Chapter 122: The Vampire Emerges

After listening for a while longer, Steve realized there was no sound.

“Seems like they’re gone.”

Sensing that the people had probably left, Steve rushed out and pushed open the door of the adjacent room. Sure enough, it was empty.

What puzzled him was why he hadn’t heard the sound of their departure.

Steve was somewhat confused.

Tony came over and said, “Wait, where did they go?”

“They left. They probably escaped by jumping out the window.”

Steve looked out but saw no suspicious figure.

Tony asked suspiciously, “Who exactly were they? Here to see Michael?”

“Seems like some fraternity brothers. They want to support Michael in becoming a congressman—apparently someone named Pierce.”

“A congressman? Pierce.”

Tony's heart skipped a beat, then he quickly asked, “Has he agreed?”

“No.”

“That’s good.”

Tony nodded, then added, “Pierce might be a lead, though it’s a slim one.”

“Not so slim. I know a Pierce myself.”

Tony looked at Steve, puzzled.

Steve calmly said, “That guy’s on S.H.I.E.L.D.’s board of directors, also a council member, and Nick Fury’s direct superior.”

Tony glanced at the second floor and said doubtfully, “That old man? His hair’s all white.”

“But he used to be an agent, well-trained.”

“Damn, these agents never give up.”

Just then, a waiter approached and said, “Sir, the bill, please.”

Damn, they hadn’t paid yet?

For some reason, Tony didn’t want to settle the bill; a strange tightness gripped his chest.

They were all full, but he was still hungry.

“Same again,” he said.

“Alright, please wait a moment.”

...

Back at the office, Michael began crafting a fake Cosmic Cube.

The process was simple: extract massive Cube energy and fashion it into a battery-like container resembling the Cosmic Cube.

Making it was easy, but charging the fake Cube to hold enough energy would take time.

Bored during the wait, Michael started forging new dark alloys for making the Angel’s armor.

Until dusk, the Red Queen appeared behind Michael.

“Sir, Miss Felicia is in trouble.”

“So soon?”

The Red Queen opened the map and pointed at a spot: a bar entrance surveillance feed appeared before Michael.

“Half a minute ago, Felicia entered this bar.”

Only thirty seconds had passed, and the Red Queen sensed trouble. Had she uncovered something?

“Is there anything special about this bar?”

“Sir, several young women have gone missing from this bar before. The police quickly formed an investigation team, suspecting human trafficking here.”

“But after three months and the loss of a female officer, the investigation was dropped. Disappearances still occur, but official conclusions say victims voluntarily left the bar and disappeared mysteriously afterward.”

“Local residents call it the 'cannibal bar.' Rumor has it the bar is heavily backed—by some congressman.”

“I checked nearby surveillance; in the past three days, at least fifty young girls entered and exited the bar. Adult women are countless.”

Sacrificing an officer to cover it up means the backing is indeed powerful.

“Can we see inside the bar?”

“No. The internal network isn’t connected to the outside.”

Michael nodded.

He lifted his mind staff and drew a portal, stepping out right at the bar’s entrance.

Upon seeing Michael, several men immediately gathered around him.

Michael waved his hand; they suddenly forgot why they had approached and dispersed.

Dropping several mechanical scorpions, Michael slowly walked to the bar.

“A drink, please.”

The bartender eyed Michael warily, his hands expertly mixing a spiked cocktail.

“You seem to be watching me closely. Afraid of me?”

Michael acted as if unaware of the small movements, sipping the drink without hesitation.

“Interesting. A trace amount of military-grade stimulant mixed with a special sedative. It causes dizziness and excitement, making one feel drunk. Paired with this strong liquor, it’s seamless.”

The bartender looked into Michael’s eyes and instinctively took a step back.

“Sir, I’m just admiring you. There’s no drug in this.”

“Is that so?”

Michael tapped his mind staff. The young men and women who had been dancing froze as if doused with cold water. They quietly left, like lifeless shells.

Soon, only a few thugs, bar staff, and security remained.

The Red Queen’s voice came through the earpiece: “Sir, I’ve taken control of the surveillance here.”

Michael pulled out his phone and saw Felicia.

She was currently confronting several people but still safe—for now.

“I’m here looking for someone, but you’re making me very unhappy, especially with what’s in your basement.”

The bartender signaled; others quickly surrounded Michael.

Michael glanced at the bartender and asked, “Do you know what magic I just used?”

“What magic?”

The bartender slowly reached behind, preparing to draw a hidden pistol.

“The spell I used is called ‘Innocents Scatter Quickly.’ So everyone left now is no longer innocent.”

Pure nonsense.

It was simply a basic mind magic. By telepathic sensing, it filtered out those connected to the bar, then hypnotized the unrelated. Such precise control required Michael’s mind staff.

The bartender swiftly pulled his gun, firing directly at Michael’s face.

To Michael, the bullet’s trajectory was crystal clear. He tilted his head and dodged effortlessly.

At the same time, Michael grabbed the bartender’s hand and gently twisted it. A crack sounded; the bartender’s forearm broke, and his gun fell onto the table.

The bartender howled in pain, no longer able to maintain human form, revealing glowing red eyes and two sharp fangs.

“Interesting. This bar is a vampire den after all. No wonder so many girls disappeared.”

The other staff and security, seeing their leader injured, drew their weapons and attacked Michael.

With superior speed and strength, Michael crushed them easily.

But unlike the bartender, they showed no vampire fangs—just strange tattoos etched on their bodies.

“Hark tribe?”

Michael’s expression grew cold as he looked slowly at the bartender.

The so-called Hark tribe worshipped vampires in pursuit of immortality, making them easy tools for vampires.

But they acted out of selfish desire; being used and discarded was deserved.

Sensing Michael’s gaze, the bartender shivered and bolted inside.

Michael grabbed the pistol on the table and fired several shots toward the bartender’s back.

The bartender hesitated, bleeding, but still fled without hesitation.

Vampire physiology seemed tough—bullets didn’t slow him much.

Michael reached the door of the room Felicia had entered and kicked it open with a great crash, startling those inside.

He stepped in and saw two familiar figures.

One was Congressman Stan, whom Michael had met before; the other, likely another congressman tied to Hydra.

Hydra, vampires, Hark tribe.

This was getting interesting.

Congressman Stan jumped in fright and quickly released Felicia’s grasp.

Felicia slipped behind Michael, smoothing her dress.

“Morbius, calm down. I am a congressman,” Stan said nervously.

Michael smiled. “Then, Congressman, what exactly do you intend to do to my beloved secretary?”