Chapter Twenty-Three: The Virtuous, the Sorcerer, and the Heart’s Demon

With your performance, you wouldn't even qualify as a top salesperson in the human world, would you? As expected, the second generation is just that—the second generation. No need for achievements, everything relies on your father!

Watching what Demonheart had done on Earth, Hao Yun was filled with complaints he couldn't voice. After all, compared to what Demonheart had done here, he truly deserved to be called a saint of utmost goodness.

Even the most righteous of the Illuminati, like Captain America, would never claim that his greatest evil was stealing a little girl's lollipop, would he?

Well... would he even do that? Probably not...

“Ahem, this... this...” The Captain looked embarrassed as he glanced at Demonheart, unsure how to proceed.

This demon was far too peculiar—so kind that even the most righteous felt ashamed by comparison.

“Hao Yun, you decide. What should we do with him?” The Captain decisively passed the buck. Hao Yun looked left and right; Angel, Tony, Pepper, and the others all took a large step back, their faces clearly saying, “Don't you dare make me take responsibility for this.”

At this moment, as Demonheart lay on the ground, he seemed to understand what was happening. His bizarre actions in Hell, which had so irritated Mephisto that he was banished, actually aligned with Earth's views on good and evil.

“I... I really haven't done anything bad. I just retrieved contracts that belonged to us in Hell. I didn't even kill the previous Ghost Rider...” Demonheart looked as aggrieved as a wronged bride, instantly inspiring even greater condemnation in the hearts of the Illuminati.

“Um,” Hao Yun squatted down awkwardly in front of him, “Demonheart, right? Son of Mephisto, future lord of Hell. May I ask, why don't you commit evil deeds on Earth?”

“What? I have been committing evil deeds.” Demonheart blinked, speaking as if it was self-evident.

“Then why, when you're hungry, don't you rob people or steal food? And why don't you even kill anyone?”

“But in Hell, that's considered the greatest evil...” Demonheart answered with conviction. Tony, the Captain, and the others exchanged glances, seeming to realize something, and pulled Hao Yun aside to question him themselves.

“Alright, Demonheart, you're our captive now. We'll ask, and you'll answer!” Tony clapped his wrist, projecting various images of crimes: robbery, murder, and even... murder after certain indecent acts.

“Demonheart, do you think these are normal?” “Of course!” Demonheart replied as if it were obvious. “Where I come from, might makes right. Only the strong are worthy of resources, food, or mates.”

The group looked at each other—indeed, Hell's laws of survival were vastly different from those on Earth.

“Now look at this.” Tony tapped his wrist again, displaying scenes of giving up one's seat, acts of bravery, and fighting crime.

“What about these, Demonheart?” “These people are idiots. In Hell, they'd never survive—either they'd die or be expelled.” Demonheart sneered before his mood fell. “I don't like killing, nor do I like robbing. I'm Mephisto's son and already have more resources than others. There's no need to take from the worthless.

And because of this, my father believes I lack ruthlessness, that I have a heart too kind for Hell, so he cast me out. I came to Earth to seize the Vatican contract just to prove that I am strong! Even if I don't change, I can still survive in Hell as a strong one!”

“Well, alright, you are indeed strong. It's just that you were born in the wrong place—you should have been born on Earth.” Tony shook his head, delivering a rather painful truth.

Indeed, kind people are better suited for the human world, or even heaven. Hell is a den of the wicked, no place for a talent—no, a demon—like Demonheart.

But the Captain was still puzzled. If he didn't want to commit crimes, why had he nearly killed them?

“Demonheart, I don’t understand—why did you try to kill us?” “You’re not ordinary people, are you? Killing the strong would bring glory to my medal!” Demonheart replied matter-of-factly. Instantly, any lingering guilt in the group disappeared. A demon is still a demon. Demonheart simply had principles—he didn’t bully the weak.

“That’s enough. No more questions.” Hao Yun stopped everyone, standing sternly before Demonheart.

“Demonheart, as a representative of the Earth Guardians Association and the Illuminati, I declare you under arrest! Also, due to your illegal entry, we will arrange for your deportation back to Hell within a set period. Do you have any objections?”

“I can go back to Hell?”

Demonheart was overjoyed. Having lost all his subordinates and suffered two heavy blows in a row, he truly had no desire to remain on Earth. Even if Mephisto forced him, he’d never return!

“No objections. I fully accept Earth’s judgment and have absolutely no complaints!”

“Good. Then come with me.” Escorted by Hao Yun, Demonheart was taken back to the Illuminati headquarters.

For the next few days, Hao Yun was unable to leave, confined to the Illuminati headquarters to keep watch over Demonheart... until the new Guardian of the New York Sanctum, Daniel, sent word that the Sorcerer Supreme had returned, and only then was Demonheart sent back to the Hell Dimension.

Once Demonheart was gone, Hao Yun didn’t linger at Kamar-Taj to study magic; instead, he hurried back to headquarters to convene an urgent meeting of the Illuminati.

In the conference hall, the many heroes sat around a table, sipping fine wine and enjoying gourmet food—hardly the image of a proper meeting.

Then again, the Illuminati wasn’t some corporate organization—everyone had their own business. Natasha and Hawkeye were busy with retirement paperwork; Captain America and Falcon were serving on the Retired Soldiers Committee; Pepper was a CEO, and Angel a renowned lawyer. Saving the world was a rare task—who had that much time to gather together?

This time, it was all thanks to Hao Yun calling for an emergency meeting.

“Hao Yun, what’s going on this time? Has the Sorcerer Supreme told you about another world-ending crisis?” Tony clinked his glass with Banner’s, his tone half-joking.

Indeed, in recent years, the Illuminati had only mobilized five or six times—they were getting a bit bored.

“Not exactly. I just want to propose building a prison for super-powered criminals.” Hao Yun took the podium and presented his suggestion to everyone.

“I object!” Before anyone else could respond, Nick Fury—who shamelessly showed up just for the meeting—raised his voice.

“Super-powered individuals are under S.H.I.E.L.D.’s jurisdiction. The Illuminati is a private organization—it shouldn’t and cannot build a prison!”