One hour ago.
On the guest room desk at Sam Wilson's house, there lay a pair of scissors used for cutting paper effigies.
The sunlight outside was just right. Lin Huai sat in the shadows, his fingers brushing over a stack of special tarot cards. Before every major battle, he was used to asking his main account about the fate of this alt.
There was still a lingering scent of essential oils in the air.
Lin Huai closed his eyes and felt the aura of the gray fog. He didn't utilize Sefirah Castle, but simply as a Seer, he drew the card that would determine today's direction.
The card was flipped over.
On the card, an Angel was depicted sounding a horn, as the dead rose from their coffins, looking up at the sky to welcome rebirth and reckoning.
[XX. Judgement] (Judgement).
"Sound the horn, the dead shall be resurrected, and the sins of the Outer Deity shall meet their reckoning." Lin Huai looked at the card, his fingertips lightly tapping the table, a meaningful smile appearing at the corners of his mouth.
"It's quite fitting for the occasion."
Lin Huai looked at the card and smiled, as if he had expected this result all along.
"Judgement... it certainly fits Sergeant Barnes's current situation."
He put away the cards and stuffed a brocade pouch filled with colored powder into his pocket; it was the sobering agent he had prepared for that veteran.
"You've been high for seventy years; it's time to wake up, Sleeping Beauty."
...Now.
Washington D.C., the Potomac River elevated bridge.
The three o'clock afternoon sun was blinding, and the asphalt road was baking hot. This was supposed to be a major thoroughfare, but it was soon to become a battlefield.
A Chevrolet van blended into the traffic, completely unremarkable.
"I wasn't even this nervous when I was paratrooping in Afghanistan."
Sam Wilson gripped the steering wheel, his palms drenched in sweat. He kept checking the rearview mirror, always feeling as if a pair of eyes were staring at them.
"Being nervous is what keeps you alive." In the passenger seat, Steve Rogers's body was tense, his shield already buckled to his left arm.
Natasha sat in the back, checking her pistol one last time; the sound of the magazine chambering was crisp.
"Is he here?" Natasha asked.
"I haven't seen him yet, but I can feel him." Steve stared ahead, his battlefield-honed intuition sounding an alarm.
As the bait, that feeling of being watched was impossible to hide.
Only Lin Huai was different.
He sat in the back row with his legs crossed, playing with a silver coin. The silver coin flipped through his fingers, and the murderous aura around him seemed to have no effect on him at all.
"Relax, Sam," Lin Huai spoke lazily. "A Hunter always thinks they're lurking well, but in the eyes of a more skilled Hunter, the sound of their walking is as loud as a gong."
Just as he finished speaking.
"Boom—!"
A hundred meters behind them, a heavy gravel truck lost control and smashed through the median strip, sweeping across three lanes and cutting off all traffic on the entire bridge.
The ear-piercing screech of brakes, the sound of tearing metal, and the screams of people instantly merged into a chaotic mess.
Amidst the sky-filling dust, a long-haired man in a black combat suit landed lightly on the roof of the still-smoking truck.
One of his metallic arms glinted coldly in the sunlight.
The Winter Soldier, Bucky Barnes.
He stood on high with an expressionless face, his eyes devoid of any emotion, containing only the mission objective.
He raised his right hand, holding an MGL grenade launcher, the muzzle aimed directly at the Chevrolet where Steve was.
"Get out of the car!" Steve roared, about to kick the door open.
"Wait."
A hand reached out from behind and pressed down on Steve's shoulder. Lin Huai had stopped the silver coin in his hand at some unknown point, and he looked at the grenade flying toward them from outside the window with a playful smile on his face.
"No need for such trouble. Seeing too many of these toys gets boring."
"Puff!"
The grenade launcher let out a muffled thud as a high-explosive grenade whistled toward them, trailing fire.
The three people in the car hadn't even had time to dodge.
Lin Huai simply faced the flying black dot, casually raised his right hand, pressed his thumb against his middle finger, and gave a light snap.
"Snap."
The sound of the snap was clearly audible inside the car.
Immediately following, a faint sonic boom echoed in the air.
The next second, an unbelievable scene occurred.
The grenade, still twenty meters from the vehicle, suddenly came to a halt in mid-air.
There was no explosion, and no flames.
The metal casing of the grenade was forcibly crushed while in high-speed flight, letting out a tooth-aching screech of twisting metal. The fuse was shattered, and the projectile's trajectory was directly altered; it hit the nearby concrete barrier with a "clank," bounced twice, and then exploded.
