Biological Force Field

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

After a great deal of fumbling around, he finally found some clues. In the end, it was that Superman cheat ability—the Biological Force Field—that he had no idea how to rationalize or use properly.

If Yellow Sun light changed his physique, then not all the solar energy was being used to transform his body. A considerable portion of it was being stored away.

But this storage did not feel like the inner power in martial arts novels, all gathered in the dantian.

Because Henry's heightened senses gave him an extremely clear understanding of his organs and physical condition, he could distinctly feel that every time he basked in the sun, aside from his cells being strengthened, an additional energy was absorbed into his body.

That energy was everywhere, yet it remained confined beneath his skin, including the hair growing from it. This was part of the secret behind the Steel Body's invulnerability. It was not simply mutated, strengthened cells enduring all the damage.

As long as he used this energy properly, he could almost make anything he wished come true!

The reason he said "almost" was that, in Henry's simple tests, there seemed to be nothing it could not do. It could even make his Heat Vision leave a mirror unharmed, then, after reflecting back at him, burn only the beard exposed outside his skin.

However, doing so reduced the energy stored within his body.

Judging by something like shaving, the amount consumed was roughly one hundred-millionth of his current energy reserves...

With an ability like this, Henry almost wanted to call this power that granted his wishes magic.

The reason it was called a "Biological Force Field" in Superman's settings was probably to emphasize that Superman came from Krypton, whose technology was countless times more advanced than Earth's. Naturally, there would be no "magic" that science could not explain.

It was also because Superman had received a science-focused education as a child, and after discovering his origins, learned that he came from another technologically advanced planet. That gave him no need to develop abilities related to magic.

To verify this idea, Henry tried the most basic trick—starting a fire.

With a simple rub of his thumb and index finger, a flame like that of a lighter appeared at his fingertips without the slightest difficulty!

For a moment, this discovery made Henry doubt whether he really was a Kryptonian. But he immediately understood why Superman had never developed this ability.

From a scientific perspective, energy conversion inevitably faced one problem: the production of entropy. In short, waste.

Using Heat Vision to burn away all the stubble on his chin, cheeks, and neck had consumed only one hundred-millionth of his stored energy.

Yet the tiny action of igniting a flame with his fingers instantly drained one ten-thousandth of his energy reserves. And the longer he maintained the flame, the more energy continued to disappear without end.

Simply put, producing effects that looked like magic was an extremely inefficient form of energy conversion.

Using Super Speed to start a fire by rubbing sticks together had zero energy loss.

He could not even imagine how many Supermen would have to be tied up as magic batteries if he wanted to imitate that dark wizard from World War II in the neighboring franchise, engulf an entire city in flames, and take care of all Paris.

Of course, that conclusion was based on the fact that this solar battery of his had only started sunbathing recently. Never mind nearing peak capacity—whether it had even left the red zone was still a question.

And whether magic had more efficient conversion methods, such as properly using certain rituals or tools, was also unknown.

Otherwise, it could go back to Marvel's original setting, where all magic used by sorcerers was actually borrowed from dimensional demon gods. The only difference was whom they borrowed it from and how they would repay it in the end.

In any case, all signs showed that he was becoming more and more like a Kryptonian. At least in terms of the abilities he displayed, he was very similar to the Superman from his memories. All that remained was to test whether he possessed Super Breath and the ability to fly.

...Or perhaps he was actually the descendant of a Kryptonian adventurer and a native of some planet—in other words, a Daxamian.

These aliens were very similar to Kryptonians. They could also absorb Yellow Sun light to strengthen themselves, and they were not afraid of Kryptonite. However, they feared lead, a substance far more common on Earth.

So he should not assume that having super strength and a Steel Body meant he could act recklessly.

If he was not a Kryptonian but a Daxamian, no one would need to search for alien minerals to deal with him. Lead bullets alone could turn him into a sieve. Lead bullets were standard ammunition.

The problem was, Henry still had no conclusion as to what exactly he was.

He did not even know whether he had encountered anything containing lead in his recent daily life. Therefore, he could not determine which planet this transmigrated version of himself had come from.

Though it looked like he had figured out quite a few things in the bathroom, with the help of Super Brain's thinking speed, he had not actually spent much time.

It was just that the commotion from his blind fumbling had been a little loud. Although he had not damaged anything in the bathroom, people outside had probably heard something.

The right hand he had used as an experimental target was in rather miserable condition, with flesh and bone exposed. Though he could see it healing itself, its recovery speed was still far behind the immortal-level regeneration of Wolverine or Deadpool.

Not wanting to frighten anyone, Henry tore a strip of cloth from an old garment, washed it clean, and wrapped it around his palm.

As for whether it hurt... honestly, after enduring the torture in the latter stages of the research facility, even if nails had been driven through his hands and feet like Jesus's, that amount of pain would have been nothing more than a drizzle. He barely felt it.

After cleaning himself up, Henry left the bathroom, passed through the large room, and arrived at Tom's office.

The owner of the office had both legs propped up on his desk, crossed at the ankles, with an utterly displeased expression on his face.

When he saw Henry come out, he had intended to say something. But the moment he noticed the strip of cloth wrapped around Henry's right hand, the words he had prepared were swallowed back down.

After a moment, Tom gave him a sympathetic look and comforted him. "Young man, I understand. You've got a lot of fire in you. If you need it, I can take you to the strip club in town.

"With better technique and a little cash to pave the way, you can find your ideal sweetheart to spend the night with. There's no need to torture your hand like this. You rubbed the skin off jerking off, didn't you?

"Your hand's already like that. Want me to take you to the pharmacy for some ointment first? Or buy you some lubricant or something?"

...What the fuck? What exactly had this guy understood?

Rather than explain the injury on his hand, Henry suddenly wanted to test what would happen if Heat Vision blew someone's head apart.

Would it melt through like a laser, or boil the brain before splattering it in an explosion?

There was a perfectly good head right in front of him for testing.