It was a good thing that the system directly pointed out that the person behind the scenes was Harold acham.
First of all, Blaine's previous suspicions had no real evidence—just speculation that Harold acham might be the one responsible.
With so much uncertainty, it was easy to hesitate. The Hand? Harold acham?
The system's confirmation was like a shot in the arm for Blaine.
Second, it closed the loophole that allowed those so-called "bosses" to take advantage of the task system.
To be honest, Blaine was quite frustrated.
If he hadn't watched the TV series, known about the existence of the Hand, and been able to analyze things properly, he might have really believed that Ward acham was the one who issued the mission.
And if he went after Ward acham, the person who only appeared to have issued the mission then the loophole would be exposed.
In the future, could these bosses just find soone else to post the missions for them, and if no reward is paid, the one who dies is just the scapegoat who issued the mission?
It was a massive flaw in the system—one that other bosses would definitely discover and exploit if left unpatched.
Fortunately, the system fixed this loophole in ti.
Now, it would directly point out the true identity of the person behind each mission.
Blaine wouldn't be fooled again—not when he knew the plot and had the system naming nas.
If even then he got tricked, he might as well quit being a Bounty Hunter, abandon the system, and go ho to farm.
The lingering worry in his heart was gone.
His mood had clearly improved, although the frustration hadn't been fully vented.
He sneered, like a villain in a movie.
Since the system had identified Harold acham as the mastermind, all Blaine had to do was find him and take action.
As for Ward acham—
If they crossed paths, Blaine would make sure Ward never forgot it. After all, that guy was an accomplice too.
Blaine retrieved a [Tracking Paper Crane] from the system space.
He didn't bother disguising it—after all, it looked like an ordinary origami crane. But in truth, the [Tracking Paper Crane] was a spiritual construct, like a ghost.
Ordinary people couldn't see it—unless they possessed extrely strong ntal power.
[Tracking Paper Crane] was very simple to use:
Extend your ntal power into the crane, think of the target in your mind, follow your instincts, and the paper crane would guide you to the person you sought.
In theory, Blaine could've gone directly to the penthouse.
But to avoid wasting ti on a potentially empty lead, he let the paper crane do the tracking.
It only cost 50,000 dollars to use—nothing to a man of his current wealth and power.
Use what you need.
Following the thod, Blaine slowly closed his eyes and infused the dark paper crane with his spiritual energy.
In an instant, his perspective shifted to that of the paper crane. He could see through it but had no control over its flight.
Thinking of Harold acham in his heart, the crane slowly rose and flew in a certain direction. The spirit body passed through walls effortlessly and sped toward Manhattan.
Eventually, the crane arrived at the top floor of a luxurious apartnt in the General Electric building in Manhattan.
Access required passing multiple layers of security—fingerprints, palm prints, and more. After all, this place had been specially arranged for Harold acham by the Hand.
But the paper crane wasn't hindered by such things. It phased straight through and flew into the apartnt.
Harold acham was still awake, sipping vodka and browsing on his computer. He occasionally humd a little tune, clearly in a relaxed mood.
From the paper crane's point of view, Blaine observed everything with growing irritation.
"Damn it, this bastard…"
Three days had passed since the mission was issued, and the guy didn't seem the least bit concerned.
Does he really think I'm not going to co for him?
A sneer tugged at the corner of Blaine's mouth.
Harold didn't have Nick Fury's skills, but he sure liked to imitate Fury's flair and theatrics.
But that didn't matter.
What Blaine liked the most was the look on people's faces when they were utterly crushed after acting all high and mighty.
Must be satisfying, right?
The tracking mission was complete.
Three, two…
Blaine's spiritual body dissolved into countless specks of starlight, returning to his original form.
He opened his eyes, let out a slow, deep breath, and lted into the shadows, heading toward his target.
He had to admit—Shadow Stealth was his most-used skill.
Upgrading it to level 3 had definitely been the right choice.
anwhile, Harold acham, far away in Manhattan's General Electric building, had no idea that danger was approaching.
He was still casually watching videos and drinking vodka, seemingly in a great mood.
But that was only on the surface.
Harold thought back to what had happened the night before—it wasn't easy to talk about.
After Blaine inford him the mission was complete, Harold had Ward secretly take him to the scene.
He wanted to see whether this "hamr" from another world truly had divine power—enough to help him break away from the cursed Hand and the even more cursed Madam Gao.
When they arrived, Ward was horrified by the bloodstained battlefield and vomited uncontrollably.
After all, he was just a rich guy—he'd barely seen a corpse in his life.
To be faced with such a grueso scene all at once… the fact that he didn't faint on the spot was already a testant to his ntal resilience.
Harold, on the other hand, was completely unfazed.
He even managed to comfort Ward.
That calmness—part of it was the aftereffect of being resurrected by the Hand.
But honestly, it was also just who Harold was.
Back at the scene, Blaine had placed Mjolnir on the table.
It looked incredibly imposing, and the sight of the hamr in such a prominent spot imdiately got Harold excited.
He rushed forward, eager to grab the weapon.
But it was obvious.
He wasn't worthy of lifting Mjolnir.
No matter how hard he tried, the hamr didn't budge an inch.
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