Chapter 500: Made of Water
Chapter 500: Made of Water
The bald man was sitting in a private jet leaving San Francisco.
The Gates of Heaven had arranged this plane from a wealthy individual with no traceable connection to him, ensuring government investigations wouldn’t lead back to the source.
With Victor’s survival revealing his identity as a mole, the bald man now fled to escape punishment, forced to act cautiously.
Watching the city fade into the night, gloom flashed through his eyes.
He’d grown up here, struggled here, spent half his lifetime here.
Now he had to abandon his hometown, condemned to anonymous life within the Gates of Heaven.
But this seemed trivial compared to facing death.
The bald man sensed neither the North American government nor the Blood Emperor would spare him if he remained in San Francisco.
Only the Gates of Heaven’s base promised safety.
He tore his gaze away, leaning back to rest as relief washed over him.
The Blood Emperor would never expect this midnight escape flight. North America’s vastness would make finding him impossible.
Emperors could still be outwitted.
His lips curled slightly as mood lifted.
Unbeknownst to him, a futuristic aircraft from San Francisco closed in at subsonic speed.
Though limited by its bulk, the jet still outpaced the slower private plane, closing the gap in minutes.
Fang Cheng activated stealth by covering the aircraft’s surface with radar-absorbing micro-pores, evading both target and ground detection.
Blissfully unaware, the bald man rested below while Fang Cheng shadowed him.
Peering from the cockpit, Ye Yuqing urged, “Let’s blast him down!”
Fang Cheng retorted, “If we shoot him down, who’ll lead us to their base?”
“But you can Read Thoughts now!”
“I need him to enter the base for recon. Killing him here wastes our chance.”
“Just shoot! Come on!”
“Stop obsessing over shooting things down, woman!”
“Fine, I’ll do it then!”
Ye Yuqing breathed into his ear, making Fang Cheng slap a hand over her mouth to silence her.
The private jet landed at a remote airport before dawn. Disguised with a wig, the bald man transferred vehicles and sped onto the highway.
Fang Cheng pulled up the map on his phone and noticed the bald man kept moving east. By noon the next day, after switching to a helicopter, the bald man reached the eastern Sierra Nevada in California and entered Yosemite National Park at the mountain’s base.
The park spanned over a thousand square miles, mixing Mediterranean and highland climates with steep mountains and subtropical pine forests. The bald man’s helicopter flew into an alpine ranch within the park, landing at a mountaintop estate.
Fang Cheng’s aircraft followed, its surface now translucent blue to blend with the sky, invisible to naked eyes. Ye Yuqing tried checking Google but couldn’t read English, so Asaka Akihime took over.
Asaka Akihime swiftly found the estate’s ownership details. “This belongs to Tony Kent,” she read softly. “A famous North American arms dealer, steel industry CEO, wealthy since youth…”
“Iron Man?” Fang Cheng blurted.
“Not exactly,” Asaka smiled. “But he’s Iron Man’s biggest vermicelli, calls himself North America’s Iron Man. He sponsors Marvel’s Iron Man movies, collaborates with the military on steel combat suits and AI projects.”
“So this ‘Iron Man’ works with both the military and Gates of Heaven.” Fang Cheng couldn’t grasp why the rich obsessed over fictional characters when real supernatural powers existed.
After landing nearby, he told Asaka: “Wait here with Ye Yuqing. I’ll call if needed.” Though agreed earlier, Ye Yuqing sulked offline for being left behind.
Asaka straightened Fang Cheng’s collar and kissed his cheek. “Be careful,” she murmured.
Clad in his steel combat suit, Fang Cheng flew toward the estate. The bald man entered after guards searched him. Fang Cheng hovered outside, surrounded by flawless surveillance.
Over a kilometer apart, Fang Cheng boosted his Shadow Leap to Level 3.
Life: -25
Remaining: 356
Shadow Leap Lv3 (1000m range)
Using blood he’d planted in the bald man, Fang Cheng vanished and reappeared in the man’s shadow. Unaware, the bald man walked through familiar corridors.
Fang Cheng’s blood seeped from the man’s skin as a flea hiding on his collar – no hair to conceal it. Staff and armed servants filled the building, trained to repel intruders.
Deeper inside, guards stripped and scanned the bald man for tracking devices with special equipment.
Such strict checks were even more excessive than some military zones. No wonder the North American government couldn’t locate the new Gates of Heaven base. After thorough body searches, the bald man changed into new clothes and entered the basement.
He passed through multiple password-locked alloy doors before reaching an elevator descending underground. Following a stretch of pitch darkness, a massive underground space became visible through the transparent elevator walls.
The entire mountain had been hollowed out to create this cavern. Neatly arranged buildings filled the illuminated floor, resembling a miniature city. Through his surveillance flea, Fang Cheng spotted a dedicated area below containing military equipment – tanks, planes, and artillery all present.
At the center stood an enormous spaceship, larger than any vessel in world records. Fang Cheng nearly leapt from his shadow. Were these Gates of Heaven lunatics actually trying to leave Earth by building this colossal craft inside a mountain?
Both observer and observed shared this shock. Though the bald man had visited many times, the sight still stunned him. This spaceship, called the Ark, had consumed years and vast resources to construct.
Their doctrine claimed Earth and humanity faced inevitable destruction, with the Ark being their only escape to paradise. Though completed and test-flown successfully, they kept it hidden from North American authorities. Whether they truly planned to depart Earth remained known only to cult leaders and financial backers.
The lengthy elevator descent ended at ground level. After more security checks, the bald man entered the miniature city. Though populated, Fang Cheng noted its residents fell into three categories – soldiers, researchers, and service staff. This remained a base, not a true city. Notably absent were obvious cult believers, unless the black-clad masses counted.
A vehicle took the bald man to the central building. After delayed approval, he entered a corporate-like environment bustling with workers. Directed to a waiting lounge adjacent to the president’s office, he endured nearly an hour of unmistakable noises leaking through the open doorway.
When a disheveled woman emerged, Fang Cheng nearly joked about “water-made females” – until ten more women followed. Apparently the “watery” one was the man inside. The bald man maintained stoic composure, clearly familiar with such scenes.
A booming voice finally called, “Tony, enter.”
The office screamed nouveau riche excess – antique carpets, overpriced art pieces, and gaudy chandeliers. Behind the desk sat a shirtless thirty-year-old with a chiseled physique and all-American features. This was Tony Kent, self-proclaimed North American Iron Man.