In the dead of night, the Hell's Kitchen precinct of the New York Police Department received an urgent call from the "FBI," ordering them to respond immediately.
Blade, like The Punisher, is a Level-10 S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent, and for S.H.I.E.L.D. impersonating the FBI is practically routine.
Only after every officer had worked through the night did they rescue more than a dozen infants, apparently abducted, from a building that had suffered a "terrorist attack."
A few female survivors were, under FBI insistence, sent to a hospital owned by Stark Industries for treatment.
Early the next morning, the NYPD headquarters was flooded with emergency calls—several pedestrians on Wall Street had phoned them in.
Each witness claimed to have seen a horrifying sight: seven or eight heads strung from a lamppost like a bunch of grapes.
Yet just as curiosity got the better of them and they screwed up their courage to move closer, the morning sun struck the street and the "human-grape bunch" spontaneously combusted, burning away to ash in seconds.
A reporter had already sniffed out the story and arrived on the scene to cover it.
Put "Wall Street" and "strung from a lamppost" together and certain associations are hard to avoid.
The case rocketed to the top of the day's headlines, gossiped about by New Yorkers on every corner.
Li Pu had achieved his goal: the bloodsucking, child-devouring beasts had unmistakably received his warning.
He would keep hunting Vampires on schedule; after all, he now had two little mouths to feed, and earning a living had become priority number one.
Last night he had taken the Vampires' heads with him, not for any "blood for the Blood God, skulls for the Skull Throne" nonsense.
Li Pu was simply making efficient use of garbage—
Unlike the weaker Vampires, last night's boss, Deacon Frost, was down to just a head but still not quite dead.
Frost had even regrown vocal cords and kept begging Li Pu: "Don't kill me! I'll give you money—I own a fortune!"
A classic case of clutching at straws.
The fool obviously hadn't heard the saying: kill you and your money is still mine.
What irked Li Pu, though, was that although Deacon Frost's head obediently led him to a safe house in Manhattan to collect the cash, once they arrived Li Pu discovered the guy barely had any on hand.
The so-called "assets" turned out to be hundreds of kilos of narcotics!
Which forced Li Pu to make an extra trip to dump the harmful stuff into the Atlantic Ocean.
In the end, all Li Pu extracted from Deacon Frost was a bit over a hundred thousand in cash.
Consequently, Frost didn't even rate a lamppost of his own; he and a few key lieutenants were strung up together, burning to ash in the dawn light.
Of course, Li Pu had no time to watch the sunrise with them; long before dawn he had carried the rescued infant back home, along with the scavenged cash.
He saw little Broly had sneaked the sled dog Alf onto the bed; boy and dog were snoring away. Li Pu only smiled, not waking his eldest son.
"Stinker, tomorrow morning I'll introduce you to your little brother."
Only then did he calm down enough to recall the System prompts he'd ignored in the heat of the moment.
[Ding! Congratulations, Host, you have successfully adopted your second child: Konrad Curze.]
The name rang a faint bell, but not as loudly as his first son "Broly."
As when he'd adopted Broly, the System now handed him a daddy-reward.
[Ding! Reward issued: Host receives the biological-father attribute template of Konrad Curze. Open your personal status panel to view.]
Li Pu felt a sudden dizziness; he hurriedly set the infant on the sofa before opening his panel.
[Host: Li Pu]
[Age: 28]
[Strength: 46/150]
[Physique: 130/1300/∞] ↑
[Agility: 25/100]
[Intelligence: 13/1300/∞] ↑
[Charisma: 20/1300/∞] ↑
[Perception: 99/1300/∞] ↑
[Talents: Saiyan Upper-Class Warrior, Human Emperor Template]
[Skills: Chinese Home-Style Cooking (Intermediate), Multiple Vehicle Operation (Elementary), Hunting (Intermediate), Machinery (Elementary), Childcare (Elementary)]
[Status: Loading "Human Emperor" psyker talent. Host's feeble brain and originally low intelligence potential are being passively developed. Dizziness, headaches, etc. are normal; please endure a moment.]
Endure your grandma's leg!
The instant he read that status, Li Pu felt his brain explode, as if thousands of Granny Rongs were jabbing needles inside his skull.
The pain nearly dropped him to his knees.
Yet at the instant his knees touched the floor, some inexplicable pride refused to let him kneel.
He froze there.
Meanwhile, as his brain rebuilt itself, faded memories sharpened into clarity.
"Holy crap!"
Li Pu swore as he remembered who the Emperor was.
In the Warhammer Universe—the last place any transmigrator wants to go—this man is the sole and supreme ruler of the human Empire, the savior of the species.
The Emperor has many nicknames: Golden Big Guy, Daemon-Primer, Xenos Terminator, Chaos Smasher, the Wife-Less & Child-Abandoning Lord of Humanity, Yellow-Skinned One, Tech Lover of Brute Force, Omnissiah, Fifth Chaos God, King of the Golden Throne… Jokes aside, the man is terrifyingly powerful.
He is quite possibly the greatest psyker in Warhammer history and an immortal with insane uptime.
While Chaos-worshiping scum scramble to ascend to daemonhood or godhood, the Emperor long ago rejected worship, staunchly declaring himself a "Mortal."
Even though he can answer loyalists' calls from across half the galaxy.
Even though he single-handedly beat a C'tan and turned it into his tool.
Even though, if he wished, he could drag the Four Vendors out of Subspace and drown them in the Golden Throne… yet for all that power, the Emperor is far from omnipotent.
He definitely was not a good father.
The Primarch sons created from his own genes, though sabotaged by Chaos during their upbringing, were poorly handled once reunited with him.
Except for the few raised by decent foster parents, every Primarch ended up with mental issues, prone to snapping under the right trigger.
Otherwise, no matter how well Horus—chosen by all Four Gods—played his alliances, so many Astartes Legions would never have turned traitor during the Great Rebellion.
And now the System has awarded Li Pu the [Emperor Template] so he can properly raise one of those "problem children"—Konrad Curze.
"Let that yellow geezer see how a real dad raises a son!"
Out of nowhere, Li Pu was filled with that heroic resolve, followed instantly by even fiercer pain in his skull.
Ten thousand times worse than Granny Rong's needles!
Li Pu clenched his teeth, silent, letting the System develop his talent second by second.