Relying on a vampire’s astonishing self-healing power, Anhalt pushed himself up from the ground and roared hoarsely.
His previously well-dressed kin shed their disguises, baring their fangs as they lunged at the ninjas of The Hand.
“Don’t just stand there.”
The Blood-Clad Marquis looked askance at Murakami, Bakuto, and the others who had yet to make a move.
His gaze was sharp as a blade, carrying an unmistakable warning.
“Yes.”
Murakami’s eyes darkened as killing intent surged within him.
He dashed into the fray alongside the other three.
The outcome was quickly decided.
The vampires, accustomed to a life of luxury and privilege, could handle ordinary humans well enough, but against the elite ninjas of The Hand and Madame Gao’s faction, they were utterly defenseless, cut down like vegetables.
The purebloods were securely bound with silver chains, while the rest were reduced to ashes, leaving absolutely nothing behind.
“The Marquis will never let you get away with this!”
Unable to break free from his tight bonds, Anhalt blustered, throwing out a standard, empty threat.
“How noisy.”
The Blood-Clad Marquis spared him a cold glance.
Instantly, the shouting vampire baron froze into an intricate ice sculpture, his expression of shock permanently etched onto his face.
“Ah!”
One of the bound Chinese girls shrieked in terror.
“Are you Chinese?”
The Blood-Clad Marquis turned to look at the group of girls.
Frowning slightly, he flicked his finger.
A sharp burst of sword qi swept past, severing their ropes instantly.
“Yes, we came here together on vacation,” the oldest girl answered, summoning her courage.
“Send them to the Chinese Embassy,” the Blood-Clad Marquis ordered Madame Gao briefly.
Just as Madame Gao waved her hand for the ninjas to escort the girls out, a thick, crimson mist rose from the Blood-Clad Marquis.
It rapidly coalesced into a twisted, grinning demonic face.
“Bai Yifei, the blood of these girls is intoxicatingly sweet. Why not leave them for me to enjoy slowly after my resurrection?”
“Blood Demon, my affairs are none of your concern.” The Blood-Clad Marquis’s gaze cut like a blade straight through the crimson face.
“Have you forgotten? You were the one who personally opened Mount Shu’s Demon Locking Tower and released me all those years ago.”
The Blood Demon threw his head back and laughed wildly.
“The entirety of Mount Shu will not rest until you are dead.”
“Only by binding yourself to me can you hope for immortality—and even the power of an immortal.”
[Shock Value from Madame Gao +300] [Shock Value from Murakami +300] [Shock Value from Bakuto +300] [Shock Value from Sowande +300] [Shock Value from Alexandra +300] [Shock Value from Anhalt +200]
Hearing the cascade of system notifications in his ear, Luke Lane chuckled inwardly.
He continued to control his clone, the Blood-Clad Marquis, to keep up the act.
“Blood Demon, do not forget that you are currently nothing but a remnant soul.”
“If you wish to see the light of day again, you require my permission.”
The Blood-Clad Marquis’s face was as cold as iron.
He stared down the churning blood mist without yielding an inch.
“A laughable, futile show of stubbornness.”
With an angry roar, the Blood Demon’s mist abruptly coiled backward, wrapping around the Blood-Clad Marquis’s body before vanishing without a trace.
“Perform your duties.”
The Blood-Clad Marquis cast a frigid gaze over Madame Gao, Murakami, and the others.
His face was grim as he turned and walked away.
Once his figure had completely vanished, the five leaders of The Hand looked at one another.
The air grew still as the atmosphere subtly shifted.
“Immortality?”
Murakami, the oldest among them, was the first to speak.
His voice was dry, unable to mask his burning desire.
“Power comparable to an immortal’s!”
Bakuto gripped the hilt of his sword, his knuckles turning white, his face flushed with unsuppressible excitement.
Madame Gao narrowed her eyes, the corners of her lips curling upward.
“I suggest we bide our time for now. We should probe the Marquis of the Blood Wardrobe’s background first.”
“Agreed.”
“Very well.”
The remaining leaders agreed one after another, their eyes burning with raw ambition and desire.
***
“Director, we have a situation.”
