Marvel Magic Case Files

Chapter 1750

Pepper Potts always considered Salomon a friend of Tony Stark, and Salomon had left a very good impression on her. In school, she was surrounded by students receiving an elite education; after graduation, she worked with the bourgeoisie of the military-industrial complex. Compared to their generally foolish, rude, blunt, greedy, cunning, and calculating nature, Salomon seemed quite awful. He had neither exaggerated tone or expression, nor vulgar behavior; even his posture was elegant, which naturally increased her likability.

Furthermore, Pepper always felt that Salomon could do things that ordinary people couldn't, such as changing luck or extending life, so she always hoped that Tony Stark could communicate more with Salomon. This wonderful misunderstanding remained unresolved. Tony Stark also hoped to get something from Salomon, but not superstitious things like amulets.

He will soon become the Minister of Defense, a star spokesperson for the government.

This was territory the Stark family had never personally ventured into. Not every capitalist is like the head of the Koch Group, who enjoys personally getting involved in political struggles, nor do they, like those established tycoons, build an unbreakable interest group through blood ties. Stepping into deep waters could certainly yield great rewards, but it also meant being targeted by the monsters of the deep waters, leaving Tony Stark somewhat insecure.

He knew the military-industrial complex didn't like him because he had once taken their business.

Energy companies also dislike him because he spearheaded clean energy initiatives.

The families who signed the Declaration of Independence, as well as the Jewish tycoons on Wall Street, did not have a good relationship with Stark Industries. He had no access to the former, and the latter were more interested in Stark Industries' shares.

He wanted to get Pepper out of this mess, and he needed a way out.

Salomon didn't directly offer asylum, but promised to answer the phone and send a clean-cut, properly documented android to accompany Pepper Potts as her assistant. Tony Stark knew this meant Salomon was extending its reach into Stark Industries, as that position had once belonged to Natasha Romanoff.

When S.H.I.E.L.D. was still in existence, Nick Fury used this position to monitor Stark Industries.

Tony Stark didn't say anything to express his gratitude; he felt that was enough.

Salomon was willing to let them survive even if a bullet was only a centimeter from his and Pepper Potts' hearts. Salomon didn't make any further demands; he was patient in this matter because he knew his opponent was enormous and needed to be defeated slowly from multiple angles to maximize the benefits for his organization and secure more resources to fight the aliens. Winning Tony Stark over to his side was just one part of that.

He has already won over Steve Rogers, the representative of America's golden age of "truth, justice, and a better tomorrow," to his side. Natasha Romanoff and her sister Yelena Belova are currently helping him consolidate the remaining forces of the Red Room. If Nick Fury knew that Salomon was still exploiting S.H.I.E.L.D., he might be furious, after all, the orbital defense platform converted from the SkySword space station is currently hanging in the sky!

Not only S.H.I.E.L.D., but even Hydra, after its purge, now works for him. The Malik family now wears the Hydra crown, and neither Dr. Lister, the banker, nor the chief, with Salomon's support, are a match for the Malik family.

“I’ve discovered something,” Tony Stark coughed twice, “that the Harvard think tank estimated the amount of steel your projects have used over the years and found that even the combined steel production capacity of all the countries in Southern Europe wouldn’t be enough for your first phase of the project. I’m pretty sure iron ore smuggling in Australia isn’t that serious—don’t look at me like that, I’m not going to tell anyone about our smuggling activities.”

The combined production capacity of all steel mills in Southern Europe was insufficient to support the first phase of the Yugoslav project, even including the total amount of steel transported through various ports. These figures are all documented in the financial reports, to be released at the end of the year. However, the reports will absolutely not disclose the source of any additional steel. According to the White House think tank, a secret steel mill seemed to exist in Yugoslavia, one that spies lurking within the country couldn't even find any information about; they only knew that Yugoslavia was facing a massive labor shortage.

Unbeknownst to them, the emperor would even collect Syrian refugees for labor.

Salomon, of course, wouldn't tell Tony Stark that the extra steel actually came from S.H.I.E.L.D. The Malik family had stored a black stone at S.H.I.E.L.D. for research. Later, Gemma Simmons from Coulson's team was accidentally sucked into that teleportation stone and transported to another planet. After Salomon rescued Gemma Simmons, he took the stone that had been used to banish the "Inhuman King," Hive.

