American comics: Praising the sun, starting from Gotham!

Faced with Hill's scrutinizing gaze, Shum wore an infuriatingly self-righteous expression.

"I don't know her well, and I'm not interested in your dark houses."

"I have only ever had one destination."

As he spoke, everyone's eyes followed his finger and focused on Clint Barton.

"From now on, wherever he goes, I go. You can think of me as... well, a highly intelligent personal accessory."

"I don't want a pendant like you! And don't even think about following me!"

Clint finally roared in anger.

"Protest invalid."

"I will follow you until a suitable bow appears in your body. This is a very great and historically significant undertaking to raise the average aesthetic level of all archers in the universe."

Clint felt like his lungs were about to explode with anger.

Aesthetic standards?

Historical significance?

He'd seen shameless people, but he'd never seen anyone spout such blatant nonsense with such a straight face!

Kate blinked frantically, thinking the archer's aesthetic sense project sounded awesome, and she even considered signing up herself.

Hill's lips twitched.

She has dealt with the most powerful god in the world.

He has also dealt with some of the most insane dictators.

He'd even dealt with the most cunning alien spies, but this luminous being in front of him... well, communication was ineffective.

"All right."

After a long silence of ten seconds, Maria Hill, the acting director of S.H.I.E.L.D., made one of the most pragmatic decisions of her career.

She chose to give up.

"Agent Patton".

"From this moment forward, you are fully responsible for the safety and discipline of this tourist."

"What?!"

Clint suspected that his hearing aid was broken again.

"S.H.I.E.L.D. will provide you with the highest level of logistical support, including but not limited to temporary accommodation, vehicles, and intelligence support."

Hill turned her head away, not wanting to see Clint's ghost-like expression.

"However, all physical, non-physical, metaphysical, and potential losses he causes will be deducted from your retirement account, in US dollars, until it is depleted."

Clint opened his mouth, but couldn't utter a single word. He felt as if he could see his retirement savings, painstakingly accumulated over decades, sprout wings and fly away singing Ode to Joy.

Damn Hill, does he really not want me to retire?

"in addition."

Hill seemed to remember something; she retrieved an image from the command channel and projected it onto the wall next to her.

It was a ronin's battle suit with gold trim, which was currently being placed in a transparent evidence bag.

There was a clear gash on the chest of the suit, indicating that it had been cut by a sharp weapon.

"These are the clothes you found in the burned-down apartment."

Hill turned his gaze to Kate.

"The forensic department found the DNA of a deceased member of the gang wearing the tracksuit, as well as your fingerprints, on it. We recovered it at the scene of the attack. Now, I need you to find out who the original owner of this tracksuit was and why he was being hunted by the gang. This may be related to that deceased member."

Her tone became serious.

"Kate Bishop, your wealthy mother is using all her connections to pressure you. If you want to prove you're not just an impulsive little girl who only knows how to cause trouble, then do this right. Barton, you have faith in her, and you have faith in him."

Hill glanced at Xiu En, who seemed lost in thought.

"My mission is complete."

"Frey will contact you personally regarding the next steps. Merry Christmas."

Inside the safe house, only three people remained, staring at each other in bewilderment.

"So now I not only have to deal with a bunch of Russian-speaking idiots, but I also have to be your babysitter?"

Clint looked at Shum and felt his whole life turn gray.

"I am the mentor."

Xiu En corrected him.

Screw your mentor!

Clint cursed in an annoyed tone.

He turned his gaze to the bag of ronin armor and scratched his head in frustration.

This was originally his secret, a relic of his dark past.

But now, it's been placed openly on the table, and it's tied together with an overly energetic rookie and a spectacled person who's probably thinking something.

This was definitely the worst Christmas gift he had ever received.

"Your battle suit."

Kate pointed to the evidence bag and said cautiously, "What should we do with it? Burn it? Or bury it somewhere?"

"The suit isn't the key."

Clint shook his head.

He knew that as long as this garment existed, trouble would come knocking on his door like sharks smelling blood.

What should he do now?

Should we take these two burdens with us and get to the bottom of this mess?

Or should I just knock them both out and then sneak away by myself?