Inside the S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters at the Triskelion, Phil Coulson walked quickly into the office.
“Based on Tony’s previous description, I suspected the ninjas summoned by the Joker might be connected to The Hand, so I pulled the relevant intel right away.”
“We’ve confirmed that all five leaders of The Hand have recently arrived in New York in secret, and they are now controlled by a mysterious figure code-named ‘the Marquis of the Blood Wardrobe.'”
“Not long ago, this individual led a raid on a vampire estate in New York.”
“The purebloods were all captured, and the rest were eliminated.”
“Keep following this lead,” Nick Fury said, frowning.
“Make sure you uncover the true identity of the Marquis of the Blood Wardrobe, as well as his real objective.”
“Yes, Director.”
Coulson paused, asking with slight hesitation, “Should we quietly deploy extra personnel to protect Tony?”
“I’m worried the Joker might target him again.”
“You don’t need to worry about that. I’ve already made arrangements,” Nick Fury replied flatly, his tone brooking no argument.
Tony Stark had always been a primary subject of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s attention and protection.
This was not merely because his father, Howard Stark, was one of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s founders, but because Tony himself was an indisputable genius.
Nick Fury had always thought highly of him.
“The Marquis of the Blood Wardrobe… the Joker…”
“Lately, New York hasn’t been very peaceful.”
After Coulson left, Nick Fury slowly tapped his desk, his brow furrowed deeply.
He had long intended to form an alliance of super-powered individuals—the Avengers—specifically to handle extraordinary crises that ordinary people were powerless to stop.
However, S.H.I.E.L.D.’s primary backer, the World Security Council, had refused to budge on the matter.
Now, this presented a rare opportunity for a breakthrough.
***
“The Hand has already started purging the vampires.”
Inside an old-fashioned bar in Chinatown, Matt, who had just finished gathering intelligence, looked tense.
“No need to rush.”
Lu Xiaofeng lazily crossed his legs, his eyes scanning the girls dancing passionately on the dance floor.
As Luke Lane’s clone, he knew his original body was intentionally biding its time.
He was waiting for more heroes to enter the stage before wrapping them all up together to maximize his gains.
“But we can’t just stand by and watch,” Matt said in a low, somber voice.
Even though his injuries hadn’t fully healed, the unyielding sense of justice in his bones made it impossible for him to sit still.
“Haste makes waste.”
Lu Xiaofeng took a sip from his glass.
“With what the two of us can do right now, going head-to-head with the Marquis of the Blood Wardrobe and The Hand? That’s pure suicide.”
“Mount Shu has already dispatched someone. Be patient, Matt.”
“…Fine.”
Matt sighed heavily.
He understood, of course.
With all five leaders of The Hand gathered and backed by the unpredictably powerful Marquis of the Blood Wardrobe, the two of them wouldn’t even make it past the front door.
“By the way, Matt.”
Lu Xiaofeng slowly swirled his glass, asking casually, “Do you know any other tough characters? The kind who can fight and are reliable.”
“There is one… quite hot-tempered. He goes by ‘the Punisher.'”
Matt paused, hesitating slightly.
“But his methods… leave absolutely no room for mercy.”
“Tsk, sounds like you don’t have many friends.”
Lu Xiaofeng shrugged.
Just as Matt was about to explain, a sudden commotion erupted in a corner of the bar.
Over there, Jessica Jones had grabbed a burly, broad-shouldered drunkard with one hand and hoisted him right over her head.
Her eyes were unfocused yet sharp as she growled, “Who gave you the balls to touch me?”
The big man slapped frantically at her arm, his entire face turning purple as he choked.
“If I ever see you again…” She snorted coldly and let go.
The man slammed hard onto the floor, scrambling to his feet and fleeing out the door without daring to utter a single threatening word.
“What are you looking at?!”
She glared at the onlookers, her shout deafening, before stumbling toward the exit clutching a half-empty bottle of liquor.
“I know her.”
Although Matt was blind, he could determine positions from the wind and identify people by their sounds.
“Jessica Jones. A private investigator from Hell’s Kitchen with a famously short fuse.”
