Magneto stood amid the burning wreckage, his initial plan—to appear as the mysterious, metal-bending savior—having been completely ruined by Kurt's panicked, desperate teleportation.
He was left in a slightly awkward, almost comical position: the grand arrival of the X-Jet had ended in a fiery, undignified crash, and the three people he had intended to impress were now staring at him with suspicion, not gratitude.
"Eric, what in the blazes are you doing here?" Jean Grey demanded, pulling herself up from the dusty ground, her psychic eyes narrowing into dangerous slits. She was still dizzy from the telepathic missile strike. "You were supposed to be in your specialized plastic cage! Professor X brought Scott to see you! What happened, and why is this plane a wreck?"
"Whoosh!"
With a smooth, almost casual wave of his hand, Magneto exerted his absolute control, lifting the smoking, twisted metal wreckage of the X-Jet and gently setting it down on a nearby patch of empty forest ground.
He looked at the plane, which was now little more than a pile of broken, melted aluminum and composite, and shook his head, a wry, defeated expression on his face. "I was planning to utilize this magnificent craft for a quick commute across the country, but it seems that won't be an option now."
He turned back to the shocked mutants, his gaze intense. "Charles and your Cyclops have been compromised, arrested, and transported away. It was William Stryker, the military dog, who orchestrated this.
His endgame is the Cerebro brainwave amplification machine! He probably can't move the original one from your academy, but I have reason to believe he is preparing to build and weaponize a second machine."
"Wait, wait! How did that military man, Stryker, even know about Cerebro, much less its function? Did you tell him, Eric?" Ororo, the usually composed Storm, demanded, her voice rising with justified indignation, a subtle static crackling around her.
"There was no way for me to resist his unique power," Magneto admitted, nodding toward the shattered hull of the jet. He slowly raised the heavy, crimson helmet in his hand.
"The man has a weapon that bypasses physical defenses and goes straight for the mind. Not just me, but even a formidable psychic like Charles—the most powerful mind on the planet—probably couldn't resist the force this man is capable of wielding."
"What?! How is that possible? The Professor's psychic abilities are virtually limitless! How could there be someone whose will he can't resist, or at least shield against?!" Ororo and Jean Grey exclaimed in unison, their voices filled with surprise and disbelief. In their minds, Charles was the ultimate defense, the final word in mental warfare!
"The secret is his son, Jason. That wretched boy is William Stryker's trump card," Magneto explained, his eyes flashing with a rare hint of genuine, paralyzing fear—not for his own safety, but for the implications of the plan.
"Stryker is utilizing Jason, a mutant capable of creating realistic mental illusions, to control Charles and force him to use Cerebro to kill every single mutant on Earth!"
He tightened his grip on the helmet. With this metal barrier, Magneto knew he could protect his own mind and survive the mental wave, but few of his fellow mutants would be spared, and his entire life's pursuit—mutant dominance—would vanish into thin air.
"Where has the Professor been taken now? Tell us, Eric!" Jean Grey demanded, abandoning her caution for urgency.
"I do not know the precise location of the facility," Magneto shook his head. "However, Logan—Wolverine—has a deep, bloody history with William Stryker. If he can access his suppressed memories, he can lead us directly to Stryker's hidden location, which I believe is near a place called Lake Alkali."
"Logan! He's in Chinatown!" Ororo quickly volunteered the location Logan had given her during their short-lived phone call. "We were on our way to find him there when we ran into your military friends, but now…"
"Then we must secure transport and make for the city without delay," Magneto said, pausing only a moment. He looked at the damaged plane beside him, then at the three bewildered mutants. "Since there is absolutely no possibility of repairing this plane in time for a discreet flight, you might as well let me do something with the leftover metal."
Before Jean Grey and the others could reply or protest, Magneto's power surged, and the entire mass of the X-Jet's wreckage began to shift, groan, and contort. He completely transformed the scattered pieces of metal into a streamlined, heavily armored metal transport box, roughly the size and shape of an oversized armored vehicle.
He then magnetically ushered everyone inside. Controlling this crude, metal car from the outside, he began to move it rapidly toward the lights of the city.
With a faint, almost inaudible "crack!" sound, Huang Wen, deep in seclusion in his room at the Wing Chun martial arts school, felt a subtle fracture come from the very core of his dantian. It was as if he had broken through a glass ceiling—a final, absolute barrier. The internal energy that had been stagnant at 99 points suddenly surged, contracting, becoming incredibly refined, solid, and dense.
"Whoosh!" Huang Wen opened his eyes. A faint, pure golden light shot out from his pupils, piercing the darkness of his sealed room before instantly receding.
A wave of profound satisfaction washed over him. He had finally, and permanently, strengthened himself to a monumental degree. This time, the massive power surge was entirely his own, an ascent from Extraordinary to Legendary achieved through sheer diligence and the integration of his entire being.
