The Prodigy Awakens

Cold. Cold seeped from the cracks between his bones.

It felt as though his entire body had been pinned inside a block of ice soaked in disinfectant. His consciousness was like a grain of sand at the bottom of a pitch-black sea; every time it struggled upward, the crushing weight of ten thousand tons and bone-piercing cold slammed it back into the mud.

When he drew a breath, it felt as though his chest were filled with shattered glass, aching in countless tiny pricks. The back of his head throbbed heavily, like a frozen lump of iron pressing down on the last scraps of his collapsing awareness.

Beep... beep... beep...

The monotonous electronic sound stubbornly hammered at his sinking consciousness. Deep within his body, a dull pain slowly awakened. It was not the pain of being torn apart, but the numb soreness of having been completely crushed and then carelessly glued back together.

"...Hai Shan... it's already... been three days..."

A suppressed female voice, thick with nasal tears, came through as if from beyond a thick glass jar filled with water—distant and muffled.

"...Wait a little longer, Wanqing... just wait..."

The man's voice was hoarse, as though sandpaper had scraped across it, forcing down his agitation. "The doctor... said he's stable... waking up... is only a matter of time..."

The voices drifted near and far. One moment they seemed to float over from the other side of a mountain; the next, they were as sharp as needles, making Xiang Yi's temples throb. It was his parents. His mother's intermittent sniffling was like tiny shards of ice, scraping against his numbed nerve endings again and again.

He gathered the last of his strength and tried to pry open eyelids that seemed welded shut by ten thousand tons of ice.

Once, twice... His eyelids felt as heavy as lead weights.

At last, a sliver of weak light pierced the darkness, only to be immediately blurred into a swaying expanse of miserable white by physiological tears.

His vision was filled with distorted, blurry white. The ceiling was deathly pale. The smell of disinfectant barged in aggressively, completely smothering the crisp scent of wind and earthy dampness from the Kunlun Mountains.

"Doctor! Doctor! He moved! His eyelids moved!"

Lin Wanqing's voice suddenly rose, carrying disbelieving ecstasy and an even deeper sob as it tore through the dead silence of the hospital room.

Chaotic footsteps rushed over. Shadows in white coats swayed through his blurred vision. A cold metal instrument touched his eyelid, and the light from a flashlight stabbed into his eyes like a red-hot needle!

"Urgh..."

He instinctively squeezed his eyes shut. His throat was as dry as if it had been sanded down, and he forced out a wheezing rasp like a broken bellows.

"Xiang Yi? Can you hear me?"

A gentle yet calm male voice came from above him.

Xiang Yi struggled to open his eyes to a narrow slit again. His blurry vision painstakingly focused on the doctor's scrutinizing eyes above his mask. He gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head, as slight as a dead leaf swaying in the wind.

"Excellent! He's conscious! Mr. Xiang, Mrs. Xiang, this is a major turning point!"

The doctor's voice carried a hint of relief. "Xiang Yi, where does it hurt the most?"

Xiang Yi's lips trembled, and hoarse, rasping sounds clogged his throat. Lin Wanqing immediately leaned closer, carefully moistening his cracked, peeling lips with a wet cotton swab. A cup with a warm straw was promptly brought over, and cool water flowed into his burning throat, bringing a brief moment of relief.

"...It hurts..."

He finally squeezed out the words, weak as a thread. "...My head... dizzy... lots of... little hammers... pounding..."

"That's normal, child."

The doctor quickly glanced at the numbers flickering across the monitor. "You suffered a fall from a great height, a concussion, and multiple contusions across your body. Waking up this quickly is already a miracle. Dizziness, headaches, and nausea are all normal during recovery. You need rest. Don't move your head around."

Xiang Yi's gaze shifted laboriously toward the bedside.

His mother, Lin Wanqing, looked terrifyingly haggard. Her eye sockets had sunk deep, dark circles heavily shadowed the bags beneath her eyes, and her lips were cracked and peeling. Her carefully maintained face looked as though ten years of vitality had been drained from it in three days. Her expensive silk dress hung wrinkled around her body, stained with unidentified watermarks and smudges. Both hands tightly gripped the hand of Xiang Yi's that did not have an IV in it. Her fingers were icy cold, and her knuckles had turned sickly white from gripping too hard. They trembled uncontrollably, as if the moment she loosened her hold, her son would slip back into endless darkness. Scalding tears fell one after another onto the back of his hand, burning him.