The first option sounds like a nightmare.

As for the second option, he glanced at the figure radiating golden light and wisely abandoned this unrealistic idea.

"Let's get out of this godforsaken place first."

Clint ultimately made his decision.

"We all need a place to stay."

He applied for a S.H.I.E.L.D. apartment in the city as a temporary base, then gave Shum a feeble warning: "Listen, once you get to the apartment, don't touch anything, don't eat anything, and don't talk to anyone. Can you do that?"

"That's so boring."

Xiu En refused outright.

Clint took a deep breath.

He took another deep breath.

He felt that this guy named Hugh was probably the biggest crisis he had ever faced in his career.

Half an hour later, an unremarkable-looking black S.H.I.E.L.D. van pulled up in front of an apartment building in Brooklyn.

As soon as he entered the room, Clint threw himself onto the sofa.

Kate placed the evidence bag on the dining table, examining the ominous-looking suit with a mixture of curiosity and fear.

Shuon floated above Clint's head, watching him.

Clint felt extremely uncomfortable watching this.

"Could you please stop staring at me like a camera?"

He finally couldn't help but complain.

"I am observing the energy flow within your body."

Xiu En answered in a very serious manner.

"It's so clogged, like a sewer that's been blocked for fifty years. Every breath you take is wasting the potential that could have made you stronger."

Shum added that it reminded him of Batman and Superman.

"You are like a rough stone that has not been polished at all."

"Thank you for your compliment, I am truly flattered."

Clint rolled his eyes.

He just wanted to sleep, hoping that when he woke up, it would all be just a nightmare caused by eating expired pizza.

While he was sleeping, he seemed to hear Xiu En's curious voice.

"By the way, is that tin can that looks like a traffic light and can fly also a weapon in your world?"

Clint! Open your eyes!

He rushed to the window and looked outside.

That's the direction of Stark Tower.

This time, this familiar term...

He remembered that Tony Stark was hosting a charity party at Stark Tower tonight and would be showcasing his latest Iron Man armor.

And then there's Shuen, this guy with a peculiar craving for metal...

A terrible thought formed in Clint's mind.

"No--!"

Then he woke up.

This time, he really opened his eyes.

Clint breathed a sigh of relief.

He saw Hugh talking to the sunflower; it seemed like just a nightmare.

"Whatever you want."

He waved his hand weakly at the ceiling.

"Even if you told me now that Fury is actually a Skrull, I wouldn't be surprised."

"Alien spy? That's too cliché."

Xiu En leaned half his body down from the ceiling.

"The ones I know all work part-time as space pirates and food bloggers."

Clint decided to completely ignore him.

He turned his gaze to Kate Bishop, who was idly fiddling with the evidence bags on the table.

"Since you're not planning to sleep, let's get down to business."

"Bring me your bow."

"oh oh!"

Kate was taken aback at first, then immediately took her compound bow off her back and handed it to her excitedly.

"Is it time to start training?"

"train?"

Clint took the bow and weighed it in his hand.

"This is remedial education. It's making up for what you'll never learn in your fencing club and those childish archery competitions."

He walked to the relatively intact white wall of the apartment and took out a most ordinary training arrow from the quiver.

He used an arrow to draw a black dot on the wall that was only the size of a coin.

"Listen, girl."

He turned around and threw the bow back to Kate.

"Tonight's lesson only has one topic. See that point? Forget about it."

"Huh?"

Kate looked bewildered.

"I said, forget about that point."

Clint emphasized his words, pointing to his eyes.

"Don't look at it with your eyes, and don't think about it with your brain."

He walked over to Kate, straightened her arm holding the bow, and adjusted her posture to a shooting position.

"Now, draw the bow."

Kate took a deep breath and did as she was told.

The bowstring was slowly pulled back.

She tried to do as Clint asked, but it was just too difficult.

That black dot was the only reference point in the room, constantly drawing her attention.

"Don't aim."

"Feel it. Feel the line between you and it. Feel your arrow, yearning to fly there. Your job is to let go."

"What line?"

Kate felt like she was going crazy. What kind of mystical teaching was this?

Are they filming Star Wars?

