The Present Moment

Elderly Mr. Howlett stood on the plaza in front of the manor, leaning on a mottled, gnarled cane. The white-haired old man was hunched over, looking up at the men who were gathering and shouting, a dangerous glint flickering in his gray, murky eyes.

Suddenly, an excited cry rang out from the tower: "It's James! Young Master James is back!" The lookout waved the torch in his hand vigorously, signaling to those below. Mr. Howlett let out a breath, slowly feeling his way to a seat on the steps of the main building.

Within a few breaths, James galloped into the plaza, leaped off his horse, and looked with some astonishment at the tense, sword-drawn riders of the manor. He strode over to Mr. Howlett in a few long steps.

"Grandfather, what happened?" James asked, crouching down in front of Mr. Howlett with concern. Even in this position, he was slightly taller than Mr. Howlett, who was sitting on the step; the old man's frame had withered severely over the years.

"You troublesome boy, you have the nerve to ask? Why are you back so late today!" Mr. Howlett asked with some severity.

"I'm sorry, Grandfather. I was delayed a bit in the woods today. I made you worry," James replied apologetically. Mr. Howlett glanced at the disheveled state of his grandson, pausing briefly when he saw the faint bloodstains on his sleeves.

He said slowly, "Don't let this happen again. Things haven't been peaceful lately." He stood up and waved his cane, and the crowd in the plaza dispersed in an orderly fashion, none daring to ask what had happened to James in the forest. He simply said, "Come inside and eat," before walking slowly back into the manor.

Victor watched James from afar under another tower. He seemed to have given up on trimming his nails, letting them grow long, black, and shiny, carrying a metallic luster as they extended about two centimeters past his fingertips.

Victor was three or four years older than James, and his height of over two meters now made him look like an iron tower. His clothes were stretched tight by his sturdy muscles, and his long, messy dark brown hair hung over his shoulders. With every breath, there was a faint, low growl like that of a tiger crouching in the wild.

James, who was walking toward the house with his grandfather, stopped at the doorway. He looked back and met Victor's gaze from afar, gave an imperceptible nod, and entered the house. Victor stood under the watchtower for a long time, ignoring the riders who always carefully kept their distance from him as they hurried to their rooms, and he remained there for a long while before leaving.

After dinner, O'Hara expressionlessly prepared hot water for James to wash up. She placed it in his room without a word and then stomped away, trying hard not to cross paths with James.

"O'Hara, wait." James called out to the little maid, who was practically radiating a "keep away" aura, and asked cautiously, "Did Grandfather ask you about my situation today?" O'Hara gave an almost imperceptible "hmm."

James gave a wry smile. "Did he scold you?" Seeing she didn't respond, James was full of apology. "I'm sorry, I made you all worry."

After a moment, O'Hara spoke up, "Anything else?"

"Anything else? Hmm... I forgot your rabbit. I'll make it up to you next time," James said tentatively, watching his maid's expression carefully. Upon hearing this, O'Hara glanced at him, gave a soft huff, and though her mouth twitched, she kept a straight face and wandered out of the room.

James shook his head and muttered, "Am I being too humane? In this day and age, what kind of maid dares to give her master attitude..."

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

The old man puffed on his sophisticated, deep-yellow ivory pipe, coughing violently from time to time. He turned up the kerosene lamp beside him and carefully read letters from various surrounding manors, his brows tightly knitted.

The new governor, Kevin Smith, had been continuously raising tax quotas in Alberta recently. He believed that the early preferential policies meant to encourage manor owners to develop the colony should be gradually abolished as the region developed. Furthermore, yesterday he claimed that the Howlett family's beef cattle pasture was seriously encroaching on land directly owned by the Crown. He not only used a pair of lancers to shoot and kill over a dozen cattle but also arrested the person in charge of the pasture and several herdsmen.

Mr. Howlett clearly understood the governor's goal, but not to mention the consequences of a head-on collision with the authorities, his age and health did not allow him to fight and kill as he once did. All the old man wanted was to get through this hurdle and pass the family business safely to James. For his grandson, for the final future of the family, he would even lower this aged head.

James had very little time for sleep nowadays. Having entered a state of meditation every night, he only needed about three hours of deep sleep to handle the fatigue of the day. After his mutant abilities awakened, his energy became exceptionally abundant, even to a degree that was exaggerated enough to make him struggle to adapt.

