"Is this Tony Stark, Iron Man?" The Little Evil God asked Gul, pointing at the figure on the television news.

"Yes," Gul responded absentmindedly. He was deep in thought, formulating a plan to exact his revenge on Tony Stark. Time was of the essence, for if he didn't act soon, he would be evicted from his home in about half a month, unable to pay the exorbitant fifty percent inheritance tax.

A fifty percent tax meant that if the house was worth two hundred thousand dollars, he needed to come up with a hundred thousand dollars just to keep it.

In reality, the tax shouldn’t be this high. However, being alone in America, without any relatives or friends, he was easy prey for some unscrupulous individuals.

Gul was utterly clueless about how to tackle this predicament.

Thus, he fixated on Tony Stark. Despite Stark's reputation as a shameless, caustic, and morally questionable character, he could also be considered a good person. If Stark knew of Gul's plight, he would undoubtedly help, given that the initial cause of all this turmoil was Stark himself. Resolving this issue could be as simple as a phone call from Stark.

Gul’s focus now was to orchestrate an all-out assassination attempt on Stark. He envisioned using every ounce of his strength and every available resource, barring The Little Evil God, to carry out this vendetta. It was a mission he felt compelled to undertake.

The likelihood of actually killing Stark? Ludicrous. Stark was a resilient and resourceful figure who had survived countless threats. Gul understood this fully. Even if the assassination were to succeed, the Ancient One would probably intervene to save Stark, given that Gul's survival was tied to containing The Little Evil God and, consequently, saving the world.

So whether he succeeded or failed, Gul believed he wouldn’t be in mortal danger. At least, that was his hope.

"Hey, Gul, do you really think you can do this? Why not let me handle it? With your scrawny limbs, how could you possibly kill that guy, even if he’s a weakling?" The Little Evil God taunted, her tone dripping with disdain.

"That's not your concern," Gul replied, scribbling furiously on a piece of paper, trying to draft the perfect crime plan. Yet, he doubted his own capabilities.

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Gul lacked the intellect and experience for such intricate planning. He had been an ordinary person with average intelligence, never having encountered anything remotely similar to this.

"Tch, have you ever killed anyone? Have you even killed a chicken? Have you seen blood? If you haven't, how do you plan to kill a person? I suggest you practice first." The Little Evil God scoffed, her gaze filled with contempt.

Gul frowned at her words; it was indeed a problem. But how to practice?

Instinctively, he glanced at The Little Evil God. He remembered she was supposedly immortal, unable to die no matter how she was injured.

"Why do I suddenly feel a chill?" The Little Evil God shivered inexplicably, muttering to herself.

"Ahem."

"Ahem, ahem."

"Ahem, ahem, ahem."

"Gul, what are you doing?" The Little Evil God glared at him.

"I think you're right."

"Of course I am! I'm The Little Evil God; I'm always right," she boasted, hands on her hips.

"I do need some practice."

"Practice? Practice what?"

"Practicing killing, of course. After all, one must see blood first, right?" Gul grinned at The Little Evil God.

"Practice killing? Yes, yes! See blood first, then kill. After slaying a hundred or so, you can move on to Tony." The Little Evil God nodded eagerly, eyes glinting with excitement at the prospect of mayhem. If Gul failed and died, the contract would end, and she could return to Hell.

Thinking this, The Little Evil God suddenly realized she could just kill Gul now to break the contract and return home.

Gul rolled his eyes. Kill a hundred people? What a joke. He hadn’t even killed a chicken. Now she wanted him to kill people?

He considered using The Little Evil God for practice, but despite her half-human, half-snake appearance, he couldn't bring himself to harm her, knowing she wouldn't actually die.

"Sigh," Gul sighed deeply.

"Yah-hoo! Little Evil God flying kick! Die, Gul! Ha ha ha, if I kill you, I can return to Hell. Ha ha ha!"

Hearing her shout, Gul turned just in time to see The Little Evil God launch herself at him, her tail straightened, aiming a fierce kick at him.

For some reason, Gul felt no fear and instinctively sidestepped.

Thud!

The Little Evil God's body flew past him and crashed heavily to the ground, cracking the floorboards.

Staring at the cracked floor, Gul felt a delayed rush of fear. "The Little Evil God, are you really trying to kill me?"

"Of course! If I kill you, I can go back. Now, Gul, accept your fate! Little Evil God flying kick, round two!"

The Little Evil God sneered, launching another attack.

Watching her genuine attempt to kill him, Gul hurriedly dodged again, grabbing a fruit knife from the table in a reflexive act of self-defense.

Slice!

In an almost comical twist of fate, The Little Evil God impaled herself on the fruit knife, spraying crimson blood all over Gul.

"Ahh! It hurts, it hurts, it hurts!" The Little Evil God wailed, clutching her tail and writhing on the floor.

Gul stood there, dumbfounded, staring at the blood-soaked knife in his hand. He dropped it, the knife clattering to the floor.