N'Jadaka and his companions were lying in the jungle.
It wasn't until night fell, when the dead-silent primeval forest gradually began to hear the sounds of animals chirping and whimpering, that we slowly returned to the direction of Wakanda.
They looked at the messy passage that had been bulldozed. The Okoume and Niové surrounded by two people were cut off from the roots and pushed aside. Common shrubs and acacia grass were crushed into pieces of green grass mats.
Wakanda The changes in the periphery even caused them to lose their direction for a moment, but this road, which was large enough to carry two large transport trucks in parallel, extended into the interior of the kingdom.
Bang, bang, bang.
The packages and luggage in their hands all fell to the ground. N'Jadaka did not cry, but ran as hard as he could toward the plain by the lake. He beat his legs crazily and stumbled over rocks from time to time.
As he ran, tears welled up silently, and they fell on the densely packed tribesmen covering the entire river valley and plain.
N'Jadaka wiped his tears and his flat nose twitched. He took off T'Chaka's Black Panther helmet and still shook Brother Wang's body without making any noise.
More and more Wakanda tribesmen came out of caves or dense forests, and the sounds of grief and sorrow rose and fell. N'Jadaka looked at T'Chaka in disbelief and twitched the corner of his mouth. Only then did he want to get up and down, listening to the faint heartbeat in Vibranium's armor.
Gradually, the Wakanda soldiers, who were lying on the grass and soil like dead corpses, stood up one after another. They looked around blankly. The sky was already dark, but they could still clearly see that each other was safe and sound, with no injuries on their bodies.
"It's okay, N'Jadaka, don't cry."
T'Challa gently patted the little brother who finally cried loudly, grabbed the helmet on the ground, and looked around anxiously, looking at the clansmen hugging each other and crying. Everything was fine, and nothing seemed to have changed.
He breathed a long sigh of relief, and probably had some concerns in his mind. He glanced in the northwest direction inadvertently, and the helmet in his hand fell to the ground with a bang.
In the hidden country Wakanda that has lasted for thousands of years, nothing has changed and everything has changed.
Early in the morning, New York Manhattan.
Xinli S.H.I.E.L.D. Headquarters, Mutation Power Research Lab.
No matter how Hank·McCoy ensured that this experiment would go smoothly, Charles·Xavier still hesitated to sit on the chair that looked like a hairdressing salon for perming.
He had a vivid memory of the bone-crushing pain caused by having an iron drill inserted into his brain and then stirring it up again and again.
"Mr. Stark from the Scientific R&D Department came over and gave me a lot of advice. He also participated in changing the sensitivity and power of the synaptic joints."
"He is indeed a genius. I heard that he was recently doing elemental decomposition of an unknown energy captured during World War II. He might be able to win the Nobel Prize for his discovery of New Element."
The slim Hank dragged on her huge leather shoes that were seriously out of proportion to her body. While confirming the data settings over and over on the console, she praised Howard·Stark highly.
After hearing this, Charles subconsciously raised his eyebrows, squinted his eyes, and looked at the rather decent Cerebro device, feeling that it looked a bit like the electric chair used by death row prisoners.
"Thank you Hank. Mr. Stark's reputation is not reliable. Your comfort is really helpful."
While muttering, he finally walked up the steps and sat down.
Hank·McCoy's palms were a little sweaty. He rubbed it on his white coat, turned around and carefully held up the silver-gray Cerebro 2.0 helmet. He let out a long sigh and slowly placed it on Charles's head with thick brown-black hair.
"Ahem Professor Xavier, um, Raven didn't come with you today?"
"Just call me Charles. Raven has been running away recently. After all, I now have a teaching job in the college and a consulting job here. I can no longer keep an eye on her every day like before."
Hank pushed up his glasses with some disappointment and signaled to Charles that the helmet had been put on. After hesitating for a few seconds, he still asked in a squeaky voice:
"Raven Does she like watching movies? I, I have two tickets for the premiere of Ms. Monroe's new movie <The Misfits>, which is a western romance movie."
Hank hesitated to start talking about the plot summary of the movie, and kept trying to explain that this movie would be exciting and worth watching. Charles was stunned for a moment, scratched his forehead, laughed out loud, and then said:
"Hank! I believe this must be a good movie. Raven will be interested in it. She always likes to go out and play, but you have to keep an eye on her for me and don't use your abilities randomly. Then, should we start?"
"Oh! Yes, yes, this time Cerebro has been improved and equipped with a power valve, which will gradually increase the radiation range as your brain waves explore, and will not 'explode' your brain at the beginning."
