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Spatial control

His consciousness was like an invisible net, extending infinitely in all directions to sense the "texture" of this universe.

Most of the space is smooth and sturdy, like a taut canvas.

To tear a hole in such a place and return to Earth would require an astronomical amount of energy, enough to drain him instantly.

But he knew that the "canvas" of the universe was not as sturdy everywhere.

In some places, due to the gravity of massive celestial bodies or the remnants of ancient wars, space becomes fragile and wrinkled, like the marks left on a piece of paper after it has been crumpled.

Those folds are natural spatial shortcuts, the highways of the universe.

All he had to do was find the crease closest to him and jump in.

As for where that road leads... well, we'll just have to gamble.

He withdrew all his outward energy, his whole being floating quietly like an ordinary space rock, focusing all his attention on perceiving the space, like the most patient fisherman, waiting for the unseen fish to take the bait.

The top floor of Stark Tower.

Tony Stark, piloting his armor, hovered like a statue where the wormhole had disappeared.

The armor's energy alarm kept ringing, but he couldn't hear it.

His eyes were fixed on the empty sky, as if the golden figure would rush out from there at any moment and say to him with a smile, "Hey, Shit, I'm back."

But nothing.

"He... won't be coming back?" Natasha's voice came through the communication channel, tinged with uncertainty.

No one answered.

Everyone looked up at the sky.

“No.” Tony’s voice was hoarse, as if it had been sanded with sandpaper. “He will come back.”

After he finished speaking, he suddenly turned around, and the armor, like a meteorite, crashed heavily onto the messy street, shaking the ground.

He opened his mask, revealing a pale face and eyes filled with a complex mix of anger, regret, and confusion.

Steve Rogers walked over, his uniform riddled with holes and his face covered in dust.

"Tony, we..."

"Don't talk to me." Tony interrupted him rudely, stepping out of his armor and stumbling, almost falling.

He looked at the Chitauri corpses scattered on the ground and the burning wreckage of cars, and his chest tightened.

That bastard, that guy who always called him "Shit-da-ke," that guy who was even more arrogant and a bigger bastard than him, is gone just like that?

For this world that he doesn't care about at all?

“This isn’t your fault.” Steve’s voice was calm, and he assumed Tony was blaming himself.

"My fault?" Tony looked like he'd heard the funniest joke. He turned around and stared intently at Steve. "Of course it wasn't my fault! I was fucking ready to storm in! It was you! It was S.H.I.E.L.D.! Who closed that door?"

His voice grew louder and louder, eventually turning into a roar.

"He could have come back!"

Steve fell silent. He didn't know how to answer. Tactically speaking, closing the gates was the right choice, to protect Earth. But he couldn't bring himself to say such cold words to someone who had just lost a comrade.

"He's a hero," was all Steve could say in the end.

“Hero?” Tony sneered, his laughter dripping with sarcasm. “Don’t use that word. You don’t deserve it, and neither do I. He doesn’t deserve it either. He’s a madman, a madman who has immense power but doesn’t know how to use it! A walking nuclear weapon! He doesn’t understand what a team is!”

“He saved us all!” Steve frowned; he didn’t like Tony’s argument.

"Yes, he saved us, with his own life!" Tony was somewhat out of control. "But then what? We lost one of our most powerful forces! A trump card that could overturn the table! What if the next enemy isn't some grunt that a single mothership can handle? What if the next enemy requires him to be on Earth to deal with it? Who will take responsibility? You, Captain?"

“He’s a soldier, Tony.” Steve’s tone also became serious. “Soldiers will be sacrificed on the battlefield. That’s our duty.”

“Soldier, my foot!” Tony pointed to the sky. “He’s not one of us! He never was! He’s an observer, an outsider! He doesn’t care about this place! He’s just playing a game he thinks is fun! And now, he’s messed up!”

“You’re wrong.” Steve looked at Tony, his eyes unusually firm. “He cares. If he didn’t care, he wouldn’t have rushed in. He’s not like you, Tony. You always try to control everything, while he chose to trust us in the end.”

“Believe?” Tony found it even more ridiculous. “Did he believe we could protect Earth while he was away? Or did he believe we would come to his rescue? And what happened? We locked him out! This is what you call the consequence of believing!”

The argument between the two made the atmosphere, which had just eased, tense again.

Natasha and Hawkeye exchanged a glance, both seeing the helplessness in each other's eyes.

Hawkeye silently checked the few arrows left in his quiver, while Natasha began to warily observe her surroundings, assessing the political troubles ahead.

Just then, several black Quinjet fighters landed nearby, and a group of men in black suits and sunglasses got off the planes. Leading them was a council member with a serious expression. His leather shoes crunched on the gravel, making a sound that seemed out of place with the atmosphere.

“Mr. Stark, Captain Rogers.” The man walked straight up to them, his tone businesslike, as if reading a cold report, “This area is now under the control of the World Security Council. Thank you for your efforts, but the Avengers’ mission ends here.”

