"Tch, I have absolutely zero interest in meeting a preening human," Logan snarled, his eyes fixed on Zhou Yi's outstretched hand—a gesture of civilized welcome that the man found insulting.
He deliberately ignored the hand, stalking past Zhou Yi and addressing Jean directly, his tone demanding attention. "Jean, I heard someone's planning a reckless extraction of Sharice. What exactly is the meaning of this?"
"Logan, this matter is still under sensitive review," Jean replied immediately, her voice calm and soothing, attempting to manage the palpable tension radiating from him.
She knew Logan was not a typical student; he was a highly capable, highly unstable mutant with a profound amount of forgotten combat trauma. Letting his volatile emotions escalate within the confines of the school was a recipe for disaster. "You need to calm yourself."
"Calm? This isn't a situation that can be solved with tea and placid composure! I don't care what esoteric rationale the Professor is using, I refuse to allow Sharice to be taken off-campus by some unknown, soft-handed individual," Logan growled, his gaze still fixed on Jean.
"Come with me now, Jean. We must convince the Professor to revoke this foolish decision. If we cannot talk him out of enabling this madness, then he leaves me no choice but to take personal action against the unfortunate man responsible."
Logan's possessive rant and his casual, arrogant dismissal of the third party—Zhou Yi—as merely an "unfortunate man" proved too much for Zhou Yi's already frayed patience.
"My dear Logan," Zhou Yi interjected, his voice dripping with mock-sincerity. "I truly hate to interrupt your thrilling display of protective alpha dominance, but I must remind you, if you were to look around, you would find that I am, in fact, the precise 'unlucky man' you are currently threatening."
Logan spun around, his focus instantly narrowing on Zhou Yi with the predatory intensity of a starving wolf locking onto prey.
"Really? Then I'm glad you saved me the walk to the Professor's office. I have some unsolicited advice for you, mister: stay far away from this Academy and anything that belongs to it."
"My profound apologies, but I possess a deeply ingrained, almost pathological affection for seeking out trouble," Zhou Yi responded, the smile on his face purely antagonistic. He never backed down from a challenge, especially when delivered by a man who saw him as competition.
That brief, arrogant exchange was the trigger. Logan was a creature of instinct, and his physical reactions always outpaced his cognitive thought. He lunged, unleashing a savage, piston-like right hook aimed squarely at Zhou Yi's face.
Logan favored striking the face, particularly on men who relied on their looks—a clear, visceral form of psychological warfare.
Zhou Yi, however, was already moving. He executed a minimal, fractional evasion of the punch, allowing Logan's arm to graze past his shoulder, simultaneously closing the distance. He drove the point of his elbow, hard, directly into the solar plexus of Logan's chest.
The strike was sharp and targeted, instantly triggering the Vagus nerve reflex, causing Logan's body to seize and stiffen—a momentary, involuntary physiological paralysis.
Before Logan could fully recover, Zhou Yi capitalized instantly. Logan was pressed tight against him, momentarily helpless. Zhou Yi raised his hand, not to strike, but to execute a powerful, open-palm strike upwards, smashing the heel of his hand against the underside of Logan's jaw.
The immense, upward force drove Logan's lower jaw violently into his upper palate, delivering a powerful concussive shock straight to the base of his brain.
Logan staggered backward, his coordination ruined, stumbling precariously close to collapsing. In Zhou Yi's assessment, the fight was over; the man's fighting mechanics were momentarily neutralized.
Yet, Logan's recovery was stunning. He violently shook his head, the pain seeming only to fuel a deep, animalistic rage. He attacked again, his movements even more frenzied than before, as if the severe impact he'd just taken had been a mere mosquito bite.
Zhou Yi responded with exceptional, fluid agility. Against Logan, who fought like a furious but predictable brute, Zhou Yi's superhuman speed and practiced martial art became a devastatingly effective shield. He sidestepped, dipped, and weaved—Logan's fists whipping past his clothes, incapable of finding purchase.
Logan, entirely consumed by rage, failed to realize he was being effortlessly manipulated. He was a stubborn man, unwilling to concede his lack of speed. Unable to land a single hit, he fell back on primal provocation.
"Hey, pretty boy! Is all you're capable of doing is running away?" Logan bellowed, hoping to bait him into a foolish, close-quarters exchange. "Or do you lack the actual guts to throw a punch like a man!"
For Zhou Yi, already strategizing his exit, this was the perfect opportunity.
"You desire a fight like a man? Excellent! Absolutely no problem," Zhou Yi declared, a malicious plan forming in his eyes. "I shall be delighted to show you precisely what a real man is capable of."
He halted his evasion, settling into a grounded fighting stance, ready to meet the next punch head-on.
Logan was ecstatic. He didn't care why this fool would abandon his only advantage of speed to meet him in a disastrously unfavorable exchange. He was a soldier, a survivor; in his world, there was only victory and defeat, and he knew his adamantium-laced skeleton provided him with an unbeatable defense in a slugging match against an unaugment human.