He and Viktor von Doom used specialized equipment to construct a massive portal deep within the mountains. They then transported automated mining machinery and transport lines from Mars to another planet. They recruited workers to mine ore on this new planet and send it to Yugoslavia for smelting. Viktor von Doom theorized that the giant rock was likely a byproduct of the Space Stone, which explained its incredible faster-than-light travel capability. Astronomers from the Immortal City deployed telescopes on the planet Agent Coulson called "Tatooine" to pinpoint its location, intending to use it as a resupply point for future space travel.

"I understand." Salomon nodded calmly, without saying a word. In any case, most of the workforce on Tatooine consisted of refugees from the Syrian and Turkish borders. Apart from trains loaded with ores, food, necessities, and industrial equipment, nothing else could pass through the portal, so he had no worries about the risk of leaks.

Tony Stark was about to ask how to get back when the roar of a heavy truck engine forcefully slammed into his ears. Tony Stark felt a violent impact and then lost all sight. He was deeply embedded in the truck's cab. Thanks to his armor, Tony Stark wasn't seriously injured, but the sudden shock still made him feel dizzy. It took him a while to manage to pull himself out of the twisted metal.

He then gritted his teeth, cursed loudly, and coughed incessantly as he inhaled the fumes from the engine. The truck driver beside him was terrified, watching Tony Stark jump around and shout things that no one else understood.

"Did you see how I appeared?" Tony Stark finally calmed down and noticed there was another person next to him.

The truck driver shook his head frantically. "You're Iron Man, right? I'm your biggest fan!"

The truck driver pulled back his red plaid shirt, which barely covered his arm, revealing a tattoo of a middle-aged man's face. Tony Stark stared at it for a moment before recognizing, with his signature hairstyle, the swollen, middle-aged man's tattoo as his own.

"Could you sign my autograph? Just on my T-shirt!"

"Dude, my question is also very important."

"You're on some kind of secret mission, aren't you?" the truck driver said excitedly. "I know, you can't reveal anything, like a secret agent in a movie. If I know too much, you'll have to kill me!" Tony Stark was speechless. The truck driver's expression suddenly changed. "I'm telling you, I've already made plans to eat at Kitchen 80 in Iowa! And this delivery isn't finished yet. If I disappear, someone will find out!"

"I'm in Iowa?" Tony Stark had heard of Iowa 80 Kitchen, the place every truck driver on Route 80 longed to visit, and also the largest kitchen in the United States. According to the navigation provided by AI Friday, he wasn't too far away. He was sure he'd offended that guy, but anyway, he found himself a restaurant. Then he discovered his "Secretary of State shopping bag" was missing—Stark sighed, deciding to let it go—after all, that guy would definitely make sure the White House found the wreckage and that half-dead Red Hulk head.

"Dude... there's no S.H.I.E.L.D. now, no agents will come to take you out."

Using AI Friday and access to S.H.I.E.L.D.'s still-accessible population databases, Tony Stark quickly identified the truck driver. "$10. Tell me how I got here. Check your bank messages. This isn't for repairs; $10 is enough for you to buy another truck."

The truck driver took out his phone and nodded in satisfaction. He pointed in a direction, "You just suddenly appeared here. And then I crashed into you."

Tony Stark grinned, looking at the dusty road. He figured he was unlikely to find the underground city through trace evidence like dust and pollen, but he wasn't going to give up so easily. According to Locard's exchange principle, any contact between two objects would result in a transfer of matter—he'd been in that underground city for so long, he must have brought something back—besides, Stark Industries had a whole bunch of researchers on staff, and he didn't need to do the actual testing. "Give me a plastic bag, a brush, and a shovel!" he waved to the truck driver. "I'll add another 5!"

"No problem, bro! You're my big client now! Let my boss die!"

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After throwing the most troublesome guy from the Immortal City back, Salomon immediately began his next task.

Laura Crawford unearthed many stasis chambers. Those chosen ones who were kept in stasis by magic were not able to adapt to this era immediately after awakening. Many of them needed to be injected with sedatives and then undergo dream knowledge infusion and chemical psychological adjustment before they could initially accept this world.

Many people are emotionally unstable and are strongly demanding to see their former leaders.

This matter has been dragging on for a long time; back then, he was still in Cape Vede with Natasha Romanov.

