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In a semi-conscious state, Tony vaguely saw many people moving around, seemingly engaged in conversation. But Tony was in a terrible state, running a high fever. The Antidote Serum had been injected, turning his body into a battlefield where it waged a fierce war against the virus.
“How is he doing?” Tony stood by, worried and pacing anxiously.
“You brought him in just in time. Now his main problem is excessive blood loss; he just needs some time to recover.”
The speaker was the female doctor who followed Blade. Blade, a Vampire hunter, had saved her life when she was bitten. She also served as Blade's pharmacist, specifically formulating potent elixirs against Vampires, ensuring the death of any injected Vampire.
“Why are you so anxious? Tony Stark isn't related to you. You saving him is already a huge favor. Even if he doesn't make it, it has nothing to do with you.” Blade gently wiped his battle sabers with a cloth. He had slain countless Vampires with these two sabers, and the Vengeful Spirits of Vampires lingered upon them.
Tony muttered, “Who knew this guy would be so unlucky? So flashy and ostentatious during the day, only to get abducted by Vampires at night.” He was genuinely worried Tony wouldn't pull through. What would Iron Man be then? A Vampire Iron Man? Given Tony’s arrogant nature, he would either burn his bridges and develop a vaccine—a path countless people had proven impassable—or he would simply seek death.
On the other side, the Old Bartender and the old man had a drink and chatted. Seeing Tony glare at him, the old man grinned cheerfully. It was then that Tony realized the old man’s leg was indeed a bit lame; he hadn’t noticed it while they were sitting in the audience.
“That's Whistler, a long-renowned old Vampire Hunter,” Blade introduced to Tony with a hint of mockery, “it's just that he's a bit old now and can only handle logistics.”
Whistler was old and hot-tempered. Hearing this, he yelled angrily, loudly proclaiming that all of Blade's skills had been taught by him.
Tony stroked his chin, turning to observe Tony, this genius figure who could be called a Child of the Era.
It must be said that Tony Stark could mingle with any type of woman. Besides his wealth and incredibly high emotional intelligence, his appearance was indeed appealing. Although he had already entered middle age, his well-defined features and the unique maturity of a middle-aged man gave him a fatal charm for women of all ages.
“What do you say, now that we've saved this guy, what benefits should we ask from him?” The Old Bartender walked over. He didn't care if you were Stark or 'Shit-kicker'; he cared more about practical things, as talking about castles in the air was meaningless.
He clutched a bag full of looted items like necklaces and good wine. Tony wanted to take them, but this time the Old Bartender vehemently refused, claiming he would sell these things for a high price and that a novice like Tony would only be swindled to death.
“A local tyrant like him,” Whistler said, “it’d be an outrage not to seize the opportunity to fleece him. Look at what he's wearing. These are all styles you can't buy on the market; only high-society people have connections to get them.” Whistler put on the jacket he'd stripped off Tony, clicking his tongue in admiration. They actually lived very frugally; all their money was used to prepare various silver weapons, which was an extremely expensive process.
Tony was the first to suggest that instead of asking for money or weapons, they should ask for some shares in Stark Industries. Tony was a major shareholder of Stark Industries, holding many shares.
“Money making money can bring in an endless stream of cash,” Tony said. “I think one-thousandth of the shares is very suitable, and we few can split it evenly.” He had originally planned to wait for internal turmoil in Stark Industries, then acquire shares at a low price, at which point the stock price would plummet by sixty percent.
“I'll give you one percent! From my personal shares!”
Tony, who had been unconscious on the bed for a long time, finally recovered somewhat. He spoke up, shouting that he was willing to directly give them one percent of the shares.
The female doctor shone a UV lamp on Tony’s face and then checked his neck. The wound had already begun to scab over, so she nodded to everyone, indicating that he was out of danger.
Tony was somewhat astonished, shocked by Tony's audacity. One percent of Stark Industries' shares—what an astonishing figure! What was Stark Industries' market value? That was an astronomical sum.
Tony’s personal assets didn't seem like much, only a little over a hundred billion US dollars, but this didn't account for the group industries he controlled. Tony’s willingness to give out one percent of Stark Industries' shares was simply an insane figure.
Even if Tony and the others lived the rest of their lives as idle parasites, they would still have more money than they could spend.
Gulp!
A clear gulping sound; everyone was stunned.
Tony gasped. He struggled to sit up, looking at this group of Vampire Hunters, intending to commit every face to memory.