"This feeling… is this what a true Legend feels like? Is this the famed Innate Realm of martial arts lore?" Huang Wen nodded, a deeper layer of comprehension settling into his mind as he connected his current state with the theoretical knowledge imparted by Bai Zhantang.
He had just broken through to the Legendary Realm, which, in the language of the martial world, was the fabled Innate Realm, where the Qi was pure and could sustain the body indefinitely.
"No, it shouldn't just be the Innate Realm," he quickly corrected himself. "The Legendary realm is already the third major tier of power in the system. The truly cosmic, god-tier entities in the later myths shouldn't be only three steps above being an 'Innate Master'!"
Thinking of this, Huang Wen brought up his character panel to confirm the results of his self-breakthrough.
Host: Huang Wen.
Refinement: 1115 (+999) points.
Qi: 101 points.
God: 11.1 (+9.9) points.
Skills: Ip Man Ability Pack, Gunfighting Technique, Steamed Bun Grenade, Bai Zhantang Ability Pack, Ah Xing Ability Pack, Dream Butterfly Escape, Vajra Indestructible Divine Skill, Immortal Body (derived from the Rebirth Dragon Character)
Item (being equipped): Regeneration Dragon Badge
Evaluation: With the Regeneration Dragon Badge equipped, you are already a legendary master with well-rounded development in spirit, energy, and combat. However, remember not to rely too much on external things. The ability that you truly possess is the one that you control within yourself.
"As expected, I've permanently and fundamentally entered the Legendary realm for my core attributes," Huang Wen confirmed, satisfied that his base Jing and Qi had finally broken the 100-point limit.
However, the system's final evaluation was sharp and sobering. It reinforced his own deep-seated wariness: the Regeneration Dragon Emblem was powerful, but it was an external tool. Such auxiliary equipment, though indispensable right now, was not as reliable as the raw, indestructible power he cultivated internally.
"Hmm?" Just then, Huang Wen raised an eyebrow. He had just lowered the psychic field that sealed his room when his newly magnified, Legend-level senses immediately registered the approach of a distinct, organized group of people toward Chinatown.
He expanded his consciousness, a slight application of his Shen giving him detailed, real-time awareness. He saw a group of over a dozen tough-looking Chinese men—unfamiliar faces with aggressive postures and a menacing, predatory stride. They were clearly not part of the normal flow of the neighborhood. The sun was just beginning to rise, and only a few early-rising, elderly neighbors were stirring.
"Who are these clowns?" A hint of cold certainty flashed in Huang Wen's eyes. This group had ill intentions; they weren't here for dim sum or morning exercise. They were looking for trouble.
Thinking quickly, Huang Wen stepped out of his room. Instead of making a dramatic jump from the second floor—which would be too flashy for the impending mundane conflict—he calmly walked down the stairs and opened the heavy wooden door of the Wing Chun martial arts school, stepping out onto the sidewalk just as the gang leader approached.
"Well, well. If it isn't the little Wing Chun nephew. Are you opening the door this early just to welcome your seniors?" The leader of the group, a hulking man with a greasy ponytail and a scarred face, laughed loudly, a sound that grated in the quiet morning air.
"I heard that your Wing Chun martial arts school has been raking in quite a bit of money since your old man passed... especially after you knocked out that boxer."
"So?" Huang Wen asked, his voice low, measured, and dangerously cold. A faint glint of lethal intent flashed deep in his eyes, quickly masked by practiced neutrality.
"So," the man swaggered closer, clearly emboldened by his crew flanking him. "After the old Brotherhood was predictably wiped out, this entire district—all of Chinatown—has been assigned to our new organization: the mighty Star Gang! Listen up, nephew, I know you think you're a great fighter; you even beat some local punching bag. But things are different now. Fists don't matter in the real world. This is the only law!"
The man pulled open his cheap jacket, smugly pointing to the ugly, black pistol tucked into his waistband, and looked at Huang Wen with an utterly dismissive, mocking grin.
"Starting today, the entire Chinatown will be contributing to the greater good of the community. We don't need much. The standard membership fee for joining my Star Gang is a minimal $500 a month, plus a simple 30% of your monthly gross income. This amount should be a trivial matter for a rich kid who's made a lot of money, right?"
"The Star Gang?" A look of cold, predatory understanding flashed in Huang Wen's eyes. This was the exact gang that Uncle Zhong had, in his well-meaning but naive way, once suggested Huang Wen should try to contact for "protection."
Huang Wen had refused then, citing his own strength. Now, he felt only contempt. He did not expect this pathetic group of thugs to actually come here, in person, to court death right on his newly consecrated threshold.
The Wing Chun Kwoon was officially under the protection of a Legendary Master, and these rats had just walked into the lion's den.