She needs to use the Force?

"Tsk, what a hassle."

"Why do you need to use so many nonsensical adjectives to convey a concept? Line? Is it the string of spatial laws, or the anchor point of causality? The definition is unclear and the logic is chaotic. Thumbs down."

"Shut up!"

Clint felt like his blood vessels were about to burst.

Kate, caught off guard by the sudden remark, relaxed, and with a "whoosh," the taut bowstring released the arrow.

"Whoosh!"

The arrow left the bowstring and, with a thud, embedded itself in the wall a full three inches away from the black dot.

The arrow's fletching was still trembling slightly, as if mocking it.

The arrow's fletching was still trembling slightly, as if mocking it.

Kete's confident face fell.

This was the worst arrow she had ever shot in her life; it was an utter disgrace.

"Is this the heart of a champion?"

"Hesitation, indecision, easily distracted by external noise. You weren't thinking about how to hit the target, but rather whether I could hit it at all? Would he laugh at me? Good heavens, what nonsense is that golden-haired guy spouting now?"

What he said was entirely accurate.

"That's why you lost to that bunch of idiots in red tonight."

Clint reopened her wounds.

"Your talent, when faced with real life and death, is as fragile as a wet tissue. You're not fighting, you're performing, craving praise from your idol."

These words made her eyes redden, and tears welled up in them.

Just then, Xiu En's voice rang out again, and he floated between the two of them.

"Although your teaching methods are terrible."

"But I do somewhat agree with the last point you made."

He turned to Kate, who was struggling to hold back her tears, and pointed a finger at her heart.

"Your heart is too pure, little ornament."

"A clean heart can't make delicious food. You have to add something, like salt!"

"Salt?"

Kate choked up, looking at him with confusion.

"No, he was referring to murderous intent."

Clint translated it for him, and for a moment he seemed to understand Shum's logic.

"Killing intent? That's true. But that word is too vague."

Xiu En nodded, then shook his head.

"I prefer to call it predator consciousness. You see, when a lion pounces on an antelope, it doesn't think about whether it can bite through its neck; it only thinks about dinner coming. In its world, there is only itself and the prey that is about to become food. Everything else—the sunlight, the wind, the grass, the hyenas nearby—is just background. That's focus."

"Archery is the same principle. When you draw the bow, your world must consist of only three things: you, the arrow, and your dinner. That black dot is your antelope for tonight. What you have to do is devour it! With your vision, with your will, with your arrow, digest it before it can even react!"

"Bang!"

Clint couldn't stand it anymore, so he slammed his fist on the table next to him.

"Enough! Don't try to corrupt my students with your fallacies and heresies!"

Go back to your ceiling!

"I simply provided a more efficient teaching solution."

Xiu En shrugged innocently.

"And the effect is remarkable. Look at her, it helps to break conventional mindsets."

"You're just being malicious."

Sunflower muttered a complaint in a low voice.

"Wow--"

Kate could no longer hold back, squatted down, and burst into tears.

At this time.

One person was crying, another was cursing, and yet another was analyzing the positive effects of crying on teaching.

"Damn it..."

Clint clutched his head and crouched down in anguish.

He had never had such a difficult student or such an annoying spirit guide in his entire life.

He now misses the days when he mentored new recruits at S.H.I.E.L.D. terribly.

At least the newcomers won't question why he doesn't use nuclear weapons during his teaching sessions, nor will they be driven to tears by a few harsh words.

"That's enough for today!"

Clint stood up in despair and tore off a few tissues, stuffing them into Kate's hand.

"Wipe away your tears and go to sleep on the sofa! We have a ton of trouble to deal with tomorrow!"

He didn't want to teach anymore.

He felt that if he continued teaching her, this talented little girl would either be driven to autism by his scolding or be turned into a perverted pica by Guangren.

Kate sobbed, took the tissue, and silently walked to the sofa, curling herself up into a ball.

Xiu En floated to her side, as if observing an injured little animal.

"His stress tolerance is too low; he needs more psychological training."

Then, seemingly sensing Clint's murderous glare, he consciously drifted back to the corner of the ceiling, quietly becoming a decoration.