Chapter 126: The Infinite Formula and the Winter Soldier

Taras and Norris, senior executives of the Red House and the triumvirate at its helm, stepped out of the conference room, followed closely by several female agents clad in tight black leather jackets.

In the reception hall, Kyle glanced briefly at the clock, then smiled calmly. “Ten seconds remaining. It seems you’ve already reached a decision.”

“Mr. Kyle, we hope to resolve our conflicts as much as possible. After all, a fight between us serves neither side—nor do you want the fragile peace we’ve restored to be shattered by renewed warfare,” Taras spoke first.

“This is a matter solely between me and your Red House, unrelated to the American Empire. I trust the Soviet leadership won’t rashly make an enemy of me over your faction,” Kyle shrugged, his confidence tinged with undeniable authority.

He still possessed intelligence on Soviet nuclear tests—a powerful leverage coupled with a vast disparity in strength. The Red House simply couldn’t negotiate on equal footing with Kyle.

“We are prepared to pay a proportional price as a bargaining chip,” Taras lowered his head, clenching his fists with a hint of shame. Nearby, Natasha, half-conscious and resting beside Logan, furrowed her brow in subtle concern.

This marked the Red House’s first concession—Kyle’s stature had never been more formidable.

“Do you agree to hand over the formula for the Super Agent Serum?” Kyle’s smile was half-mocking as he looked at the three executives. The Red House, notorious for exploiting others, was now pressured into sacrificing their own?

“We agree to surrender Natasha and offer a different item in place of the Super Agent Serum formula,” Taras said gravely. With a light clap, a female agent stepped forward, respectfully presenting a vial to Kyle.

“What’s this?” Kyle asked, his gaze fixed on the vial as an informational card instantly materialized.

[Infinite Formula]: A serum that slows the body’s aging processes. Blue-tier item.

Grants the recipient an exceptionally prolonged lifespan and peak physical condition. Requires continuous use; one injection every three years. Cessation leads to rapid aging.

“The Infinite Formula holds value equal to the Super Agent Serum. It doesn’t require harsh, prolonged training, nor does it provoke rejection or side effects. A simple injection suffices to extend life and halt bodily aging,” Taras explained, subtly omitting the need for ongoing injections.

But Kyle, having reviewed the card, understood perfectly. He nodded slightly, pocketing the serum.

[Super Agent]: With Natasha in hand, one can draw cards to endlessly replicate and bestow abilities.

[Infinite Formula]: Though not classified as an ability card, it can serve as an experimental drug for Howard’s research, enabling mass production upon a successful breakthrough.

To Kyle, the Infinite Formula was undoubtedly ten times more valuable than the Super Agent Serum.

“Pleasant cooperation. From now on, our conflicts are resolved,” Kyle said warmly, rising to snap his fingers. Logan nodded, hoisting Natasha onto his back, while Yutong leapt down from the sofa, barely touching the floor.

“Taras, escort our guests out,” Norris and the other executives exhaled quietly, hastily instructing Taras to accompany the unwelcome visitors.

At the main gate of the Red House base, under Taras’s earnest farewell, Kyle and his party passed through without obstruction, drawing curious stares from the armed soldiers.

“Mr. Kyle, I’ll see you no further,” Taras forced a grim smile as he addressed Kyle.

“Taras, you’re quite the hospitable and warm host. Next time I visit the Soviet Union, I’ll be sure to stop by and visit you,” Kyle said warmly, patting Taras’s shoulder. The sudden gesture sent Taras’s expression into a violent shift, nearly overwhelming him.

“Just joking, just joking. You haven’t offended me; I simply don’t have the time to visit unannounced,” Kyle added with a smug tone.

Taras’s face turned ashen, as though he’d swallowed a bitter pill mixed with filth.

“Well, I’ll be off then,” Kyle waved, stepping through the gate with Logan and Yutong. Suddenly, a shadow burst from the ranks of soldiers, lunging swiftly forward.

“Watch out!” Yutong’s eyes flickered with silver light. Before she could marshal her psychic powers, the figure closed in on Kyle. A cold, mechanical arm struck fiercely, its punch carrying a fierce gust of wind.

Kyle dodged sideways, a faint scratch appearing on his chin as the mechanical arm slammed into the ground, cracking and collapsing the concrete beneath with overwhelming force.

Now, everyone could clearly see the assailant’s true face—

A tall, robust Western youth dressed in a sleek black jacket, long brown hair flowing over his shoulders. Most striking was his left arm, a fully mechanical limb marked with a red star.

“What terrifying power,” Logan’s pupils contracted as he watched the half-meter radius crack in the floor. Burdened with carrying Natasha, he couldn’t join the fray and watched coldly as the youth pressed the assault on Kyle.

“How dare you attack the boss?!” Yutong’s eyes blazed silver, and within ten meters, the armed soldiers gasped as their weapons lifted off under her telekinetic control, dozens of barrels aimed densely at the young attacker.

“Hold your fire,” Kyle suddenly commanded, looking at the familiar youth with mild surprise. “Bucky? Are you Bucky Barnes?”

The youth hesitated, eyes peering through tangled hair locking onto Kyle’s. A flicker of emotion passed, swiftly replaced by cold indifference.

He continued his relentless advance, attacking Kyle without relent.

“Have you forgotten me? We were comrades!” Kyle’s voice held anger—not towards Bucky, but towards the Red House that had brainwashed him into a weapon.

Bucky seemed deaf to the words, his metallic left arm unleashing a punch aided by machinery that easily generated over a ton of impact.

“Snap out of it!” Kyle arched an eyebrow and met the blow head-on, striking back with his right fist.

Vibranium gauntlet meets mechanical arm!

Neither yielded an inch; the heavy, muffled clash sent dust swirling outward.

“Still not awake? Then I’ll wake you up!” Kyle said coldly, punching Bucky’s chest with his other fist, sending him flying like a sandbag.

Bucky crashed through the base’s perimeter wall but rose unscathed from the rubble, staring at Kyle with detached eyes.

No one had issued orders to the Winter Soldier. Even he didn’t know why he attacked this familiar blonde youth.

His remaining memory and humanity whispered that only by attacking Kyle could he hope to break free from this prison of his own making.