Salomon had to deal with this matter now. He didn't want to deceive these selected human elites; he no longer had eight thousand years to slowly gather talent. He believed that once these people learned enough, they could immediately begin working. However, he needed to convince them again—many of his chosen people came from before the First Industrial Revolution, and technology was no different from magic to them—plus, the indoctrination of knowledge was somewhat unbearable for ordinary humans, so some strongly resisted the so-called technology, and it was only pushed through reluctantly because of the emperor's authority.

The first guest waited outside for a long time. Ordinary people would involuntarily shrink back when facing the Imperial Guards standing guard outside the reception hall, but this simply dressed guest completely ignored the pressure from the Imperial Guards, standing there upright and calm as a lake. He stared straight ahead at the black iron gate, as if his gaze could penetrate steel.

The sorority quickly prepared for the meeting. They retrieved wines personally brewed or collected by the emperor from the monastery's underground cellar and delivered them from the side to the emperor's building next to the monastery. To match the Asian-looking guest, the sorority first served plain rice wine. The steel doors slowly opened, and the emperor even stood up to greet his most favored candidate.

The first guest gazed at the emperor at the other end of the reception room and slowly bowed.

"Sir," the first guest said without looking up as the emperor offered him a wine cup, "what constitutes benevolence?"

"The benevolent person loves others; this is benevolence. The benevolent person restrains himself and returns to propriety; this is benevolence. The benevolent person seeks universal harmony; this is benevolence."

"Sir, what is meant by universal harmony?" The guest raised his head, his sharp gaze fixed on his teacher.

"The world belongs to everyone!"

Ten minutes later, the sorority escorted the first guest, who was in tears, away.

They served the emperor two glasses of wine, awaiting the second guest.

The second guest was a soldier. Although he was intimidated by the Imperial Guard's superhuman height and magnificent armor, he straightened his uniform slightly, smoothed his mustache, and forced himself to stand tall with the willpower of a soldier. "Your Majesty! Can I still fight alongside you?" the second guest shouted immediately upon seeing the emperor. "Your enemies fear your soldiers, fear our reputation! If we rebuild, we will surely defeat all enemies. This time, we will not fail!"

"You still have many wars to fight, Louis. But you're right, one day we will return to our homeland and ride our horses over the bones of our enemies." The Emperor smiled and handed over a wine glass. "This is a bottle of Bordeaux from my collection. I remember you loved Bordeaux when you were still a sergeant."

"Do you remember?"

"I still remember that week when we were besieged, you said you wanted to eat stewed chicken every night."

The second guest, carrying gifts from the Emperor—a bag of Valrhona single-origin chocolates and a paper bag of warm, sorority-made French apple tarts—staggered out the door. As soon as he stepped outside, he eagerly stuffed the bread into his mouth and followed the sorority with satisfaction.

The third guest wore a tweed coat, his eyebrows were neatly manicured, and a scar running across his mouth and eye made him look even more rugged. The sorority served the emperor twice the whiskey, an ice bucket, and a plate filled with fried sausages, grilled bacon, and poached eggs.

"For the sake of the family," the third guest nodded, "what do you need me to do?"

"I have many prisoners who want a way out." The emperor took a sip of strong liquor, gesturing for his guests to fill their stomachs. "I want you to squeeze every last drop out of them, to make them repent for the wrongs they have committed."

"I will," the ruthless man said without looking up. "What did they do?"

"Some people write articles that incite the ignorant, and then sit in their chairs watching others bleed. Others rule a neighborhood with two guns, enjoying the money and bodies of innocent people. There are many such people, and it would be a waste to let them simply die."

An average meeting with a guest takes ten minutes; a brief conversation, food, and alcohol are enough to soothe their emotions, and then there's the arrangement of the work to come. Viktor von Doom can't get involved with these people; all the work and positions have to be arranged by Salomon himself. He finally remembered that Laura Crawford was still waiting for him in the office three hours later. He rushed back and found Laura asleep on the sofa, her mud-caked combat boots tossed aside—she'd been busy digging and cleaning stasis chambers for months, barely having time to sleep—Salomon had no choice but to carry the drowsy Laura into the bedroom, the process not even waking her up.

The little maid, Dina, stared straight at him, her face full of emotion.

"We still have some time before we get back to the manor," Salomon grinned apologetically. "Would you like to share the hot water in the bathtub with me, darling?"