His father, Xiang Haishan, stood at the other end of the bed. He was unshaven, the collar of his usually immaculate shirt hung open, and the shirt itself was wrinkled like a rag. Bloodshot veins webbed across his eyes. Those hands that had remained steady as rock while signing contracts worth hundreds of millions were trembling slightly now. Several times, he raised his hand, his rough, callused fingers hovering in midair as he wanted to touch his son's bandaged forehead, yet feared hurting him. In the end, he could only weakly curl his hand around empty air. His voice was thick with suppressed sobs. "Xiang Yi... It's good that you're awake... Don't be afraid. Dad's here... Mom's here... It's all right now..."

Seeing the wild joy of having regained what they had lost in his parents' eyes, the bone-deep terror still lingering there, and the exhaustion that had nearly crushed them beneath worry, Xiang Yi felt an invisible hand clench around his heart. It ached so fiercely he could barely breathe. Enormous guilt, like an icy tide, instantly swallowed the confusion of having just survived. Their unconditional love was like a heater, yet it scorched the cold secret of the system and the alien soul within him.

He opened his mouth, but his throat felt stuffed with cotton soaked in ice water.

What could he say? What was there to say?

Tell them that the precious son they treasured had already been hollowed out and occupied by an overworked office drone and a soul that knew the world was about to end? Tell them that a cold system had parasitized his brain? Tell them that aliens, supervillains, and the destruction of the universe were coming?

No. He could never tell them, even if it killed him.

It would only drag them into an even deeper vortex of fear. The only way to protect them was to bury this secret in his gut and become "Xiang Yi" completely.

Act. He had to act flawlessly.

The complexity and heaviness belonging to Xiang Yi's adult soul instantly froze and vanished deep within his eyes. When he looked up again, his pupils were slightly dilated, clouded by lingering terror and the misty innocence unique to a child. His gaze moved blankly between his parents' haggard faces, as if he were trying to recognize them. He instinctively tried to raise his right hand to rub his aching temple, but his arm only rose halfway before falling limply onto the blanket, accompanied by a weak, pain-filled gasp like that of a kitten.

"...Mom..."

His voice remained hoarse, thick with a nasal tone and a perfectly timed tremor of tears. He sounded pitiful and helpless. "...I... what happened to me? My head... hurts so much... I'm dizzy... like... I've been on a boat for a long time... rocking... Why... am I in a hospital?"

He did his best to fill his voice with the helplessness and confusion a twelve-year-old should have. His eyes wandered around the white hospital room in confusion, as though trying to piece together shattered memories. "...I remember... birthday... cake... so sweet... strawberries... Then... whoosh... such a strong wind? Boom! Thunder?... Then... it went dark... It hurt..."

He furrowed his brow slightly in confusion, his small lips unconsciously pouting a little—the look of a child trying hard to remember something but failing.

That perfectly measured confusion, the "inability to remember" the crucial parts, and the fragments of vague natural phenomena he left behind caused Lin Wanqing's tears to burst through the dam.

"Don't think about it, sweetheart! Don't think about it!"

Xiang Haishan hurriedly spoke up, his voice trembling as he wanted to hold his son down but did not dare use any force. "It's all right, it's all right now! You just... got too excited and ran too fast... You fell down the stairs at home... and hit your head! The doctor said it's only temporary memory loss. A little rest and you'll be fine! Don't be afraid!"

He tried hard to sound relaxed, but the pain and worry in his eyes were too thick to conceal.

"Yes! Yes! At home! The stairs!"

Lin Wanqing clutched her son's hand as if it were a lifeline, urgently following her husband's story. "You loved that big cake so much... You ran over to look at it and weren't watching where you were going... so you fell. We saved the cake for you! Once you're better, Mom will get you an even bigger, sweeter one! All right?"

The doctor watched from the side, his eyes lingering for a few extra seconds on Xiang Yi's pale, fragile little face. His professional scrutiny seemed to be weighing how much of this "amnesia" was real. That sharp gaze made Xiang Yi's heart skip a beat. But in the end, the doctor's expression softened, and he comforted him gently. "Little Xiang Yi, don't worry. This is called retrograde amnesia. It's common after a concussion. You simply can't remember what happened shortly before the injury. Your brain is protecting itself."

