The Witcher: The Journey to Transcendence from Marvel...

Prelude to Chapter 160

Steve's tall and imposing figure was particularly eye-catching throughout the journey.

Passersby reacted in various ways upon seeing Steve.

Some passersby nodded slightly, expressing their respect to Steve.

Some passersby instantly transformed into frenzied fans, screaming excitedly with joy on their faces.

The people quickly gathered around, each taking out paper and pens, asking Steve for his autograph.

Others eagerly raised their phones or cameras, wanting to take photos with Steve and capture this unforgettable moment.

Just then, a bold girl blushed and stepped forward. Her eyes sparkled as she looked at Steve with anticipation.

"Steve, can you come to our party?"

The girl's voice was clear and melodious, tinged with a hint of nervousness and shyness.

However, Steve smiled gently and politely declined her invitation.

"I'm sorry, I have something to do right now and can't join your party. I hope you have a great time."

After dealing with the crazed fans, Steve led Wes down a secluded alley.

This path is far from the hustle and bustle of the crowds, making it exceptionally quiet.

Once he started talking again, Steve's voice sounded exceptionally clear in the quiet environment.

"I heard you're an orphan," Steve said apologetically. "I'm sorry, I'm just curious how you managed to leave New York alone at that age."

"Ah, a magic school accepted me," Wes said casually.

"There really are magic schools?" A hint of surprise flashed in Steve's eyes.

"Of course, I wasn't born with magic," Wes replied with a smile.

The two walked into a restaurant with a vintage feel, and stepping inside felt like stepping back into the 70s and 80s.

The restaurant's decor is full of retro charm, with wooden tables and chairs, yellowed photos, and antique chandeliers, all of which evoke a sense of the passage of time.

The overall atmosphere is very warm and inviting, which makes people feel relaxed.

It was clear that Steve was a regular customer; the moment they stepped into the store, the staff immediately greeted him with friendly smiles.

Some of the shop assistants greeted him warmly, saying, "Steve, it's been a long time!"

Some shop assistants joked with a smile, "We brought a new friend today!"

The surrounding customers simply nodded when they saw Steve; they were already used to his arrival.

"You absolutely must try the apple pie here," Steve enthusiastically recommended, as if the apple pie were a rare delicacy.

Seeing Steve's enthusiasm, Wes smiled and nodded, then ordered one of Steve's dishes.

Soon after, the dishes were served.

Wes picked up his cutlery, cut a piece of apple pie, and put it in his mouth.

Instantly, the rich aroma of apples filled my mouth, a mellow and long-lasting fragrance that made me feel as if I were in an apple orchard.

The apple pie has just the right amount of sweetness; it's not too sweet, yet it still allows you to taste the natural sweetness of the apples.

Wes savored it carefully and had to admit that it tasted really good.

"Very good," Wes gave a positive review.

Hearing Wes's praise, Steve was even happier than the chef, and a satisfied smile spread across his face.

The two arrived at 2 p.m., a time when there are usually few people in the store.

They sat in a quiet corner, enjoying this moment of peace.

As time went by, other customers gradually left.

By the time they finished eating, they were the only guests left at their table.

The restaurant was unusually quiet, with only the slight clinking of cutlery and the sounds of their conversations.

"Just say what you have to say." Wes looked at Steve, knowing that Steve couldn't possibly be just inviting him to dinner.

Steve hesitated for a moment, then asked, "That scepter?"

Weiss answered without hesitation, "It is indeed here with me."

Steve asked hopefully, "Can't we each take a step back?"

Wes shook his head firmly: "Impossible."

Steve sighed helplessly, knowing there was little room for maneuver in this matter.

"Steve, let me give you a piece of advice: S.H.I.E.L.D. and this country are not worth your life." Wes's tone was serious and earnest.

After saying that, he stood up and walked out of the restaurant.

Before leaving, he turned back to look at Steve one last time and said, "Tell them I won't hold back."

That determined look and those resolute words made Steve feel Wes's resolve.

Not a single mistake, not a single poem, not a single post, not a single piece of content, not a single look!

Steve sat there quietly, watching Wes's departing figure, his heart filled with helplessness and worry.

He knew that an inevitable conflict was about to unfold.

Wes slowly walked out of the restaurant. The moment he stepped out, his keen intuition told him that more than a dozen pairs of eyes were staring intently at him.

The subtle, almost imperceptible gaze, like a ghost in the darkness, though cleverly concealed, could not escape Wes's perception.

[You couldn't wait any longer? You're really impatient.]

Wes pondered to himself, a faint, almost imperceptible sneer appearing on his lips.

Wes pretended not to notice them and walked casually into the street.

His pace was neither hurried nor slow, like an ordinary pedestrian enjoying the afternoon sun.

Those who were watching Wes carefully lagged behind, moving with extreme caution in an attempt to avoid attracting his attention.

Judging from their movements and tracking techniques, each of them has undergone professional and rigorous training.

Their steps were light and steady, their eyes focused and alert, always watching Wes's every move.

They sometimes separated and sometimes gathered together, cooperating seamlessly, clearly the result of a long period of practice.

However, in Weiss's eyes, they were utterly ridiculous.

To him, the tracking techniques these people used were as childish as a children's game.

Let's find a place to deal with them.

Wes made a decision in his heart.

The bustling streets of New York are not suitable for taking action; the crowds would only cause unnecessary trouble.

As a result, Weiss wandered further and further away from the bustling city center.

Ultimately, Wes arrived in Clinton, a district with an even more famous name – "Hell's Kitchen".

This is the most chaotic and dangerous place in New York.

A sense of oppression permeated the streets; dilapidated buildings teetered on the brink of collapse, their walls covered in graffiti and mottled marks.

Even the police are reluctant to patrol here because it's teeming with gangs and a crime is happening every minute.

The people living here seem to have been abandoned by the whole world; the New York government even acts as if this place doesn't exist.

The reconstruction work here is progressing very slowly, thanks to the hard work of the people in Hell's Kitchen.

Everywhere are ruins, telling the story of the countless acts of violence and destruction that have taken place here.

(End of this chapter)