Logan threw a tremendously powerful right cross, aiming for Zhou Yi's head, fully expecting the satisfying crunch of bone.
Just as the blow was centimeters from connecting, Zhou Yi's eyes widened in sudden, theatrical horror.
"Jean! What are you doing? Stop this right now!"
Logan, startled by the urgent tone and the sudden, shouted reference to Jean, hesitated. He instantly turned his head to check on her, seeing only her wide-eyed, innocent face standing frozen behind him. He realized, too late, that he had been tricked—distracted by a verbal feint.
A powerful, precise kick slammed into Logan's groin.
The excruciating, paralyzing pain was immediate and absolute. Logan gasped, his vision whiting out, every nerve ending in his body screaming a single, unifying message: PAIN. He doubled over, clutching his most vulnerable spot, his face contorted in a silent, agonizing rictus of agony. His entire adamantium-reinforced body was momentarily betrayed by its simple human physiology.
"Well, buddy," Zhou Yi boasted, pulling his foot back and dusting off his hands. "I told you I'd show you what it means to be a man. And that, right there, is where the trouble starts."
Jean Grey, standing nearby, buried her face in her hands, a deep sigh escaping her lips. This was now the second time she had witnessed Zhou Yi perform this heinous, yet strategically brilliant, groin-kick maneuver on a man she cared about—the first being Scott Summers.
The recurring pattern of brutal, targeted assault against the men in her life was a comedic, yet unsettling, incident that she would never live down.
"You absolute bastard!" Logan roared, his voice sounding comical and thin, even as he fought to overcome the crippling pain.
"No, no, no. Not a bastard, Logan," Zhou Yi corrected, shaking his head with mock disapproval. "It's called strategy. I'm not some simpleminded monster who relies solely on brute force."
Logan was not easily defeated. His healing factor, even if it couldn't instantly neutralize the neural shock of the blow, allowed him to recover with terrifying speed. He lunged again, this time with true murderous intent.
Three razor-sharp, six-inch adamantium claws erupted from the back of his fist. The mere use of his signature weapon—a substance designed to be utterly indestructible—was the ultimate expression of his commitment to violence.
"Idiot, you still don't understand?" Zhou Yi scoffed. He casually extended his fingers, his movements precisely timed, and allowed Logan's attack to pass through the gaps between his extended fingers. Logan's momentum was instantly nullified. Before the claw could connect, Zhou Yi interlocked his own fingers and clamped down firmly on Logan's claws.
Logan felt as though his fist were trapped in a vice forged by a massive machine. The claws, extensions of his own skeleton, were utterly immobilized. This seemingly minor action—a single, firm grip on his weapon—had locked half of his upper body into a state of rigid paralysis.
Trapped, Logan immediately retaliated with his free left hand, the other set of claws shooting out, swinging in a frantic arc toward the arm that held him captive.
Zhou Yi simply reached out and caught the second fist by the wrist, completing the immobilization. With his entire upper body locked down, Logan, driven by sheer, desperate animalistic rage, performed a terrible, wrenching maneuver: he snapped his neck forward and slammed his forehead directly into Zhou Yi's chest.
The sudden, violent movement strained his own ligaments and muscles, ignoring the agonizing internal pain. He was a wolf, a wild animal that would commit self-harm just to draw blood from its perceived enemy.
Zhou Yi leaned back, avoiding the head-butt to his face, but allowed Logan's forehead to collide with a different, equally hard part of his body: his rising knee.
The knee slammed into Logan's adamantium-reinforced skull. Zhou Yi grimaced; the impact jolted his own leg—the adamantium was indeed incredibly rigid. Logan, however, was violently propelled backward, his entire body flying across the room like a discarded ragdoll.
He was headed straight for the meeting table, where Ororo had been sitting minutes earlier.
Just as Logan was about to impact the furniture, two separate, immense surges of psychic power slammed into him simultaneously, cushioning his fall and forcing his body to land safely, gently, on the carpet. One was the immense, controlled force of Jean Grey; the other, an equally potent field of Telekinesis from Zhou Yi.
Logan shook his head, his healing factor already mitigating the pain and concussion. He sprang back up, his claws extended, his eyes fixed in fury on Zhou Yi.
"Jean! I do not need your help!" he snarled, misinterpreting the dual intervention.
"You didn't just receive help from Jean, buddy," Zhou Yi said, effortlessly projecting a wave of raw telekinetic force. The power lifted Logan fully off the ground, suspending him a meter in the air. Logan struggled violently, but the telekinetic grip was absolute, rendering his impressive musculature and adamantium claws utterly useless.
"You… you're a mutant?" Logan sputtered in disbelief, staring at the man who had been introduced to him as merely Sharice's human brother—a lie perpetrated by Jean.
Zhou Yi chuckled, his telekinetic grip tightening just enough to emphasize his control. He settled back, the fight completely won, and offered his only reply.
"Guess, Logan. Just guess."