Chapter 4836: The Little Devil in Charge (Thirty-Four)

Emerging from the sea surface was yet another of God's molecular gastronomy creations. And this time, due to exquisite artificial arrangement, it lacked the wild beauty of the previous random chaos, but that sense of order made one realize this was a kind of man-made art, making it all the more bone-chilling.

Natasha swallowed hard; now she knew why the basement originally piled with corpses was empty.

The monster gradually rising up resembled an Ouroboros composed of limbs and organs. The separated parts were rearranged according to rules incomprehensible to ordinary people yet faintly perceptible — absolutely not a simple mishmash, but giving the feeling that if there truly existed creatures constructed from human corpse fragments in this world, the most reasonable and aesthetically pleasing way would be exactly this.

It presented an overall ring shape; spines and heads were connected together. Half-defleshed spines inserted into mouths, linked one by one to form the ring's main trunk. All arms were on the ring's inner side, all legs on the outer side; these slender limbs became like cilia, gently undulating with the seawater.

In fact, rather than saying this form contained some mystical and theological metaphor, it was more like certain already-discovered primitive organisms — like paramecia, or magnified cells — looking surprisingly scientific.

And when those cilia continuously paddled, propelling the massive body forward, it resembled primitive ciliated organisms freely roaming Earth's primordial oceans. Ignoring its constituent parts, it didn't look aggressive at all.

But this extremely bizarre contradictory conflict created even greater horror; the people on the small boats were completely scared stiff.

The Avengers stood on the cliff looking down; they could only see a general outline. But the people on the boats could see every detail of this monster with crystal clarity.

Even though it was cold now, having soaked in water this long, all the corpse pieces had already bloated and swollen. And because every head was in a mouth-agape posture, at close range one could clearly see their features. Hampton's neighborly relations weren't intimate, but people in a circle always recognize each other's faces; they could easily identify who these faces used to be, yet because of the changed state, they felt the deathly aura emanating from them even more profoundly.

The people on the boats had already frozen; the mental stimulation was too great, causing their entire brains to crash completely. The first scream came not from the boats but from Steve on the shore.

Steve was obviously frightened too; he subconsciously threw his shield, and with his great strength the shield struck one side of the ring, flipping it over — but this created an even more terrifying scene.

Originally, people could hardly judge whether this thing was moving on its own or being pushed by seawater. But because it was attacked, the monster was extremely eager to right itself, so much so that all its arms, legs, and even spines twisted and thrashed in the sea, splashing waves and simultaneously capsizing two boats.

No one dared imagine what those who fell into the water would see beneath the surface, but this thoroughly snapped everyone else awake; screams spread across the entire shore, everyone rowing desperately to escape.

But the wind and waves on the open sea are not so easily dealt with. Heaven didn't cooperate; right then it started snowing and the wind rose — the boats wouldn't budge no matter how hard they rowed, a group of people screaming while spinning in place.

"What are you waiting for?" Greed looked at Frank. "Isn't this the best sniping opportunity right now? Don't you recognize Hela?"

Frank swallowed, licked his lips, opened his mouth then closed it. After hesitating a long while, he spat out: "I feel guns aren't the only way to solve problems."

Frank himself hadn't expected those words to come from his own mouth. But he couldn't very well say he was also afraid that one shot would flip the monster over, and then it would struggle ashore and climb up the cliff, forcing him to grab his gun and run.

Among everyone on shore, including the Punisher, not a single person had the impulse to fight this monster. When a thing makes you want to turn and run just from one glance, fighting it is unwise.

Stark's reason also knew this monster couldn't be that strong — because no matter what, it was carbon-based; even aquatic organisms have nothing that high temperatures and explosions can't destroy. But asking him to fly over and launch a few missiles now? He wasn't willing either. What did the missiles do wrong?

Though Steve's face was pale, he was still Captain America. He gritted his teeth and said: "No, they'll all die here. I have to go down and save them!"

Everyone looked at him in amazement. They weren't unwilling to save people, just had some avoidance mentality. They knew Shiler would never let everyone die here, so he would definitely deal with the monster in the end — no need for them to go.

Steve stepping forward at this moment forced everyone to admit: Captain America is America's last conscience. Hampton can cease to exist, but Steve Rogers' opinion absolutely cannot be ignored.

"I'll go down." Strange sighed. He had the highest mental defense among everyone — after all, cosmic entities come in all bizarre shapes. And styling himself humanity's protector, he didn't want too many deaths either; with a sweep of his cloak, he slowly flew down.

He didn't move the boats; instead he used magic to calm the sea surface somewhat. Adrenaline exploding in extreme fear let these usually pampered wealthy people row with the momentum of professional rowers; before long they were far from the monster.