“I say, can we perhaps be shocked later?” Tony joked, easing the atmosphere. “I'm starving. Are there any cheeseburgers here?” No matter what, these few Hunters saved him. One percent of the shares for his life? Tony felt it was well worth it.
What's more, one percent? He, Tony Stark, was the controlling shareholder of the entire group! This figure was not much to him at all.
Tony was the most straightforward. He tossed Tony a phone and said, “Just call them. Your people are probably going crazy. Their boss is actually missing; this is a world-shaking event.”
Tony was surprised. Weren't these people afraid he would go back on his word?
The others indeed had no other reaction. Blade was still wiping his saber, the Old Bartender and Whistler sat down to drink again, the female doctor continued to formulate elixirs, and only Tony was watching him.
Tony dialed a number; his Artificial Intelligence butler would immediately track the address. But there was actually no need to do so, because armed forces had already arrived at their doorstep.
The group had saved Tony and hadn't deliberately concealed their tracks, already exposed to cameras. The armed forces acted under the cover of night, completely surrounding the factory.
Outside, an officer shouted, telling those inside to immediately put down their weapons and submit to inspection, warning that if there was any unusual movement, they would be shot on sight.
Several soldiers received the order and were about to break open the gate and rush in.
“Such a hassle!” Tony muttered. Several vehicles parked outside immediately transformed with a clatter, assembling countless guns and cannons pointing at the forces outside.
They quickly shut up. The uninformed lower-ranking soldiers exchanged bewildered glances, their minds a bit blank.
This signature ability... how is the Mechanic here?
A towering hulk of a man suddenly stepped out from the ranks and shouted, “Stop right there, this is a misunderstanding, stop! I'm Happy, I'm my boss Tony's bodyguard, I need to see my boss!”
Tony shrugged indifferently. Blade pulled open the door to let Happy in.
Happy, this burly man, saw Tony and almost burst into tears, because Tony's appearance was too terrible, as if he had been abused countless times. His pale face and tattered clothes were truly too far from Tony's usual flamboyant self.
Watching Happy crying while hugging Tony like a mother hen with a chick, everyone felt a shiver of disgust. The group of men collectively took a step back, with perfect synchronicity.
“Alright, this playboy's problem is solved,” Tony said. “We should discuss how to deal with that bastard Deacon. He's waiting for us to walk right into his trap. I've been fighting Vampires these days; honestly, I'm tired of it.”
Tony clapped his hands, calling everyone over.
(end of chapter)
“How is he doing?” Tony stood by, worried and pacing anxiously.
“You brought him in just in time. Now his main problem is excessive blood loss; he just needs some time to recover.”
The speaker was the female doctor who followed Blade. Blade, a Vampire hunter, had saved her life when she was bitten. She also served as Blade's pharmacist, specifically formulating potent elixirs against Vampires, ensuring the death of any injected Vampire.
“Why are you so anxious? Tony Stark isn't related to you. You saving him is already a huge favor. Even if he doesn't make it, it has nothing to do with you.” Blade gently wiped his battle sabers with a cloth. He had slain countless Vampires with these two sabers, and the Vengeful Spirits of Vampires lingered upon them.
Tony muttered, “Who knew this guy would be so unlucky? So flashy and ostentatious during the day, only to get abducted by Vampires at night.” He was genuinely worried Tony wouldn't pull through. What would Iron Man be then? A Vampire Iron Man? Given Tony’s arrogant nature, he would either burn his bridges and develop a vaccine—a path countless people had proven impassable—or he would simply seek death.
On the other side, the Old Bartender and the old man had a drink and chatted. Seeing Tony glare at him, the old man grinned cheerfully. It was then that Tony realized the old man’s leg was indeed a bit lame; he hadn’t noticed it while they were sitting in the audience.
“That's Whistler, a long-renowned old Vampire Hunter,” Blade introduced to Tony with a hint of mockery, “it's just that he's a bit old now and can only handle logistics.”
Whistler was old and hot-tempered. Hearing this, he yelled angrily, loudly proclaiming that all of Blade's skills had been taught by him.
Tony stroked his chin, turning to observe Tony, this genius figure who could be called a Child of the Era.
It must be said that Tony Stark could mingle with any type of woman. Besides his wealth and incredibly high emotional intelligence, his appearance was indeed appealing. Although he had already entered middle age, his well-defined features and the unique maturity of a middle-aged man gave him a fatal charm for women of all ages.
“What do you say, now that we've saved this guy, what benefits should we ask from him?” The Old Bartender walked over. He didn't care if you were Stark or 'Shit-kicker'; he cared more about practical things, as talking about castles in the air was meaningless.
