Marvel’s Master of Heavenly Magic

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"One last request: considering all I’ve done for the family, please spare the lives of my wife and daughter. Let my brothers continue to serve the family."

After years of service to the family, Lyon understood that Chebel’s words weren’t without merit. His subordinates had always hoped he would become the head of the Chebel family, even suggesting that the family be renamed after him.

So, at this moment, he no longer complained. He knelt before Chebel, bowing his head in supplication.

However, Chebel shook his head coldly once more. "Lyon, I once heard a saying from a Chinese man I killed, and I’ve always found it quite insightful: 'Cutting grass without removing the roots allows it to grow back in spring.'

If my son is to inherit the empire I’ve built, there can’t be any potential threats left."

"You’re going to kill me!"

Summoning all his strength, Lyon lunged at Chebel, but was quickly kicked aside by a burly man standing next to him.

On a normal day, he wouldn’t be so weak, but right now he was battered and bruised.

"Lyon, don’t struggle. Accept your fate. I’ll personally ensure that your wife and daughter are taken care of.

Perhaps you’ll meet them in heaven. Oh, wait—people like us surely go to hell after death, so you might never see them again."

The burly man stepped forward, pinning Lyon down with his foot, grinning as he drew a handgun and aimed it at his head.

Lyon lay on the ground, filled with rage, and shouted, "Chebel, I regret not listening to my brothers! If there really is a hell, I will claw my way out to drag you and your son down with me.

If there are demons in hell, I would gladly trade my soul for the chance to seek revenge!"

"Too bad this world has no hell and no demons; otherwise, I would have died countless times by now, considering the blood on my hands.

The reality is cruel: only people like me enjoy wealth and power, and my children will inherit that wealth."

Chebel was unfazed by Lyon's curses; he had heard such words far too many times before.

At that moment, a curious voice suddenly echoed from above the rooftop water tank: "I’m not a demon, and I don’t want your soul, but if you’re willing to cooperate with me, I can help you achieve your wish."

Everyone turned to look at the top of the tank, where a mysterious figure in a death mask and flowing robe stood.

"Who the hell is this? Kill him!"

Chebel squinted his eyes and ordered immediately.

The ten or so subordinates guarding him quickly drew their guns, aiming at the mysterious figure, ready to shoot him on the spot.

However, as they aimed, their guns suddenly slipped from their hands, as if controlled by an invisible force, floating above their brows with bullets automatically chambered.

"I advise you not to move, or I can’t guarantee the guns won’t go off."

George descended step by step, seemingly walking on air from the top of the tank, then came to a halt before the prostrate Lyon, looking down at him.

"What’s your answer?"

Indeed, Lyon was the most promising candidate he had found so far.

If George helped him take over the Chebel family, Lyon would become one of the most powerful figures in the Bronx underworld, fully qualified to purchase Stark stocks without raising suspicion.

And if he eliminated the other twelve families, Lyon could openly assimilate them.

With such a large territory, Lyon wouldn’t be able to simply run away with his wife and daughter; a long-term partnership would be feasible.

Moreover, he could assist in gathering intelligence and dealing with any pursuers from the Acclis Company.

George had always felt that Professor X's previous approach was unwise. Why separate mutants from humanity and even give them a new name?

That only invited trouble for all humans.

Now that the term "mutants" had faded from human memory, why not let it fade entirely? They were simply humans with unique abilities and could certainly collaborate with humanity to confront evil scientists and terrorists.

Lyon stared at the incredible scene on the rooftop, stunned for a moment, then replied with resolute determination:

"As long as you can save my family and brothers, my life is yours!"

"I don’t need your life; I just need you to help me with some things in the future."

George snapped his fingers, and all the floating handguns fired simultaneously, the Chebel subordinates collapsing without resistance onto the rooftop.

"This, sir, whatever you need me to do, I can do it. You don’t need to work with a failure."

The sole survivor, Chebel, broke into a cold sweat as he witnessed all his subordinates being slaughtered.

He tried to persuade George to spare him.

However, George simply smiled and shook his head. "No, you’re too old."

Having someone like Chebel as an agent could lead to his demise within two or three years, necessitating another search for a replacement—too troublesome, especially since Lyon's character was far more reliable.

"Handle it yourself."

A razor-thin blade shot from George's pocket, effortlessly severing the ropes binding Lyon's hands.

Lyon rose and picked up the fallen giant's gun, approaching Chebel without allowing him a single word of mercy, pulling the trigger to send him off into the afterlife.

"Thank you, how should I address you?"

Looking at Chebel’s lifeless body sprawled in a pool of blood, Lyon paused for five seconds in silence before turning to George with genuine gratitude.

If it hadn’t been for George’s intervention, he would have been dead today, along with his wife, daughter, and those brothers who had fought by his side.

So his thanks came from the heart.

"No need to thank me; I had my own reasons for saving you. We’re in a partnership now.

From now on, you can call me by my codename: Death!"

George adjusted his mask and waved his hand dismissively.

The stories of farmers and snakes, of ingratitude, were far too common. He wouldn’t assume that saving someone once would guarantee their unwavering loyalty.

Moreover, given the environment and experiences Chebel had endured, he was unlikely to be a saint.

"What do you need me to do?"

Lyon was a clever man and understood George’s implications.

He also had his questions about George's miraculous abilities and concealed identity, but chose not to voice them.

"Not now. When I need something, I’ll come to you."

George pointed toward the iron door at the rooftop entrance. "Your boss’s men will figure it out soon. We need to leave."

"They're already here!"

Lyon’s expression shifted as he heard a flood of footsteps coming from the rooftop staircase.

In his current weakened state, even with a gun in hand, he stood no chance against so many adversaries.

So he turned to George, knowing that only someone with extraordinary abilities like George could save him now.

(End of Chapter)