At two in the morning, he rose and leaped from the third-floor balcony, landing lightly on the ground. His hulking frame, nearly one meter ninety, landed like a feather pillow, making only a faint "puff" sound. He didn't go to the stables to find his mount, Panda; instead, he swung his long legs and, kicking up a cloud of dust, sprinted toward a valley extending from the Rocky Mountains in the distance. Today, he wanted to properly test his physical limits.

It was about fifteen kilometers from the manor to the valley. James sprinted with all his might, simultaneously utilizing the superior Yu Step technique of "Earth-Shrinking Technique." His toes gripped the ground, carving a gray line mixed with turf and dirt. Upon reaching the foot of the mountain, he pulled out the pocket watch from his jacket. Tonight, the moonlight was obscured by thick, dark clouds, and the light was extremely limited, but he seemed completely unaffected.

"Fifteen kilometers took exactly fifteen minutes or so. That's about... a speed of six seconds per hundred meters. And I don't feel the slightest bit of fatigue. I should be able to run at full speed for over a hundred kilometers."

James steadied himself, looked up at the highest and steepest cliff face of the valley, and slowly crouched down.

"Bang!"

He leaped from a standstill, rising over three meters high before beginning to descend. He reached out and grabbed the rock wall, which was full of hard bluestone. His five fingers sank into the rock with a "squelch," and with a light tap of his toes against the wall for leverage, he leaped again. In six or seven jumps, he reached the highest point of the valley.

James thought for a moment at the summit, then flashed into the forest, testing his punching power against boulders and thick, sturdy trees. In this era without any testing equipment, he could only use this most crude method to examine his body.

In the dark and quiet mountains, accompanied by the few slivers of pale moonlight, a series of discordant "drumbeats" began to play.

Bang! Squish! Boom, boom, boom!

Whether it was the wild beasts in the forest or the birds nesting in the trees, all were startled away by this boorish intruder. Various trees, each thick enough for two men to wrap their arms around, were either snapped or tilted after being pierced through, and huge bluestone rocks were covered in cracks and gouges. Scattered across this devastated valley, James breathed a little faster as he looked at his hands.

"All my strength, speed, and explosive power far exceed the human limits and the limits of Anjin martial arts I've known. Moreover, this body, capable of rapid self-healing, can easily withstand the exertion of Anjin. Even a Grandmaster at the peak of Huajin could never reach this level, and as for ordinary Anjin practitioners who can only strike with Anjin three or four times, they would only look on and sigh. Perhaps only the legendary 'Bu Huai' could possess such stamina. Finally..." James clenched his fists and slowly raised them.

A slight ripple moved across his forearms, and six bone claws pierced out from his knuckles. Under the moonlight, they were stark white and dazzling.

James crossed and clashed the two sets of claws, feeling their hardness. Suddenly, he turned and swung his fist, slashing across a tall tree that had survived until now. The trunk was deeply gouged with three scars, as deep as the bone claws on his fists.

After a brief moment of hesitation, he thrust his punch into a nearby boulder. The bone claws sank into it like a knife through butter, disappearing up to his knuckles and leaving a web of cracks.

"Only one last item remains..." James muttered to himself. He gently unbuttoned his jacket, took it off, and suddenly crossed his fists, stabbing them into his own shoulders!

Bang-shhh! Six bone claws pierced through his shoulders, dripping with blood. James gritted his teeth and let out a muffled groan, preventing himself from screaming, as beads of sweat the size of peas broke out all over his body.

"Shhh!" He retracted the two sets of claws back into his flesh. His body trembled slightly, and almost the moment the claws were retracted, the twelve blood holes in his shoulders stopped bleeding. They closed slowly, visible to the naked eye. James looked at his shoulders, counting to seven or eight in his heart, and the wounds were restored as if they had never been there. There was no more pain, and he could move freely.

"I remember Wolverine Logan's physical fitness was barely at the limit of an ordinary human. His strength, speed, and destructive power were not as good as his half-brother Victor's, and his bone claws were only slightly stronger than normal bone, nowhere near this metal-like hardness. At least the most outstanding self-healing ability is no different." James weighed his physical condition bit by bit in his heart.

He sat quietly on the ground, gradually calming his spirit, and the world within his perception began to change...