The Present

Old Mr. Howlett stood in the square in front of the estate, leaning on a mottled, lumpy cane. The white-haired old man hunched over, watching the gathering men and horses as they shouted to one another, a dangerous gleam in his cloudy eyes.

Suddenly, an excited shout rang out from the tower. "It's James! Young Master James is back!" The lookout waved his torch vigorously to signal the people below, then hurried down. Mr. Howlett let out a breath and slowly felt his way to sit on the steps of the main house.

A few breaths later, James galloped into the square and swung down from his horse, looking somewhat bewildered at the estate's riders, who stood ready for a fight. He strode over to Mr. Howlett.

"Grandfather, what happened?" James crouched in front of Mr. Howlett with concern. Even crouching, he was slightly taller than Mr. Howlett, who sat on the steps; the old man's muscles and bones had withered badly over the years.

"You're the one who's always giving people cause to worry, and you still have the nerve to ask? Why are you so late coming back today?" Mr. Howlett asked sternly.

"I'm sorry, Grandfather. I got held up a little in the woods today and made you worry." James answered apologetically. Mr. Howlett looked over his grandson's disheveled appearance, his gaze lingering briefly on the faint bloodstains on his sleeves.

After a moment, he said, "Don't do that again. Things have been unsettled lately." He got to his feet and waved his cane. The crowd dispersed in an orderly fashion, asking nothing about what had happened to James in the forest. "Come inside and eat," he said, then slowly made his way back into the estate.

From a distance, Victor watched James from beneath another tower. He seemed to have given up trimming his nails, letting them grow long, black, and shiny, with a faint metallic sheen. They extended about two centimeters beyond his fingertips.

Victor was three or four years older than James, and now stood a little over two meters tall, built like an iron tower. His sturdy muscles strained against his clothes, and his long, dark-brown hair hung in a tangled mess over his shoulders. Whenever he breathed, he gave off a faint growl, like a tiger lying in wait.

James, following his grandfather inside, stopped at the doorway and glanced back. His gaze met Victor's from afar. He gave a barely perceptible nod, then went inside. Victor stood beneath the watchtower for a long while, ignoring the riders around him, who carefully kept their distance and quickly returned to their rooms. Only after a long time did he finally leave.

After dinner, O'Hara silently prepared hot water for James to wash up. Expressionless, she set it in his room, then took two quick steps toward the door, trying hard to avoid facing him.

"O'Hara, wait." James called after the little maid, whose whole bearing said keep away. He asked carefully, "Did Grandfather ask you about me today?" O'Hara gave a nearly imperceptible "Mm."

James smiled bitterly. "Did he scold you?" When she didn't answer, he apologized. "I'm sorry for making you worry."

After a while, O'Hara raised her voice and said, "And?"

"And? Um... I forgot your rabbit. I'll make it up to you next time." James ventured, watching his maid's expression cautiously. O'Hara glanced at him, gave a soft snort, and twitched the corners of her mouth. Forcing her face to stay stern, she sauntered out of the room.

James shook his head and muttered, "Am I being too humane? What maid in this era would dare give her master attitude..."

Late that night, in Mr. Howlett's study.

The old man puffed on his fine, dark-yellow ivory pipe, coughing violently now and then. He turned up the kerosene lamp beside him a little brighter and pored over the letters from the surrounding estates, his brow tightly furrowed.

The new governor, Kevin Smith, had been steadily raising Alberta's tax quotas in recent days. He believed that the preferential policies intended to encourage estate owners to develop the colony should gradually be abolished as the region advanced. Then, yesterday, he claimed that the Howlett family's cattle pastures had encroached on Crown land. He had sent a pair of lancers to shoot more than ten cattle and had arrested the pasture manager and several herdsmen.

Mr. Howlett knew exactly what the governor was after. But aside from the consequences of directly challenging the authorities, his age and health no longer allowed him to fight as he once had. All he wanted was to get through this crisis and hand his family's estate over to James in peace—for his grandson, and for the family's future. He was willing to bow his old, withered head if he had to.

