Bio-Field

To avoid damaging someone else's property, Henry had no choice but to experiment on his own hand again.

After quite a bit of fussing, he finally found some clues. In essence, it all came down to that Superman cheat—the bio-field application he didn't know how to rationalize.

If the light of a Yellow Sun could alter his physique, then solar energy wasn't being fully utilized for the transformation itself; a considerable portion was being stored.

And this storage wasn't like in martial arts novels, where internal energy is all kept in the dantian.

Because Henry's senses were developed enough to be clearly aware of his own organs and physical condition, he could distinctly feel that every time he basked in the sun, aside from his body cells being strengthened, an extra stream of energy was absorbed into his body.

That energy was everywhere, but it was confined to the area beneath the skin, including secreted hair. This was part of the secret behind the indestructible Iron Body—it wasn't solely relying on mutated, strengthened cells to tank all damage.

As long as he used this energy properly, he could almost achieve whatever he imagined!

The reason he said "almost" was because in Henry's simple tests, there was nothing he couldn't do. This included making Heat Vision not damage a mirror, and after reflecting onto himself, only burning off the beard hair exposed outside the skin.

But doing this reduced the amount of energy stored in his body.

For an act like shaving, the reduction was roughly one ten-thousandth of a billionth of his current stored energy...

With such an ability, Henry almost wanted to call this power that could make his wishes come true "magic."

The reason it was called "Bio-Field" in Superman's setting was probably to highlight that Superman came from Krypton, a planet far more advanced than Earth, so naturally, there wouldn't be any scientifically inexplicable "magic" involved.

On the other hand, since he was raised with a science-based education and later discovered his origins on a technologically advanced planet, Superman had no need to develop magical abilities.

To test this idea, Henry tried a basic trick—starting a fire.

He simply rubbed his index finger and thumb together, and without any difficulty, a flame like a lighter's appeared at his fingertip!

This discovery made Henry momentarily doubt whether he was really a Kryptonian, but he quickly understood why Superman didn't develop this kind of ability.

From a scientific perspective, energy conversion inevitably faces a problem: the generation of entropy. In short, waste.

Using his Heat Vision to burn off all the stubble on his chin, cheeks, and neck only consumed one ten-thousandth of a billionth of his stored energy.

But that little finger-flame trick instantly drained one ten-thousandth of his energy reserve. And the longer he kept the flame going, the more energy continuously vanished.

Simply put, pulling off these seemingly magical effects was an extremely inefficient energy conversion.

Using super-speed to make fire by friction? That was zero loss.

He couldn't even imagine trying to pull off something like that black magic wizard from another universe's World War II—burning down all of Paris with a firestorm. He'd need to strap several Supermen together as magic batteries to manage that.

Of course, this conclusion was based on the fact that his solar battery hadn't been charging for long, and his energy reserve wasn't even close to its peak—whether it had even left the red zone was questionable.

Plus, he had no idea if there were more efficient ways to use magic, like properly employing certain rituals or items.

Alternatively, he could fall back on Marvel's original setting: all the magic used by sorcerers was actually borrowed from Dimensional Demons. The difference was who they borrowed from and how they'd eventually repay it.

Anyway, from all the signs, he was looking more and more like a Kryptonian. At least in terms of displayed abilities, he was quite similar to the Superman in his memory. He just needed to test if he had Super Breath and Flight.

...Or maybe he was actually the descendant of a Kryptonian explorer and a native of some planet—a Daxamite.

These aliens were very similar to Kryptonians; they could also absorb Yellow Sunlight to strengthen themselves and weren't afraid of Kryptonite. But they were vulnerable to lead, a substance far more common on Earth.

So he shouldn't think that having super strength and an Iron Body meant he could go wild.

If he wasn't a Kryptonian but a Daxamite, someone could take him out without hunting for alien ore—just use lead bullets to turn him into a sieve. Lead bullets were standard ammunition!

The problem was! What kind of person he really was, Henry still had no conclusion.

In his recent daily life, he didn't even know if he'd encountered anything containing lead. So he couldn't determine which planet this transmigrated version of himself came from.

Don't think he spent much time figuring things out in the bathroom—thanks to his super-brain's processing speed, he actually didn't take long.

But the ruckus he made was a bit loud. Even though he didn't damage anything in the bathroom, someone outside might have heard something.

His right hand, which he'd used as an experiment target, was in rough shape—flesh and bone were exposed. Although he could see it healing, it was still a far cry from the immortal-level regeneration speed of Wolverine or Deadpool.

To avoid scaring anyone, Henry tore a strip of cloth from an old shirt, washed it, and wrapped it around his palm.

As for the pain? Honestly, after enduring the torture in the later stages of the research institute, even if he were nailed through his hands and feet like Jesus, that pain would just be a drizzle—nothing to feel.

After tidying up, Henry walked out of the bathroom, passed through the big room, and entered Tom's office.

The office's owner had both legs propped up on his desk, crossed and lounging, with a face full of displeasure.

When he saw Henry come out, he was about to say something. But when he noticed the cloth wrapped around Henry's right hand, his words got stuck.

After a moment, Tom gave a sympathetic look and said comfortingly, "Young man, high libido, I get it. If you have needs, I can take you to the strip club in town.

"Use a little finesse, plus a bit of cash to pave the way, and you can find an ideal sweetheart for the night. No need to mess up your hand like that—You must have rubbed it raw.

"With your hand like that, want me to take you to the pharmacy for some ointment first? Or maybe buy some lube."

...What the hell? What did this guy think was going on?

Compared to explaining the injury on his hand, Henry inexplicably felt more inclined to test what would happen if he used Heat Vision on a brain.

Would it melt through like a laser, or boil the brain until it burst and exploded?

Right in front of him was a perfectly good head to test on.

New book, requesting follow-up reads, collections, and recommendations. Thank you~