They began setting up a cordon, dispersing the crowd, and cleaning up the scene, as if it were not a battlefield but an accident scene that needed to be cleared.

Tony looked at these people's faces, and the mockery in his eyes deepened.

Without saying a word, he turned and walked back to his armor, put it on, and then soared into the sky and disappeared into the horizon.

Steve watched his departing figure, then glanced at the men in suits who were taking over everything, and finally, his gaze fell upon the ruins and the weeping civilians.

He clenched his fists, his eyes filled with deep weariness and confusion.

They won the war.

But it seems everyone lost.

As the light of the Rainbow Bridge faded, Thor appeared before Heimdall, carrying Loki, who was tightly bound by rune chains, and a metal box containing the Tesseract.

“Welcome back, Your Highness.” Heimdall’s voice was as steady as ever.

"Heimdall, where is Father?" Thor asked urgently.

He handed Loki and the Tesseract to the guards and strode towards the Golden Palace. The golden palace was still magnificent, but Thor's steps were unusually heavy, as if the smell of gunpowder from New York still lingered in his nostrils.

Odin sat quietly on the throne, as if he already knew everything.

Thor knelt down and recounted everything that had happened on Earth, from Loki's invasion to the Avengers' assembly, the battle in New York, and finally, he mentioned Chu Hang.

"...He rushed into the wormhole alone and destroyed the enemy's mothership, but he didn't come back." Thor's voice was low, filled with respect and regret. "Father, he was a true warrior."

Odin remained silent for a long time before slowly speaking: "A mortal, yet he wielded a power unfamiliar even to the gods. His sacrifice won precious peace for Midgard. But he does not belong here, nor does his power belong to this world. His destiny is not within the threads of the Nine Realms."

“I beg you, Father,” Thor raised his head, his eyes resolute, “use the power of Asgard to find him. We cannot abandon a hero who saved the Nine Realms.”

Odin looked at his son and saw growth and responsibility in his eyes.

He nodded: "Go ask Heimdall. If he still exists in this universe, Heimdall's eyes can see him."

Thor immediately got up and rushed back to the Rainbow Bridge.

"Heimdall! Find him for me! That Earthling named Chu Hang!"

Heimdall's golden eyes slowly swept across the endless sea of ​​stars. His gaze pierced through burning stars and swept over slumbering nebulae; the stories unfolding in every corner of the Nine Realms flowed through his eyes.

He saw the frost giants of Jotunheim rebuilding their homes, the dark elves of Watlheim lurking in the shadows, and the humans of Midgard clearing the ruins of war.

He saw the past, and he saw the present.

He stared at it for a very long time.

Finally, he slowly shook his head.

"I can't see him, Your Highness."

Thor's heart sank: "How is that possible? Your eyes can see through everything!"

“Yes.” Heimdall’s tone also carried a hint of confusion. “I can see every soul in the Nine Realms. Their life light, no matter how faint, cannot escape my eyes. But his soul does not seem to belong to the Nine Realms. I cannot pinpoint his location.”

"Is there no other way?" Thor asked unwillingly.

“Unless he can call my name,” Heimdall thought for a moment and said, “only then can I find him and bring him to Asgard.”

Chapter 112 Xandar

Chu Hang is still drifting in space.

He had no idea how much time had passed; here, time meant nothing. The energy circulating within his body was the only clock he could perceive.

I was a little irritable at first, but I calmed down quickly.

He crawled through the meat grinder of World War II, slept in glaciers for fifty years, and started from scratch in the unfamiliar world of the 1990s.

Compared to those, this is just a bigger cage.

He extended his consciousness outwards, like an invisible net, capturing the faintest vibrations in space.

Most of this universe is smooth. He tried several times to find a weak point. Once, he thought he had found one, but when he chased after it, he found it was just a gravitational wave left by a supernova explosion—violent and fleeting, completely unusable.

Another time, he touched the edge of a huge whirlpool, only to find it was a black hole, which terrified him so much that he quickly retreated. Jumping into that thing meant certain death.

He became more patient.

Finally, just when he thought he would drift away forever, he felt it.

It's neither the ripples of gravitational waves nor the tearing apart of a black hole.

It is a continuous, regular, and extremely faint "tremor".

Like a smooth canvas with an almost imperceptible crease underneath.

It is stable, just there, like an underground river hidden in the cosmic microwave background radiation.

Chu Hang's spirits lifted.

Instead of rushing over immediately, he spent the entire day repeatedly checking the area.

He used his spatial awareness to touch the "texture" of the fold; it was thin and narrow, but it was indeed a stable structure.

A naturally formed spatial passage.

This was his only ticket.

Where does it lead? Heaven or hell? He didn't know, and he didn't care. Any place with air, gravity, and living things was better than this cold grave.

He mobilized the dormant energy within him, and golden light shone once more, like a newborn sun in the darkness.

[Binary Form], activated.

[Adaptive Armor], switch to high-energy impact mode.