Chapter 512: Indifferent Technology, Angry King

After leaving the European Umbrella headquarters, T'Challa's face became more and more gloomy. Sephiroth's cold remarks just now completely made him lose his patience. Finally, he could no longer hold it in, and anger was boiling in his chest.

"These guys are so arrogant! How dare they say that the future of the Earth is irrelevant! They have no sense of responsibility at all, and are simply escaping reality!" T'Challa spoke angrily, his tone full of dissatisfaction and sarcasm. He clenched his hands into fists, and his anger was almost uncontrollable.

He continued indignantly: "Sephiroth's condescending attitude reminds me of those Western colonizers who think they are superior! They do nothing, but think they can do everything, leaving us struggling in chaos! They don't care about the future of Africa at all, they only care about themselves! I'm really tired of this indifference!"

Tony listened silently, his expression calm, and did not interrupt T'Challa's complaints. The wind blew gently, and the propellers of fighter jets hummed in the distance. He just stood aside, his hands in his pockets, thinking.

T'Challa's anger did not subside because of Tony's silence. He suddenly stopped, turned around and stared at Tony, with questioning flames burning in his eyes: "Tony! Don't you have anything to say? Don't you have any opinion on their attitude? You have remained silent because you are too close to Umbrella? Don't you care about Sephiroth's shameless words at all?"

T'Challa's questioning was full of strong emotions, almost a scolding. Tony remained calm, sighed softly, and retracted his gaze from the Umbrella headquarters building in the distance. He turned his head to look at the angry T'Challa, shrugged, and his tone was full of his usual cynicism, but this time there was a hint of fatigue.

"T'Challa, you know what?" Tony rubbed his temple with his hand and said softly, "It's not that I don't have an opinion, nor do I care. It's just that I've seen too many similar situations - the strong ignore the weak, and when technology develops to a certain level, there will always be some people who think they are above everything. Sephiroth's attitude also makes me uncomfortable, but he is right about one thing - Umbrella doesn't care about the earth, their goal is farther away. We can't change this."

T'Challa stared at Tony, his eyes still full of doubt and confusion: "Is there nothing to fight back against? Are you just going to accept their superiority?"

Tony stopped and turned to face T'Challa, his expression suddenly becoming serious: "T'Challa, you have to understand one thing - this world is not black and white, especially at our level. We can't force Umbrella to do something they don't want to do. We can only find a way to make their technology work for us and serve the earth."

He raised his head slightly, looked at the sky, put his hands in his pockets, and said slowly: "Sometimes, accepting reality is more important than being angry. We have to change the situation in our own way. Anger cannot solve the problem."

T'Challa exhaled heavily, trying to release the anger in his chest with his breath. His chest rose and fell, as if trying to suppress all the anger and dissatisfaction back to the bottom of his heart. Despite his complicated feelings, his reason gradually overcame his emotions.

Tony noticed T'Challa's condition and patted him on the shoulder gently, his tone gentle and somewhat comforting: "T'Challa, relax. Umbrella really shouldn't get involved in this kind of thing, especially when they have already defeated the EU. If they continue to act as the 'world police', it will arouse more dissatisfaction and resistance, and ignite conflicts among EU countries. To be honest, this 'non-interference' attitude may be Umbrella's strategy to avoid further conflicts at the moment. They won, but they did not intervene excessively, but let the countries deal with the post-war situation themselves. This also made some government officials breathe a sigh of relief, because no one likes a winner to force their fingers."

Tony paused, his eyes deep, and continued, "In fact, Umbrella's 'indifference' may not be a bad thing for the world situation. Especially when they have so much technology and power, if they really intervene too actively in world affairs, it may cause more chaos and fear. What we should worry about is whether we can cope with it when Umbrella decides to take real action."

T'Challa listened quietly. Although he was still angry, Tony's words were like a stream of fresh air, gradually diluting the fire in his heart. He nodded, relaxed his body slightly, and adjusted his breathing slightly slowly, as if trying to calm himself down.

He lowered his head, and his thoughts could not help but return to the teachings of his father, T'Chaka. T'Chaka once warned him that as a king, emotions cannot control actions, and wisdom and calmness can truly lead a country to prosperity. The image of his father emerged in his mind, as if reminding him that even when facing powerful enemies or an unfair world, he should not be blinded by anger.

"You're right, Tony." T'Challa took a deep breath and slowly raised his head, a hint of determination flashing in his eyes. "Anger cannot solve problems. Calmness and strategy are our real weapons. My father has always told me that as a leader, I must learn to be patient and judge the situation."

