Chapter 229

In the editor-in-chief's office of the Global Times, Eddie set his cup on the desk, hung his coat on the chairback, and sat down in his office chair. A young employee knocked and entered, saying: "Chief, tomorrow's materials will be delayed—the printer's broken again."

"The printer's broken again? Fine, have Damon call logistics and send someone to fix it."

After the employee left, Eddie sighed, picked up the latest magazine from beside him, and began reading.

Yes, after the scandal, Eddie became the new editor-in-chief of the news and current affairs section at the Global Times.

The military's attempt to find an agent to back the Life Foundation was just a short sentence on paper, but the process was complicated.

Regardless, under Eddie's interference, it failed. Setting aside the countless backup plans along the way, the result was that the Life Foundation's agent was fired—and so was the Global Times' editor-in-chief, Eddie's former boss.

Before Drake's dark history of using homeless people as human test subjects was exposed, Eddie's former boss had written numerous glowing reports praising Drake.

After the scandal broke, public opinion toward Eddie flipped completely—he became a heroic journalist who fearlessly spoke for the underprivileged, while the editor-in-chief turned into a universally despised outcast, dragging the Global Times' reputation down with him.

To reverse their image, the Global Times had no choice but to rehire Eddie, inviting him to become editor-in-chief of the news and current affairs section, hoping his heroic reputation would wash away the stain.

Eddie was still a man of principle—but principle aside, they were offering far too much.

Even with Venom, he was still human—he needed food, drink, and a place to live. Without a stable job, his car loan, already months overdue, plus the accumulated late fees, would bankrupt him. To prevent that, Eddie became the Global Times' editor-in-chief.

Venom could only be described as frustrated with his failure.

Eddie sat at his desk, sipped his coffee, and sighed contentedly. Venom spoke inside his mind: "You're the most aimless host I've ever had."

"I don't know what your previous hosts were like, but I'm already satisfied," Eddie leaned back in his comfortable chair and said. "After enduring that hellhole apartment in Hell's Kitchen, I finally understand how comfortable a Midtown apartment really is."

"And this office," Eddie looked up, surveying it. "The lighting's perfect, the heat's sufficient, and it's spacious."

He tossed the magazine onto the desk. "Most importantly, the salary's excellent."

"Heh." Venom's only reply was a cold laugh. After all, all his previous hosts were either saving the world or on their way to doing so—while Eddie spent his days either slacking off or heading toward slacking off.

The editor-in-chief's job wasn't easy—it involved many things to monitor and a variety of tasks—but the Global Times hired Eddie not because they wanted a good editor, but to buy his reputation. So Eddie wasn't busy at all; he even had time to reconcile with his ex-girlfriend Annie.

As usual, after slacking off in his office until quitting time, Eddie stepped out of the building, checked his watch, and said to Venom: "You should know, I was supposed to have a date with Annie tonight."

"And then annoy her again with your brainless nonsense…"

Eddie shook his head helplessly. Hill, waiting by the door, shook his hand and said: "Get in the car."

About half an hour later, the two arrived at S. . . . . .'s base. Hill spoke to Venom inside Eddie's body: "The residual power inside Riot is more than we anticipated…"

"But you can't actually extract it, can you?"

They stopped at the lab's entrance. Hill looked into Eddie's eyes. "I admit—the research hasn't gone smoothly. Humans have almost no control over powers resembling magic."

"To be honest, we're borrowing flowers to offer Buddha—but our offer is low enough. Believe me, this is a fair deal."

Inside the lab, Riot was sealed in a tank. His body remained gray, but surrounded by swirling black mist—just like the chaotic energy that had appeared on him that day.

Loki, speaking through Hill's mouth, said: "How do you plan to absorb it? Though you're not a Cosmic Agent, I still must tell you—in today's mainstream symbiote society, we discourage consuming your own kind."

"It's not due to any moral code—it's because absorbing too much genetic material from a Tonglei at once can cause mental chaos in a symbiote."

"I have a way to strip this energy away—but I must leave my current host to do it." Venom shook his head. "I won't put myself in that kind of danger, let alone under S. . . . . .'s surveillance."

"I've asked this many times already…" Loki sounded deeply confused. "But I still have to ask—are you really Venom? How are you so…?"

"Stop talking nonsense. I plan to consume this power inside my host."

"No, you can't." Loki, controlling Hill, stepped forward to stop him. "First, your host absolutely cannot withstand two symbiotes cohabiting his body. Second, the process of one symbiote consuming another is violently chaotic—his flesh couldn't survive the shock. Third, chaotic energy will assault the mind, driving a person mad."

"In short, your current body cannot support this—and I won't allow you to harm your human host. It violates Cosmic Agent protocols…"

"Who said I'd do this inside this host?"

Loki still shook his head. "Even if you switch hosts, the result is the same. A normal human body can't withstand this kind of impact."

