Peter could naturally guess what was going through the little girl's mind.
This girl clearly hadn't fallen in love at first sight; she simply wanted to use him as a tool, hoping to lure him under her skirt so her dear sister could feel the sting of a knife to the heart.
If this revenge plan were used on Tony, it might actually work.
But unfortunately... Peter was different.
He was different because... he had very refined tastes!
Peter sized Yelena up, making an assessment in his mind without changing his expression.
Her figure was indeed good; although the size of her headlights left something to be desired, those long legs were even longer than Black Widow's. Overall, she was roughly on par with Black Widow.
However, in terms of looks, she fell quite short.
Not only did she have freckles, but her skin also looked quite rough, completely lacking that seductive aura Black Widow possessed.
Moreover, even if her looks were equal, he had no interest in being used as a tool.
Therefore, Peter didn't give Yelena any room to continue her fantasies and directly raised his hand to give her forehead a light flick.
Boing~
A crisp flick landed squarely on Yelena's forehead.
The young girl let out a cry of pain and couldn't help but clutch her forehead, taking half a step back.
"Calling me brother-in-law is correct," Peter said as he withdrew his hand, his tone still light. "But don't even think about the drama of seducing your brother-in-law to steal him away; your brother-in-law isn't into that."
Natasha, who had been holding Dreykov with one hand like a little chick, couldn't help but tremble slightly upon hearing this.
She then snapped her head back, first glaring at Yelena with eyes like knives.
That look was no different from a mother wolf guarding her prey, filled with ferocity.
But then, her gaze shifted to Peter.
That look was first as soft as water, then became charming and enchanting, enough to make one's bones feel weak.
Clearly, Natasha was very satisfied with Peter's stance, and she was already deciding when to properly reward him.
Tony witnessed the whole thing from the side. Seeing that no one was paying attention to him, he decisively spoke to Jarvis:
"Jarvis, what are you standing there for? Hurry up and take notes for me!"
As the saying goes, no wonder Peter can have a girl on each arm. Next time, I'll try this approach with Pepper.
Maybe I'll be able to unlock some new ways to play...
On the other side, Yelena clutched her forehead for quite a while before recovering.
A moment later, she shot Peter another fierce glare.
However, she knew her limits after all.
She knew that even a hundred of her tied together wouldn't be a match for this brother-in-law.
So, she didn't plan to say any harsh words; instead, she turned her head decisively and chose to squeeze a soft persimmon.
So the question was, who was the soft persimmon on the scene?
The answer was self-evident!
It was, of course, Dreykov, who was being held by Natasha like a dead dog.
"You know, old man."
She walked over to Natasha's side, grabbed the few remaining hairs on Dreykov's head, and forced him to meet her gaze:
"The biggest wish of the first half of my life was to one day crush your neck with my own hands."
Hearing this, Dreykov's fat body couldn't help but tremble.
Hearing this, Natasha's grip tightened slightly, causing the fat man to make a squawking sound like a duck.
"Now," she exchanged a look with Yelena, then released her hand, throwing Dreykov onto the ground, and said:
"I think I can fulfill that wish for you."
Seeing the two sisters about to strike and finish off Dreykov together, Peter suddenly spoke up:
"Wait a moment."
The two of them paused simultaneously, turned their heads, and looked at him with confusion.
"Killing him now would be unfair to the others in the Red Room."
Peter said this without any special expression, as if he were stating a very ordinary fact.
Natasha's brow furrowed slightly; she didn't speak, but she was clearly listening.
"Those girls," Peter tilted his chin, gesturing toward the frozen female Agents on the upper floors,
"They are also victims. If you let this guy die at your hands like this, how are they supposed to dispel the hatred in their hearts?"
After he finished speaking, the scene fell silent for a few seconds.
A moment later, Natasha spoke softly:
"You're right. It would be unfair to them."
Yelena turned back to Peter and asked:
"...Then what do you plan to do?"
Peter didn't say anything, but his figure blurred as he instantly left the sixth basement level.
Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh!
Peter's figure turned completely into a beam of light, rapidly weaving between the frozen female Agents and those knocked unconscious by his Haoshoku.
The horse talisman's power spread from his palm, flowing into the bodies of the frozen female Agents. Tiny chips and electrodes were extracted from their skin, falling onto the ice with a series of fine, clicking sounds.
Their hollow eyes gradually began to change.
Fear, confusion, sorrow... finally, it all transformed into a volcanic rage.
...
Once all the female Agents of the Red Room had regained consciousness, Peter brought them back to the bottom level.
Dreykov was still pinned to the ground. He watched as the girls walked in one by one, watching as each of them revealed eyes that looked like they wanted to tear him into a thousand pieces.
His body began to tremble uncontrollably, and a large wet patch visibly soaked the ground beneath him.
"Wait, wait!" he screamed at the top of his lungs:
"You can't do this, you can't do this to me! You orphans, without me, you would have died in some gutter long ago!"
"I provided you with food, I provided you with drink..."
Crack!
Before he could finish, the sound of a bone snapping rang out abruptly.
Someone had directly dislocated his jaw.
The moment they saw this figure clearly, everyone present gasped in shock.
Because this person was none other than Dreykov's daughter—Antonia!
Antonia locked eyes with her father.
The moment their gazes met, Dreykov was suddenly stunned.
That face was so flawless; the scars were gone, the wounds were gone, exactly like the figure in his memory.
Dreykov opened his mouth; he wanted to say something, but he couldn't make a sound.
As for Antonia, she had already crouched down, drawing a dagger from her waist. Holding it in her hand, she looked down at him.
"Father."
She lightly stroked Dreykov's face, her voice very soft, even carrying a strange tenderness.
"You destroyed everything I had. Now, it's your turn!"
The moment she finished speaking, she thrust the dagger into Dreykov's mouth and sliced his tongue off in one stroke.
After completing this, she took a deep breath and placed the dagger into Yelena's hand.
One cut after another...
One person after another...
When Natasha cut off the last piece of flesh, only a white skeleton remained at the scene...