Protecting itself? Xiang Yi sneered inwardly. Only he knew that those missing fragments of memory were a battlefield where another soul had forcefully torn through and overwritten everything. "As you recover, some memories may return, while others may not. But it's nothing serious. It won't affect how smart you are. The most important thing is to rest and recover."

Xiang Yi nodded as if he half understood. His eyes remained blank and innocent, carrying confusion and unease over not being able to remember. He timidly looked at his parents, his voice containing a faint tremor. "...Dad, Mom... Am I... am I stupid now?"

"Bullshit!"

Xiang Haishan immediately roared, firm and absolute, as if he wanted to drive away every trace of bad luck. "My Xiang Haishan's son is the smartest kid in the world! How could you be stupid? The doctor said there's nothing wrong with you! Once you're better, you'll still come first in class! You'll win gold medals!"

There was a hard edge in his words, but his reddened eyes and trembling lips betrayed him.

Lin Wanqing hurriedly wiped away her tears and forced out a smile. "That's right! Our Xiang Yi is the best! You only had a little fall and took a long nap! In a few days, you'll be running around again!"

Watching his parents force smiles and make up kind lies to comfort him, Xiang Yi felt guilt coil around his heart like icy vines, tightening more and more. He lowered his eyelids, his thick lashes concealing the turmoil in his eyes, and answered only in a faint hum like a mosquito's buzz. "...Mm... I'll... get better soon..."

Just then, the background music of the midday news began to play. The clear, magnetic voice of a female anchor tore through the warmth the room had been trying to preserve.

"...Global news. Tony Stark, head of Stark Industries and a genius inventor, has once again appeared on the cover of Time magazine today. The cover headline cuts straight to the point: 'The King of Weapons and His Future Empire.' Mr. Stark recently made a high-profile appearance at the Monaco racetrack. His flamboyant personality and the cutting-edge weapons systems under his company, which have transformed the landscape of modern warfare, continue to draw worldwide attention and discussion..."

The screen switched to a close-up of the magazine cover.

Xiang Yi's gaze was drawn to it as if by a magnet.

On the screen, Tony Stark's iconic face—roguish and arrogantly self-assured—filled the entire cover. His dark suit was immaculate, Stark Tower's futuristic silhouette formed the background, his gaze was as sharp as an eagle's, and his lips curved into that signature expression of looking down upon the world. The bold headline beneath the cover photo, seemingly forged from blood and steel—"The King of Weapons and His Future Empire"—burned into Xiang Yi's eyes like red-hot branding irons!

Boom—!!!

A soundless thunderclap carrying apocalyptic information exploded in the depths of Xiang Yi's consciousness!

A second ago, he had still been trying to play the role of a fragile, bewildered child. The next, every bit of his disguise shattered under the overwhelming impact of that cover photo! His heart felt as though it had been seized by a cold iron claw and abruptly stopped beating! Then it began pounding like the pistons of an out-of-control engine, slamming wildly and violently against his fragile chest with every beat tearing at him in pain! His blood rushed to his head with a buzz, and the intense dizziness blackened his vision. The pale ceiling seemed to spin and twist madly!

Tony Stark! Time cover! King of Weapons!

Afghanistan! The Ten Rings Syndicate! A dark cave! The clanging Mark I!

The wormhole tearing open above New York! Those ugly Chitauri aircraft!

Thanos! A giant purple figure! The Infinity Gauntlet! That snap that erased half of all life!

Those names, those images, smashed into his chaotic mind like hailstones! Fragments of apocalyptic scenes surged out uncontrollably, bringing suffocating terror and a chill that pierced to the bone!

It was not a dream!

That torrent of information tearing through his soul was not an illusion!

That cold system notification was not nonsense!

This world... was fucking real. It was the Marvel Universe, where superheroes filled the skies and cosmic crises could erupt at any moment!

And he, Xiang Yi... was standing at the very beginning of Iron Man's legend! Tony Stark was still immersed in the illusory glory of being the "King of Weapons," and the "trip to Afghanistan" that would completely change his damned life—and tear open the curtain on this world's age of superhuman power—was only days away!

