Chapter Seven: Life Is Like a Play, All Depends on Acting

Having made up his mind, Harvey knew it was not yet time for large-scale action, so he decided not to dwell on it for now. After all, a casual stroll to sell a few pieces of information and earning ten million dollars in the process—such things, Harvey thought, could never happen too often. In high spirits, he spent several hours swimming in the pool, thoroughly enjoying himself. This was also a way for him to hone his exquisite control over his own strength.

Having undergone more than two hundred evolutions, he could easily cause terrifying destruction with just a casual movement—one careless stroke of his arm could shatter the pool itself. In truth, Harvey had more than once, fresh from an evolution and unable to perfectly control his power, ended up demolishing various things. This was precisely why he had no desire to employ permanent staff to manage his estate. At this stage, he was still not at the point where, after each evolution, he could effortlessly command his strength at will. Any small mishap could easily jeopardize his current identity.

After his swim, Harvey reclined on a sun lounger in the garden, sipping freshly squeezed juice and eating ripe fruit, watching a sunset as dazzling as if the sky itself were intoxicated—life could not have been more comfortable.

After a short rest, night fell. Harvey changed into an elegant suit, this time taking his Ferrari convertible out for the evening. After dinner, he planned to do some post-meal exercise. But just as he pulled out of the estate, a woman appeared, blocking his path.

She wore a tight leather outfit, her striking red hair as beautiful as fire. It was Natasha, whom he had only just seen in Washington not long ago. Harvey was a bit surprised—why would Black Widow Natasha seek him out?

Had he been exposed? The thought crossed his mind but was quickly dismissed. He was confident he hadn’t done anything out of line, nor was he ostentatious. Even his outings were perfectly normal—just driving to various restaurants. Eating copious amounts of food was not only a pleasure but also brought him many evolution points, making it a daily ritual he would never miss.

Forced to a stop, Harvey knew Natasha could dodge if she wished, but he couldn’t just run her over.

“You crazy woman! That’s not how you stage a fake accident!” Harvey snapped, turning his head to glare at Natasha.

“Mr. Harvey Amberlake, I’m with the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division,” Natasha replied calmly, unfazed by his insults. She produced her credentials and stated her intentions directly.

Ever since she’d learned that Earth was exposed to the cosmos—and that a suspected alien Reaper was now on the planet—the mission to probe Harvey Amberlake’s nature could no longer be delayed.

So Natasha chose to intercept him directly. Once face to face, it would be easier to test him in conversation.

“I’ve never even heard of the agency you mentioned,” Harvey retorted coolly, “Is this really how you want to have a conversation?”

He didn’t know what Natasha was after, but following a normal person’s logic and demeanor, he spoke bluntly. It was normal for most people never to have heard of the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division, which operated in the shadows, handling supernatural events.

“I apologize for my attitude, but I have my reasons,” Natasha replied, and then, without further ado, drew a gun and aimed it at Harvey.

Staring down the black barrel, Harvey understood her true purpose: to see whether he was ordinary or not.

“There’s no need for guns. We can talk this out, can’t we?” Harvey said, raising his hands and feigning a look of compromise, his voice tinged with forced deference. “What do you want? Money? Name your price. I’ll give you whatever I have.”

Natasha noticed the subtle shifts in Harvey’s expression and tone, making it hard to gauge what he was really thinking. Still, she reasoned that in a crisis, even if Harvey tried to hide, he wouldn’t be able to. Her finger crept closer to the trigger.

“No, wait—!” Harvey cried, cowering in apparent terror as he watched Natasha’s movements.

He dared not resist because bullets couldn’t pierce his body, and he doubted Natasha would actually shoot him.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Three shots rang out, echoing through the night, but Natasha had deliberately fired into the air, her gun swinging away at the last moment.

Several seconds passed before Harvey, still shaken, patted himself down and realized he was unharmed. “I’m not dead?”

“You crazy woman! What the hell are you trying to do?” he shouted, quickly recovering.

“It’s over. You can go,” Natasha replied, her disappointment barely concealed. She said no more, stepped aside, and walked off into the trees lining the road.

Once Natasha’s figure had vanished into the woods, Harvey knew she hadn’t truly left, but he wasted no time restarting the engine and speeding off.

After Harvey’s car disappeared, Natasha emerged from the trees.

She was now completely certain that Harvey Amberlake was not a superhuman. If he truly possessed powers, faced with imminent gunfire, he would have instinctively revealed some extraordinary ability to protect himself. But throughout the ordeal, Harvey behaved just like any ordinary man. He hadn’t threatened to call the police in front of her, which fit his status as a wealthy individual—no billionaire would be foolish enough to announce to an assailant that he was calling the FBI, as that would only provoke a desperate attack.

Of course, it was still possible Harvey was acting, but if so, his performance was almost too convincing.

With that, Natasha mounted her motorcycle and left.

Not half an hour had passed before Nick Fury sent a message, wanting to know what exactly she had done to Harvey Amberlake. Harvey, by then, was already at the FBI, demanding they arrest a deranged woman whose description and attire matched Natasha perfectly.

“It was simply the most efficient test,” Natasha replied. “After testing, I can confirm with certainty: Harvey Amberlake is not a superhuman.”

“Are you absolutely sure?” Nick Fury sounded disappointed at her report.

“I am,” Natasha answered without hesitation.

“All right, you don’t need to observe Harvey Amberlake any longer. I’ll take care of whatever trouble arises,” Nick Fury replied, knowing that Natasha’s thorough approach meant her conclusion could be trusted. He rescinded the order for further surveillance of Harvey.

Though in the future, should a crisis arise, he could always pay the Reaper to intervene, the Reaper was an unpredictable element. There was no guarantee that, when humanity faced threats from other extraterrestrials, the Reaper would be swayed by money to protect them.

Now, at the very outset of their search for allies, it was a difficult phase—seeking superhumans and heroes could not be rushed. All he could do was hope that things would proceed smoothly, so that before truly hostile aliens arrived to endanger the planet, he might find some superheroes willing to fight for Earth.