Chapter Fifty-Four: Equivalent Exchange

Hearing these words, Ivan Vanko's eyes widened instantly, his dark brows knotting together tightly. A peculiar spark flickered in his gaze as he asked in a low voice, “What have you done to him?”

Seeing his reaction, Zhong Shenxiu quietly let out a breath of relief. The chances of success had now risen above ninety percent...

Zhong Shenxiu crossed his arms and leaned casually against the wall. “I haven’t done anything to him. In fact, it’s more accurate to ask what you’ve done.”

“After you, his only family, landed in prison fifteen years ago, Anton Vanko’s drinking grew worse by the day. Now... he’s not far from death.”

“What!?” Ivan’s eyes blazed as he stared at Zhong Shenxiu, shock written all over his face, greater than before. He studied him up and down, searching desperately for any sign of deceit...

But he found none.

His body suddenly sagged, and Ivan asked quietly, “What’s the use of telling me this...”

“Of no use?” Zhong Shenxiu paused, then continued, “What if I said I could save him?”

Whoosh—

Ivan sprang to his feet!

His face was awash with emotions—was it surprise, was it hope? Even the stubble on his chin seemed to tremble as he asked, incredulous, “What... what did you just say?”

“I said I can save him. Even though he’s in the late stages of cirrhosis, with severe collateral circulation for half a year now, I can still save him,” Zhong Shenxiu repeated, more detailed this time, laying his trump card on the table.

At last, Ivan’s excitement subsided a little. He did not doubt Zhong Shenxiu’s words; after all, it fit perfectly with his drunken old man’s habits, something Ivan had long suspected.

Moreover, the formidable power Zhong Shenxiu had displayed, along with his unwavering confidence, made it clear—

A man like this would hardly bother to lie to him.

He took a deep breath before asking, “What do you need me to do?”

Ivan was clever. He understood that everything in this world came with a price; to obtain something, one must offer something of equal value in exchange.

“Come with me,” Zhong Shenxiu said, repeating himself.

Ivan drew another deep breath, as if finally making a decision. He uttered, with difficulty, that single word weighted with a thousand pounds:

“All right.”

He had barely taken two steps when he suddenly turned, glancing at the surveillance camera in the corner. “There’s a camera in here. I’m afraid both of us have been...”

He stopped mid-sentence.

Because—

The camera was already little more than scrap, occasionally sparking with stray arcs of electricity.

When— Ivan’s heart lurched violently. He understood then that this unremarkable, middle-aged man before him was, in fact... terrifying...

The claim that he could save Ivan’s father seemed all the more believable.

———

Ivan’s home was tucked away in a narrow alley beside a bustling Moscow street, and “old” and “dilapidated” were its most fitting descriptions.

Not far away, trains clattered by incessantly, their noise grating after a while.

The floor was piled high with all manner of mechanical odds and ends and countless empty vodka bottles, leaving barely any room to stand. Zhong Shenxiu nudged some debris aside with his foot, clearing just enough space for himself.

He stood quietly, watching the poignant reunion of father and son unfold before him.

Anton Vanko, Ivan’s elderly father, though it was only dusk, was already hopelessly drunk, slumped in a chair, his eyes glassy, face stiff, and gray hair and beard wild and unkempt.

Ivan gazed deeply at the lines and furrows on his father’s face, rooted to the spot.

Perhaps, Zhong Shenxiu thought, he was lamenting the merciless passage of time...

At that moment, Anton’s dim eyes seemed finally to recognize the familiar figure in the room. He opened his mouth, but no sound emerged.

He drew several long, ragged breaths. That body, ravaged by illness and alcohol, somehow summoned the strength to sit up unsteadily. He opened his mouth again, and this time, from his hoarse throat, a voice laden with years of hardship squeezed out:

“Iv... Ivan, is that you?”

Ivan gave a slight nod. There was no wailing, no bared yellow teeth.

Only a few tears, forced out from the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes.

Seeing this, Zhong Shenxiu decided to step outside for a while. He understood that, after fifteen years apart, the two needed space and time to let their overwhelming emotions flow.

He pushed open the door and walked out. Even in August, the Moscow air carried a faint chill in the breeze that brushed his cheek.

Zhong Shenxiu wore only a light polo shirt, tucked into brown casual trousers—a detail that gave the outfit its distinctive character, matching his current middle-aged appearance.

In fact, five months from now, when Ivan was released from prison, Anton Vanko would still be alive. Anton’s actual death would come shortly after Tony declared himself Iron Man—around six or seven months from now.

If Zhong Shenxiu wanted to minimize risk for Ivan Vanko, he should have waited to contact him until his regular release five months later.

So long as Anton survived, whether he received treatment now or in five months made little difference, given Zhong Shenxiu’s healing skills.

Moreover, in five months, Ivan would be a free man. By helping him escape now, Zhong Shenxiu was making him a fugitive.

The difference between these two statuses, over such a short span, was immense.

But Zhong Shenxiu did not have that kind of time—not even five months.

2011 would see the Battle of New York and the founding of the Avengers. 2010 would bring Thor to Earth. And the longer Tony developed his Iron Man armor, the stronger he would become.

Zhong Shenxiu’s timeline was extremely tight.

He needed to build a machine capable of locating the Space Stone as soon as possible—and then find it even faster. All this was urgent, requiring both patience and meticulous planning, and would consume precious time.

So, he could not afford to wait for Ivan’s release.

If that were the case, he might as well seek out someone else. There was only one Tony Stark in the world, but Ivan Vanko was not unique—he had substitutes.

And if Zhong Shenxiu turned to someone else, Anton Vanko would surely die.

In essence, this was a fair exchange.

Ivan could trade his breakout for Zhong Shenxiu’s help in saving his father, or he could remain in prison and let his father die in six months.

Zhong Shenxiu gave him the right to choose, and Ivan chose the former.

“Please... I beg you, save him.”

Ivan Vanko also stepped outside, immediately spotting Zhong Shenxiu lost in thought on the steps, chilled by the cold wind. A man proud and unyielding all his life, Ivan now lowered his head slowly...

“All right,” Zhong Shenxiu replied with a nod.