Chapter 145: Preparing for the Experiment (First Update)

Steve widened his eyes. Of course, he could never forget how, during his most despondent moment, it was this mysterious young man who had enlightened him with an even more mysterious vision.

The power of the Holy Light resonated within him. Amidst the grueling training at the military camp, whenever he felt he could no longer hold on, the power of the Holy Light would spontaneously well up in his heart, nourishing his soul.

The Light never again displayed that fierce, striking might from the day it had sent a ruffian flying with a single punch, but the Light truly existed. It answered him, encouraged him, and helped him through the most difficult days of training every single moment.

Never did he expect that, after nearly a year, they would meet again.

A boundless sense of pleasant surprise washed over Steve. He had a thousand things he wanted to say to Mason, yet he did not know where to begin.

Mason smiled. "Do you remember what I said?"

Steve’s pupils suddenly constricted. The words Mason had spoken upon their parting back then still echoed in his ears.

"No, I have already seen your future. When you become a true Paladin, I will appear before you once again."

Steve’s breathing grew hurried. Though a tiny shred of disbelief still lingered, a profound sense of destiny—as if chosen by the Goddess of Fate herself—made him tremble with agitation.

"Could... could this be my 'Day of Destiny'?"

Mason wore a smile filled with an unfathomable, mysterious air. "Yes! Today! Right now! This very place!"

The two of them exchanged words like speakers of a riddle, and naturally, this conversation between two important figures left many people puzzled.

"Good morning, you two. You... know each other?" Dr. Abraham asked, pausing in surprise. He had not expected that the greatest financial backer behind the project would actually be acquainted with its core test subject. Such a coincidence had a remarkably low probability.

Mason smiled and nodded at Dr. Abraham. "When I first returned to New York last year, I happened to run into Mr. Rogers at the recruitment office. I discovered a certain... peculiar radiance about Mr. Rogers. It was the brilliance of a noble soul."

A look of deep emotion crossed Dr. Abraham's face. It was the feeling of meeting a kindred spirit, which naturally deepened his favorable impression of this special patron. "You are quite right! Mr. Rogers possesses a heart as pure and sincere as gold. I believe that at a time when the technology is not yet one hundred percent refined, only a young man like him can overcome this arduous test."

"I am in wholehearted agreement." Mason offered a slight bow to show his respect for the wise old man.

"Come with me, Steve." Dr. Abraham tilted his head, leading the group further inward.

The antique shop concealed a whole world of its own.

Aside from the elderly woman posing as the shopkeeper, the moment they stepped into the back utility room, a heavy steel door a full ten centimeters thick swung open to both sides, revealing a long passageway.

Flanking the corridor near the entrance were several guards wearing light brown military uniforms and holding submachine guns. They cast vigilant gazes upon the group.

Walking fifty meters down the corridor and passing through yet another heavy metal blast door, the view before them suddenly expanded.

Steve almost thought he had stepped into a mad scientist's manufacturing plant.

In the circular chamber below, machines he could not begin to name stood all around. A dozen scientists and assistants in white lab coats bustled about near the equipment, holding clipboards and recording data.

As Steve stepped through the doorway and stood at the top of the high staircase, everyone halted their work and turned their gazes toward him.

For the first time in his life, Steve felt as though he had become a truly important figure. Only the important became the center of attention, did they not?

Steve took a deep breath, letting the air with its faint metallic tang fill his lungs.

"Are you ready?" the doctor asked.

"Yes." With steady, resolute steps, Steve followed the doctor down the stairs...

On the other side, Colonel Phillips sought out Senator Brandt in the glass-walled observation room overlooking the experiment.

"Good day, Senator."

"Good day, Phillips." The senator, in his sixties, possessed a quintessential politician's face, impeccably groomed hair, a clean, tailored suit, and a face full of wrinkles. "Why on earth must I come to Brooklyn?"

"We modified the plan; it requires tapping into the city's power grid, and it's very likely to cause a citywide blackout. That demands the government's full support. If the government hadn't previously issued an order to confiscate the generator we bought with our own money, we wouldn't need to go through all this trouble," the colonel remarked with sharp sarcasm.

The senator rolled his eyes. "Colonel, we are at war. People like you asking the committee for funding number at least in the thousands. Frankly, managing to find a financial backer to push this experiment to this point has already exceeded our imagination."

"Then just give us the electricity!" the colonel gritted his teeth.

"Fine, for the generator's sake." Seemingly recalling something, the senator lowered his voice and asked, "Oh right, what is the background of that benefactor of yours? Could he be a spy sent by Hitler?"

Phillips rolled his eyes. "You politicians. You're never suspicious when someone is handing over cash. Do me a favor—if Hitler really wanted to hatch a plot to steal the results of this experiment, he could easily have kidnapped Dr. Erskine, used the doctor's family to threaten him, and then financed the whole thing with Mr. Strange's money. At the very least, he wouldn't have had his generator stolen by a bunch of politicians like you."

Senator Brandt's old face flushed red. Changing the subject, he made a gesture of introduction toward a young man in a grayish-white suit standing nearby. "This is..."

Before he could finish, the black-haired young man with square-rimmed glasses and an instantly likable face had already extended his hand to the colonel and introduced himself. "Fred Clemson! From the federal government. If this project of yours actually succeeds, we hope it will serve some practical purpose rather than just making front-page headlines."

Colonel Phillips had little fondness for such individuals looking to reap the rewards of others' labor. "You will witness the birth of a super soldier. Of course, the federal government must first foot the bill for this arduous experiment, mustn't they?"

"Are we talking about military procurement? Naturally, the great United States has always operated successfully in precisely this manner," Fred smiled.

This was also the typical American military-industrial operational model.

The military did not directly engage in various forms of military research. For instance, if the military required a certain advanced aircraft, they would simply issue a set of military specifications, establish various reference parameters, and let subordinate corporations develop it independently—under the fine-sounding name of 'healthy competition.' In the end, the military would usually adopt only the winning product.

The prize, of course, was a massive volume of military procurement orders paid for by the taxpayers.

Fundamentally, the winner of the bidding took all, while the losers received nothing. Of course, sometimes the losers would find a way to prove their products also held value and secure a few scraps of orders, but that was another story.