The desert night sky was stained dark red by explosions.
The moment the Mark I stepped out of the cave, over twenty insurgents opened fire at once.
Bullets clattered against the iron plating like a dense drumroll.
Tony merely looked down at the scratches on his chestplate.
“Doesn’t even tickle.”
The flamethrowers ignited.
This time, he intentionally channeled the chill inside his body, casting a fan of blue-and-white cold flame.
Those swallowed by the fire didn’t die immediately; they rolled frantically on the ground.
Their flesh burned, but their souls felt a bone-chilling frost.
Screams served as background music.
Tony charged into the crowd, every swing of his iron fist accompanied by the dull crunch of shattering bone.
A rocket struck his shoulder; the impact forced him back a single step, and nothing more.
He grabbed the man who had fired the rocket and crushed his throat with one hand.
Ten minutes later, the camp fell silent.
Tony found the weapons cache, which was filled with Stark Industries crates.
He opened one and pulled out the launch controller for the Jericho missile.
“Returning your property.”
He pressed the button.
A chain explosion set the night sky ablaze.
The Mark I stood before the sea of fire, its steel body reflecting the dancing flames.
Inside, Tony whispered softly, “Yinsen, this is the first installment.”
The suit’s thrusters engaged.
The steel titan lifted off clumsily.
After flying thirty kilometers, severely damaged, it crashed into a sand dune like a falling meteor.
*BOOM!*
The massive kinetic impact knocked Tony briefly unconscious.
He didn’t know how much time had passed.
The roaring whir of helicopter blades echoed in the air.
A UH-60 Black Hawk carrying Colonel Rhodes flew overhead.
When Rhodes saw the crash site, his heart sank to the bottom of his chest.
Before the helicopter even stabilized, he leaped out and rushed toward the smoking pile of twisted metal.
“Tony!
Tony!”
No response.
Rhodes frantically tore away the wreckage and opened the cockpit.
The faceplate was cracked.
He pried it open and saw Tony’s face.
Ghastly pale.
Devoid of blood.
Rhodes reached out a trembling hand to feel for his breath.
Nothing.
He felt for the carotid pulse.
Still.
“No…
no, no, no…” Rhodes’s eyes instantly turned red.
“Damn it, Tony, you can’t…”
“Hey!
Can I get a cheeseburger?
Thanks!”
Rhodes leaped back in shock.
Tony opened his eyes, slowly rolling them toward him.
“Make it double meat.
I’m starving, though technically I don’t need to eat.”
“You…
you…” Rhodes stammered incoherently.
“You weren’t breathing?!”
“Saves energy.” Tony tried to sit up, his movements stiff like a zombie’s.
“Give me a hand.
This tin suit is heavy as hell.”
Rhodes pulled him out.
When Tony stood up, Rhodes noticed something wrong.
No stumbling, no weakness—it was as if he had simply stepped off a couch.
And his body temperature was unnaturally cold.
“Your injuries…” Rhodes looked at Tony’s chest, where gray, lifeless skin and still heart tissue showed through the holes in his shirt.
Tony looked down.
“Oh, that.
Long story.
Let me get out of here first.”
Once inside the helicopter, Rhodes tried to give Tony an adrenaline shot.
“Don’t bother.” Tony pushed the syringe away.
“Won’t work on me.
Got any food?
I’m genuinely hungry.”
A mechanic handed over a pack of compressed biscuits.
Tony took a bite and frowned.
“Tastes terrible, like chewing wax!”
Suddenly remembering something, he jumped out of his seat.
“Wait!
I forgot something!”
Rhodes watched as Tony ran back to the suit’s wreckage, tore open the chest plate with his bare hands, and dug out the still-glowing arc reactor.
The blue light illuminated his face.
Tony stared at the center of the reactor, where faint spiral patterns were visible.
He touched it with his finger, feeling a faint resonance ripple through his tip.
“A souvenir.” He shoved the reactor into his pocket and climbed back onto the helicopter.
“Let’s go.
Take me home.”
***
At the same time, in New York.
Shaun Vance stood before the floor-to-ceiling window of Morgan Stanley’s VIP room, holding a glass of water.
Outside, the massive screen on Stark Tower flashed green numbers.
The stock price was jumping.
[System Notification: Revive-Revive Fruit Synchronization Rate Updated.]
[Current: 42%]
[Ability Branch Progress: – Call of the Dead: 3% (Unactivated) – Revive Cold Energy: 18% (Elementary Mastery) – Will of the Dead: 35% (Stable State)]
“Mr.
Vance!”
Carla rushed in, her long legs tightly wrapped in black stockings beneath her pencil skirt, taut from her rapid pace.
She pointed at the screen, her chest heaving heavily.
“Tony Stark’s been found!
The military just held a press conference!
The stock price is going crazy!”
On the screen, the Stark Industries stock chart rocketed upward violently.
+25%…
+30%…
+35%…
A news window popped up with a live stream: at a desert airfield, Rhodes supported a “weak” Tony as he boarded a helicopter, while reporters’ flashbulbs blazed continuously.
“How much did we make?” Shaun Vance asked without turning around.
“Five times our investment!
Your ten million is worth fifty million now!” Carla’s voice trembled.
“Should we keep holding?
The analysts say it could easily hit eight times!”
“Sell everything.”
Carla froze.
“What?”
Shaun Vance turned around, his eyes calm as a deep pond.
“Sell every last share.
Right now.”
“But…”
“Do as I say.”
Carla had no choice but to obey, her slender fingers tapping rapidly on the keyboard.
The trading order was issued.
A rapid series of transaction records flashed across the screen, clearing out their position within seconds.
Carla looked at the real-time account balance: $48,736,521.
“Wh…
why?” She couldn’t comprehend it.
“This surge was just getting started!”
Shaun Vance walked over to her and pointed outside the window toward Stark Tower.
“Do you know what the first thing Tony Stark will do after returning alive is?”
“Throw a victory party?
Hold a press conference?”
“No,” Shaun Vance said.
“He’s going to smash his own golden rice bowl.”
He brought up a replay of the news footage, zooming in on the shot of Tony being helped into the helicopter.
Though blurry, Tony’s expression was clear.
It was not the relief of surviving a disaster, but a cold, resolute determination.
“In the desert, he saw the weapons manufactured by his own company being used by the people who tried to kill him.”
Shaun Vance closed the video.
“Knowing his personality, what do you think he will do?”
Carla suddenly understood, taking a sharp breath.
“Shut down the weapons division…
But that accounts for ninety percent of Stark Industries’ revenue!”
“Precisely, which means the stock will take a second plunge,” Shaun Vance said, looking back at the screen.
“When it hits rock bottom, we’ll buy it back.”
He pulled up a new watchlist: Obadiah Stane, Justin Hammer, and stocks tied to General Ross.
“These are…”
“A bargain hunting list.”
Shaun Vance saved the page.
“Alright, that’s it for today.
There’s a new dish at the restaurant tonight.
If you’re interested, Miss Carla, you’re welcome to come try the ‘Ice and Fire Lobster Tail.'”
Carla’s face flushed red at his words.
The last time she went to Shaun’s Chinese restaurant for dinner, she ended up staying the night.
And Shaun had thoroughly exhausted her…
she could barely get out of bed the next day.
Recalling it now, she felt terrified—yet eager to try again!