Expelling Happy

Zhan Liu had spent the past few days cultivating in seclusion, regaining the Martial Dao realm he had lost due to Time Reversal.

A realm was like that. Before reaching it, breaking through was unimaginably difficult. But once one had broken through, even if only for a brief instant, one's understanding of that realm would be etched deeply into one's heart and nearly impossible to forget.

Especially since the Sorcerer Supreme had not reversed his memories. He retained his complete understanding of the Twenty-Five Heavens of Magnetic Field Rotation.

Thus, it took him only a few days this time to successfully return to—and surpass—the realm he had possessed before.

Furthermore, perhaps because of Captain Marvel's warning, S.H.I.E.L.D. did not come to bother him again, allowing him to continue taking in disciples without issue.

Unfortunately, perhaps because S.H.I.E.L.D. bore a grudge over what he had done, they did not send over the large batch of agents they had previously agreed upon to become his disciples. He lost quite a number of promising students for nothing.

In truth, Nick Fury had also died in Earth's explosion. After Captain Marvel returned, she had been in a rush to save people and had no idea that Nick Fury had once reached an agreement with Zhan Liu.

After Nick Fury was resurrected, he had lost his memories of the past. Nor had Captain Marvel's briefing mentioned anything related to that partnership.

In the end, Nick Fury only knew that May had been sent to steal a cultivation method, violating the rules of the Ultimate Limit Sect and enraging the alien Zhan Liu. A battle had broken out between them, and even Earth had been destroyed.

But he did not know that when Zhan Liu was not fighting, he was easy to talk to and harmless to man and beast. They had once chatted quite pleasantly and had even reached an agreement to take in agents in batches. So long as those agents no longer violated the sect rules, they would naturally be safe.

War Gods were all rather extreme personalities. Zhan Liu was not a purebred Magnetic Lunatic; when he was not having an episode, he was harmless to man and beast.

If others did not provoke him, he would not provoke them. Generally, there were only two reasons that could make him fight: one was someone breaking the sect rules and the system issuing a mission, and the other was that it would help him grow stronger.

Other than that, everything, great or small, was merely trivial business to him.

That day, after Zhan Liu finished cultivating, he gave his disciples their routine lesson. Suddenly, the roar of an engine came from outside the gate.

A Mercedes-Benz SUV stopped before the Martial Arts School. The door opened, and a fat, pale white man emerged.

He used both hands to tug up the belt that kept sliding down over his belly, then raised his head to look at the Martial Arts School's plaque. The energy contained within its lettering immediately stabbed pain into his eyes.

"Oh, shit!" he muttered, pulling out a handkerchief to wipe away the tears welling from the corners of his eyes. However, the arrogance he had arrived with was somewhat restrained.

He put away the handkerchief, walked straight through the gate, passed around the screen wall, and entered the courtyard.

With his hands clasped behind his back, he looked around the courtyard, waiting for someone to come greet him. But all the disciples were listening attentively to Zhan Liu's lecture, and no one paid him any attention.

After quite a while, he finally could not hold back. He first covered his mouth and gave a dry cough, but when no one came to receive him, he had no choice but to speak up.

"May I ask which one of you is the master of this Martial Arts School?" he asked, his eyes fixed on Zhan Liu amid the crowd.

Zhan Liu's appearance was extremely conspicuous. After all, there was almost certainly no second person in this world with three eyes.

There were Mutants, but their numbers were too small. They lived like rats in the street, hiding everywhere and rarely appearing among ordinary crowds.

And someone like Zhan Liu, walking openly through the streets with an obvious "Mutant organ" on his forehead, was not merely rare—there simply was no one else like him.

Zhan Liu had noticed the fat white man long ago, but he had not wanted to bother with him. One look at that body shape told him the man severely lacked self-control, and his willpower could not be much better. He did not have the aptitude to become a War God.

But since the fat white man had taken the initiative to speak, Zhan Liu, as the master of the school, could not simply ignore him. That would have been too discourteous. So he said to a disciple beside him, "Go tell that fat white man that this Martial Arts School teaches exclusively in Chinese. We do not accept anyone who does not understand Chinese. Tell him to get lost!"

The disciple rose, walked over to the fat white man, and expressed his master's attitude in tactful terms.

The fat white man's brows shot up as he said unhappily, "Does he know who he's refusing? My name is Happy. I'm here on behalf of Mr. Stark. Tony Stark, understand?"

It had to be said that the name Tony Stark truly carried enormous weight in New York. It could practically be used as a calling card.

That disciple did not dare make a decision on his own and could only return to translate for Zhan Liu.

In fact, Zhan Liu could understand English now, but he simply did not want to speak it.

Once Magnetic Field Rotation reached the Tenth Heaven, one could sense the thoughts and consciousness of anyone below the Tenth Heaven. With this ability, the vast majority of people in this world held no secrets from him.

If he wanted to learn English, it would take no more than a thought.

Even without understanding English, he could directly sense the other party's thoughts and grasp their meaning. However, Zhan Liu rarely used this ability because he simply did not care what others were thinking. He only needed to act according to his own values.

What if their values did not align? Simple. Change yours and follow his.

Or become strong enough to be worth Zhan Liu's attention, and he would permit your values to exist.

Besides, he despised these ignorant fools and worried that probing their thoughts would contaminate his pure mind. In any case, they were all merely miscellaneous trivialities, not worth a laugh.

After hearing his disciple's report, he glanced at Happy and beckoned for him to come over.

Zhan Liu had no interest in Happy, but he was very interested in Tony Stark.

Tony Stark was a man cursed by knowledge. With a mortal body, he stood shoulder to shoulder with gods. He was one of the rare individuals in the Marvel world with extraordinary intelligence, and placing him among the top ten would not be a problem.

If anyone could use technology to push Ultimate Limit Qigong beyond the Fiftieth Heaven of Magnetic Field Rotation, then Tony Stark was undoubtedly one of them.

Back when the sect's founder, the Ultimate Monk, researched Ultimate Limit Qigong, he had also drawn upon the power of technology. The technological level of that era had been higher than the surface-level technology of Marvel, but compared to Marvel's black technology, it was utterly inadequate.

Using Tony Stark's power to solve the upper-limit problem of Ultimate Limit Qigong was not a bad idea. At the very least, it was worth trying.

Happy swaggered over to Zhan Liu and said arrogantly, "Hey, Mr. Zhan, congratulations. Mr. Stark has taken a liking to your Martial Arts School. You're about to get rich!"

Zhan Liu answered with something unrelated. "Go back and tell Tony Stark that if he wants to become my disciple, he should come himself. And tell him this: he had better learn Chinese before coming, or I will not accept him."

After saying that, he waved a hand, signaling for the fat white man to be thrown out.