When Jadre heard that Zod had not only provoked the Scorpion Gang and walked away unharmed, but even walked off with ten million USD, he felt the whole thing was downright absurd.
After all, he knew exactly what kind of monsters the Scorpions and the Skulls were.
"Alright, here's my living expense money. Use it to bring in some beef cattle for the ranch," Zod said.
"So… does this mean you just bought my farm?"Jadre was speechless.
Truth be told, his rundown farm hadn't been worth much for a long time.
Jadre's land stretched across 1,253 acres—thirty-two acres of orchards mostly planted with citrus trees, forty-five acres of vegetable fields, and the rest dedicated to common corn and soybeans.
He had once considered selling the place to chase a different future, but the best offer he got was only three million dollars.
Now that Zod wanted to convert the farm into a ranch, Jadre basically assumed Zod had purchased the whole place. At this point… he supposed that made him an employee.
"Boss, we don't have enough hands," Jadre said directly.
Running a farm had been barely manageable thanks to machinery, but a ranch was a different beast.
And with the place sitting so close to the desert… whether they could raise decent beef cattle at all was still a big question.
"If you're short on workers, then hire more."Zod looked puzzled. With ten million dollars, no matter how fast you burned through money, it wasn't going to vanish overnight.
"Labor is expensive in Texas. I was thinking of hiring some Mexican workers."
Jadre wasn't sure if Zod had any prejudice against Mexicans.
"Immigrants?" Zod asked, assuming that was the problem.
"We're right next to the U.S.–Mexico border. Plenty of Mexican laborers cross over."Jadre nodded.
"Then hire them," Zod said without hesitation. He didn't care about immigration issues. There were crimes everywhere—especially here. If anyone wanted to crack down on all of them, Texas cops would be sprinting until their legs fell off.
Two days later, a large truck rumbled up to the ranch entrance—the Angus cattle Jadre ordered had arrived.
By now, the farm looked completely transformed. All the corn and soybeans had been cleared out, the land newly leveled. The once-neglected orchards had grown lush again, and the vegetable fields were lined neatly with rows of fresh produce.
Jadre had purchased more than a hundred strong Angus cattle from acquaintances in the farming business—cattle whose premium meat supplied high-end restaurants in New York, Washington, and Los Angeles.
Whether they'd survive here was another story.
He put the newly arrived Mexican workers to work massaging the cattle, prepping the pasture for grazing, and using the flattened corn and soy fields as feed stock.
Zod noticed the Mexican workers were diligent and inexpensive.
He'd spent the past few days sunbathing, but the progress still felt painfully slow.
A Kryptonian designed for balanced development grew far slower than General Zod's warrior class, but what mattered most was having no weaknesses.
He knew he was laying the foundation right now. As frustrating as it was, there was no shortcut.
Kryptonians didn't need Saiyan-style training or gravity chambers—just sunlight.
One day, when he finally learned to fly, he'd shoot straight into the upper atmosphere where the solar radiation was strongest.
Meanwhile, the Scorpion Gang wasn't about to swallow their loss. Ten million wasn't something they could just walk away from.
But after hearing Jin Fei's terrified account, they concluded Zod was some kind of super-assassin or super-soldier—a peak human monster they stood no chance against. So they gritted their teeth and hired professionals.
That night, Zod was outside soaking in the moonlight. Moonlight was still reflected sunlight—even if weaker.
The ranch had no shortage of insects, but Zod's skin was far tougher than any mosquito's bite. They could buzz around him all night and never break through.
Five assassins crept onto the ranch, unaware that Zod's enhanced senses had already locked on to them.
All the Mexican workers had returned to their dorms, so the property was quiet.
With his x-ray vision, Zod saw every weapon they carried—guns, heavy gear—and confirmed they were enemies. In the next instant, he shot across the ranch at blinding speed, knocking each of them unconscious before they even registered his presence.
Five trained assassins, taken down without a flicker of reaction. Zod's speed was becoming downright spectral.
After knocking them out, he hauled them indoors, tied them up, and interrogated them. A bit of "persuasion" later, their composure crumbled, and they confessed easily.
They were hired guns. Someone paid them to eliminate him.
That was all Zod needed to know. He could guess who the client was—but he set the Scorpion Gang aside for now. What interested him more… was the assassins themselves.
"How do I become an assassin?"Zod asked, visibly excited. He needed money, and this seemed like an excellent opportunity.
The killers froze. Apparently, they'd never encountered such a bizarre question mid-mission.
Still, someone capable of wiping them out so effortlessly wanting to join the trade wasn't surprising. Most people simply lacked the right connections.
"If you want to become an assassin, you have to go through the Black List's Midnight Hotel," one of them said quickly.
"Black List?"It was Zod's first time learning about this profession, and he was intrigued.
Through the five assassins, he pieced together the whole picture.
The Black List was the largest assassin organization in the world. Compared to it, every other group was just a private agency or small-time organization. Rumor had it that high-ranking officials from the Five Great Nations were involved behind the scenes. The fact that the Black List never accepted contracts on those officials spoke volumes—though it might also be because they didn't want to be obliterated overnight.
The Black List had existed for almost seventy years. No one knew how it started.
The Midnight Hotel served as its public front—a place that welcomed assassins and registered newcomers.
After leaving a note for Jadre saying he had business to take care of, Zod forced the assassins to escort him out of the state in the dead of night so he could register.
He had no identification at all; traveling alone would have been impossible.
But assassins had their own channels. With their help, Zod—a complete ghost on paper—slipped out of Texas and headed toward the Midnight Hotel in Washington.
The Washington branch was one of the busiest in the country. New York's Midnight Hotel saw plenty of traffic too, but most of those were rookies.
And despite how useless these five seemed earlier, they were certified assassins who had passed the Black List's trials.
Armed combat, five-against-one—those were baseline skills.
"We're willing to act as your referrals… just please don't kill us. Deal?"Their leader pleaded cautiously.
/-\
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