Chapter 46: The Ghost Rider Courier

After finally managing to kick Old Wang away, Skye rubbed her chest—it hurt a little.

What exactly was Azeroth?

She glanced at the necklace around Old Wang’s neck, now knowing this thing was called the “Heart of Azeroth.”

Could this so-called “Azeroth” be some mysterious place I’ve never heard of? A secret country somewhere on Earth? Or perhaps a planet or civilization somewhere in the universe? Could it even be another dimension, like Hell or the Dark Dimension?

If it were the old Skye, or just about anyone else, she certainly wouldn’t have thought this way. But the Skye of today was different. Three years ago, everything changed the moment she met Old Wang—her entire worldview had been upended.

Old Wang kept feeding her all sorts of wild ideas: nine realms, multiverses, single universes, pocket universes, extra dimensions, higher dimensions, lower dimensions, parallel universes, aliens, mutants—who knows how his mind worked, coming up with so much? It’s not like he ever wrote novels!

She didn’t realize that Old Wang had read over a thousand novels and created more than a hundred world settings. Before his first time-travel, he’d been a struggling web novelist!

At first, it was just amusing; Skye listened for entertainment, and admittedly, it was interesting. But now things had changed.

Ghost Rider had appeared, Hell was real, she’d even seen ghosts get a second chance at life—anything seemed possible.

This made her bold enough to consider: Could Old Wang actually be from this mysterious “Azeroth”? Or perhaps he had some special connection to it? Just like the “Kamar-Taj sorcerers” Old Wang had mentioned before?

Of course, she’d never ask him directly. If Old Wang wanted to talk, he would; if not, it didn’t matter. She cared about Old Wang himself, not his origins.

With all this in mind, Skye decided the word “Azeroth” could stay.

The “specialties” part was fine too.

But why did he insist on calling it “Local Specialties”? She protested, strongly.

She protested with words, then with actions, and finally achieved a glorious victory:

The “Azeroth Local Specialty Shop” became the “Azeroth Specialty Shop.”

Naturally, Old Wang was the boss, and she was promptly promoted to “sales clerk” plus “cashier.”

“We’re still missing a deliveryman—and a security guard.”

Skye, holding a little notebook, took meeting minutes, biting her pen as she muttered, “The stuff we’re selling will be pricey. There are so many gangs in New York—it’s not safe. Plus S.H.I.E.L.D. and Hydra, and you can’t watch the shop all the time. We need to hire some security. As for a deliveryman, maybe we can skip that and just sell goods without delivery…”

“No way. Service must be thorough.” Old Wang tapped the table, a sly smile on his lips. “We have the most reliable deliveryman and security guard in the world.”

Skye was taken aback.

A flaming-headed veteran driver flashed through her mind.

“You mean…”

“Robbie’s looking for a job. How much can he earn as a mechanic? Once Gabe starts feeling the effects of the Essence Wine, Robbie will definitely want him to keep drinking. But without money to buy more, what’ll he do?”

Old Wang winked. “How about we sign him up on a ten-year contract? No cash, pay him with Essence Wine—a drop a day. How’s that?”

Old Wang really did mean well—he was thinking of Robbie’s best interests.

As the deliveryman and security guard for the “Azeroth Specialty Shop,” he’d surely be targeted by all sorts, even attacked in the dark. And those who would stoop to that level were certainly not good people.

Robbie was the “Ghost Rider,” perfectly suited to deal with “bad things.” That way, the Spirit of Vengeance could grow stronger, and so could he.

Old Wang had thought of everything. Robbie, no need to thank me…

Originally, Skye wanted to say, “Wang, don’t be so mean. Bullying Ghost Rider? If you have guts, go bully Odin instead.”

But hearing Old Wang’s plan, she hesitated. “Uh… Isn’t a drop a day too much? How about… a drop a month?”

Old Wang was stunned.

So, in Skye’s eyes, the mighty Ghost Rider was only worth that much?

Tony Stark, just recently kidnapped, was the future Iron Man and made tens of millions of dollars a day, with single orders worth billions. And you’re not even willing to give Ghost Rider a hundred thousand a day?

Is that not a bit stingy?

Old Wang shook his head, took out the Eternal Flask, and took a small sip.

Then he froze.

The Eternal Flask really wasn’t that big. Even with just a small daily sip, it wouldn’t last more than a month.

If he gave out a drop a day, it really wouldn’t last long…

And in the short term, there was no telling where to get quality goods for exchange.

He couldn’t just use the Darkhold, could he? That thing was still useful—some buyers were far more generous than this young lady.

“You’re right, Skye.” With this thought, Old Wang nodded.

He went to the fridge, took out a bottle of Erguotou, opened it, and poured it into the Eternal Flask.

“Much better,” he remarked, looking at the now full flask, his mood immediately brightening.

Drink a little, pour a little—it would last a lifetime!

Skye rolled her eyes, feeling sorry for Robbie.

Young man, once again you’re being tricked behind your back…

Old Wang, you’re too much!

Skye huffed, wanting to stand up for Robbie, but then her eyes sparkled with a new idea. “Wang, didn’t you say Ghost Rider is immortal? And those of us who practice martial arts can live pretty long, a hundred years at least. I think ten years is too short. Why not make it a hundred?”

Old Wang: “…”

This woman, when ruthless, was more merciless than any man!

“Ten years is enough,” Old Wang decided.

Anything more was meaningless—after all, in ten years, the Mad Titan would snap his fingers. By then, either luck would decide things, or they’d have to defeat the Mad Titan or snatch the Infinity Stones.

By that time, one way or another, there’d be no need for Ghost Rider…

“Let’s move on to the next agenda item.”

Skye tapped the table with her pen. “To open a shop, we need a storefront. Never mind that we don’t have money to rent one—even if we did, shops in New York are hard to get!”

That was true.

It really was hard to rent a place, and Old Wang would never leave Chinatown. Living somewhere they spoke Chinese was just more comfortable, even if most of the locals’ Mandarin was far from perfect…

But Old Wang had his connections.

He pulled out his phone and dialed.

Instantly, Old Wang’s face broke into a wide smile, his tone becoming much sweeter. “Sister Hong, I’ve learned a new massage technique—full body, better than any spa. Want to give it a try…”

A lazy voice came from the other end. “Let me guess—you’re either behind on your rent, or you need to borrow money? Little Wang, I’ve told you many times: with your looks, your physique, your constitution, and your master-level massage skills, if you’d be my public relations man, I guarantee you’d make a million a month…”

Beside him, Skye watched Old Wang and sneered.

Just like watching the streetwalkers outside a barbershop.

Or the lead courtesan in a TV drama.