Chapter 57: I Have My Principles (Please Recommend)

"It's the Ghost Rider!" Zhou Cheng cried out in alarm. "Wasn't he in Los Angeles? How did he end up in New York?"

"Ghost Rider?" Madame Gao frowned.

She had lived for over a thousand years. Although she had never seen the Ghost Rider with her own eyes, she had heard countless legends about him. Those who made pacts with the devil still walked the earth—so which one was this?

"Kill him," Madame Gao ordered her men to open fire without hesitation, then turned to leave.

Legend had it that the Ghost Rider was immortal, impossible to kill by conventional means. Defeating and killing are two very different things.

"Qi" was not a conventional method, but even so, she doubted she had the power to kill such a being. Not even the Jade Emperor or Thunder Lord, the strongest in Kunlun, could do it—perhaps only the most legendary "Immortal Weapons" in history, like Wu Fengji, the Iron Fist who once defeated the Phoenix Fragment.

Since he couldn't be killed, there was no point in lingering. This was New York; any commotion would attract the police and other authorities. She had some influence in the police force, but if things got out of hand, it would be impossible to clean up. After all, this wasn't her only drug lab—she could afford to abandon this one.

Bang!

Bang, bang!

Gunfire erupted in a relentless barrage as Zhou Cheng and a dozen henchmen attacked, but Robbie remained unscathed.

His eyes blazed with hellfire, and his head had long since transformed into a flaming skull. Assuming the form of the Ghost Rider was the perfect disguise—no one could recognize his true identity. He hadn't even brought his Dodge Charger this time, fearing it might give him away.

Small-caliber handguns were useless, unable to inflict any real harm.

Robbie scanned the crowd and instantly locked onto Madame Gao as she tried to flee.

Whoosh!

He lashed out with his chain.

The chain, wreathed in hellfire, wrapped around the nearest man. The hellfire consumed him, his agonized screams echoing as he writhed on the ground, reduced in moments to a charred husk; even his handgun melted in the flames. The sheer power of the hellfire sent a chill through Madame Gao as she fled.

A sufficiently powerful "Qi" could also melt steel, but even for her, it was nearly impossible.

Ghost Rider was not someone she could handle; Madame Gao quickened her pace.

Whoosh!

The chain whipped through the air like a serpent, darting swiftly toward Madame Gao.

She didn't even look back.

Suddenly, she struck backward with her palm, unleashing invisible force that sent the chain flying.

By the standards of modern martial arts novels, Madame Gao was at least a first-rate master—moving objects at a distance was child's play for her.

She had blocked the enemy's attack, causing her to pause, slightly stunned.

Was the Ghost Rider weaker than she had imagined?

The ones in her memory were far beyond her ability to oppose, but this one seemed much less formidable.

Maybe I can defeat him?

The thought lasted only three seconds before Madame Gao discarded it. What would it matter? The Ghost Rider was immortal. If she couldn't kill him, the fight was meaningless.

Having survived for over a thousand years, she was increasingly wary of death, always cautious. If violence could be avoided, she would avoid it—nothing was more important than her life.

Seeing Madame Gao escape, Robbie grew anxious and charged after her.

Suddenly,

Madame Gao shouted, "The troublemaker is here! Catch him!"

At her words, the blind people—who had already stopped fighting—began groping their way toward Robbie, encircling him.

Their faces were expressionless, more like automatons than people, obeying orders without thought.

In seconds, Robbie was surrounded.

"Kill them, kill them!" The spirit of vengeance urged him relentlessly from within.

But Robbie resisted.

Madame Gao and her henchmen were guilty, deserving of death, but these blind people knew nothing. They were brainwashed puppets, pitiful souls—he could not kill the innocent. That was his line.

Otherwise, how was he any different from Madame Gao?

He was a vigilante, not a villain!

It took great effort to break free from the blind mob's encirclement, but by then, Madame Gao and her people had vanished.

He hurried in pursuit.

But then a gunshot rang out; a stack of oil drums nearby exploded.

Flames roared to life.

Now everyone in the factory—all the blind people, even nearby residents—were threatened by the fire.

Hearing the blind people's screams, seeing some already burned by the flames, Robbie hesitated for two seconds, then wrapped the chain around himself and charged toward them.

He couldn't turn a blind eye.

Meanwhile—

At Azeroth Specialty Store.

At the register, Skye stared at the surveillance feed on her laptop, dialing rapidly:

"Wang, Madame Gao is fleeing south... She's on the phone with the Triad, preparing to fly back to Hong Kong. I'll send you her location."

"Agent Romanoff? This is Skye. Good news—a fire just broke out in one of Madame Gao's drug labs, thousands of lives at risk... What? Not S.H.I.E.L.D.'s jurisdiction? Fine, I'll notify the local police."

"But Madame Gao and the Hand are your business, aren't they? I'll send you the location."

"Wang? He says he's sleeping, and dreaming about soy-braised eggs..."

"..."

"Robbie, the police and fire department will arrive in fifteen minutes. You should get out. Forget about Madame Gao—I've already wiped the surveillance footage, so you don't have to worry about exposure. What? Someone took photos? A little boy? Let me check... Peter Parker, an elementary school student, average family, likes photography, but can't afford a good camera—his pictures are blurry, nothing to worry about."

"There were other witnesses? Robbie, Wang is right—you need a combat suit, one that conceals every feature, just like Captain America!"

...

...

In a certain café.

Black Widow was having coffee with Hawkeye when she suddenly got a call from Skye. She looked up at Hawkeye, helpless. "Clint, we've got work to do."

...

...

Somewhere in Hell's Kitchen.

Madame Gao strode furiously with a dozen henchmen, seething inside.

"Damn it, why would Ghost Rider come after me? I've never crossed him!"

Of course, she knew full well—the Ghost Rider always targeted criminals. Someone with hands as bloodstained as hers was a perfect mark. Taking her down was worth more than a thousand gangsters.

But she'd just heard days ago that Ghost Rider had appeared in Los Angeles, even drawing out Hydra after sixty years in hiding.

So why was he in New York now?

Was he here on vacation?

"Hurry, to the airport!" Madame Gao ordered.

The group hurried out.

They were in a basement, surrounded by crates; the car was parked outside.

They could reach it in a minute.

Suddenly, a chorus of muffled groans rang out.

Then bodies thudded to the ground in quick succession.

Madame Gao froze, turning stiffly to see her dozen henchmen sprawled on the floor—only Zhou Cheng remained by her side, breathing hard, tense with fear.

A slightly overweight, masked man stood five meters away, unarmed.

He exuded an air of laziness, completely lacking the presence of a martial arts master.

"Madame Gao."

The masked man's voice was slightly hoarse, as if echoing from antiquity, and he spoke flawless Mandarin with the cadence of the Central Plains. "At last, I've found you."

Sensing the same aura, the same strength, hearing the same language, Madame Gao tensed all over. She hadn't been this nervous in decades. "Who are you?"

"I'm the last person you ever wanted to see," the masked man replied.

He raised his left hand, clenching it into a fist, emerald Qi swirling around it. "Kunlun—Iron Fist!"