Seeing this, Tony smiled and nodded, with a bit of relief in his tone: "That's right, T'Challa, this is the leader we need. We can't rely on momentary impulse to solve problems, especially when we are facing a behemoth like Umbrella."

T'Challa exhaled again, the anger in his eyes gradually subsided, replaced by calmness and deep thought. He secretly vowed in his heart that no matter how complicated the future road would be, he would find the most appropriate strategy to allow Wakanda and the world to continue to move forward under the shadow of the Umbrella.

In a secret base in Africa, Helmut Zemo was standing in the center of the laboratory, in front of him was a test subject undergoing a transhuman gene injection. The lights in the laboratory were dim, and the air was filled with the cold smell of disinfectant. The researchers were nervously monitoring the various vital signs data, their fingers typing quickly on the keyboard.

"The injection has been completed and the gene fusion stage is underway." A researcher reported in a low voice, with sweat oozing from his forehead. He obviously had great awe for this experiment, because this was a critical moment in the genetic modification of superhumans, and any small mistake could lead to irreversible consequences.

The subject's body began to tremble violently after the injection, blood vessels throbbed rapidly under the skin like snakes, and muscles continued to swell. Zemo folded his hands in front of his chest, watching the changes in the subject calmly and attentively, his eyes revealing a kind of precise calculation, as if every step was under his control.

At this moment, the steel door of the laboratory quietly slid open, and a man in a white suit walked in. The man was tall, walked lightly, and wore a pair of pure white gloves on his hands. He exuded an extreme elegance and coldness. He was an executor sent by the Jewish group, named Gabriel Weisman, but in the industry, he had a more well-known nickname - "White Gloves".

Gabriel Weissman's face was grim, his white gloves shining, he walked slowly towards Helmut Zemo, his eyes first swept over the experimental subject, then fixed on Zemo, with a hint of disdain and scrutiny in his eyes.

"Dr. Zemo," Gabriel said in a low voice, his voice like a cold wind blowing past, "How is the current production of super serum and super power potion? How is the cost control? We have provided a lot of funding, but I heard that your progress is not as smooth as expected."

Zemo raised his head slightly, his eyes remained calm, and he did not lose his composure because of Gabriel's cold words. He smiled lightly and responded calmly: "The progress is indeed not ideal. After all, genetic engineering is an extremely complex task. We must act cautiously to ensure the stability of each experimental subject. As for the cost..." He paused, glanced at the experimental subject being fused, and said with a playful tone, "You know, the more perfect something is, the higher the cost will naturally be."

Gabriel's eyes flickered slightly, and he was obviously not satisfied with Zemo's explanation. His voice was a little colder: "Perfect things? We pay for efficiency, not to appreciate your works of art, Dr. Zemo. As for the failure of this experiment, we need more results, more 'products' that can be put into actual combat, rather than fiddling with these test products in your laboratory."

"Well said, Mr. Weissman." Zemo chuckled, but then his face turned serious. "However, you also know about the attack in Paris. Although your financial support enabled me to speed up the research and development of super-powered warriors, these warriors were completely defeated by the combat-type Humagear equipped by their government." Zemo's words were full of calm analysis, but his eyes revealed a trace of unwillingness and loss. "Those Humagear have become the darlings of the government. Their technological level is far beyond our expectations."

Gabriel snorted softly and said indifferently: "No matter how powerful the Xiumagia are, they are just a group of machines. You should understand that the African continent does not have a complex population structure like Europe. There are many people here, so we are not afraid of failure. More importantly, Africa has abundant resources. We can ignore international public opinion and continue our experiments here. Even if they fail, there is nothing to lose."

After he finished speaking, he looked at the experimental subject with cold eyes and a sneer on his face. "So, Helmut, keep going. Don't stop the progress because of the failure in Paris. What we want is mass production of super-powered warriors that can be deployed on the battlefield."

Zemo's expression softened slightly when he heard this, and he nodded slowly. "You are right, Mr. Weissman. The situation in Africa is indeed different. We can conduct experiments and tests more freely here. And the strength of the Shumagia..." He paused, a cold light flashed in his eyes, "I have my own plan to deal with it."

Gabriel nodded, turned around and prepared to leave the laboratory, but at the door, he stopped and added coldly: "Don't let me hear the news of failure again, Dr. Zemo. I hope that next time I will see, it will not be the warriors defeated by the Shumagia, but the superhumans who can truly sweep away everything." After that, he turned and left, disappearing outside the laboratory door.

Zemo stood there, staring at the subject's breathing which was gradually stabilizing, his eyes gradually becoming colder.