Chapter Twenty-One: The Lich King Prepares to Destroy the World [New Book—Please Add to Your Collection and Recommend!]

An imposing man had appeared in the antique shop, but Roald’s daily routine remained unchanged. Last night, he worked on card crafting until midnight, and upon waking, the sun was already high in the sky. Outside, the sound of car horns drifted through the window.

Roald was nearly dragged from his sealed bed by Erica; one mirror image prepared his toothbrush and face wash, while another was downstairs arranging breakfast. The Lich King’s life was quiet, decadent, and harmonious.

The diluted Necrotic Fluid for Norman Osborn was ready, and Roald planned to deliver it today, taking Grommash along to introduce him to the sights of Manhattan. Of course, there was a purpose behind this excursion—but Roald had no intention of revealing it. His homebody tendencies had been on full display recently; he hadn’t stepped outside the shop for an entire week, all for the sake of card crafting.

This inactivity was driving the nearby S.H.I.E.L.D. agents to the brink of PTSD. Around eleven o’clock, Roald had lunch and finally left the antique shop with Grommash. In the surrounding neighborhood, behind many curtained windows, Roald’s appearance set rooms abuzz with activity. Some checked their ammunition, others adjusted surveillance scopes, and some frantically dialed phones.

Dignas was among the busiest. He hurriedly found a spot behind a corner of the curtain, fixing his eyes on Roald at the shop’s entrance through his scope. He saw the towering, fierce-looking Grommash and, biting his pen, quickly began sketching as the red light on the bio-energy detector flickered beside him.

“A new figure has appeared beside the target—danger level high, request immediate backup!”

He hesitated, then added another line.

“This is not a drill!”

Roald had been holed up for a week, with the neighborhood under full surveillance, including underground probes. For someone to suddenly appear behind him, looking as menacing as Grommash, without anyone knowing—this was a serious issue.

Soon, various signals spread through every room. Grommash’s arrival caused an uproar.

S.H.I.E.L.D. had monitored Roald for a long time. Agents had used all kinds of surveillance methods, some losing sleep over it, all because their superiors rated Roald as highly dangerous. Rumor had it he dared to extort S.H.I.E.L.D. itself, his reputation was infamous, and his appearance alone suggested he was no ordinary person. Now, with Grommash at his side, most agents felt vindicated—just standing there, Grommash radiated a wild energy that made them want to punch the young man next to him, and Grommash himself resembled a powder keg ready to explode.

They had considered installing cameras, but their superiors immediately forbade it, reinforcing the sense of Roald’s peril. S.H.I.E.L.D.’s knowledge of Roald’s capabilities and intelligence was all based on Coulson’s oral reports and guesses. They’d been waiting for a chance to observe him more closely.

Yet the target had remained indoors, leaving many agents at a loss. Over time, some grew uneasy, wondering if they were being sidelined for offending their superiors, or if S.H.I.E.L.D. was using this as a way to force them into retirement.

Did I work so hard to get into S.H.I.E.L.D. just to realize my self-worth in firefights, to fight evil for a lifetime, only to end up watching a tiny antique shop? If I get fired, what happens to my insurance? What about baby formula money? I’m still single!

Many puzzled over this—but in all these days, not a single shred of evidence surfaced that Roald was up to anything.

Now, the reclusive figure had finally stepped out, making the agents feel as if they’d seen the sunrise for the first time.

On the other side, Coulson, having received Dignas’s report, dressed and started his car with haste, heading for Roald’s street.

“Dignas, keep everyone calm. No rash actions. Wait for me before doing anything,” Coulson said over the comms, anxiety evident in his voice. He feared his informants and agents might act impulsively and cost S.H.I.E.L.D. another round of compensation. His bonus had already been docked until five years later by Fury.

He called several other surveillance teams, mounted the alarm on his car, and sped toward the target.

“This is Agent Phil Coulson, level seven.” As soon as the call connected, Coulson spoke urgently: “All teams, do not act rashly. Observe remotely. The target has countermeasures against remote attacks.”

“Do not take action! Do not take action! Do not take action!” He repeated the warning three times. Once he confirmed his observation teams hadn’t acted, he felt much calmer, relieved.

“Maintain communication at all times. Report the target’s movements to me in real time,” Coulson ordered again.

“Yes, captain, we guarantee completion of the mission.”

Sensing the seriousness in Coulson’s voice, the agents responded in unison. Coulson opened his navigation, disregarded fuel reimbursement, floored the accelerator, and changed directions repeatedly, hoping for a “chance encounter” with Roald en route.

His heavy tone made every agent in the channel swallow hard. No wonder the higher-ups only wanted remote observation—seeing the captain so tense, his hairline must be receding, and the target must truly be a dangerous terrorist.

Such a person was far beyond their usual scope. They resolved to follow Roald and Grommash from a distance, observing covertly and reporting Roald’s movements to Coulson in real time.

“Can I just hack them up?” Grommash tilted his head, annoyed by the long tail of followers behind them. He raised his cloth-wrapped battle axe and asked Roald for permission to fight.

“Hold steady. Life here isn’t just about fighting—there’s also the art of social dealings. If you must fight, make sure there’s an ‘accident’ first, so they owe you a favor. Otherwise, it’s hard to get paid.”

Roald, faced with straightforward Grommash, imparted the Scourge’s scam skills.

Grommash nodded, as if he understood—or perhaps not...

Thirty minutes later, Coulson, having changed directions repeatedly through his agents, kicked open his car door, walked up behind Roald, took a deep breath, and then put on a standard smile as he approached.

“Hey, Mr. Roald, today is truly a good day.”

“Oh, agent, I’m glad to see you today as well.”

With a smile, Coulson pulled out a handkerchief to wipe his sweat, steadying his breath.

“I must admit, you always surprise me, Mr. Roald.” Standing behind him, Coulson couldn’t help but glance at Grommash. “And who might this be? Or rather, what brings you here?”

Roald pointed at the traffic signal. “Waiting for the green light, then to destroy the world.”

“What does destroying the world have to do with the green light?”

“Because one needs the green light to cross the street.”