Hank nodded hurriedly, his fair and delicate cheeks turned red. He explained the improved features and optimization content of the instrument very quickly. Just when he was about to ask what the variant ability of Raven was, he already pressed the start button in his hand.
Bang, bang, bang.
Micro-blue light came from the console, following clusters of alloy-wrapped pipelines to the helmet worn by Charles. His face was illuminated by the faint blue light in an extremely mysterious way. His brain felt a brief stab of pain for a few times, and he quickly stabilized.
Charles·Xavier spreads out his Mind Stone power, covering the entire Manhattan almost instantly. As his thoughts extend, Cerebro's energy amplification rate also increases accordingly. Although it is still a little unstable, and his temples may feel swelling and pain from time to time, he can basically use it normally.
"How's it going?"
Hank looked at the professor who was gradually showing a fanatical smile and asked anxiously. Charles's mind seemed to have drifted to an unknown distance. His eyes were looking at Hank's face, but the focus was thousands of miles away.
Charles·Xavier seems to have constructed a world shrouded in gray fog in his mind. Only life has color.
The densely packed and endless ordinary human beings are white, and the scattered red brain wave images are Mutants, but they are particularly conspicuous in the vast sea of people. There are even green orangutans and blue dolphins with higher brain wave frequencies that are similar to humans.
Charles can arbitrarily project perceptual thoughts into their minds, and instantly gain access to the other person's vision and thoughts. He controls his own Mind Stone induction, blocking out the endless majestic thoughts of all sentient beings, and focuses his attention on the dazzling red brainwave figure.
At this moment, he could control the mighty power of thousands of lives and wills in a flash of thought, making him unconsciously intoxicated by it.
Mutants's unique brainwave image can only be used to distinguish their mutant identities, but it cannot judge mutant abilities and levels. However, Charles can be projected into the other person's mind at any time. Not only can he see what he sees and think, but he can also read this person's life in an instant.
Sometimes he would sit in a taxi and look at New York the bustling streets of Broadway. From time to time he would pay attention to whether there were any customers greeting him on the roadside. The hand holding the steering wheel had dark skin, thick and strong.
Sometimes she would dance on the stage of a bar where no customers were seated, flipping her body around, looking enchanting and pretty. It seemed to be some kind of show that men liked.
The entire city of New York was soon in Charles's mind. He saw a special shadow in the direction of Long Island. It was not red and white or the colorful shape of any animal, but a faintly shining, diamond-like spiritual image, which was very eye-catching.
He curiously explored it and quickly withdrew before making contact, disappearing in the blink of an eye.
Charles soon realized that this was the young lady who was not easy to mess with. He rationally ran a little further and expanded to a farther area, with New York as the center, exploring along the way.
Philadelphia, Baltimore, Washington
His consciousness even came to White House, because there was also a bright red shadow there.
"Hmph! Pretty smart."
New York Long Island's Howlett Estate mansion, Emma·Frost stood up from the soft and thick velvet quilt, grabbed the corner of the quilt with one hand, and covered the bulging white tenderness on his chest. His eyes flashed, he raised his eyebrows, and snorted sharply.
"What's wrong?"
James·Howlett put his arms around Emma Yingying's waist, which was extremely strong, and asked curiously.
The sharp look in Emma's eyes suddenly turned into a pool of clear and moist water, and he got back into bed and wrapped around James's golden and jade-like body.
"It's that young professor. He must have used some instrument to greatly increase the projection range of Mind Stone's power. At Fisher Stadium, I felt the vast sea of spiritual power swept away. At that time, I thought it was the Mutants under Xiao."
Emma explained gently while rubbing the skin of James's chest, comparing it with his own.
Although she fully mastered her mutation ability after her breakthrough, and after unlocking the diamond transformation, her skin transformed incredibly well. It was not only radiant and extremely white, but also smooth and seemed to be made of the freshest egg white, and even the pores were not visible.
But even so, it seems to be inferior to James.
His body is an all-round perfection, with skeletal proportions and body shape, which coincide with a certain aesthetic charm. From every strand of hair to the white jade teeth that are as smooth as snow, it seems that he has evolved to the extreme of human beings.
"Isn't it possible that it's his own power?"
James has always been very curious about the form of power in the Mind Stone field, but this aspect is too mysterious and mysterious to be described in words.
"No, the traces of power with a special increase in energy fluctuations are very obvious. However, with his Mind Stone induction and the assistance of such instruments, it is possible to master the thoughts and spirits of intelligent life in the entire world."
Emma looked at James with some worry. Of course she herself would not be affected, especially since Diamond Form could support a wide range of Mind Stone barriers.