This enormous, cold reality was like the sharpest knife wind atop the Kunlun Mountains, instantly freezing and scattering the last traces of warmth in his heart! He had only just crawled back from a physical fall off a cliff, only to discover that he now stood at the edge of an even more terrifying, unfathomable abyss! An abyss where he could be effortlessly ground into ash by the aftermath of a superhero battle, alien artillery fire, or the snap of some purple potato monster!

"Xiang Yi? Xiang Yi, what's wrong?! Good heavens! Why is your face so pale? Your hands are cold as stones!"

Lin Wanqing was the first to notice the drastic change in her son. All color had drained from his little face in an instant, leaving it paper-white, while fine beads of cold sweat formed at his temples! His body trembled uncontrollably, and his eyes were fixed on the television screen. Deep in his pupils, something violently contracted and shook, filled with a terror she could not possibly understand.

Xiang Haishan abruptly turned toward the television, then looked back at his son's bloodless face and roared, "Turn it off! Turn that damned television off right now! Nurse!"

"Don't... No need..."

Xiang Yi abruptly clawed back a shred of awareness from the overwhelming shock and realized just how badly he had exposed himself. He lowered his eyes almost immediately, his thick lashes falling like the swiftest curtain to block the storm raging beneath. His body curled sharply, burrowing deeper beneath the blanket. Cold sweat instantly soaked through his back, and the icy hospital gown clung to his skin, making him shudder violently. He used every ounce of strength he had to make his voice sound full of childish fear and weak dizziness, even adding a trace of a sob. "...That... uncle?... His... eyes... are so scary. I... I'm scared... My head... is dizzy... I want to throw up..."

Beneath the blanket, the nails of his left hand dug deeply into the soft flesh of his right palm. The sharp pain became his only anchor to preserve the last thread of consciousness.

"Turn it off! Immediately! Now!"

Xiang Haishan had already snatched up the remote and viciously pressed the power button, as though extinguishing the source of some terrible omen. The screen instantly went dark. Only the monitor's monotonous beeping and his parents' heavy, frightened breathing remained in the room.

"There, there. Don't be afraid. It's just a stupid magazine cover, something meant to scare kids!"

Xiang Haishan flung the remote far away as if it were filthy, then carefully tucked the corners of the blanket around his son. He lowered his voice, and it carried an unprecedented clumsiness and gentleness. "Close your eyes and sleep for a while. Your mom and dad are here. No monsters or demons can get in."

"...Mm..."

Xiang Yi obediently closed his eyes and buried his bloodless face deep into the soft pillow, though his body continued trembling faintly beyond his control.

The hospital room was once again shrouded in a stifling silence. His parents remained beside his bed, their eyes seemingly welded to him, filled with the relief of surviving disaster and bottomless worry.

Yet beneath Xiang Yi's tightly shut eyelids, beneath the calm facade he was forcing himself to maintain, a faint, icy-blue light silently lit up in the absolute darkness of his consciousness.

That cold, sharp system interface, as alien as something from another world, emerged with ghostly clarity.

[Mental Power (Lv.0): 13.5/100 (Slight recovery from emotional stimulation)]｜[Energy Points: 0]

[Status: Severe injuries (recovering) / Concussion (recovering) / Soul Fusion Rate: 74%]

Looking at the mental power value creeping upward like a snail but still dangerously low, looking at those glaring zero Energy Points, then thinking of the spirited face on the television that was about to plunge headfirst into hell...

"King of Weapons... Afghanistan... Ten Rings Syndicate..."

Beneath the blanket, Xiang Yi's nails dug even deeper into his palm. A thread of warm, sticky liquid seeped out, spreading a faint scent of rust through the cold smell of disinfectant.

Time! He fucking had no time!

How long until that "trip to Afghanistan" that would change Tony Stark's damned life and completely tear open the curtain on this fucked-up world's age of superhuman power? Two months? One month?

He had to get back on his feet faster! He had to tame the damned system in his head faster! He had to... risk everything to seize power!

In this hellhole, where heroes destroyed half a street in a fight and villains could end the world with a flick of their fingers, his parents' wings... were as thin as window paper!