Chapter 43: Agent Mei's Bullets Are All Laced with Poison

"I'm not sure," Coulson replied, shaking his head.

Though agents rarely speak the full truth, in this moment, he was not lying.

It was a long story: when Agent May flew back in the fighter jet, she strode confidently and without hesitation into the red light. Coulson hadn’t pressed her for details—he understood that the mutant called “Professor X” had likely agreed to help them.

So he waited calmly outside the red glow. He trusted Agent May’s abilities and judgment; she was an old friend, and he believed in her completely.

But half an hour after May went in, the mysterious red light abruptly vanished. Fitz, the academy genius, declared that everything was back to normal. Without the slightest hesitation, Coulson led his team into Ingram Street, following the path they had mapped out for Agent May.

The peacefulness of the journey made Coulson almost believe that May had both secured the target and resolved the anomaly perfectly.

It wasn’t an unreasonable thought. In S.H.I.E.L.D., Agent May was known as the “Iron Cavalry.” Charging alone into the heart of danger was her signature move. She was a true master of solo operations—whether it was assassination, poisoning, interrogation, or taking on multiple opponents at once...

But wait!

Who was that person lying in a pool of blood?

Could it be May?

Coulson’s inner praise for his colleague came to an abrupt halt. In a few quick steps, he moved forward, and when he confirmed that the fallen figure was indeed the very Agent May he had been silently lauding, he froze for a moment.

"Get help, now!"

After May, with great effort, whispered the intelligence she had fought to obtain, she lost consciousness. The rest of the events need not be elaborated.

As Coulson’s eyes returned to focus, clearly having finished his recollection, Zhong Shenxiu casually continued the conversation, “So you’re telling me that even your so-called United Nations’ Homeland Defense and Attack... whatever bureau... doesn’t know who hurt your agent?”

“S.H.I.E.L.D., sir. We just changed the name. It’s an acronym,” Coulson replied with a polite smile.

“A new name? Since when?”

Zhong Shenxiu remembered that while some people had used the name “S.H.I.E.L.D.” in passing, it didn’t officially become the organization’s recognized name until Tony Stark famously complained that the old name was too much of a mouthful.

Right now, Tony Stark was still “playing captivity games” in the Middle East.

S.H.I.E.L.D. suddenly changing its name caught Zhong Shenxiu off guard.

“It was after the Director spoke with you that the decision was made to formally change the name,” Coulson explained.

After talking with me… I do recall grumbling about their previous name… Looks like my little butterfly effect has started to take shape… Zhong Shenxiu mused, then said offhandedly, “S.H.I.E.L.D. is much easier to remember. The old name really was long and awkward.”

“Absolutely. I’ve always thought so myself, to be honest,” Coulson replied, lowering his voice in rare agreement.

After exchanging a few more words with Coulson—who, for all his scholarly bearing, was the very model of an agent, speaking with utmost discretion—Zhong Shenxiu realized he couldn’t let the conversation continue aimlessly.

He had gone to great lengths to injure Agent May and then treat her under the guise of concern, not just to chat idly with Coulson.

He had two main objectives: first, to see if he could get Coulson to reveal why they had entered the chaotic magical field, and how they were immune to its effects; second, to divert S.H.I.E.L.D.’s attention from Ingram Street to elsewhere, or at least not keep their focus solely on this street. That way, his secret base and upcoming actions would not be so easily exposed.

He had achieved neither goal so far.

So he couldn’t waste any more time with small talk.

After a brief consideration, Zhong Shenxiu pretended to examine May’s injuries, then pointed to her pale, severed hand and said, “The cut is extremely clean—muscle and bone both sheared off in a single plane. I’d say it was done with an exceptionally sharp blade, and the attacker had considerable strength.”

A clean cut… Coulson suddenly remembered that before S.H.I.E.L.D. had secured the scene, a bold NYPD officer had rushed into the red glow. According to the police, they had tied him with several heavy iron chains for safety, but none of it helped. When they tried to pull him back, all they recovered were the chains, sharply severed at the ends.

Two clean cuts. Combined with what May had told him, Coulson felt as if he was on the verge of grasping something.

He pressed urgently, “And what else?”

The fish has taken the bait… Zhong Shenxiu’s eyes narrowed in satisfaction.

Hydra had cut off the officer’s chains after dragging him in, then used chaos magic to control him as an “Abba.” The mercenaries had taken him to some unknown place. Zhong Shenxiu had seen video footage of this in Hydra’s secret base. There were many such recordings, even some of him casually commanding the Rhino Man to do his bidding.

Clearly, Hydra was a fan of recording everything.

Though he didn’t know exactly how Hydra controlled chaos magic, the ugly flashing red headband in the video where Rhino Man was being controlled seemed to be the key.

So… was Hydra planning to use chaos magic to control me as well?

Zhong Shenxiu recalled how, that day, Hydra’s headband was still pulsing with red light.

But it had failed. Why? At that time, he hadn’t yet received the “Chaos Magic” mission reward.

He remembered Wanda mentioning she couldn’t control herself with Chubi.

If Hydra’s chaos magic was Tuki, and Wanda’s was Chubi, then the chaos magic enveloping Ingram Street couldn’t control him either.

But why had he turned into a child at first?

The thought gave Zhong Shenxiu a headache.

“Mr. Zhong… Mr. Zhong?” Coulson called politely, noticing Zhong Shenxiu had drifted off.

At his words, Zhong Shenxiu quickly regained composure. He scratched his head and explained, “I was just lost in thought.” Then, pointing to the scorched wound on May’s abdomen, he continued, “Her injuries have two main features: aside from the severed hand, there’s this penetrating wound on her abdomen.”

“To be honest, in all my years doing this work, I’ve never seen injuries quite like these.”

Coulson nodded. He knew that Zhong Shenxiu often provided illegal medical services for gangs, so the comment about his years of experience didn’t strike him as unusual. He merely smiled, encouraging him to go on.

“The abdominal wound is, strictly speaking, a through-and-through injury—as if a steel spear had been driven right through her. But the scorched flesh at the edge, caused by high-voltage electricity, suggests that the weapon carried at least a thousand volts. It’s a miracle she survived at all.”

Zhong Shenxiu offered his deduction with a practiced air.

But this alone wouldn’t impress Coulson. With his years of field experience, he could have deduced as much himself.

So Zhong Shenxiu shifted his tone and continued, “While treating her, I noticed something rather unusual…”