"This..." A pile of curses was stuck in Sam's throat, and he couldn't say a single word.
On the roof of the truck.
On Bucky's expressionless face, an eyebrow twitched slightly. His brain rapidly calculated various possibilities, but no matter how he calculated, there was only one result: this was unscientific.
This wasn't a malfunction; it was an interception.
An invisible interception.
His killer instincts left him no room for hesitation. Since long-range weapons had failed, he would use the most direct method.
He threw away the launcher, his metallic left arm suddenly exerting force, and he leaped down from the five-meter-high truck roof, pouncing toward the target vehicle!
That powerful sense of pressure made even Steve's breath hitch.
"I'll take him!" Steve grabbed his shield.
"I said sit tight."
Lin Huai was faster than him. He pushed open the car door but didn't rush out; he simply stood by the car, facing the direction Bucky was falling, and pulled that brocade pouch from his pocket.
"Don't move, here's a little meeting gift for you."
Lin Huai gave a gentle blow.
Whoosh—
A cloud of rainbow-colored dust with a sweet scent spread out with the wind, perfectly enveloping Bucky in mid-air.
This wasn't poison gas, nor was it a sedative.
This was a Magician's trick, and also the materials used for a dream-entry ritual—Mandragora juice and Dreamflower powder.
Bucky's mask could filter poison gas, but it couldn't stop this kind of thing.
The moment the dust touched his skin, the spirituality power drilled into his pores, rushing through his blood vessels toward his sealed Astral Body.
The dark shadow in mid-air suddenly stiffened.
Bucky landed on the ground.
But he didn't charge, nor did he swing that fist that could shatter concrete.
He stood in place, his body beginning to sway uncontrollably.
The scene before his eyes began to distort; the cracks in the road became an Abyss, the sound of car horns became the roar of artillery from seventy years ago, and countless voices rang in his ears—Russian commands, train whistles, and distant shouts.
"No..."
Bucky clutched his head, his metallic arm slamming heavily onto the ground, smashing a crater into the asphalt.
It wasn't that the Robot had a problem.
The personality program known as the Winter Soldier was forcibly torn open with a crack by the spiritual dust. Countless chaotic memory fragments flooded out, clashing violently with the original killing directives.
"Mission... who... I am..."
He roared, the soul-tearing pain causing him to lose his combat capability.
Lin Huai stood by the car, hands in his pockets, looking at the super-killer kneeling on the ground clutching his head, and shrugged.
"See, I told you this is easier than fighting. His 'antivirus software' is brawling with the 'virus database,' so he can't be bothered with you for now."
"Bucky!"
Steve had already rushed out.
Looking at his friend kneeling on the ground, he immediately charged forward, pinning the "Warrior"—who had already begun to roll his eyes and foam at the mouth—to the ground, and locked his metallic arm with special shackles.
The entire capture process was so smooth it felt unreal.
There was no intense fighting, and no life-or-death moments.
It was just a snap of the fingers and a breath of air.
Sam poked his head out of the car window, his jaw nearly dropping: "That's it? The legend that turned S.H.I.E.L.D. upside down... was taken down by a handful of talcum powder?"
"That was spiritual material, very expensive." Lin Huai patted the empty brocade pouch with a bit of heartache. "It's worth much more than those shabby wings of yours."
He walked over and kicked the boot of the already unconscious Bucky.
"Take him with us, before that old man Pierce can react."
Natasha glanced at Lin Huai, her gaze very complex. This consultant had once again solved a problem in a way she couldn't understand.
But it wasn't over yet.
Just as Steve dragged Bucky up, preparing to retreat.
"Boom—!"
A violent vibration came from directly beneath them.
Some sort of massive structure was bursting out of the ground!
The bridge surface beneath their feet began to crack, large chunks of concrete falling away to reveal twisted rebar.
From the direction of the Triskelion Headquarters, air raid sirens echoed through the sky.
The relaxed expression on Lin Huai's face vanished, and he suddenly turned his head to look at the behemoth slowly rising from beneath the cracked bridge.
A dark green metallic head, as large as a house, broke through the concrete and appeared before everyone. It was a steel creation full of industrial violence, with densely packed electronic eyes flashing red.
"It seems Pierce is truly desperate."
Lin Huai took a step back, the aura on his body becoming dangerous.
"It's the complete form of that Iron Giant Serpent."
He looked at the dumbfounded Steve.
"Captain, the family drama is over; next up is the monster movie. Take your best bud and leave first. This guy... you can't handle it."