“I can sense a burst of power within her that far exceeds an ordinary person’s,” Lu Xiaofeng said, stroking his meticulously trimmed mustache.
This heroine had gained superhuman strength and durability from an accident, along with the ability to fly.
Later, she would team up with Daredevil Matt, Luke Cage, Iron Fist, the Punisher, and others to form the street-level “Defenders,” making them elite frontline fighters within the broader Avengers ecosystem.
A high-potential asset indeed.
“It seems someone is tailing her.”
Matt tilted his head slightly, his ears twitching.
“Let’s follow and see.”
Lu Xiaofeng stood up, the corners of his lips curling into a grin that betrayed a touch of eagerness.
He wasn’t mistaken.
Just moments ago, a middle-aged man in a purple suit had indeed been tailing Jessica.
It was none other than the supervillain who controlled minds through neurotoxins: Kilgrave, the Purple Man.
***
The alley behind the bar.
Jessica carried her bottle of alcohol, her footsteps unsteady and her cheeks flushed from the drink.
Yet, when a few thugs loitering in the alley saw her, they instantly shrank back a couple of steps as if avoiding a plague.
This woman might look pretty, but she was terrifyingly brutal.
Plenty of locals had had their ribs shattered by her fists and were still hooked up to IVs in the hospital.
“A bunch of disgusting creeps.”
She flipped them off, swaying as she continued forward.
“My dear Jessica, it’s been a long time~”
A slimy, cold voice rang out.
The man in the purple suit blocked the mouth of the alley, a spine-chilling, predatory grin plastered across his face.
“Kilgrave!”
Jessica’s body stiffened.
Her voice trembled, every word laced with deep hatred and fury.
When she first gained her abilities, she had been full of passion for street-level justice, only to run headfirst into this Purple Man who could release neurotoxins to control minds.
The period of time she spent completely under his control had become the deepest nightmare of her life.
“Die!”
As the humiliation of the past welled up, she clenched her fist and swung it violently at him.
Yet her body, which could easily flip a truck, was now as if nailed to the spot, unable to move even a fingertip.
It was happening again…
She grit her teeth, a trace of blood seeping from her lower lip.
“No one escapes my control.”
Kilgrave smiled with absolute confidence, certain of his victory.
“Oh?”
“I don’t think so.”
Lu Xiaofeng smirked as he slowly strolled out of the shadows.
His demeanor was casual, yet he was not a force to be underestimated.
“Who are you?”
Kilgrave narrowed his eyes.
Silently and invisibly, he released his pheromones—the lethal toxin that could penetrate the skin, enter the human body, and rewrite conscious will.
“Get out of here! He can control you!” Jessica squeezed out the words, her voice hoarse.
“On me? It’s useless.”
Lu Xiaofeng circulated his internal energy, sealing off the toxins the moment they entered his body.
His figure swept forward like the wind, moving so fast he left only afterimages as he struck straight for Kilgrave’s chest.
“How could anyone…”
Kilgrave’s pupils dilated, but before his cry of disbelief could fully escape his lips,
A palm struck him squarely in the chest.
He was sent flying backward like a broken kite, smashing heavily against a brick wall over ten meters away.
“Cough… cough!”
Sprawled on the ground, he spat out a mouthful of blood.
His expression turned savage.
“Jessica! Kill him!”
Before the words even finished hanging in the air, Jessica’s expression instantly went blank.
Clenching her fists, she kicked off the ground and launched herself at Lu Xiaofeng like a cannonball.
Lu Xiaofeng lightly tapped his toe against the ground.
Moving as gracefully as a willow branch swaying in the breeze, he drifted behind her and swiftly tapped the acupoints on the side of her neck.
Yet the paralysis lasted for less than a second.
With a twist of her neck, she lunged at him once more, her fists whipping up a fierce wind.
“Her physical vitality is simply too robust.”
Lu Xiaofeng shook his head helplessly, then met Jessica head-on, engaging her in close combat as his body dodged and leaped.
Seeing that Jessica couldn’t suppress Lu Xiaofeng, Kilgrave quietly began to retreat, a trace of anxiety rising on his brow.
This was the very first time he had encountered someone completely immune to his abilities.
“Thinking of slipping away?”