"I know you once bonded with a boy named Peter. Though he has strong physical resilience, chaotic energy's assault on the mind is magical in nature—he still couldn't resist it. It's too risky."

"If humans won't work, what about the Aesir?"

Loki froze, staring at Venom. "The Aesir? Are you insane? Their Thor nearly killed us all with lightning!"

"Look at your gene library—it clearly records the power of that lightning. Most symbiotes are allergic to the Aesir…"

"I'm allergic to nothing except idiots."

"But where are you going to find one? You're not seriously thinking of possessing the Prince of Asgard???" Loki said in disbelief. "You're truly mad! Odin won't allow this!"

"Odin is asleep."

"But even if Odin doesn't care, they won't let you bond with them. Their senses are far keener than humans'—you couldn't sneak in without being detected."

"So I'm not planning to sneak in. I plan to make a deal with him."

As the sun sank lower, the taller the skyscrapers grew, the longer their shadows stretched—like fences across a river, through which the sunset flowed, filtered into fine golden threads.

Manhattan's rush hour was bustling. Most suited elites hurried down the streets with briefcases in hand. Coffee shops and restaurants were packed. Loki glanced around, found no place to teleport away from the crowd, and finally decided to take a taxi.

The taxi stopped outside an apartment building on West Central Station Street. By the time Loki entered the building, night was nearly upon them.

No sooner had he opened the door than he saw Thor sitting on the sofa, drinking beer and eating fried chicken. Before Loki could scold him, he strode to the hallway, opened his briefcase, pulled out his laptop, and dialed his phone: "Sorry, Mr. Hall, I'm home now. Let me continue explaining our quarterly plan…"

Loki operated his laptop, spoke into the phone, and listened to Thor's side of the room: "crunch crunch crunch" and "gulp gulp gulp."

Finally, he couldn't take it anymore. After hanging up the client's call, he turned to Thor: "How could the Allfather not see you like this?! I really should…"

"I paid the rent. You can't dictate what I do in this apartment." Thor bit into another piece of chicken. "Unlike you office drones, car repair is physical work. If I don't eat more, where will I get the strength for night shifts?"

The Demon Containment Museum

"I…"

Loki pressed his forehead, deeply regretting his earlier failed fire spell that had blown up the apartment.

After the chaos in their previous apartment, they had to move. Though Odin had paid the boarding fee, S. . . . . . refused to let them live separately. Nick's excuse was insufficient staff to protect them in two locations—but Loki knew the truth: Nick simply thought Odin paid too little.

So they still had to live together.

Loki resolved to make a name for himself on Wall Street, so he worked extremely hard—and his results were clear. He now had many major clients, and even small investors sought him out. He was so busy he worked over eighteen hours a day.

Thor, meanwhile, still worked at the auto shop—only now, he'd risen from an apprentice to a certified mechanic.

Comparing which job was harder was impossible. In just a few weeks on Wall Street, Loki had witnessed the staggering diversity of human beings. Every night, he wondered why he wasn't Thor—why he couldn't just strike down a troublesome client with a bolt of lightning.

Thor faced the same problem. Because he often engaged in physical communication with car owners, he was frequently docked pay. Only his boss's recognition of his imposing physique—his ability to intimidate—had kept him employed.

Each had his own way of being busy, his own way of being exhausted. Yet strangely, this shared burden had slightly improved their relationship. After all, the resonance between two office slaves is subtle—but unbreakable.

After dealing with yet another pile of troublesome clients, Loki sat down on the sofa. He took a beer from the pile beside Thor, popped the can open, and drank straight from it. Thor bit into another piece of chicken and said: "I always thought you were ridiculous for drinking beer out of a glass—you never acted like an Asgardian warrior. Now you're finally improving."

Loki didn't want to respond. He was lost in thought: why did humans keep asking questions that exceeded his comprehension? Even when he stood atop Yggdrasil's branches, gazing into the infinite starry void of the Nine Realms, he'd never pondered the universe's truth and origin so deeply as today.

He took another deep gulp of beer. Wall Street truly was a perfect place for a mage to cultivate. Work here for two months, and your understanding of the universe would ascend to a whole new level.

The living room was dark, lit only by the flickering glow of the TV. Thor's gaze drifted from the variety show and hesitantly asked: "How's Asgard lately?"

Loki set down the can, wiped his lips, glanced at his beer-stained shirt, and said: "How Asgard is doing is none of your business. You can't go back anyway."

Thor squeezed the can hard. Beer sprayed from the opening, drenching his hand and dripping onto the floor. Loki looked at the floor and said: "You're mopping tomorrow."

Thor opened his mouth to speak again when a ringtone echoed through the empty living room. Loki picked up his phone. "Hello, this is Odinson…"

Hearing his self-introduction, Thor squeezed the can again, draining the last drops into his mouth, saying nothing.