James's spirit is even more integrated with his body. You can't even "see" his Mind Stone image, as if he is an ordinary human being. But when you really try to delve deeper, you will find that your Mind Stone power is facing a vast and majestic mountain range.
There are probably only a few people in the world who can protect themselves under the power of Mind Stone as powerful as Charles·Xavier.
James's hands were kneading something under the quilt, he shook his head and smiled softly:
"The research institute's development of materials to shield Mind Stone's induction is getting better and better. This colleague of Erik should have received official help. We don't need to worry about such power. He has already caused big trouble for himself."
Emma, with a flushed face, resisted saying anything and covered herself up with the quilt again. After being reborn, her physical fitness also improved significantly.
Washington, White House round hall.
"Okay! Mr. President, the FBI will do its best to cooperate with S.H.I.E.L.D.'s work. Please rest assured."
At the summons of President John·Kennedy, Edgar Hoover expressed his stance on the investigation plan of mutant power with the newly reorganized S.H.I.E.L.D., Minister of Intelligence Roger Dooley.
In public, Director Hoover has always been so respectful to previous presidents that no one can fault him.
Even though decades have passed and his so-called "shadow leader" title has spread throughout the America political arena, he is still cautious enough at the official level.
Kennedy President gave two final instructions. He was particularly concerned and asked to report to himself in detail at each stage of the investigation.
Hoover lowered his head, as if he was really old and not in good spirits. He looked at the knots on the oak table legs and suddenly became interested in Mr. President's unusual attitude of attention.
". That's it, Mutants's affairs are the first level of America's intelligence priority. I still have some proposals to sign, you two--"
"Mr. President, I hope to communicate with you some more important intelligence information."
Kennedy's words faltered, and he nodded reluctantly, but his expression was as usual, nothing unusual. He shook hands with Roger Dooley again, said a few words of encouragement, and finally stayed alone in the rotunda with Edgar Hoover.
Mr. President suddenly felt a little awkward, and his side ribs were itchy and tingling.
Hoover stretched his legs, collapsed on the sofa, and spread his hands as if he were at home. He stood up neatly, went to the side and skillfully opened the wine cabinet, and poured himself half a glass of whiskey.
"Where's the ice?"
"Ice--"
As soon as a word popped out of Kennedy's mouth subconsciously, he closed his mouth tightly. He watched Hoover rummaging around, reluctantly took a sip without adding ice, and said in a loud voice.
"Sir, my brother's incident has had a very bad impact! He and that female star - whom you are also very familiar with, Miss Monroe, have been photographed on many occasions."
Hoover The word "particularly familiar" has a strange meaning. Kennedy The energy that President had just raised suddenly fell silent. He pinched the cap of his pen and watched the director under him continue to report loyally and courageously:
"You also know that the outside world will make a fuss about the surname 'Kennedy', and even connect you two brothers. The third-rate writers in Hollywood are going crazy! This is simply the best romantic story template in history, and someone has photographed it -"
"Alright Director Hoover, no matter who photographed what or how they photographed it, you must have a way to deal with it. You don't need to tell me anymore. Is the Investigation Bureau's funds insufficient recently? I will write a proposal to the House of Representatives."
John·Kennedy's voice was not loud, but his tone was firm and stopped Hoover's next performance. In the past thirty years, no America president has avoided being pinched or attracted by him. For people who can sit in this seat, personal happiness and anger are no longer important.
Politicians are a special kind of creature.
"Ahem, the funding problem is actually not big. I am a little uneasy. The newly established S.H.I.E.L.D. has too few power restrictions, and what kind of intelligence work will they do? They are originally engaged in weapons research! It will be very troublesome to split an intelligence agency within America."
"Then what do you think we should do? Let the FBI cooperate with S.H.I.E.L.D.. How about you join the company and take a director position?"
"I think it's feasible!"
Hoover immediately caught Kennedy's probing inquiry, quite frightened and eager to make the sacrifice.
"Haha. Mr. Director is really worried about America every day. Just like you did twenty years ago, you proposed to the authorities to send me to the Pacific Ocean battlefield. At that time, even a little lieutenant could catch your eye."
Mr. President capped off his pen and chatted with Hoover about his experience as a lieutenant in the Navy with a half-smile. His warm and bright smile really looked like old friends lamenting the past.
"Well, you also know the nature of my job. Although I was only a lieutenant, your position at the time was very important. An officer in the Foreign Intelligence Division of the Naval Intelligence Office was involved with a lady who was suspected of being a spy. Being transferred to the front line was also a kind of protection, and -"
Hoover's somewhat bulging eyes had droopy eyelids. He drank the last sip of whiskey, stretched his eyes for a few seconds, and then said leisurely:
"And thanks to that heroic swimming victory, you gained the huge reputation and political capital of the America battle hero, didn't you?"
