled out a tablet. "But you'll care about this."

On the screen was Pepper—Pepper Potts—being injected with Extremis.

"Shit! Killian, I'll give you whatever you want! Don't hurt her! I'm the one you want, damn it!"

Watching the woman he loved subjected to such torture nearly broke Tony.

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