After going through so many things, Michael, Wanda, and even Wanda actually have a lot of knowledge about Tony Stark. Tony is essentially a person who creates the future with his own hands, and everything he has is created by his own hands, even if he is stripped of his status as "Howard's son", it will not affect his current position at all.

The only thing he fears is to think that he is just a machine, an "iron man" after all. Once he crosses this threshold and realizes his position and the value of Iron Man's existence, he will no longer be confused.

"Thank you." Tony said earnestly to Wanda, "And I'm sorry. Maybe you've figured it out a long time ago, but what you're saying means a lot to me. ”

Wanda waved her hand, signaling no. To be honest, she never imagined that one day she would look into Stark's eyes and tell him that she could let go of that heavy past.

But now, it's true that the past is no longer as important. As her most important people told her, instead of dwelling on the past, she should focus on the future......

Her gaze subconsciously turned to Michael again, and she couldn't help but smile.

"Sir, I note that we are not on the course of returning to Earth right now." Shirley studied the interstellar map suspended in front of her, and tilted her head a little puzzled, "If this continues, we will enter the next wormhole jump in a few minutes, and the expected landing target is ...... A transit planet deep in the Milky Way? ”

"Yes, I'm not mistaken, Shirley." MICHAEL, LOCKING ON TO A CERTAIN DIRECTION SHE POINTED OUT, SAID LIGHTLY, "I INQUIRED A LITTLE IN VOLDI TEAR, AND QUEEN HYTHIA POINTED ME IN THE DIRECTION - IT WAS AN INFERIOR PLANET CALLED THE 'PUSTULE OF HOPE,' AND THAT WAS OUR GOAL." ”

"An inferior planet called 'Pustu of Hope'?" Tony held his chin, "If someone tells me they don't have any sarcasm in naming planets, I'm willing to bet them a million dollars on the spot." So what are we going to do there? ”

"You guys? Nothing. The Pustule of Hope is an interstellar staging station that is supposed to contain many alien races from all over the galaxy. After landing, you can go down and walk around, and maybe you can even bring some souvenirs back to Earth. As for me......"

Michael paused.

“...... I've got to get somebody there. ”

***

After more than an hour, hope for a pustule.

Before embarking on this journey, Wanda had all kinds of fantasies about "outer space", especially about extraterrestrial civilizations and cities. She imagined if there would be some "economic hardship zone" in the vast universe, like the slums on Earth.

And now she knows, it turns out that there really is.

The pustule of hope is one such place. The building materials, technology, and style here are completely different from those on Earth, and the streets and alleys are not filled with white or yellow-skinned humans, but humanoid kangaroos, lions, and octopus. But these racial and geographical differences aside, this place is actually no different from the slums on earth.

A dilapidated alley full of polluted liquid, home to the largest bar on an asteroid.

Rumble!

A five-meter-thick super-reinforced door panel was knocked open from the inside with a heavy scream. An alien who was eight meters tall slammed open the door and hit his back heavily on the ground. All four of his eyes were painfully closed, and his sucker-like mouth was constantly spewing water like a fountain, a state that was estimated to be equivalent to a human being's "foaming at the mouth".

The most famous bounty hunter in the entire area, the giant robot "Death's Head", is sitting cross-legged at the bar, holding an oversized wine glass in one hand and a smoking laser pistol in the other.

Although his fame is big enough to shock most of the ill-intentioned people in the area, there are still idiots who think they can gain fame and status by defeating him, and they are very wrong. This was not the first self-righteous idiot that Death's head had ever cooked, and he didn't think it would be the last.

"Boss." He put away his pistol and shook the drained cup, "One more glass." ”

"It's a good time, it looks like you made a lot of money from the last deal?"

The voice sounded from the side. The Head of Death turned his head to find that the Black Knight, the warrior from Earth, had somehow taken his seat beside him, acting like an old friend who had come to drink with him.

The Head of Death cursed bad luck in his stomach.

"Congratulations." The Head of Death said as he took the glass from his boss, "Although I knew that someone like you would have a way. You've gotten rid of that Rommulone record robot? I guess he's been turned into a scrap of metal, right? ”

"Not really. But we did come to a consensus that he parted ways with us and went on his record-keeping mission. Michael said.

"Oh?" There was some surprise at the head of death. After he accepted the offer to trick the Black Knight into going to 451, he thought the two sides would fight each other.

Well, to be honest, he didn't think Michael had a chance to come to him for revenge. He thought Michael was either dead or a puppet of 451 - though he didn't know what 451 wanted to do with the Black Knight.

The Head of Death quickly recalled the rumors about the Black Knight, and then weighed his pounds, estimating that this could be a tough battle.

He took a large sip of alien liquor.

"Hmm...... Well, while I think you should understand this, I have to stress that," said the bounty hunter, "that was just a deal. I'll do it when I receive a commission, and I'm lying to you, but it's not out of personal vendettas...... It's just a deal, that's all. ”

Michael shrugged his shoulders.

"Of course, I understand." He paused, "Actually, thanks to you, I've gained a lot of benefits. For example, the technology and knowledge left behind by a lost super race are priceless. ”

"Oh? You've got the ...... of the Rommulons Ha, that's a big congratulations. The Head of Death was surprised, "You know there are a lot of people who want to get their hands on this, and this is an opportunity that they can't ask for. You should thank me for that. ”

"yes, I think so. That's why I invited this glass of wine. ”

Michael said, tossing two hard pieces of green metal on the table—the common currency of the area.

The Head of Death didn't reach for it, just looked at the two coins, his eyes flickering slightly.

Then he shook off his glass and pointed his gun at Michael, who was beside him.

But he was still a step too late—the pulsing beam slammed into his chest before he could do anything, and the bounty hunter flew across the bar in embarrassment, falling on the alien he had thrown out earlier.

Michael walked out unhurriedly.

"You're a merchant, the head of death," he said slowly, "so I think you can understand how the accounts are calculated." ”