Marvel: The Sorcerer in America

Vivi didn't seem disturbed by Ethan's doubts. Calmly, she inserted the needle into Ethan's vein and began to slowly push the liquid. "There's no guarantee," Vivi replied flatly, "But I'm sure, if you don't try it, in two months you'll be dead, that's more certain."

Ethan watched the liquid slowly flow into his body, feeling it weigh heavier on his chest. He then took a deep breath before finally speaking with a more assertive voice, "I want $50,000. Besides that, for these people, you also need to provide a bonus... and I want a one million dollar life insurance policy. If not, we don't need to talk any further!"

Vivi raised an eyebrow, appearing intrigued by the request. "Oh, I like these terms," Vivi said as she released the syringe and glanced at Lance, who had been silently watching. "Now, you can get to know each other more officially. Lance here is a very skilled bounty hunter. Lance has helped us capture prisoners several times. Considering your physical condition, Ethan, this operation to capture Wolf will rely heavily on Lance. Your main task is to gather clues and find the actual location of Wolf."

Ethan, still a bit confused by the situation, tried to shake hands with Lance, but just as Ethan's hand was about to reach Lance, he suddenly closed his eyes and fell down without warning.

"What happened?!" Lance was startled and quickly helped Ethan sit back up, his eyes directed at Vivi with confusion. "Vivi, what happened to Ethan?"

Vivi approached, carefully opened Ethan's eyes, and checked his condition. "It seems the drug is working," Vivi said calmly. "The information says this drug works faster than morphine. Not an exaggeration, right?"

"How long will Ethan be like this?" Lance asked, worried about Ethan's sudden state.

"That depends on Ethan," Vivi replied, lighting another cigarette and taking a slow drag. "The clues indicate that if Ethan's heartbeat is not normal, the hallucinogenic effects will start to kick in after this injection. But if Ethan can manage his heartbeat, he will regain consciousness on his own."

Lance was silent for a moment, trying to digest what had just been explained. "Can the heartbeat be controlled?"

Vivi exhaled cigarette smoke casually and smiled faintly at Lance, as if this was something very easy for her. "As long as you don't panic too much or think too much about worrying things, your heartbeat will remain normal. It's all in your mind and your calmness."

Lance looked at Ethan, who was half-conscious, his eyes filled with concern. "Seeing Ethan like this, it seems he needs to rest for a while. Should we just wait here?"

"NO." Vivi said firmly, holding Lance's arm with her left hand while tossing her hair with her right. Vivi's face remained calm, as if all of this was normal for her. "Come on, let's go shopping. Oh, by the way..." Vivi turned to the agent who had come to 'clean the room' and gave an order without hesitation, "Give Ethan a little vodka. The clues say it can help alleviate Ethan's negative symptoms."

...

...

...

"Do you really think these items are worth two thousand dollars?" Under the shade of the park trees by the roadside, Lance looked at Vivi, who was enjoying a small portion of fish. Unavoidably, Lance posed the question, his tone filled with disbelief.

MASA is the most luxurious neon restaurant in New York, famous for its world-class sushi that captivates with its unique charm. This Michelin three-star restaurant has become a symbol of prestige, but it is also often surrounded by controversy. Many consider its food prices to be excessively high, even for a culinary experience.

Lance has always been skeptical of the celebrated sushi chefs at such neon restaurants. To Lance, it makes no sense for a simple box of sushi to be priced at two thousand dollars, even if made with the finest ingredients. Even extraordinary flavors are not enough to justify such a high price.

"Emmmm!" Vivi murmured contentedly, her expression like someone who has just discovered paradise.

Lance could only sigh inwardly. This was money he earned through hard work, nearly risking his life.

Vivi held a piece of tuna with her chopsticks and elegantly placed it in her mouth. "MASA is not just an expensive restaurant," Vivi said casually after swallowing her food. "The price includes quality ingredients, high-level cooking skills, and of course, an elegant atmosphere that you can't find anywhere else. But if you prefer to eat on the street, well, that's your choice."

Lance chewed the tender piece of fish in his mouth and replied sarcastically, "I still hate those pretentious chefs."

Sushi chefs are often treated like royalty, Lance thought. But at least the chef didn't humiliate Lance directly. That alone was enough to save Lance's pride.

Vivi suddenly smiled, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "I think you're jealous."

Lance snorted and scoffed, "Whatever you say."

Lance didn't want to admit it, but there might be some truth to it. Vivi always drew attention wherever they went, and Lance was used to seeing looks of admiration—or more accurately, looks like hungry dogs—from people gazing at Vivi. But jealous? No way... right?

Suddenly, Lance's expression changed. His eyes sharply turned toward the road outside the woods, as if catching something suspicious.

A killing gaze! But it wasn't directed at Lance.

American security is always confusing. Although most crises usually occur at night, this time was different. The sky was clear, it was broad daylight, and a strong intent to kill hung in the air. Is this a terrorist attack?

Vivi, noticing the change in Lance's expression, immediately asked, "What's happening?"

Lance picked up a piece of tuna with his chopsticks, appearing calm even though his eyes remained alert. "Well... it seems like something bad is about to happen," Lance murmured.

And at that moment, the sound of police sirens shattered the silence.

From the end of the street, a police car slowly entered the park area. However, before it could reach its destination, several men emerged from an alley across the street. They did not come empty-handed—automatic rifles were tightly gripped in their hands, ready to unleash destruction.

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