Chapter 40

Are you okay?

Tony wanted to curse loudly, but after seeing the bloodstains on the other’s body, he wisely shut his mouth.

“These people… all of them… you did this?” He forced down his urge to vomit, staring at the handsome black-haired boy, his eyes filled with disbelief.

“I heard in a nearby village that the Ten Rings kidnapped a very wealthy tycoon—looks like it’s you?” Alvin feigned ignorance, rubbing his thumb and forefinger together with a friendly smile: “So now it’s time to settle accounts. I saved you—how much are you willing to pay?”

“You saved me?”

Tony’s rebellious streak flared up instantly; he stuck out his neck and shouted: “Hey, kid, look closely—it was me who got out myself!”

Crunch!

The moment he finished speaking, the Iron Man’s head was twisted off.

Alvin raised his hand; the head of the first-generation Iron Man suit landed in his palm. He weighed it briefly, then said calmly: “Go on. Then what?”

Tony’s exposed head stared at his own helmet in Alvin’s hand, his eyelids twitching violently.

After half a second of hesitation, he switched tactics instantly: “Fine, if you hadn’t drawn their attention outside, we never would’ve escaped so easily!”

The truth proved that even the toughest mouth, when faced with death, will bend.

“Then let’s discuss payment, Mr. Tycoon.”

Alvin flicked his index finger; the helmet flew toward Tony. He smiled warmly: “If the Ten Rings kidnapped you, you must be very rich, right?”

“Kid, drop the ‘must be.’ I’m not just rich—I’m insanely, extraordinarily, unbelievably rich!”

At this, Tony’s face lit up with pride, like a swan: “My wealth is beyond your imagination!”

God, I just want to beat this show-off to death!

Alvin’s lip twitched as he suppressed the urge to punch him: “Fine. One million. That’s your reward for being saved.”

“What? One million?”

Tony’s eyes widened.

“Too much?” Alvin was surprised. That didn’t make sense—wasn’t one million a drop in the ocean for Tony’s net worth?

“No—it’s too little, kid!” Tony looked insulted, his face flushed with anger: “Do you even know who I am? One million? That doesn’t even match the value of my name—Tony Stark! Add ten times that—no, even a hundred times won’t equal the worth of a single hair on my head!”

Sometimes, you just can’t understand what these rich people are thinking… Alvin nodded smoothly: “Alright, as you wish. One hundred million dollars.”

“…”

This time, it was Tony who fell silent, his face twitching: “I was speaking metaphorically. Do you even know what ‘metaphor’ means?”

“You said even a hundred times your hair’s worth isn’t enough, right?” Alvin loved watching tycoons squirm—he feigned surprise: “No problem. I understand. If you can’t afford it, just give me the million.”

“Can’t afford it? Who says I can’t afford it?!”

Tony’s liver ached from rage; he pointed at Alvin, his hand trembling: “Fine! Fine! One hundred million! I don’t even care about that kind of money!”

Alvin finally understood: with a guy like Tony, you had to go against the grain.

Tony Stark was a very smart man.

Playboy, billionaire, super-genius, holder of countless titles—and in the Marvel universe, the most famous of all was undoubtedly “Iron Man.”

He built the Arc Reactor by hand in a cave—alone. That alone put him centuries ahead of the entire world.

No wonder Thanos called him… a man cursed by knowledge.

Oh, very likely, he was also cursed by money—like that guy next door with the golden glow—his entire life would never involve worrying about cash.

It made you jealous to the point of cellular separation!

“How wonderful—I wish I could be cursed by knowledge too.”

Alvin daydreamed, but sadly, with his failing grades in math, physics, and chemistry, he’d likely never get that curse.

Of course, he wasn’t doing this purely for money—he simply needed a plausible reason to get close to Tony Stark.

Having paid one hundred million for a few words, Tony took a deep breath and slipped effortlessly into boss mode: “Now that I’ve paid, I’m your employer. Any problems?”

“No problems. One hundred million—you’re my god.”

Alvin shrugged indifferently. It was just talk, after all.

“Good. Go find a car and get us out of here.” Tony plopped down on the ground, drenched in sweat.

Clearly, this hand-built model from the cave wasn’t as lightweight as later versions—piloting it drained enormous physical energy.

Alvin stared at the man hiding behind Tony and asked: “May I ask, Mr. Very Wealthy Tycoon—who is this person beside you?”

“He’s Ethan. My… friend.”

Tony hesitated half a second, then settled on “friend”: “What? Any issue?”

“There’s just one small problem~” Alvin rubbed his thumb and forefinger together, smiling at Tony: “Extra payment needed.”

“Add it! Damn it, you’re a demon!” Tony gritted his teeth, helpless: “Fine! Ten million more—get us both out of here, you greedy little brat!”

“I’m not a greedy little brat, Mr. Tycoon.”

Alvin cleared his throat and introduced himself: “I’m Alvin Valthius, a traveling merchant.”

“Hey, I gave you a hundred million—and this is what I get? This?”

Tony glared at Alvin with a wounded expression; he’d nearly cracked his front teeth biting into that pancake.

“You have two choices, delicate tycoon,” Alvin didn’t coddle him, pointing to the cactus outside: “Either learn from a camel and chew on that, or eat this.”

Glancing at the spiky cactus, Tony chose the dry pancake: “Damn it—this has to be the most expensive pancake in the world!”

He wasn’t wrong. A pancake worth one hundred million dollars—perhaps unprecedented, certainly unmatched.

Ethan chewed silently, like someone with severe social anxiety.

Only Tony, like a social terrorist, hadn’t stopped talking since they got in the car.

Alvin’s ears rang from the noise—he seriously wondered if he’d saved the wrong person.

“Alvin, how did you twist off my helmet?”

“What are the limits of your ability?”

“Why aren’t you talking?”

Watching Tony chatter nonstop—comparable to Deadpool—Alvin felt his blood boil.

“Tony, if you don’t shut up, I’ll kick you out of this car!” Alvin couldn’t take it anymore. He gripped the steering wheel and slammed on the brakes, veins bulging on his forehead: “I swear to God—even if you give me another hundred million, I won’t budge!”

The sudden brake sent Tony’s head slamming toward the windshield.

Seeing Alvin on the verge of rage, Tony showed zero concern—just held up two fingers: “I’ll give you two hundred million more.”

“Of course. What would you like to know, esteemed Mr. Tycoon?”

Alvin’s expression instantly shifted—gentle, warm, inviting.

In the backseat, Ethan’s eyes widened, his face full of bewilderment. Is this what the rich world is like?

Watching Ethan’s expression, Tony beamed with satisfaction—his need to show off reached its peak: “Remember this: any problem that can be solved with money… in my eyes, Tony Stark’s eyes… isn’t a problem at all. Dear Ethan. Dear Alvin.”