When Coulson and the others returned to the airborne command center, Skye had already found Ian Quinn's address online. However, as she handed the information to Coulson, she still couldn't believe Quinn was behind Dr. Halliburton's abduction and couldn't help saying, "Sir, could there be some misunderstanding? Quinn is a good man. His charitable donations total nearly 8 billion."
Coulson skimmed the documents and casually retorted, "That donation money was earned by draining Earth's resources. He's just a greedy middleman for nature."
Skye hesitated. Coulson's words left her with no rebuttal. As someone whose life revolved around exploring the internet and frequenting forums, she knew all too well the consequences of overexploiting Earth's resources.
Yet something about Coulson's assessment felt off to her—like the workers employed by "Quinn International" or the people who had survived thanks to Quinn's donations. Skye turned her gaze to Li Ming, hoping he would step forward and say a few words himself.
Unfortunately, Li Ming not only didn't help argue her point that Quinn was a good person, but instead retorted, "Good or bad isn't determined by how much money someone donates. Seriously, how have you survived all these years without knowing how cruel people can be?"
"Maybe I've just been lucky and haven't run into anything cruel," Skye said with a shrug, ever the optimist.
Kid, that stings. Luck is something I've never had. Li Ming's face darkened as he thought for a moment before saying, "About the topic of good and bad people, an old man once told me a story and asked me a question. I'll pass it on to you."
"There was a group of soldiers who followed their king's orders to invade a neighboring country suffering from famine. Along the way, the soldiers killed anyone who resisted, even women and children." Pausing, Li Ming looked at Skye and asked, "Were these soldiers good or bad?"
Skye pondered for a moment before answering, "The soldiers were just following the king's orders. The king was the bad one."
Li Ming nodded but didn't comment. He continued the story: "Every time the soldiers captured a city, the king, knowing full well that the people inside still identified as citizens of the neighboring country, sent food to sustain those suffering from famine. So, was the king bad?"
Skye frowned slightly, shaking her head. "I don't know… Even if the king was trying to win people over, he still saved civilians. Does that make him good?"
Li Ming smiled and went on, "When the soldiers had wiped out half the neighboring country's population and seized half its land, the surviving citizens, now with fewer mouths to feed, had enough food to live. Meanwhile, the soldiers received orders from the king to lay down their weapons and return home—the war was over."
"Afterward, the king treated the former enemy citizens equally and focused on developing the nation, ensuring all his people had bread and meat at every meal." Li Ming looked at Skye seriously. "Now, tell me—should those soldiers, who invaded and slaughtered even women and children, go to heaven or hell when they die? And where should the king, who gave his people meat at every meal, end up?"
"Here's a hint: Even if the king hadn't invaded, if the neighboring king had simply hardened his heart and killed half his own people, he could've survived the famine too."
Skye clutched her head in frustration, then turned to Coulson with a pleading look, hoping he could help analyze the dilemma.
Coulson was silent for a moment before saying, "This is politics. It has nothing to do with whether people are good or bad—at least not for the soldiers."
Li Ming scoffed dismissively. "Cut the political talk. I'm asking where they end up after death. Or do you think the afterlife checks your political leanings? Tax-cut advocates go to heaven, tax-hike supporters go to hell?"
"Then let God decide," Coulson said with a shrug. "I'm just a mortal. I don't get to choose where I go after death."
This story was asked by God. Would I dare to answer in His face that it's His business and has nothing to do with me? Li Ming rolled his eyes at Coulson, then turned to Skye, signaling for her to think of an answer herself.
After reviewing Quinn's files, Coulson casually set them aside and sat down opposite Li Ming, asking curiously, "How did you answer back then?"
Li Ming scratched his head awkwardly, forcing a stiff smile as he replied softly, "My answer was to leave it to the Judges—they're the professionals."
"Who are the Judges?" Coulson asked, confused, unfamiliar with Chinese mythology.
Melinda, who knew about the Judges, quietly explained a few things to Coulson before shooting Li Ming an exasperated look. "The question was clearly about heaven and hell, yet you dragged the underworld into it? You're something else. I'm really curious—how did the old man react when he heard your answer?"
What reaction? He nearly beat me up. Li Ming turned his head away, clearly signaling, "I don't want to answer."
But Skye wasn't about to let him off the hook. She pressed on playfully, "Uncle Austin, come on, tell us! I'm really curious about how the old man evaluated your answer."
Li Ming glared at Skye for undermining him, rubbed his face, and said, "The old man didn't comment on my answer. Instead, he told another story."
"What story?" Skye asked eagerly.
