Chapter 60

When accepting the assassination contract, Target Eye was confident, believing it posed no difficulty whatsoever.

After all, how could a pampered playboy—even if exceptionally talented—possibly block a 7.62-millimeter sniper round?

As for the hero rumored to have rescued Tony from the Ten Rings, Alvin Walrus was even less of a concern.

Of course, adhering to the professional assassin’s code, Target Eye still did not underestimate his target.

He chose a sniper position roughly one hundred fifty meters in a straight line from the villa, backed by mountain rocks for cover, with the sea behind him for a quick escape if things went wrong.

The AWM sniper rifle was set up; through the scope, he could clearly see the three people inside the villa.

Target Eye was born with near-deranged accuracy; at one hundred fifty meters, even a toothpick he threw would strike an enemy’s vital point, let alone a gun in his hands?

But something had deviated slightly from his expectations.

The woman’s reaction speed was astonishing—she seemed to instinctively sense the killing intent, allowing one of the targets, Alvin, to dodge the first bullet.

“Interesting. That woman’s perception is sharp.”

Target Eye pressed his eye to the scope, a faint smile curling his lips; his composure remained untouched.

He was a professional assassin; one failed shot meant nothing. On the contrary, the target’s acute awareness filled him with the pleasure of a cat playing with a mouse.

“That’s it—run like a mouse, run as much as you want.” He excelled at this cat-and-mouse game, especially when slowly squeezing their survival space until hope was crushed beneath his heel, then savoring their expressions of terror—only then could his twisted desires be satisfied.

Yet the target named “Alvin” suddenly stood up from the ground, calm and composed, brushing dust off his clothes.

The man’s action darkened Target Eye’s gaze; his earlier delight was slightly spoiled.

“Playing tough with me?”

He sneered, aimed at Alvin’s forehead, and pulled the trigger.

Bang!

Smoke rose from the muzzle; a bullet was propelled by gunpowder along a precisely calculated trajectory, destined to pierce Alvin’s forehead.

But a sight that left Target Eye dumbfounded appeared!

The bullet, mere inches from Alvin, seemed influenced by some unseen force—its speed gradually diminished until it halted completely, floating motionless in midair.

“Psychic ability?”

At that moment, Target Eye’s pupils shrank; he immediately sensed danger.

Obadiah’s dossier never mentioned this kid had “psychic abilities.” That damn fat pig had lied to him?

Even so, Target Eye’s mind did not immediately flee.

He locked his scope on Alvin, preparing to fire again—when he saw Alvin tap the bullet’s base with his index finger.

“What is he doing?”

This thought briefly filled his mind—then he suddenly sensed an unprecedented, bone-chilling danger!

His survival as a professional assassin did not stem from perfect aim, but from an instinctive sensitivity to danger—like animals sensing impending disaster before it strikes.

And now, that icy, piercing dread plunged Target Eye into the abyss.

Run!

Target Eye abandoned the mission without hesitation, sprinting at his fastest speed toward the cliff to leap into the sea.

But the instant he turned, a piercing shriek tore through the air!

The sound roared like a shell exploding; with the corner of his eye, Target Eye saw a blazing red meteor, trailing layers of supersonic shockwaves, slam into his sniper position!

BOOM!!

A ten-meter radius erupted in churning shockwaves.

The solid rock wall was blasted into a deep crater; shattered stones flew everywhere, dust swirling into the sky.

Target Eye was flung backward by the violent blast, crashing hard against the cliffside!

“This... is a bullet?!”

The impact nearly knocked him unconscious.

His ears were temporarily deaf, ringing with a buzz; blood streamed from his nose and mouth from the explosion’s shock.

Had he not been certain he’d just seen a 7.62-millimeter sniper round, he’d have sworn he’d been hit point-blank by a 100-millimeter main battle tank cannon!

Target Eye’s mind went blank—he hadn’t fully regained his senses.

Dude, a 7.62-millimeter bullet can’t possibly generate the power of a 100-millimeter artillery shell—you’re a walking main battle tank?

Luckily, I reacted fast and got clear of the blast zone—if not, I’d be in pieces right now.

Can’t do this. Goodbye. See you never.

Once he recovered from the dizziness of the explosion, Target Eye didn’t dare pause a second—he sprinted for the sea like his life depended on it.

“Damn Obadiah!” he cursed the fat pig for failing to investigate the intel properly.

What the hell does “a slightly powerful kid” even mean?

This guy is a walking main battle tank—one bullet nearly sent him to God!

How much do I get paid per month? How many lives do I have to waste on this?

The mission, assassin honor, professional duty—all of it was tossed aside by Target Eye.

He didn’t care if Obadiah lived or died; if that kid fired another shot, he’d be dead for sure.

“Now you think of running? Too late!”

Sensing Target Eye’s intent to flee, Alvin’s temper flared—he launched himself into the air using psychic energy.

BOOM!

The psychic shockwave swept through the living room like a tangible force.

When they looked again, Alvin had become a streak of light, hurtling toward the sniper’s position.

“Gulp!”

Back in the silent living room, staring at the wreckage and the massive hole blasted into the wall by the suspected “bullet,” both remained silent.

Black Widow and Tony exchanged glances, seeing shock in each other’s eyes.

After half a second of silence, Tony’s eyebrow twitched as he asked: “If I didn’t imagine it, did he just turn a bullet into a main battle tank shell?”

“Seems... like it.”

Black Widow swallowed hard, her heart churning with turmoil.

Though she knew Alvin could manipulate objects, she never imagined he could make a bullet inflict such terrifying damage!

Thank God S.H.I.E.L.D. never clashed with this guy—she couldn’t bear to imagine what would’ve happened otherwise.

She turned to Black Widow and tossed out: “Watch over Tony—I’ll be right back!”

On the other side.

Internally cursing Obadiah, Target Eye summoned every ounce of strength and leaped from the cliff.

Though a killer, his physical prowess was formidable—equal to an Olympic champion’s strength and speed; if he reached the sea, he’d escape!

But fate refused to cooperate.

Just as Target Eye reached midair, his form perfectly graceful, even his water-entry posture perfected—

Suddenly, a force seized his ankle, leaving him comically frozen, suspended less than a meter above the ocean.

“What the hell?”

Confused, Target Eye hadn’t processed what happened when an irresistible force yanked his ankle.

Next, he was hoisted like a fish on a hook, flung upward, arced through the air, and slammed hard against the cliffside!

BOOM!

This violent impact nearly knocked him out.

Like a dead fish pinned to the rock, had his bones not been infused with adamantium, he’d have been reduced to pulp.

Even so, the shock shattered his internal organs; blood poured from his eyes, ears, nose, and mouth; his vision blurred crimson, the world indistinct.

“Where is Pepper Potts?”

Alvin stood on Target Eye’s chest, coldly demanding.

“Cough... cough...” Target Eye, battered and broken, spat blood mixed with shattered organs, barely clinging to life.

Yet he still laughed wildly, glaring at Alvin with a grotesque grin: “Want to know? Kneel and beg me, hahaha!”

Though Target Eye cherished life, he was fundamentally a complete lunatic, born with mental instability.

Facing Alvin’s interrogation, he didn’t fear him—he laughed uproariously, fixing Alvin with bloodshot, monstrous eyes: “Want to know? Kneel and beg me, hahaha!”

“Perfect. I love when you don’t cooperate.”

Watching the still-provocative Target Eye, Alvin smiled genuinely, caressing his face and whispering softly: “I hope your mouth is as tough as your adamantium bones, Mr. Lester~ Don’t you dare give up.”