Even the few who had capsized climbed back onto their boats one after another, rowing for their lives with every ounce of strength, and soon also escaped the monster's range.

The monster didn't know whether it realized it couldn't catch up, or was simply out of the loop from start to finish; after showing its face it slowly sank back into the seabed. But no one breathed a sigh of relief — this Atlantic Ocean probably can't be kept anymore.

The nearest beach wasn't far; rowing half an hour, they'd definitely arrived. Everyone scrambled ashore in a sorry state, staggering toward the highway. But when they returned to East Hampton's vicinity, the ghosts came again.

These people had just been scared witless, their spirits already fragile; hallucinations naturally exploited the weakness, and hauntings started again in the crowd.

Fortunately, Steve and the others had already driven over; the Avengers pretended to be there for pickup. Bucky said in shock: "Good lord, how did you get yourselves into this state?"

"Th-th-there's... th-th-there's..."

Many people trembled and pointed at the sea surface, but couldn't utter a single word for a long time; they didn't even know what to use to describe that thing they saw on the sea. "Ghost" and "monster" both seemed too frivolous.

Steve was tired too; he just waved his hand, signaling everyone to get in the cars. But they absolutely didn't dare return to the halfway-up-the-mountain manor, nor dare approach the sea again. Steve could only escort them to a park.

"Now you can tell us what happened, right?" Natasha spoke up timely. "Honestly, I really can't imagine what could scare you like this. It's just a few murder cases, isn't it?"

"No!!" someone roared. "It's haunting, haunting, you understand? There are ghosts!!"

"Now that's strange. What ghosts? Only you can see them, but we can't detect a shred?" Coulson also stepped forward to ask. "We didn't see any abnormal phenomena at all, only you guys screaming and running around. What on earth is going on?"

"You don't understand! This simply is..."

Many still gritted their teeth and wouldn't speak, but some had already been scared into complete collapse. They rushed over trying to grab Natasha's pant legs; Natasha dodged, and they just lay there on the ground saying: "It's the people we killed turning into ghosts to take revenge on us! God, save us..."

"Then tell me, how did you kill them, and why would these people become ghosts..."

"There are ghosts! There are ghosts!"

Mentally collapsed people cannot sustain a topic. They'd say a few sentences of useful info, then turn into repeaters, screaming and crying simultaneously. Natasha and Coulson coaxed and pressed for a long time, but couldn't get anything useful.

"Don't count on God." Pride spoke. "God abandoned you long ago, just like abandoning those discarded people you once harmed. You should know that, right? 'You shall not put the Lord your God to the test.' You were wrong from the start."

The moment those words fell, everyone went quiet for an instant, then as if utterly crushed, many stared blankly, then no longer shouted or even cried, just sat there numbly.

Steve looked at Pride; he didn't understand what meaning those words held, or why they could quiet this group. Greed told him: "They know best what this is about."

The others also looked at him, seemingly waiting for an explanation. Greed sighed: "Those retaliated against by ghosts all killed people before. The living ones aren't necessarily innocent either — almost every single one has blood on their hands. Even Gotham doesn't have this density of killers."

Steve's brows furrowed. Before the banquet started, he'd also thought maybe some people committed murders and would be haunted by ghosts, but he discovered the number far exceeded his expectations — there didn't seem to be a single innocent person here, which of course wasn't normal.

"If one day you saw a ghost, what would you think?" Greed didn't look at Steve, because he knew Steve would absolutely not feel guilty, so this was just a rhetorical question. "These people definitely aren't good people; even if they didn't kill, they've done other bad things. For instance, pharmaceutical giants might conduct illegal drug experiments or take bribes; insurance people might deny claims, causing families to be ruined; prosecutors might judge unjustly, letting murderers go free. They know all this in their hearts."

In America, first-generation rich who climb to the top can't possibly be clean. Because this society's rules are exactly like that.

After entering the internet era, during the initial accumulation phase, they might not have harmed anyone. But once they have money, they must by all means acquire power; otherwise it's a child carrying gold through a busy market — others will treat you as a fat sheep and devise ways to eat you.

And in this country, there's no clean way to gain power — it's through attacking opponents, political conspiracies, and public opinion wars. And once power is gained but corresponding responsibility isn't borne, tragedy will inevitably erupt; this is unavoidable.

Rich people aren't that stupid; there's no situation where they only make money while completely unaware how many people their actions hurt. Like insurance companies denying claims — how could they not know that withholding one payout might ruin a family, even many families? They know perfectly well in their hearts; no matter how righteous they sound externally, they can't deceive themselves.

Under such circumstances, suddenly seeing a victim's vengeful spirit one day — they would absolutely have a guilty conscience. It's said Easterners like to pray to gods and Buddhas when guilty; actually Westerners are the same, even more so. Because theocratic thinking is the West's underlying logic.