Simultaneous Transmigration: We Share a Role-Playing System

After delivering the gift, Lockmer noted down Stan's private phone number, then descended the fire escape on the top floor of the building, his steps light and quick, disappearing completely from Walter's surveillance network.

Only after confirming that Locke had truly disappeared did Stan suddenly breathe a sigh of relief, his body swaying slightly as he arched his back and gasped for breath.

He reached behind him and touched his back. His palm was instantly covered in cold sweat, and his shirt, which was close to his body, was soaked through and clung tightly to his back.

He didn't seem as calm as he appeared, and he was incapable of facing death with equanimity.

After a moment, Stan took out his phone and called one of his confidants to inquire:

"Homelander?"

Just as Stan was wondering why Homelander wasn't mocking him, what was Homelander doing?

He had actually intended to mock Stan at first, as he had been waiting for this moment for a long time, but a message from his old friend Billy made him change his mind immediately.

Want to know who your father is? I've found him. See you at the usual place.

In the inky night sky, the air was violently compressed by the supersonic object, and several umbrella-shaped shock clouds suddenly appeared and then dissipated in an instant. The transient cloud formations formed by the instantaneous condensation of water vapor in the low-pressure area are direct evidence of the Chinese people breaking the sound barrier.

Homelander, flying at full speed, had the air around him compressed into a pale blue sheath by his flight speed of several times the speed of sound. Like an out-of-control intercontinental warhead, his trajectory streaked across the night sky, even tearing starlight into a blurry band of light. Before the sound could catch up, he fell like a meteorite to the butcher's doorstep.

The next second, the enormous kinetic energy from the speed of sound was released the instant it hit the ground. The metal door frame and concrete wall were torn apart and disintegrated like paper. The hard ground in front of the door cracked radially under the impact and eventually collapsed into an irregular pit with a diameter of nearly three meters and a depth of half a meter.

Before the gravel and dust had even risen, several belated, deafening sonic booms crashed into the street, causing windows to vibrate violently and even distant streetlights to sway.

The reinforced concrete crumbled instantly like a biscuit under the impact of his kinetic energy, which was several times the speed of sound. The beams and pillars emitted a piercing twisting sound, and half of the roof and walls of the house crashed down. Broken bricks and wood mixed with dust rose up suddenly.

The butcher's hand holding the glass remained steady, but he glanced down at the few pieces of wood that had sunk to the bottom of the glass, a disgruntled smile playing on his lips, before slowly placing the glass on the last remaining, still intact corner of the table.

"I'm still paying the mortgage on this house," he said, glancing up at the figure slowly emerging from the dust, his tone laced with his usual sarcasm and helplessness. "Should I thank you for helping me save the money for demolishing and renovating?"

However, these words did not quell the anger of the people of the motherland.

He stepped over the rubble, each step causing the ground to tremble slightly. His face was contorted with rage, his features almost squeezed together, and a blinding crimson light quickly ignited in his eyes. His finger was fixed on the butcher's face, his voice filled with icy cruelty, his shout so fierce that spittle flew everywhere.

"Don't think you can talk to me like that just because we have an agreement! If you're lying even a little bit, I swear I'll make you regret being born!!!"

Facing the anger of the homelanders, the butcher who had temporarily taken down number five remained unconcerned, saying in a slightly sarcastic tone:

"Oh, calm down. Look, the wound on your face is about to reopen. It seems Elmira's injuries aren't easy to treat."

Upon hearing Elmira's name from the butcher, Homelander's anger vanished instantly, replaced by the terror of being inexplicably beaten.

In retrospect, it seems that they were actually letting him off the hook back then; otherwise, Walter would probably have held a funeral for him.

Were you there at the time?

"Of course, I watched you get beaten up, but that doesn't matter anymore. What matters is this."

The Butcher pulled a photograph from his pocket, its edges worn and frayed. The image showed the soldier boy inside a hibernation pod. Homelander took it, his fingers pausing on the photograph. His brow furrowed, his eyes filled with confusion. Then, remembering why the Butcher had urgently summoned him, his Adam's apple bobbed, and he asked in a low, wary voice, "You mean...it's him?"

The butcher chuckled softly, slightly raised his chin, and nodded meaningfully.

Upon hearing the answer, Homelander's face instantly darkened. He gripped the butcher's throat tightly, his knuckles turning white, and slammed the man against the still-smoking crumbling wall behind him, roaring furiously, his throat constricted, "Where is he?!"

But the next second, his fingers gripping the butcher's throat were slowly pried open by a steady force, forcibly freeing his hand. Homelander froze on the spot, his eyes widening in disbelief.

The butcher rubbed his neck, which had been pinched red, a half-smile playing on his lips. He slowly began to speak, his tone as light as casual conversation, but then suddenly changed the subject: "I heard you teamed up with New Manchester United to oust Stan?"

Homelander snapped out of his daze, his anger still burning in his chest. He clenched his jaw tightly and spat out a vicious retort: ​​"So what if it is?"

Upon hearing this, the butcher's smile widened completely, his eyes revealing calculation and a cunning determination.

He took a half-step forward, just a fist's distance from Homelander, and said in a low voice, enunciating each word clearly, "In that case, let's make a deal."

——————————————————————————————————————————

Meanwhile, Locke, who devised this series of plans, was lying in Queen Maeve's private room, telling the knock-off Wonder Woman in front of him about his deal with Stan.

Queen Maeve's opinion on this can be summed up in just two words.

"Dog shit."

Queen Maeve couldn't believe that Locke had actually reconciled with his mortal enemy, and even wanted to make a deal with an old fox who had been trading all his life. It was simply incomprehensible.

Locke, however, had no intention of answering his question. He simply smiled and ate the high-calorie meal Queen Maeve had ordered for him to replenish his energy.

"Don't you want to say anything?"

After swallowing the beef chunk, Locke glanced up at Queen Maeve, whetting her appetite for a while before saying:

"no."

In an instant, Queen Maeve felt she had been tricked. She was about to get angry, but considering Locke's status, she could only leave her room in a huff.

This was exactly the effect Locke wanted. After Queen Maeve left, he quickly replenished his energy and then unceremoniously lay down on Queen Maeve's bed, falling into a deep sleep.