Getting Started

Jude stared blankly at the news playing on the television. Only now did he understand that he had not arrived in America from the real world, but America from the American Comics World—a world where DC and Marvel had merged.

There was no need to explain how much more dangerous the American Comics World was than the real world. Setting aside the various superheroes and supervillains, the vast universe, the depths of space, and the multiverse were filled with countless powerful beings.

Take the two most famous supervillains, for example: DC's Darkseid, and Thanos, Marvel's purple potato imitation of Darkseid. Both possessed an overwhelming desire to conquer and destroy.

Not to mention god-level villains like Dormammu, Trigon, the Celestials, the Anti-Monitor, Brainiac, Black Flash, the Beyonder, Cyttorak, and so on. These people loved dropping by Earth to stir up trouble whenever they had nothing better to do. A casual move from them could shatter heaven and earth, leaving countless dead and injured.

In a world like this, the first thing he needed to do was protect himself, lest he get caught in the aftermath of some battle and die without even knowing how.

"No wonder I fused with Grandpa Rick. In a world this dangerous, how could I have handled fusing with an ordinary person?"

But when he thought of his current freakish brain, much of his fear faded away. What was so great about superheroes? As a scientist, if I don't like something, I'll change it. If I can't change it, I'll destroy it. Anyone who dares stand in my way—even a god—I'll kill them for you!

Touching the corner of his mouth, Jude tossed down twenty dollars and rose to leave the restaurant. Just as he was about to step outside, the owner, Ceres, called out.

"Herbert, a word of warning. Some Foot Clan members came in for dinner yesterday. While chatting, they mentioned that you owe them quite a bit of money. The deadline's coming up in a few days. If you can't pay them back, they're taking your 1957 Chevrolet."

"What? That's the most valuable thing I own. It's more important than my life!"

"That's why I told you not to borrow money from them. Your car was their target from the beginning."

"Thanks, Ceres."

Jude left the restaurant with a frown. That Chevrolet classic car was practically an antique, the kind of treasure that belonged in an automobile museum. They wanted to drive it away for three thousand bucks? Keep dreaming!

He had no idea what the original owner had been thinking. He clearly knew the Foot Clan was after his car, yet he had still chosen to borrow from them.

He first returned to the apartment to grab his repair tools, then followed his memories to find his classic car in the parking lot beside the building. Among all the vehicles there, it truly stood head and shoulders above the rest, utterly unique.

Jude patted the hood. "Your original owner had an obsession. He didn't want anyone else ruining you. But I'm not a car lover, so rather than let someone else ruin you, I might as well ruin you first."

With that, he grabbed wrenches and pliers and removed the engine, followed by the tires, chassis, and body. In less than half an hour, under Jude's incredible hands-on skill, an antique classic car had been reduced to a pile of scrap metal.

He then sorted through the parts, packed up what he needed, and hauled a bag back to the apartment.

Gears, distributor, spark plugs, transmission...

"Good. That's just enough to put together a small, simple laser weapon frame."

Jude took a swig of beer, his hands rapidly assembling and dismantling parts. Grandpa Rick's unmatched technological talent and practical skill manifested fully at that moment.

He first extracted the remaining gasoline from the Chevrolet, then mixed in one-quarter water, diluted it through a filter mesh and sanitary pads, added one-sixteenth cola, and finally dropped in three drops of cod liver oil. Once everything blended together, the original gasoline became barely usable liquefied gas.

He then connected the fuel pump drive and ventilation valve with rubber tubing, creating a simple blowtorch.

Gulp, gulp...

He drained the beer in one go and muttered to himself, "Time to get to work!"

He pulled out the lighter in his pocket and ignited it. Liquefied gas sprayed out, instantly forming a pillar of flame. Under the searing heat, the previously unrelated car parts began to melt and fuse together. In less than an hour, he had made a palm-sized laser emitter frame.

"Now I need an energy battery."

As he spoke, Jude began inspecting the room. At last, his gaze settled on the television against the wall.

Five minutes later, the television had been dismantled into pieces amid unwilling creaks. Jude took the picture tube, power board, and standby power supply. After some disassembly and assembly, a black battery two fingers wide appeared in his hand.

As long as he left the battery in sunlight for two hours, it would be fully charged. Its capacity was limited, but it should be enough to support twenty or thirty shots.

Only after finishing all this did Jude let out a breath of relief. He had made this small laser emitter because he had no other choice. Although Grandpa Rick's close-combat abilities were extremely powerful, this body was simply too weak. Even with Grandpa Rick's combat memories, his skinny arms and frail frame could not put them to use. If he really fought someone with this body, the most likely outcome was that he would twist a bone out of place or dislocate a joint before he could hurt anyone else.

But with the laser emitter, everything was different. If the Foot Clan dared come looking for trouble, he could make sure none of them left alive.

After finishing that, Jude began exploring this body's memories. Because they had fused with Grandpa Rick's powerful mental strength, the original owner's tiny store of memories had been compressed until they were nearly scattered, fragmented into pieces that took considerable effort to recall clearly.

A full hour passed before Jude managed to piece together some clues. It turned out that he was currently in Gotham City, known as the most dangerous city in all of America, with the highest crime rate.

Even Superman had once said of Gotham City that, compared with his own enemies, Gotham's criminals were more terrifying.

The meaning behind that was easy to understand. Gotham's criminals were either lunatics or psychopaths; those with sound personalities were almost nonexistent. While these criminals did not possess overwhelming destructive power, their methods were even more appalling and tested the limits of human decency.

He also found some information about the Foot Clan. This gang was one of the groups that had risen to prominence recently, but there was nothing else particularly special about it. Perhaps there was more, but how much could an ordinary person know?

He also uncovered why the original owner had borrowed those three thousand dollars. It turned out that Ivy, his childhood companion, had been imprisoned for theft. Ivy had few friends and could only turn to him for help.

Driven by the hazy feelings of their childhood, the original owner had decided to bail Ivy out. But where could a poor kid get that kind of money? After working hard for a week, he had earned only five hundred dollars, nowhere near enough for bail.

With no other choice, the original owner resolutely borrowed three thousand dollars from the Foot Clan. But when he arrived at the prison, the Deputy Warden took his money without releasing Ivy. Instead, he sneered and told him that Ivy had already been transferred away, that he had come too late, and then had him thrown out.

The original owner returned to the apartment in a daze, and Chen Xing happened to transmigrate and take over his body.