Chapter 109: The Name of the Black Widow (Part One)

Yes, that was it. His own image was increasingly overlapping with the legendary white-robed sword saint (berserker) Gandalf, who was famously dubbed a wizard in films yet carried a staff in his left hand and peddled a sword in his right.

How joyous!

Joyous my foot!

The only thing that brought Mei Mumu a glimmer of comfort was that the "Song of the Azure Sky" could be幻化 (transmuted) and vanish back into the void when not needed. Perhaps that was the tiny perk of being a mage.

Mei Mumu had no desires left; he just wanted some peace and quiet.

Standing on the balcony of the White House, he opened the window to let the cold wind brush against his face, causing his short hair to sway slightly... perhaps this could wipe away the sorrow on his face.

Not far away, two female students passed by and witnessed the scene.

"Ah! The Chief is so handsome."

"Sigh! Even in this state, he remains worried about the country and the people, his heart tethered to the front lines."

"What a pity!"

Hey, hey! What is that supposed to mean? I’m not actually crippled! I’ll show you time reversal once I get back! I’m just faking the disability certificate!

Mei Mumu screamed internally, but he couldn't possibly say that out loud.

Just then, a knock sounded at the door.

His secretary informed him that a high-ranking official from the Intelligence Bureau had arrived.

After some pleasantries, they got to the point. Essentially, the guy had one goal: he hoped Mei Mumu would pass on his true signature skills to the next generation of agents so his expertise wouldn't be lost. He even hinted that the state had only brought him here to shine because they coveted those very skills.

"No problem. The new batch of students is almost finished with their training. I will teach them the techniques most suited to their specialties."

"Can't they... learn everything? To train someone just like you..."

"Enough!" Mei Mumu unleashed his domineering aura and slammed the table. "Laymen shouldn't go around pointing fingers. Not every soldier can be trained as a pilot. It would be an incredible achievement if one or two students in a class could master even one of my skills."

Mei Mumu's image grew increasingly mysterious.

Perhaps he had started as just a young hunter, but now everyone believed he was a powerhouse who had received a mysterious inheritance from an unknown school. Fortunately, he was a Soviet.

The high-ranking intelligence official clearly lost some of his bravado and whispered, "So, are there any promising seeds in this batch?"

"Yes!"

The official visibly exhaled in relief. If they could cultivate two extraordinary powerhouses that impressed their superiors, they could consider their mission accomplished. Recent intelligence reports indicated that super-powered individuals had appeared in both Germany and the United States, yet the Winter Soldier program remained stagnant.

The General Secretary was growing dissatisfied.

The assessments in the Red Room became increasingly frequent.

Those with poor basic physical stats were cut.

Those who couldn't defeat the instructors in combat sparring were cut.

Those who didn't meet the standards of a sharpshooter in shooting competitions were cut.

The competition was brutal. No one cared about your age, whether you were ill during the trials, or any other excuse. Losing meant losing.

The losers were immediately sent away. As for what the Intelligence Bureau did with these half-trained female orphans, Mei Mumu didn't ask. Perhaps they would be retrained as simple intelligence operatives. Perhaps they would be thrown into military service. They might even be assigned some random, sacrificial task.

Mei Mumu only knew that in each class, only one girl could become a Black Widow.

Standing before Mei Mumu in the end were, naturally, Natalia and Yelena.

The two would engage in a no-holds-barred duel on the arena floor. In the duel, any weapon could be used—even to the point of killing the opponent.

In fact, in this ultimate gladiatorial arena converted from an abandoned factory, there were not only a large number of discarded machine tools as cover, but also over two hundred types of light weapons and cold weapons, ranging up to the level of rocket launchers, placed randomly throughout the site.

Mei Mumu, the Red Room officials, and a group of high-ranking intelligence officers stood in a specially built observation room high above the factory floor, watching the duel through thick bulletproof glass.

A catfight—or rather, a duel—at the Black Widow level was quite interesting.

"Why must women make things difficult for women?" was a phrase that perfectly described Natalia and Yelena. Mei Mumu didn't know where this Yelena had come from, but she was no weaker than Natalia. Her agility, which pushed the limits of the human body, actually made him quite interested in the girl.

Mei Mumu had altered history; by saving Natalia, the future Black Widow didn't quite seem like a Black Widow anymore, while Yelena looked more the part.

It was simple: Yelena was calmer and more ruthless.

Having spent a long time with Mei Mumu, Natalia had gained more battlefield experience than in the original history, and her stealth skills were superior. This was a crushing advantage in experience.

In the observation room, it was clear that Natalia had spotted Yelena early on, yet Natalia did not launch an attack. Because her luck was a bit poor, she hadn't found a weapon she was comfortable with.

Sniper rifles, pistols, short blades, and hand-to-hand combat—these were Natalia's specialties.

But damn it, bows and arrows, long swords, and PPSh submachine guns—Mei Mumu wanted to laugh just looking at them. In an old factory floor littered with machine tools, once these long, clunky weapons bumped into something, the initiative was lost.

After circling for a bit, Natalia had only picked up a brick and carefully slung the PPSh over her back.

On the other side, Yelena hadn't found Natalia, but she had estimated her general position and went straight for the explosive approach. She started by throwing three stick grenades.

The stick grenade had faded from history not because it lacked power, but because it took up too much space. In terms of sheer explosive force, it was top-tier.

"Boom! Boom! Boom!"

The grenades, with their pins pulled early, detonated in mid-air. The searing shockwave and shrapnel flew in all directions. Anyone caught in the blast radius would surely be turned into a bloody sieve.

Almost all the observers thought Natalia was finished, but then she performed what looked like a contortionist act, shrinking her body behind a half-square-meter, one-centimeter-thick steel plate, hiding in a corner.

"Clang! Clang! Clang!"

Despite the shrapnel and flying machine tool debris outside, she remained completely unscathed.

"Rat-tat-tat!" Yelena pulled out a Thompson submachine gun—the so-called "Chicago Typewriter"—and swept the area.

But then, the PPSh roared to life.

Natalia held down the trigger, using the steel plate as a shield, and poured bullets back like a torrential rain.

Forget the Thompson; even an MP40, the king of urban warfare, would have to kneel against that!

The intense barrage of fire pinned Yelena down, forcing her to cower behind a machine tool.

But Yelena seemed to be a devotee of the "Five Fireballs" cult; with incredible luck, she still had three German M39 egg-shaped grenades. She threw them in a triangular formation, and they traced three deadly arcs through the air...