James slept very little these days. Since he meditated every night, about three hours of deep sleep were enough to shake off a day's fatigue. After his mutant ability awakened, his energy became extraordinarily abundant—almost to the point of being hard to adjust to.

A little after two in the morning, he got up and leaped from the third-floor balcony, landing lightly on the ground with a faint thump. His nearly six-foot-three, muscular frame landed like a feather pillow. He didn't go to the stables for his mount, Panda. Instead, he stretched out his long legs and sprinted toward a valley in the distant foothills of the Rocky Mountains, kicking up a trail of dust. Today, he was going to test his body thoroughly.

The estate was about fifteen kilometers from the valley. James sprinted with all his might, using the advanced Yu Step technique, Earth-Shrinking Technique. His toes dug into the earth, kicking up a gray trail of sod and dust behind him. When he reached the foot of the mountain, he pulled out the pocket watch from his coat. Thick clouds obscured the moon, leaving very little light, yet he seemed completely unaffected.

"Fifteen kilometers in about fifteen minutes. That means... I can run a hundred meters in six seconds, and I don't feel tired at all. I should be able to keep running at full speed for over a hundred kilometers."

James steadied himself and looked up at the steepest, highest cliff in the valley, then slowly crouched.

"Bang!"

He leaped straight up, rising more than three meters before beginning to fall. He reached out and grabbed the hard limestone cliff. His five fingers sank into the rock with a crunch. He pushed off the cliff with his toes and leaped again. In six or seven bounds, he reached the highest point in the valley.

James stood at the summit and thought for a moment, then darted into the woods to test his punching power against boulders and thick tree trunks. In an era without any testing equipment, this was the simplest way he could assess his body.

In the dark, quiet mountains, a few pale rays of moonlight slipped through the clouds as a series of discordant "drumbeats" rang out.

Bang! Crunch! Boom, boom, boom!

The wild beasts in the woods and the birds roosting in their nests were all startled by this overbearing intruder and fled. Trees thick enough for two people to encircle had been pierced or snapped, and enormous limestone boulders lay shattered and gouged. The valley was littered with wreckage. James breathed a little faster as he looked at his hands.

"My strength, speed, and explosive power are all far beyond the limits of the human body I know, and even beyond those of Anjin boxing. And this body, which heals at astonishing speed, can easily withstand the exertion of Anjin. Even a grandmaster at the peak of Huajin couldn't match it, let alone an ordinary Anjin boxer, who can only unleash Anjin three or four times. Perhaps only the legendary 'Unseen and Unbreakable' could have this kind of stamina. And finally..." James clenched his fists and slowly raised them.

A faint ripple ran through his forearms. Six bone claws thrust out through the backs of his fists, shining dazzlingly white in the moonlight.

James crossed and clashed the two sets of claws, testing their hardness. Then, with a sudden turn, he swung a fist across a tall tree that had survived the earlier blows. The trunk was gouged with three deep slashes, like cuts from a saw, each as deep as the bone claws on his fists.

After a moment's hesitation, he punched the boulder beside him. The claws sank straight through the stone as if it were rotten wood, leaving a web of cracks.

"Only one last thing..." James murmured. He slowly undid his buttons and took off his shirt, then abruptly crossed his fists and drove the claws into his own shoulders!

With a sharp impact, all six claws pierced through his shoulders, slick with blood. James gritted his teeth and gave a muffled groan, refusing to cry out. Beads of sweat as large as peas sprang across his body.

"Shhk!" He retracted his claws into his flesh. His body trembled slightly. Almost as soon as the claws withdrew, the twelve holes in the front and back of his shoulders stopped bleeding and visibly began to close. James looked at both shoulders and silently counted to seven or eight. The wounds had healed completely, leaving no pain, and he could move freely.

"As I remember it, Wolverine Logan's physical abilities were barely at the limits of an ordinary human. His strength, speed, and destructive power were inferior to those of his half-brother, Victor. His bone claws should only have been somewhat harder than normal bones, nowhere near as strong as metal. The one thing that was just as exceptional was his healing ability." James carefully assessed his physical condition.

He sat quietly on the ground, gradually calming his mind. The world around him began to change as his senses sharpened...