He clutched a bag full of looted items like necklaces and good wine. Tony wanted to take them, but this time the Old Bartender vehemently refused, claiming he would sell these things for a high price and that a novice like Tony would only be swindled to death.
“A local tyrant like him,” Whistler said, “it’d be an outrage not to seize the opportunity to fleece him. Look at what he's wearing. These are all styles you can't buy on the market; only high-society people have connections to get them.” Whistler put on the jacket he'd stripped off Tony, clicking his tongue in admiration. They actually lived very frugally; all their money was used to prepare various silver weapons, which was an extremely expensive process.
Tony was the first to suggest that instead of asking for money or weapons, they should ask for some shares in Stark Industries. Tony was a major shareholder of Stark Industries, holding many shares.
“Money making money can bring in an endless stream of cash,” Tony said. “I think one-thousandth of the shares is very suitable, and we few can split it evenly.” He had originally planned to wait for internal turmoil in Stark Industries, then acquire shares at a low price, at which point the stock price would plummet by sixty percent.
“I'll give you one percent! From my personal shares!”
Tony, who had been unconscious on the bed for a long time, finally recovered somewhat. He spoke up, shouting that he was willing to directly give them one percent of the shares.
The female doctor shone a UV lamp on Tony’s face and then checked his neck. The wound had already begun to scab over, so she nodded to everyone, indicating that he was out of danger.
Tony was somewhat astonished, shocked by Tony's audacity. One percent of Stark Industries' shares—what an astonishing figure! What was Stark Industries' market value? That was an astronomical sum.
Tony’s personal assets didn't seem like much, only a little over a hundred billion US dollars, but this didn't account for the group industries he controlled. Tony’s willingness to give out one percent of Stark Industries' shares was simply an insane figure.
Even if Tony and the others lived the rest of their lives as idle parasites, they would still have more money than they could spend.
Gulp!
A clear gulping sound; everyone was stunned.
Tony gasped. He struggled to sit up, looking at this group of Vampire Hunters, intending to commit every face to memory.
“I say, can we perhaps be shocked later?” Tony joked, easing the atmosphere. “I'm starving. Are there any cheeseburgers here?” No matter what, these few Hunters saved him. One percent of the shares for his life? Tony felt it was well worth it.
What's more, one percent? He, Tony Stark, was the controlling shareholder of the entire group! This figure was not much to him at all.
Tony was the most straightforward. He tossed Tony a phone and said, “Just call them. Your people are probably going crazy. Their boss is actually missing; this is a world-shaking event.”
Tony was surprised. Weren't these people afraid he would go back on his word?
The others indeed had no other reaction. Blade was still wiping his saber, the Old Bartender and Whistler sat down to drink again, the female doctor continued to formulate elixirs, and only Tony was watching him.
Tony dialed a number; his Artificial Intelligence butler would immediately track the address. But there was actually no need to do so, because armed forces had already arrived at their doorstep.
The group had saved Tony and hadn't deliberately concealed their tracks, already exposed to cameras. The armed forces acted under the cover of night, completely surrounding the factory.
Outside, an officer shouted, telling those inside to immediately put down their weapons and submit to inspection, warning that if there was any unusual movement, they would be shot on sight.
Several soldiers received the order and were about to break open the gate and rush in.
“Such a hassle!” Tony muttered. Several vehicles parked outside immediately transformed with a clatter, assembling countless guns and cannons pointing at the forces outside.
They quickly shut up. The uninformed lower-ranking soldiers exchanged bewildered glances, their minds a bit blank.
This signature ability... how is the Mechanic here?
A towering hulk of a man suddenly stepped out from the ranks and shouted, “Stop right there, this is a misunderstanding, stop! I'm Happy, I'm my boss Tony's bodyguard, I need to see my boss!”
Tony shrugged indifferently. Blade pulled open the door to let Happy in.
Happy, this burly man, saw Tony and almost burst into tears, because Tony's appearance was too terrible, as if he had been abused countless times. His pale face and tattered clothes were truly too far from Tony's usual flamboyant self.
Watching Happy crying while hugging Tony like a mother hen with a chick, everyone felt a shiver of disgust. The group of men collectively took a step back, with perfect synchronicity.
“Alright, this playboy's problem is solved,” Tony said. “We should discuss how to deal with that bastard Deacon. He's waiting for us to walk right into his trap. I've been fighting Vampires these days; honestly, I'm tired of it.”
Tony clapped his hands, calling everyone over.
(end of chapter)
