Reborn as the God-Emperor in Marvel

After locating Solomon's address, Coulson decided to visit alone. Despite his kind nature, he was still a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent—a professional. Confronting a target who could lose control at any moment, Coulson had already alerted the tactical team to be on standby. He took a deep breath, filling his lungs with cold air to oxygenate his blood and sharpen his senses. This mission required him to be prepared for any sign of the target losing control. If necessary, he would have to draw his weapon and neutralize the threat quickly, even if that threat was a child.

"It's just a small museum. No need to be so tense," Sitwell's voice crackled through Coulson's earpiece. "For all we know, the kid might be trying to donate that ring to the museum with a fancy story to lure in some visitors. You know what I found out? This museum's foot traffic is practically zero. Not many people come or go, even under surveillance. This kind of private museum is all over London—some are even in attics. You sure you don't want me to come along?"

"Sitwell, I didn't know you were such a comedian. Don't worry, I've handled missions like this many times. You know, we're both Level Six." Coulson chuckled. He knew Sitwell was trying to ease his nerves because the target's abilities were dangerous, with a risk of losing control.

Still, Coulson was adamant about going alone. "I'm aware of how poorly this museum operates, which is why I'm avoiding too much pre-planning. I'm worried the target might be emotionally unstable. A sudden visit from multiple strangers could trigger a defensive response. If we can resolve this peacefully, I'd prefer to avoid using force."

"Alright, if you insist," Sitwell relented. "But remember, watch out for grandmas. In horror games, they're always the final boss."

"I'll keep that in mind," Coulson said with a smile, radiating his usual warmth. Even though he wore dark sunglasses, his innate charm shone through. But a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent never lets their guard down. After signaling to the tactical team behind him to prepare, Coulson cautiously pushed open the old museum door.

Inside, the museum was small, empty, with no exhibits, no people, and no signs of life. The only unusual thing was the incredibly polished brown wooden floor, as if it had just been waxed. Coulson could tell the building was old. No matter how well-maintained the floors were, signs of aging were unavoidable. He walked lightly across the floor, the special heels of his shoes absorbing the sound of his footsteps, leaving the building in eerie silence.

Coulson scanned the room, one hand slipping into his suit jacket, quietly resting on his handgun.

He was confident that his target, Solomon Damonet, lived here. According to records from the London adoption agency, Solomon had been adopted from this very location. However, the current situation led him to a far darker suspicion—this building might be part of a larger organization that was deliberately collecting mutant children, grooming them to become tools for profit. Worse, they might have technology to detect mutants even before their powers awakened. The museum could simply be a temporary meeting spot.

The thought sent a chill down Coulson's spine. According to British government data, Solomon had been adopted, but the adopter's information was conspicuously blank.

What did that mean? It suggested that this organization had influence within the British government!

Hmph, the rotten remains of the British Empire, reeking of the old landlord class! Coulson felt he needed to investigate whether British child protection agencies were colluding with shady organizations to exploit innocent children.

In that moment, Coulson's sense of duty surged. He vowed to track this organization long-term and continue this case, to protect both those who had already been exploited and those who hadn't yet been caught in its net. He knew who could help.

Rescuing mutant children might give Melinda May a sense of redemption, helping her heal from the trauma of the Bahrain incident. For a brief second, Coulson let his mind wander, loosening his guard slightly. Though his grip remained firm on his gun, he pressed his other hand to his earpiece.

"Call in the tactical team. There's no one here."

Of course, Coulson wasn't going to find Solomon. At that moment, Solomon was wandering the streets of Hong Kong, blissfully unaware that his actions had led someone to label Kamar-Taj as a den of thieves.

The streets around the Hong Kong Sanctum were among the most vibrant places Solomon could find, and the food here suited his taste perfectly. Why wasn't he in London or New York? Simple—there wasn't any good food there! Where in London or New York could you find bamboo noodles, shrimp dumplings, or siu mai? Foreigners didn't understand such things. More importantly, the guardian of the Hong Kong Sanctum, Wu Guiyue, had heard about Solomon's run-in with the dark wizard. Even though the Sorcerer Supreme had saved him, Wu insisted that after such an ordeal, Solomon needed chicken soup to recover.

"Westerners don't know how to make proper chicken soup; they all use pressure cookers!" Wu would exclaim, full of passion. "Real soup needs to be simmered slowly in a clay pot! Oh, don't worry, I'm not talking about you. You don't need to know what 'Westerner' means."

"…" Solomon wasn't sure where to start with that comment. All he could do was pinch the cheeks of Wu's daughter, Alice Gulliver, who looked at him helplessly. As a dedicated recluse, Solomon knew this was the peak of his life.

Back to Coulson—what he didn't know was that the museum he was investigating was actually the London Sanctum of Kamar-Taj.

The reason he couldn't find anyone? Simple. As soon as Coulson had opened the door, he had stepped into a mirror dimension. Kamar-Taj's spatial manipulation magic was unparalleled, and whenever a non-Kamar-Taj member opened that door, they were automatically drawn into a pre-constructed mirror dimension. This dimension could be generated or dissolved at will, and its purpose was to prevent unauthorized access to the London Sanctum.

In essence, the London Sanctum had two doors, and Coulson had just opened the wrong one.

As for why the adoption records listed Solomon as "adopted," that was even simpler. A basic enchantment spell had made the adoption agency staff fill in false information on the forms. Unless they double-checked the records, they'd never notice the discrepancies.

Coulson's pursuit of the imaginary mutant-collecting organization was doomed to fail, as no such organization existed. Most of the people who had left the museum were Kamar-Taj apprentices, who traveled with licensed sorcerers and returned through portals.

S.H.I.E.L.D. would never be able to catch Kamar-Taj's trail.

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