Looking at the scene, Huang Wen couldn't help but feel a surge of pride. This wasn't the mindless beast from the original movies that just flailed around until it hit something. This Hulk was a martial artist. His stance was wider, his breathing controlled, and even though he was pinning a ten-foot monster to the ground, there was a sense of deliberate discipline in his posture.
"Master, this guy... he's annoying. He just won't stay dead," the Hulk grunted.
He looked up at Huang Wen, his massive finger pointing down at the Abomination trapped under his heel. The Hulk's voice was no longer a primitive roar; it was deeper, more articulated, like a teenager complaining about a stubborn weed in the garden. He had been stomping on Blonsky's chest for the last few minutes, but the Abomination's gamma-infused physiology was stubbornly clinging to life.
Huang Wen glanced over at General Ross, who was standing a safe distance away. The General looked like he had aged ten years in a single afternoon. His uniform was tattered, and his face was a mask of conflicting emotions—fear, awe, and a desperate, lingering greed.
"So, General," Huang Wen's voice was casual, almost conversational, despite the carnage surrounding them. "What's the verdict? Do you want to take him home in a cage, or a bag?"
Ross opened his mouth, but no sound came out for a second. He looked at the Abomination—his greatest achievement and his greatest failure—and then at Huang Wen, who was holding a sword that looked like it belonged in a museum, yet had just sliced through a mutant's kinetic shockwave like it was warm butter.
"I... I suspect taking him alive would be a logistical nightmare," Ross finally managed to choke out. His eyes darted to the Hulk's foot, which was currently crushing Blonsky's ribs with a sickening crunch. "A corpse might be... more manageable for research purposes. At least the DNA won't try to bite the technicians."
Huang Wen chuckled. It was a cold sound. "Wise choice. You've spent enough time chasing ghosts, General. Better to study a dead monster than become a live one yourself."
"Wait! You can't!"
A wet, gurgling voice erupted from beneath the Hulk's foot. Emil Blonsky, or what was left of him, was struggling. His eyes were bloodshot and bulging, his face a mosaic of bruises and cracked bone. "I am the pinnacle! I am immortal! You can't kill a god!"
He surged upward, his muscles bulging with a final, desperate burst of strength, trying to throw the Hulk off. But the Hulk didn't even flinch. He just sighed, shifted his weight, and slammed his foot down again.
BOOM!
The ground buckled.
BOOM!
"Bad monster!" the Hulk grunted, his foot rising and falling like a hydraulic press. "Stay. Down. Bad! Monster!"
Every strike sent a shockwave through the valley. The Hulk was clearly enjoying the reprimand. His intelligence had matured significantly; he was no longer a toddler throwing a tantrum, but more like an older brother disciplining a particularly nasty stray dog.
Huang Wen watched for a moment, then his mind shifted. He wasn't just here to play peacekeeper; he had a system to feed. He focused his thoughts, calling out to the interface that lived in the back of his mind.
"System, issue a mission: Kill the Abomination."
A moment later, the familiar mechanical chime echoed in his head.
[Mission Generated: Eliminate the Abomination. Reward: One Legendary Item Draw. Do you accept?]
Huang Wen felt a flicker of disappointment. Only a Legendary Draw? He thought back to the Mandarin—a man whose legacy and power had yielded far more complex rewards. It seemed that in the eyes of the system, Blonsky was just a high-tier brawler, lacking the "legendary" weight of ancient sorcerers or cosmic entities.
"Whatever. Better than a poke in the eye with a sharp stick," Huang Wen muttered internally. "Accepted."
He turned back to the Hulk. "Alright, big guy. Move back. Let me finish this cleanly."
"Oh," the Hulk said, sounding almost disappointed that his playtime was over. He hopped back with a single bound, clearing fifty feet in an instant.
The Abomination lay there, gasping for air, his body trying desperately to knit itself back together. He saw Huang Wen approach and tried to snarled, but his jaw was broken.
Huang Wen didn't waste words. He didn't offer a monologue. He simply raised the Peerless Sword.
The blade didn't just glow; it seemed to pull the light out of the surrounding air. Huang Wen didn't use the Rulai Divine Palm—that was for leveling cities and crushing armies. For a single, precise kill, he needed the finesse of the Sword Saint. He tapped into the Law of the Sword, that fundamental understanding of sharpness that transcended physical steel.
"Sword Twenty-Two."
It wasn't the soul-shattering void of Sword Twenty-Three, but it was the absolute peak of physical sword qi.
Swish.
The world seemed to go quiet for a heartbeat. A single, thin line of silver light traced a path through the air. It was so fast that the human eye couldn't track it; even the high-speed satellites overhead only caught a blur of white.
The Abomination didn't even have time to blink. The silver line passed through his neck, severing bone, muscle, and the very flow of gamma energy that sustained him.
Puff.
The massive, hideous head didn't just fall off; it disintegrated into a cloud of ash and bone fragments as the sword qi finished its work from the inside out. The headless torso of the Abomination remained upright for a fraction of a second, then collapsed into the dirt with a heavy, final thud.
The silence that followed was deafening.
In a high-tech bunker miles away, Mark Sherman watched his monitors with trembling hands. His technical team was staring at a data readout that made no sense.
"Sir... the energy spike," one of the analysts whispered. "For a millisecond, that sword strike generated the thermal and kinetic equivalent of a tactical nuclear warhead. But it was... focused. Entirely contained within a three-inch radius."
Mark Sherman swallowed hard. He looked at the screen, seeing Huang Wen calmly wiping a non-existent speck of dust from his blade. To the world, he was a martial arts master. To Mark, he was a walking, talking nuclear deterrent.
"Thank God he's on our side," Mark whispered. "And thank God we gave Jack that credit card."
Back at the site, Huang Wen heard the system's chime.
[Mission: Kill the Abomination completed. Reward: One Legendary Item Draw.]
He tucked the Peerless Sword away, the blade vanishing back into his storage space as if it had never existed. He turned to General Ross, who looked like he wanted to crawl into a hole and hide.
"He's all yours, General. Take the meat back to your lab," Huang Wen said, his tone dry. "But do me a favor? Screen your scientists. I don't want to wake up next Tuesday and find out you've accidentally cloned a dozen of these things because some intern forgot to lock the fridge."
"Hulk!" the green giant suddenly barked, looking offended.
Huang Wen realized his mistake and turned to the Hulk with a sheepish grin. "Not you, big guy! You're different. You're... you're like a handsome jade statue. That guy was just a gargoyle."
The Hulk puffed out his chest, seemingly satisfied with the comparison. He was surprisingly easy to manipulate when you appealed to his growing ego.
General Ross finally found his legs. He signaled for his remaining transport choppers to land. He wanted to get that corpse and get out. Every second he spent near Huang Wen, he felt his own mortality pressing down on him.
"I'll... I'll handle the cleanup, Mr. Huang," Ross said, avoiding eye contact. "And about the mutants... I'll coordinate with Jack. We'll make the transition work. I suppose having a 'buffer zone' isn't the worst idea we've had today."
"Good," Huang Wen smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I like it when people are reasonable. It saves me from having to use the sword again."
Ross didn't wait for a reply. He scrambled toward his helicopter, his retreat so hasty it lacked even a shred of the 'Thunderbolt' dignity he usually carried. He wasn't just a general anymore; he was a man who had seen the top of the food chain, and realized he was barely an insect.