"Uh—" Li Ming noticed the entire Coulson team gathering around him with expressions of eager anticipation. He scratched his brow and said, "It's about a farmer. The story goes that to ensure his family had enough to eat, the farmer guarded the meager crops in his field at all times. In the process, he killed countless rats and birds that came to steal food, and even crippled a starving drifter who tried to take some. The old man pointed out that the drifter later starved to death due to his injuries, then asked me: After the farmer dies, how should he be judged? Should he go to heaven for feeding his family, or to hell for taking lives?"
After hearing the story, Skye, unable to come up with an answer and feeling a headache coming on, scratched her head and asked, "How did you answer?"
Nearby, Coulson couldn't help but feel that the old man in Li Ming's story was no ordinary figure, given how these questions touched on deep moral dilemmas.
Take the soldier's story, for instance. The king seized the opportunity to expand his territory when a neighboring country was in turmoil. Though the king later focused on rebuilding his nation after the war, what about the soldiers who died resisting the invasion? What about the women and children? Coulson doubted the king would mention them in his memoirs.
Perhaps, with time, people would only sing praises of the king's wisdom, while the bones buried beneath history's wheels would go unnoticed.
As for the farmer's story—though he didn't directly kill the drifter, legally speaking, the farmer still bore some responsibility for the man's death. Moreover, in the eyes of God, creatures like field mice or birds hold the same status as a homeless person.
After carefully recalling the story and pondering the identity of the "old man," Coulson asked curiously, "Indeed, where should the farmer go?"
Li Ming shrugged and said, "At the time, I answered that the farmer should decide for himself where he wants to go. If he chooses heaven, then pave the road to heaven with the fires of hell. If he chooses hell, give the farmer a knife, then quietly slip him into hell while avoiding the demons' sight, leaving him to fend for himself."
You could answer like that? Skye was a bit confused and asked, "What did the old man say?"
"The old man told me to get lost," Li Ming said nonchalantly.
In fact, what concerned Li Ming at the time wasn't how to answer God's question, but rather why God would ask him whether he wanted to go to heaven or hell in the first place.
He was just a Mage, not God—why should he be the one to decide who goes to heaven or hell?
Moreover, God had told countless such little stories, leaving Li Ming with a belly full of tales and a head full of confusion.
"That's enough about stories of good and evil," Li Ming clapped his hands, signaling everyone to stop dwelling on the story. "Now, let's focus on coming up with a plan to rescue Halliburton—not to snatch the Gravity Orb, I mean."
"You didn't have to say that part out loud," Coulson said irritably. "You're making it sound like we're all a bunch of thieves."
With that, Coulson pointed at Ian Quinn's file and continued, "I have reason to believe Quinn is the one who abducted Halliburton. But Quinn is currently in Malta, residing in the former Prime Minister's residence, which is protected by laser fencing."
"The tricky part is, S.H.I.E.L.D. agents can't enter Malta legally. If we're caught, they have the right to execute us on the spot."
"Additionally, 'Quinn International' is holding a shareholders' meeting this week, and the former Prime Minister's residence is already swarming with high-profile guests. If we're captured, S.H.I.E.L.D. will immediately disavow any connection to us."
Finally, Coulson summarized, "In other words, this rescue mission has no inside support, no backup, is life-threatening, and could spark global outrage against S.H.I.E.L.D."
"Tch—S.H.I.E.L.D. really sucks sometimes," Li Ming couldn't help but mutter before waving his hand dismissively. "Just send me. I don't believe any laser fence can stop me, and I doubt anyone can even slow me down."
After all that rambling, Coulson had been waiting for exactly this line. He smiled warmly and turned to give the order: "May, head to Malta immediately. The rest of you, carry on with your duties."
Seeing how swiftly Coulson commanded May, Li Ming froze for a moment before dragging Skye toward the liquor cabinet. Pointing at the bottles inside, he asked, "Kid, help me find out which one's the most expensive. I'm drinking it right now."
Skye glanced back at Coulson, who was still smiling and made no move to stop Li Ming. As she pulled up her laptop to check, she chuckled, "Uncle Austin, is this your way of getting back at Coulson for tricking you?"
"Obviously," Li Ming replied, uncorking a bottle and downing it in a few gulps before wiping his mouth. "You know why Director Fury rocks that shiny bald head? It's because he overthinks everything, and it made him go bald. Now think about Coulson's standing in Fury's heart, and look at Coulson's hairstyle… So don't let that nice-guy face fool you—his heart's as scheming as they come."
Coulson rubbed his hair helplessly: "What did my hairstyle ever do to you? And Fury's bald head is by his own choice, not because he can't grow hair. Besides, I get the feeling you're not targeting Fury, but a certain other bald guy, aren't you?"