After a while.
Mr. Hoover walked out of the round hall and was not in a hurry to leave. He sat down on the bench in the corner corridor and did not need to pay attention to the White House staff coming and going.
In 1943, Navy Lieutenants John·Kennedy were sent to the Pacific Ocean battlefield. After the PT-109 torpedo cutter under their command was sunk by a Japanese torpedo, Lieutenant Kennedy used amazing courage to rescue many subordinate officers and soldiers, and finally swam to victory.
After several months of recuperation in the hospital, Kennedy returned to America and became a famous fighting hero. He was even once as good as the man who now only has a sealed code name. With this reputation capital, Kennedy's military and political career has been smooth.
"We swam armed more than ten nautical miles offshore. We also led seven or eight people. Hehe!"
Hoover smiled slyly. Mr. President's achievements back then were exaggerated. Director Hoover, who has become more mature, kept flashing information about Kennedy's early and recent past in his mind, including his personal medical records.
With a bang, an idea exploded out of thin air in my head.
Edgar Hoover was stunned like a lightning strike. His lips moved up and down silently, and many fragmentary details were connected in his mind. Reports about the Mutants group that has existed in human society for decades, and is even currently increasing in number, appeared in front of him page after page.
Mr. Hoover, the then director who founded FBI, almost had an idea in his mind.
"President Kennedy is Mutants!"
Charles·Xavier gasped and withdrew from the amplification state of Cerebro. He did not continue to explore, and his mind kept flashing back to the only bright red brain wave image he saw in White House.
That's the current president sitting in the White House rotunda.
On the distant roof of the world, an ancient temple-shaped building located deep in Himalayas stands impossibly halfway up the snowy peak.
This rather large wooden and stone palace is exquisite but not gorgeous, with overhanging eaves and stacked pavilions. It stands here alone, but there is no way up the mountain. It seems as if it has fallen from the sky out of thin air.
But I didn't expect that such an ancient temple in the mountains, which was so unpopular and disappeared, that there were actually people living here.
"Sorcerer Supreme."
An elderly-looking man with yellow skin and gray hair and beard, wearing an ocher red robe, walked out of a circle of light with tiny sparks of light, bowed his head and kneaded his hands toward the temple-style hall, and saluted respectfully.
"Master Wong, Vishanti How is the barrier repaired?"
"Back to Sorcerer Supreme, the barrier is no longer in serious trouble. The uninhabited valley on that continent was destroyed into an extremity. It is very similar to what was caused by the 'cannonballs' dropped on Neon more than ten years ago in the secular country."
A thin figure sitting cross-legged on the futon with wide purple sleeves floated into the air, then spread his legs and walked down the stone steps.
She has platinum-blond waist-length hair, a tall but thin figure, and looks like a young woman, but her voice and behavior are like a man's.
Except for a simple brass pendant hanging on his chest and wearing purple clothes, there is nothing else.
She lightly opened her thin lips, her voice was indistinguishable from male to female, as clear as jade jade, and the language she spoke was actually James's very familiar China dialect.
"It cannot be done by mortals. The trinity Vishanti barrier created by Sanctum Sanctorum protects against magic and the evil power of alien space. Real-life destruction such as cannonball flames and meteors and meteorites cannot affect the barrier."
"That"
"It was the explosion of extremely pure life energy and powerful soul consciousness that caused a hole in Vishanti's power. If it were not still far away from the sky, this power would probably cause the nearest Sanctum Sanctorum seal to collapse immediately."
Sorcerer Supreme pondered for a moment, rubbed the brass pendant in his hand a few times, and then ordered:
"Master Wong, go down and prepare. You need to worry more about setting up a new Sanctum Sanctorum at New York."
Master Wong, who is not young and not very tall, put his hands together in salute, walked vigorously and swayed his rather strong and strong body, and left the temple hall built of ancient mahogany and slatted bluestone.
The young and handsome-looking Sorcerer Supreme took out a brass-colored ring that was pierced between two fingers from his sleeve. He kneaded it in his hand and rotated it to open a circular portal that was splashed with tiny sparks. He stepped closer, jumped into it and disappeared.
The last grain of Mars Oil Field fell on the stone steps of the temple. This ancient palace, where tranquility could be smelled in the air and the passage of time could be seen in the crisp ringing of the copper bells, became deserted again.
It seems that for thousands of years, there has never been a trace of human beings.
The second volume is over. The next volume will not have a large time span, but the conflicts and plot clues of the story will have a completely new direction.
Volume 3 Title: Mutant Dynasty