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

Chapter 372 Washington

The White House, this world-renowned building, has always been famous as the residence of the President of the United States.

It is not merely a magnificent palace built of bricks and stones, but also a symbol of American power and prestige, carrying countless historical memories and political weight.

The president of the United States is often criticized for being merely a mouthpiece for the wealthy capitalists behind the scenes.

But the president truly represents America's face.

A country's reputation is like a shop's signboard; once that reputation is lost, the so-called "substance" hidden behind it will inevitably suffer as well.

"Don't hit someone in the face" is a common sense principle in interpersonal relationships, and it also applies to the power struggles between nations and forces.

However, Weiss didn't care. Only

Seeing his figure move like lightning, carrying an indomitable momentum, he sped towards the direction of the White House.

"Notify the White House immediately!!"

The personnel monitoring the situation noticed Wes's movement and immediately started shouting in panic, their voices becoming sharp and shrill with anxiety.

"We have been notified, and the military has dispatched F-35s to intercept them."

The assistant beside him quickly responded, beads of sweat rolling down his forehead, his fingers frantically operating the communication device, trying to coordinate all parties to deal with this sudden crisis.

But none of this seemed to have any effect on Wes.

Wes was already standing on the roof of the White House.

Looking down from above at this building that symbolizes the pinnacle of power.

"Freeze!!"

The Secret Service agents, being highly trained and quick-witted elites, spotted the uninvited guest almost the instant Weiss appeared.

With that short, powerful shout, the agents rushed out from all the hidden corners, their weapons all aimed at Wes.

Their movements were synchronized and without the slightest panic, clearly indicating that they had a well-prepared response plan for this emergency.

Meanwhile, the president, surrounded by a group of bodyguards, was being urgently escorted to the bunker for refuge.

The bunker, located deep beneath the White House, is fortified with impenetrable defenses and equipped with state-of-the-art security systems. It was specifically built to deal with such extreme crises.

The Secret Service agents were well aware of the heavy responsibility they bore. Their mission was crystal clear: to stop Wes at all costs and not let him get a single step closer to the president, or the consequences would be unimaginable.

Just as the two sides were deadlocked and the atmosphere was so tense that it almost froze, a series of deep and awe-inspiring thunderclaps sounded.

At first, the thunder sounded like distant, muffled drums gently beating, but gradually it grew louder and louder, like a thousand horses galloping and roaring, rolling in.

The soldiers and agents looked up at the sky in bewilderment, their faces filled with surprise and confusion.

"Didn't you hear there were thunderstorms today?"

A young agent muttered to himself, a hint of unease in his eyes.

At this critical juncture, any unusual situation could lead to unforeseen changes, let alone this thunder that came without warning and with overwhelming force.

They had a vague premonition that this seemingly sudden thunderstorm might be inextricably linked to Wes, but they had no time to investigate further at the moment.

He could only suppress his doubts and refocus his attention on the crisis at hand, gripping the gun tighter and sweat rolling down his forehead even faster.

"Snap!!"

A deafening roar erupted, as if it were tearing the sky apart.

Immediately afterwards, a bolt of lightning as thick as a bucket struck down from the dark, cloud-covered sky. The lightning flashed with a blinding blue-white light, and wherever it touched, the air was ionized, making a "sizzling" sound.

The agents had no time to react before they were struck by the powerful electric current. Their bodies were instantly charred, emitting a pungent, burnt smell. In the blink of an eye, they turned into piles of black charcoal, lying haphazardly on the ground. The once orderly defensive formation collapsed instantly.

As lightning raged, the White House was not spared either.

Faced with this devastating force, the walls of the White House were as fragile as paper, easily destroyed, with bricks and stones flying everywhere and dust billowing into the air.

Soon after, the main building of the White House collapsed, leaving only the underground bunker exposed on the ruins.

The president, hiding in the bunker, was terrified, his face pale and beads of sweat rolling down his forehead. He swallowed nervously, his eyes filled with fear and despair.

"Rest assured, Mr. President, this bunker can withstand a nuclear attack..."

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

The Secret Service director tried to remain calm and reassure the president, but his slightly trembling voice betrayed his inner unease.

Although he said that, he was not sure in his heart, after all, what was happening before their eyes was completely beyond their understanding and ability to deal with it.

However, before he could finish speaking, his mouth suddenly shut as if someone had grabbed him by the neck.

The bunker roof, which had been touted as incredibly sturdy, slowly unfolded automatically, emitting a dull mechanical sound, like a long-dormant beast opening its enormous mouth.

Wes floated down slowly from the open roof with an expressionless face. His figure stood out in the dim bunker, like a messenger from hell, exuding a chilling aura.

Inside the bunker, all the senior White House officials were hiding, and almost all of the president's staff were also gathered there.

Seeing this, the agents did not hesitate to protect these dignitaries behind them. They gripped their weapons tightly, and although their legs were trembling, they still managed to maintain a defensive posture.

However, the president knew very well that it was all in vain; they had no chance of resisting Weiss’s overwhelming power.

"Mr. Irwin, you're American too..."

The president spoke in a trembling voice, trying to evoke a sense of pity or sympathy from Weiss by mentioning their nationality, but before he could finish speaking, Weiss reached out and put his index finger to his lips, gesturing for him to shut up.

What you want to say is not important, and what you are thinking is not important either.

Wes said coldly, his voice sounding as if it came from the deepest hell, devoid of any emotion.

Upon hearing this, the president's face flushed red, his eyes filled with anger and humiliation.

Throughout his political career, no one had ever dared to speak to him like that. But now, at this critical juncture of life and death, he could only swallow his anger and dare not utter a single word of rebuttal. He knew that his life was hanging by a thread, and the slightest misstep would plunge him into an abyss of no return.

(End of this chapter)