Chapter 131: Poaching to One's Face
Old Wang pressed his hand to his forehead, utterly speechless.
Tony, oh Tony, that long string of numbers you just rattled off is barely more than the leftover tricks I played with back in junior high in a past life. Must you flaunt your skills so crudely?
If it weren’t for knowing Tony’s prideful, arrogant, and self-centered nature, I might have thought I was talking to a high schooler under eighteen.
You’re forty years old, you know—Tony “The Arrogant” Stark!
What a disgrace.
Of course, these figures were still electrifying to any scientist familiar with the field, like Fitz.
Without a doubt, Tony was the idol of all physicists and mechanical engineers, and Fitz was no exception.
Meeting his idol, the usually shy Fitz nearly lost his voice, stammering, “Mr... Stark... it’s an honor... to meet you!”
He nervously rubbed his hands together before extending his left hand.
Then quickly switched to his right.
“A former research staffer at S.H.I.E.L.D.’s technology division, now director of the Dark Codex Laboratory.”
Old Wang introduced him simply, his tone calm, “The brain mapping and memory uploading I mentioned are his responsibility.”
“Hm?”
Tony had initially planned to brush him off casually—few scientists could hold his interest, and most of them were long gone.
But upon hearing Old Wang’s words, he immediately took notice, extending his right hand with a reserved “Not bad as a research focus. Shall we take a look?”
Praised by his idol, Fitz nearly lost his breath, rubbing his chest and glancing at Old Wang with eyes full of longing.
“Let him come. That’s exactly what he’s here for,” Old Wang smiled, making a polite gesture.
“Mr. Stark, this way, please!” Fitz hurriedly led the way.
“You two get to work,” Old Wang waved them off as the others dispersed, leaving only Simmons, Lucy, and a handful of scientists following.
When it came to Tony, Simmons was genuinely admiring.
Though both held doctorates in different fields, Simmons understood clearly:
Tony simply lacked the interest to acquire more.
Those degrees were worthless to him—less valuable than burger-wrapping greaseproof paper.
Everyone knew Mr. Stark’s expertise extended far beyond physics and engineering; like Dr. Banner, he was a true polymath.
The group soon arrived at the lab, where Fitz displayed all their achievements to Tony.
Images and texts streamed across the screen as Fitz patiently explained while demonstrating.
Yet Tony’s impatience was palpable; he couldn’t help but call out, “No need to be so detailed—twice the speed... no, four times!”
Speed it up?
Fitz and Simmons exchanged glances, inhaling sharply.
They knew Stark was formidable, but not this formidable!
All this complex, intricate research they’d labored over for months, and he grasped it all in a single glance?
How was anyone supposed to keep up?
Fitz had no choice but to accelerate, speaking less and less, mostly just demonstrating until Tony outright grabbed the mouse.
“Still using a mouse? Master Wang, your lab’s pathetic. Tomorrow I’ll have a set of holographic equipment delivered—free of charge.”
Tony was still Tony, unabashedly self-centered, heedless of others’ feelings.
For most, such a personality was a recipe for trouble, but not for Tony.
His talent and intellect blazed like the midday sun, eclipsing every shadow and flaw.
He flipped through the images and text so fast it was like turning his back on friends.
In less than three hours, he had reviewed and comprehended months of research data.
Though learning is always simpler than researching, the speed was both astonishing and humbling.
At this point, Fitz and the others no longer felt rivalry—they lacked even the qualifications.
If Tony were Zhuge Liang, they were probably no more than Lu Bu in intellect.
The lab fell into absolute silence, broken only by the steady rustling of pages.
Tony held a pen and paper, calculating and pondering alone.
The challenge was an incredibly complex formula.
It reminded him of that night nine years ago, surrounded by fine wine and beautiful company.
Back then, drunk, he casually corrected a critical enzyme repair algorithm; now, with far more knowledge and intellect, he couldn’t possibly solve this formula so swiftly.
The difficulty was leagues apart.
Chemical coding-based self-repair in a specific brain region was incomparable to precise mapping of the entire cerebral cortex.
If the former was elementary school, the latter was high school.
Not to mention it involved memory uploading.
“Jarvis, cancel all meetings, speeches, or anything else tomorrow. Tell Pepper she’s not coming home for dinner tonight or tomorrow... No, no models or actresses either!”
Tony made a call and ate a burger.
The lab lights stayed on; Fitz, Simmons, and the others showed no signs of fatigue. Old Wang had no interest in lingering.
Sky had vented for days; Whitehall was a wreck. She needed care, warmth, and, of course, a comfortable bed.
Where once only he could use his Qi to vibrate any part of his body, now Sky could do the same, even better thanks to instinctive genetic traits. This eased Old Wang’s burden considerably.
The night passed without words, only movement.
The next evening.
A sudden, forceful knocking jolted Old Wang awake.
“Boss! It’s solved! Mr. Stark cracked it!”
“My God, he’s a genius, a genius on par with Dr. Erkins!”
“He’s an angel with broken wings!”
“Mr. Stark really should reboot the Super Soldier program—he can definitely recreate Dr. Erkins’ serum!”
“No, he won’t; his Iron Armor is far superior to any super soldier serum!”
Fitz’s voice was like the quacking of five hundred ducks.
This isn’t an angel; it’s earwax.
Old Wang sighed and got up.
“Easier than I imagined.”
In the lab, Tony sported a pair of panda eyes but held his head high, looking like this problem was too trivial even to make him try.
“Sleepy. Going to bed now!”
He took two steps and suddenly felt his legs give out.
The brief flash of embarrassment vanished as Tony collapsed face-first on the table.
He was asleep.
“Boss, Mr. Stark not only solved the problem, he designed the crucial equipment!”
Fitz came over with a stack of sketches, ecstatic.
“Mr. Stark is a genius! Without him, it might’ve taken me two weeks to design the complete blueprints. Now, it’ll take two days at most!”
“By the way, Mr. Stark said he can help manufacture the equipment. His home is the best lab, with the best AI assistant. He invited me to work at his place tomorrow!”
“Poaching right in front of me?” Old Wang frowned, looking at Tony with displeasure.
Are you bored with life?
“Uh, I definitely won’t go to Stark Industries—there aren’t nearly as many research projects there as in the lab.”
It took Fitz a dozen seconds to realize this and hastily explained, “It’s at his home, working alongside him to build the equipment. I’ll come back when it’s done. I’m really interested in the framework and quantum brain you mentioned—those are harder than brain mapping and memory uploading…”
“No need to explain. If you want to go, go... No, first get some sleep. All of you.”
Old Wang glanced at the tired group with panda eyes and waved his big hand, directing true Qi into their bodies, stimulating certain acupoints.
One by one, they collapsed into deep sleep, snoring filling the room.
“Scientists, ah, when they get busy, they really risk their lives. Unstoppable...”
Sighing, Old Wang got up and raised the air conditioner temperature by ten degrees.
...
...
Afghanistan, a mountainous region.
After a long search and comparison, the Mark I armor was finally reassembled and presented to the assembled terrorists.
Looking at the mighty and imposing suit, Zala seemed to glimpse the proud figure of his ancestor, Genghis Khan, urging his horse forward.
That was the image he had long dreamed of.
“With twenty of these, I will dominate Asia and revive my ancestors’ glory!”
He placed great hopes on this iron suit.
“Boss, Obadei is dead. What do we do now? Who will manufacture for us? Who will supply our weapons?” a subordinate asked.
“There will be someone willing.”
Zala looked toward America.
“For example... Justin Hammer!”