Marvel Magic Case Files

Chapter 1121 Converging Undercurrents (Part 1) (First Update)

Wakanda has few famous native philosophers in its history. The Temple of Bastet completely monopolized the right to interpret scriptures and teach. Furthermore, due to Wakanda's low level of production, its closed-door policy, and its small size, Wakanda has rarely experienced famine in its history. Therefore, even after the Renaissance, when Wakandan exploration teams often roamed around the world, Wakandans rarely wanted to go out and see the outside world.

The lack of ideological conflict and idyllic daily life diminished the desire for exploration and reflection among ordinary people. Wakanda had far more theologians than philosophers, and the most serious conflict in the eyes of ordinary Wakanda was nothing more than a dispute over the succession to the throne between five seemingly united tribes. However, such a "terrible" event could only be found in the library, because the last full-scale conflict between the five tribes had occurred hundreds of years ago.

"Simply put, Wakanda's material wealth cannot mask its spiritual poverty. Openness means conflict, and Wakanda lacks experience and means to deal with conflict. Even so, Wakanda's high-welfare society can temporarily cope, and the long-standing arrogance of the Wakanda people towards the outside world has been able to resist constitutionalism to some extent. To put it bluntly, Wakanda rarely helps its poor neighbors in Africa. If you want to open up Wakanda, you must first help the third world countries in Africa to build their own industries. You should mediate the disputes caused by the borders arbitrarily drawn by Western powers on the African continent, and establish an African Union to deal with the war against vibranium plunder, instead of simply relying on dependence to gain international status."

The Emperor of Latvia unscrewed the cap of a beer bottle with his bare hands and poured the ice-cold beer into his mouth.

He raised an eyebrow, indicating his fondness for this flavor of beer, especially in such sweltering weather, where an ice-cold beer was the cheapest and most readily available treat. He placed the empty beer bottle on the cool rock seat and picked up a chainsaw sword with a black paint job. The monomolecular vibranium saw teeth and chain began to hum after being powered on, and heated up due to the high-speed rotation and friction from cutting through the air, like a pale red halo surrounding the sword.

"Your mother won't like to hear these words, your sister won't understand them, and even ordinary Wakandas won't be happy to hear them, so I won't bring them up at the dinner. These words can only be spoken by you. Wakanda has always viewed its compatriots from a position of superiority over Africans. Although the noble ministers who hold this arrogant attitude are conservative and short-sighted, they are not necessarily wrong. The interests of the nobles are deeply intertwined with those of Wakanda, so don't ignore their advice. Use them like you would a weapon. As for whether to discard or maintain the weapon after it is damaged, that is up to your own will."

The newly selected King's Guard, spears in hand, circled the training ground, casting wary glances at Emperor Latvinia. The two kings made no attempt to conceal their conversation from them, as T'Challa trusted they wouldn't tell his mother what was happening. Although T'Challa repeatedly insisted the King's Guard be given a day off, the new captain refused. For a long time, the Wakanda king's queen had come from the King's Guard; it had even become a tradition.

The previous King T'Chaka's queen, T'Challa's mother, was the captain of the guard for the previous two kings. This family tradition, passed down through generations, has instilled in the Wakanda royal family a martial spirit. However, the new king's guard does not want the incoming king to clash with kings of other kingdoms, especially since the chainsaw sword's swirling motion is far too menacing; they fear it might cause irreversible harm to the future King of Wakanda.

If possible, they would prefer to use the battered training robots around the training grounds.

"I can provide you with enough teachers to fill an entire university mathematics department, as long as you can offer advice and exchange some political science professors and lecture notes with Wakanda." T'Challa tapped the small shield in his hand with his long sword. The blood-red afterglow shining through the skylight made of steel bars and glass in the training ground mixed with the metal edge of the shield, reflecting dazzling spots of light that blurred the air, just like the restlessness and pressure lurking on the edge of T'Challa's consciousness.

"Come on, don't keep me waiting too long."

The scorching sunset rays clung to Eric Killmonger's face, making it appear as if a layer of skin had been removed when the trees blocked the sunlight.

The air was thick with heat and the stench of rotting animal carcasses filled the forest. Poisonous mosquitoes buzzed around their ears, and the growing restlessness of the team, as they ventured deeper into the jungle, increased dramatically with the buzzing of the insects. Even Eric Killmonger could feel the veins in his temples throbbing faster; his breathing became heavy, and severe dehydration forced everyone to drink frequently. The team members' breathing grew increasingly labored; their sunburned skin, irritated by mosquito bites, swelled rapidly, itched, and even ulcerated. The sticky skin and hair, along with the dwindling water in their bottles, led to hushed complaints that began to circulate among them. If it weren't for Eric Killmonger's past prestige and his thirst for money, these men might very well have abandoned the mission and returned to their base.

"Follow me, and don't go near the shade of trees or the ponds, and definitely don't leave the woods," Eric Killmonger reminded his mercenary again.

Mercenaries who had lived in Africa for years knew the dangers lurking there, but the hardened criminals from America lacked that experience; they needed to learn at the cost of their comrades' lives. Venomous snakes and insects in the shade, crocodiles in the ponds, and cheetahs lurking at the edge of the forest were all extremely dangerous predators, and their route was through the newly revitalized Wakanda forests after the rainy season. Non-combat casualties would be their primary danger. He strictly forbade his team members from contacting those living in the primitive huts, because he knew they were actually scouts placed by the Wakanda outside the capital to provide intelligence for their hunts of smugglers like them.

“Our opponent is Ulysses Klaue, and he’s dangerous. We can’t afford any non-combat casualties.” Eric Killmonger pointed to a small hill covered in bushes ahead. “We’ll ambush him there. Ulysses Klaue might cooperate with us, but he’s more likely to kill us outright, so we have to take him down before we can get our hands on the vibranium.”

"So why don't we drive?" complained a convict clutching an AK-47. "If we fucking drove a car, we'd not only have enough water, but we could get there by sunset!"

"Because Wakanda aren't primitive people; they have advanced technology. If they discover us with thermal imaging, we're doomed," Eric Killmonger snapped. He felt he was losing his temper. He also struggled to teach these hardened criminals how to allocate water resources effectively, how to conduct a stealthy march so they could survive in such harsh conditions and reach their heavily guarded destination.

He was a soldier, while the others were just thugs looking to make a fortune. Eric Killmonger suppressed his irritation and resisted the urge to pull out his pistol and let this fool taste the bullet.

"I believe Ulysses Crow has enough supplies," he told the others. "Friends, as long as we kill them, we can get the clean water we want."

At the Fire Knights camp, approximately 200 kilometers from the Wakanda border and 300 kilometers from the holographic projection barrier of the Wakanda capital, genetically modified warriors were advancing towards their destination in heavily armed armored personnel carriers. Malcolm sat in his command armored personnel carrier, his eyes fixed on the location information of Erik Killmonger and Ulysses Klaue provided by intelligence reconnaissance satellites.

The two are no more than 50 kilometers apart as the crow flies. Erik Killmonger has already secured a vital passage into the Wakanda capital, and a firefight between him and vibranium dealer Ulysses Klaue is inevitable. The Infernal Knights' advance reconnaissance force is already 100 kilometers away. If Erik Killmonger loses in this conflict, those Infernal Knights, acting as scouts, will ensure his survival. If the reconnaissance force is fast enough, a single armored vehicle could secure victory, and Ulysses Klaue would be offered to Erik Killmonger as a crucial bargaining chip.

"I need to see the drone reconnaissance footage," Malcolm commanded over the communication channel. His intuition told him the conflict might be coming much sooner than he expected. "Eric Killmonger absolutely cannot die."

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(End of this chapter)