Reborn

"Young master, Jack sent a telegram. He said President Lincoln was attacked at the theater by a Southern spy posing as an actor. Fortunately, he arrived in time and shot the assassin, saving the president."

Vane, the butler, stood about ten meters from the stone chamber where James was and relayed the news from Washington.

James let out a long breath. Thank goodness he'd made it in time. The accident that had befallen Victor—and the regret that followed—had changed James forever. Being able to save a friend's life made him feel a little better, at least.

"There's also a telegram from the president. He thanked you for your help and is very concerned about your condition. He hopes to meet with you," Vane continued.

"Send Jack a telegram. Tell them to stay in Washington for now and take charge of President Lincoln's security. Send a telegram to the president, too. Tell him I can't meet with him just yet, and ask him to take care of himself."

"Oh, Uncle Vane, find me a quiet, uninhabited stretch of coast. Build a house there and stock it with daily necessities," James said after a moment's thought.

"Young master, what are you planning?" Vane asked, puzzled and a little worried.

"Don't worry. It'll do me good."

The northern coast of Vancouver Island.

This year's hurricane season was unusually long. The island's residents spent their time cooped up indoors, drinking and cuddling their wives, and occasionally beating their children.

It must have been four or five years ago that a group of strangers built a small stone house on the island's northernmost slope, right beside the sea.

It might have been called a small house, but from nearby, it was about as large as the homes of the town's wealthiest shipping magnates. Three stories tall, it even had something of the look of a medieval castle.

The slope sat beside a cliff dozens of meters high. Few people ever ventured there, and in the years since, no one seemed to have discovered who lived in the stone castle perched at the cliff's edge. The northern coast of the island was lined with reefs and sheer cliffs, making it unsuitable for a harbor, and hardly anyone lived there.

As time passed, even fewer people paid attention to the castle.

James emerged from the house barefoot and bare-chested, wearing only a pair of oilcloth shorts of the sort sailors often wore. His hair had grown a little longer, but his build was still astonishingly huge and muscular.

Dark clouds loomed in the distance, and the hurricane winds howled. He stretched, then ran lightly toward the cliff's edge and leaped, plunging into the black sea fifty meters below.

James kicked smoothly, swimming swiftly beneath the surface like a torpedo as he dived deeper and deeper, traveling more than ten kilometers from Vancouver Island. Over the years, he had searched the seabed and found this stretch of deep water most suitable for his training.

To solve the problems with his body and return to the Huajin level of cultivation, James had spent most of the past few years living in the stone castle atop the cliff. The training grounds beneath the estate could no longer accommodate his current physical strength. Given the space and time available, and the fact that he didn't know the limits of his body's potential, the pressure of the ocean made for a more suitable and convenient place to train.

On his first dive, James reached a depth of about eight hundred meters, an estimate based on how long he had been underwater and how fast he had descended.

The modern human record for an unassisted dive was a little over a hundred meters. At eight hundred meters, the greatest pressure on James came from his internal organs; his bones and muscles could withstand even more.

He began practicing various forms of boxing on the seabed. As he continued, all of them gradually lost their original forms. James extended his bone claws, adapting to their new shape, and continued his training from there.

The immense, endless water pressure bore evenly down on every inch of his body. It was more comprehensive than any training equipment, and James increasingly felt his control over his body returning.

Every so often, Vane sent people to bring him daily necessities, news about current events, and requests for approval on important business matters.

Over the past few years, Mr. Daniel had also helped manage the Howlett Family's business affairs. He had visited James on Vancouver Island twice. Though he still kept a certain distance, he could clearly see that James was doing much better.

The greatest difference was that he wasn't as afraid when they were in the same room.

The deep sea was a place of immense terror. Only the vast vacuum of space could offer anything like it.

James felt he was nearing his body's limits, approaching a depth of three thousand meters. Each time he reached that depth, even his strongest bones began to buckle under the physical strain.

Years of training and adaptation had greatly strengthened his body, especially his internal organs. But under the crushing pressure three thousand meters below the surface—a depth even whales could not reach—his ability to keep moving depended entirely on his ceaseless, desperate self-healing.

With his body's current ability to absorb oxygen, he could remain underwater for nearly an hour and a half after taking a full breath.

The deep sea robbed him of some of his senses. Under the pressure of tens of thousands of tons, every movement felt as though it were shaking an invisible mountain. The blood and qi throughout his body surged wildly into every inch of him, and James finally felt himself regain control of his full strength.

As the pressure bore down on him, James's bones creaked as if they were about to give way. At the same time, he slowly thrust out an arm, moving as languidly as an old man practicing Taijiquan. The two pairs of bone claws had evolved into natural weapons that could both attack and defend.

Boxing had originated in armed combat. Now that James had fully embraced his instinctive strength, he combined it with the techniques he had learned in his previous life, finally giving these inborn weapons a true purpose.

Thump, thump, thump.

His heart beat faster and faster. Even the heart muscle began to tear and bleed, but by now James's healing speed nearly matched the rate of his injuries.

Against the omnipresent pressure, he forced blood through every part of his body. Having already experienced the flow of power through his entire body once, he no longer struggled with his head and face. In an instant, James seemed to break free of the deep-sea pressure. His fists and feet suddenly moved faster. He would use this desperate burst of power to break through the barrier in one go.

Boom!

On the seabed, James silently released the power throughout his body. He raised both claws high, and the force erupting from every inch of his skin drove the seawater back, forming an oval vacuum roughly two meters in radius. It lasted for more than ten seconds before the power withdrew, and the seawater rushed back in at once.

James relaxed his whole body and drifted slowly upward with the ocean's buoyancy. He retracted the exoskeleton on his arms. Thin streams of dark, glimmering red blood seeped from the gaps between his bone claws, arm shields, bone spikes, and skin and muscles. The blood reddened the water around him, forming a crimson ribbon that slowly curled around him.

Under the stimulation of his power, his bones began to show signs of transforming once more. The first time James's boxing reached the state of mastery, his bones had begun to change, increasing in density and strength. But it seemed there hadn't been enough "energy" to complete the transformation.

Now, with the Sabretooth's full strength added to his own, James's bones and muscles began to writhe on their own. The transformation was swift, but agonizing.

His skin began to peel away, exuding dark, foul matter. His teeth loosened and began to itch, then were pushed out by new ones. James scratched at his whole body in agony. He couldn't stop himself from opening his mouth to howl, but only a stream of bubbles came out.

Light gradually appeared above him, and the pain slowly subsided, replaced by waves of pleasant tingling and relaxation.

Splash!

James finally broke the surface. He exhaled the stale air and breathed in the fresh, damp sea breeze. The sky was exceptionally clear and pure after the storm had passed.

He lay on his back, rising and falling with the waves, and gazed up at the azure sky, feeling as if he had been born anew.