The midday sun beat down mercilessly on the earth.
At the foot of Mount Shuri, the Royal Military Training Ground.
This is not the kind of primitive, simple muddy ground; instead, it is covered with some kind of high-tech composite yellow sand that can absorb kinetic energy.
The surrounding stands were cut from a single piece of obsidian, and a floating holographic screen projected real-time data from the arena into the air.
The ancient and the future are both separated and merged here, just like the essence of this country.
The stands were packed.
Elders and nobles from various tribes, and even some border warriors on leave, gathered here.
They whispered among themselves, their eyes fixed on the somewhat slender figure in the center of the field.
"I heard she tore apart an entire mercenary group with her bare hands?"
"I doubt it. With that physique, he can only rely on surprise attacks."
"Don't forget she has a cursed bloodline."
The discussions were not deliberately kept quiet.
Barbara Minerva stood barefoot on the sand, having changed into a simple set of training clothes.
She kept her head down, her shoulders slightly hunched, and her hands nervously clasped together, seemingly feeling extremely fearful and uncomfortable with the scrutiny around her.
In reality, she rolled her eyes inwardly.
'These bumpkins talk too much nonsense. If they were outside, I would have bitten that old man with the thumb ring's throat off three times already.'
She went through the script in her mind.
Act One: Weak, helpless, and pitiful.
Act Two: Out of Control, