Marvel Magic Case Files

Chapter 1461 The Nobel Prize and the Museum of Fine Arts (Combined)

"Please hand me that document about the artillery factory, and also take this child and this cat with you. Darling, they're gnawing on the just-approved document; I have no idea how much parchment Milia has in her belly right now." Diana grinned, easily grabbing Milia by the back of her collar and the scruff of the cat's neck, dragging the two troublemakers out of the office. "Alright, now there's no one else in the office. Tell me about the lunar drones; a briefing told me they found traces of Attilan, and I need the details."

Although it has been confirmed that Attilan is located on the far side of the moon, other details remain shrouded in mystery. The location of the Attilan base can only be determined through extensive data and analysis of lunar soil samples. Now, thanks to the efforts of numerous scholars, this answer is beginning to emerge.

By analyzing soil samples from the far side of the moon to identify areas containing deep lunar regolith and even lunar mantle rocks, determining the age and number of meteorite impacts on the lunar far-side rock layers, verifying this by observing the impact process of micro-meteorites on the far side of the moon, and even dropping cluster bombs on the far side of the moon to detect the acoustic waveforms of lunar mantle rocks… Mineral exploration was merely a byproduct of this project; the real goal was to find anomalous objects within the lunar mantle rock layers. Through various methods, scholars finally discovered an anomaly on the charts. In a ridge of a crater called the South Pole-Aitken Basin on the far side of the moon, scholars and Martian technology scientists discovered a waveform that did not match the conduction rate of lunar mantle rock layers, nor the vibration waveforms of any known mineral vein rock layers.

The South Pole-Aitken Basin is the largest, oldest, and deepest impact basin on the Moon, with a maximum elevation difference of 16.1 kilometers. The nearby lunar mantle layers are ideal for concealing something massive. This document requests further exploration of the South Pole-Aitken Basin, and is accompanied by a hard drive full of data and a detailed report for verification. "We need more drones, my lord," Hammurabi said. "I will replace the bunker buster bombs with small-yield bombs drilled by lunar rovers; this will yield more accurate data."

The emperor did not speak, but simply nodded.

Four weapons were leaning against a shelf next to the desk.

There was a holy sword with a golden hilt, a seemingly ordinary spear, a golden explosive pistol without ammunition, and a bronze shield engraved with Medusa's head. These weapons were originally kept in the manor's armory, but as war drew near, the emperor had no choice but to keep them close at hand in preparation for battle.

"Our outer space exploration program overlaps significantly with Wakanda's technology sector."

Hammurabi's expression suggested he was about to offer advice.

He also realized that Wakanda's unique independence, its arrogant and self-important nature, and the fact that after intervening in the Wakanda civil war to gain a seat in the industrial aristocracy, the relationship between the New Yugoslav Federation and Wakanda had changed, transforming from an unequal cooperative relationship to one of complete equality. This was difficult for some Wakandans to accept, after all, the New Yugoslav Federation was the first country Wakanda had come into contact with, and it had even witnessed a civil war with external interference—a civil war that, although short-lived, was enough to leave the residents of Wakanda's capital, Golden City, terrified. Even in Wakanda, the long period of peace had fostered a group of idiots who believed food would grow on shelves. The arrival of the Emperor and his genetically modified warriors deeply shocked the Wakandans, especially the influential people in the capital, Golden City—these people were terrified by the civil war, or more precisely, by the bloodlust and violence displayed by the Emperor's genetically modified warriors. In just half a day, the knights' destruction had destroyed decades of buildings constructed in Golden City.

Many Wakandans therefore needed to gain a sense of identity and confidence from the outside world, which also meant that the Wakandan industrial aristocracy, controlled by the New Yugoslav Federation government, would face challenges from within Wakandan itself. Even Princess Shuri could not fully guarantee fairness and impartiality, let alone the Wakandan king, who was being manipulated by the Golden Aristocracy. In Hammurabi's investigation, King T'Challa of Wakandan appeared very weak, and none of the Wakandan nobles had been punished for supporting the opposition.

"Hahnburg hasn't seen the report yet, but the deeply integrated project can't be kept completely secret from Wakanda. Wakanda's diplomatic ambassador and technical advisor, Princess Shuri, has sent an inquiry to the Regent, wanting to understand the specific details and purpose of the project. I think we should find an excuse to refuse, rather than dragging the Wakandans into the war against Attilan. King T'Challa is not a decisive person with a long-term vision. As long as the war doesn't occur around Wakanda and infringe on Wakanda's interests, he is very likely to stand on the opposite side of the decision, preventing the New Yugoslav Federation from developing outer space and stopping its participation in the space elevator project."

"Your suggestion?"

"We should take control of Wakanda as soon as possible, or at least plan an offensive route from Africa directly to Wakanda. The Wakandans can only offer limited assistance; we have the technology, but lack the resources. Wakanda can't provide many resources." Hammurabi had always been a proponent of controlling Wakanda within the Janissaries. Although other Janissaries held different views, only Hammurabi could offer advice to the Emperor at this moment. "We should move the chip manufacturing plant to Latvia or Serbia as soon as possible. I don't trust T'Challa; he's too fixated on his father T'Chaka's past will. Once Wakanda opens up, they will inevitably face war. If T'Chaka were still alive, he would choose to surrender and begin distributing the vibranium that should have been used for our trade. I believe T'Challa will be no exception."

"Then let's have a talk with T'Challa, a frank and open talk." The Emperor reached out and pressed the telephone button on his desk. "Please inform the Foreign Ministry that I will be visiting the Golden City and Hahnburg in ten minutes."

"Preparing the Pegasus-type aircraft, maintenance complete 98%," the pilot, always on the communication line, said in a synthesized voice. "Route planning in progress."

"The flight plan has been cancelled."

A bust of Diana Lister was projected above the telephone. Since Stephanie Malik was temporarily away from the Balkans, she was handling much of the official business with Diana, which was why she had been constantly on the communications line. "My lord?" she looked up curiously. "What are your plans?"

"I need to establish a connection with the Wakanda ambassador. I want to have a ten-minute informal conversation with Princess Shuri. No need for a flying vehicle; I'll use teleportation technology." After confirming that Diana Lister had received the message, He released the button and looked at Hammurabi. "How about we try this relatively gentler method of communication?"

"Do you think communication can make T'Challa tougher?"

"T'Challa is, in any case, a Wakandan. While he lacks the arrogance of typical Wakandans, the long-standing technological advantage inevitably breeds a high regard for himself, but this also imbues him with an extremely rare sense of responsibility befitting a military aristocrat. True aristocratic social responsibility stems from the protective duty of a primitive tribal military leader towards non-combatant workers," He told Hammurabi. "I will tell him what we are facing, and he will agree to join forces with me against the Black Order. As for Attilan, he will know that a group of heavily mutated Kree genetically modified slaves are entrenched there, and I believe the intelligence sent back by the assassins will not disappoint in its level of mutation."

"I will now send an official letter to the Regent, who controls the foreign affairs department."

"Do it that way, but don't give the Wakandans any time to react. I'll speak with Princess Shuri first, and then head directly to the Golden City Palace in ten minutes to meet with King T'Challa. Princess Shuri will be there as a witness, vouching for everything she has seen." He stood up from behind his desk, waiting for the holographic communication device to connect to the Wakandan embassy. "We must unite all forces that can be united; only in this way can we fight the Dark Order."

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"Honestly, I don't know why I came here."

The chilled champagne made Jane Foster squint, but she quickly opened her eyes and looked around, seemingly uncomfortable in the celebrity-filled setting of the art museum. Her former intern, Darcy, was chugging champagne beside her, stuffing pieces of salmon and Iberian ham into her mouth without a care in the world, completely oblivious to the unsightly consequences of her behavior. Perhaps because of her, this corner of the museum was rarely frequented. "I was just out shopping," Jane Foster said somewhat sheepishly. "Thank you for your hospitality, but I know nothing about art."

After she finished speaking, she glared at Daxi.

Since a student finished her postgraduate studies, Darcy had taken on the full responsibility of caring for the Nobel laureate in physicist's work and life, though she was more of a nuisance than a help. Jane Foster, however, didn't mind the carefree Darcy, and the two continued to live together—finding a place in London to accommodate research equipment was no easy feat, and if she kicked Darcy out, Darcy would be homeless in no time—of course, that was her excuse to Darcy; in reality, she just needed a friend to joke around with.

"You are a Nobel laureate in physicism, Ms. Foster," Vanessa said with a smile, holding up her orange juice. "Most people buy art not to appreciate it, but to be appreciated. You don't need to worry about being ridiculed for not understanding art, because most people don't understand postmodern art either; they crave your appreciation."

"Wow, that shouldn't come out of a painter's mouth."

Jane Foster shrugged.

If Darcy hadn't found the invitation in her spam folder and been so drawn to the free buffet it mentioned, she certainly wouldn't be here. Darcy was delighted to have gotten a free meal, and her eating habits made Jane Foster a little envious of the food on the table. However, Jane didn't have the nerve to stuff food into her mouth and wave at others like Darcy did.

"I know that research was far from deserving of a physics prize. There were many other valuable studies that year, and my award was more about political factors… You know, Asgardians, some people think I have connections with Asgardians." Jane Foster sighed, somehow revealing her true feelings. Public and academic opinions of her were polarized. After all, the data proving the Einstein-Rosen bridge was far inferior to other studies that year; her award was largely due to luck. Any researcher in the same field could have obtained the same data in Old Bridge. But Darcy ignored her complaints, seeing them as mere whining in the honest Darcy's eyes. Jane Foster clearly understood this, but she still couldn't shake her doubts about her own abilities.

"Sorry," she shrugged again, "you probably think I'm complaining."

"Now it seems that your visit to the art museum was not accidental."

Vanessa shook her head.

Her gaze passed over Jane Foster's shoulder and landed on Darcy, who was enjoying her meal at the long buffet table. Darcy seemed to notice the gaze, awkwardly putting down her tuna sandwich and smiling at Vanessa. The art gallery owner returned the smile, gesturing to the menu beside the table, indicating that Darcy should enjoy herself. "Your companion can take care of herself," Vanessa said. As Vanessa spoke, Jane Foster seemed to only then remember to admit that she hadn't come alone—mainly because Darcy was too embarrassing, and she really didn't want anyone to know that she knew Darcy. "Let me show you around. I've heard someone say that postmodern art is created so that ordinary people can't understand it, because now that there are no more nobles, the newly rich bourgeoisie need to differentiate themselves from other classes on a spiritual level, so the added value of all postmodern art is getting higher and higher. Although I don't particularly agree with this statement, I can't find any rebuttal, after all, that person was a master of classical painting."

"Why does this cynical rhetoric sound so familiar?"

Vanessa simply smiled at Jane Foster's words. In truth, she hadn't entirely arranged the invitation, but now she finally understood why a celebrity like Jane Foster was here. "Don't let my current appearance fool you," Vanessa said. "Many of the paintings here were created during my studies in Paris, my golden age. Don't worry, there won't be any reporters here, and you don't need to worry about being photographed by any tabloids. I didn't send out any invitations to journalists. If you don't mind, come with me. This world has gone mad; opportunities to properly appreciate art are becoming increasingly rare."

I'm still a little dizzy during the recovery period.

(End of this chapter)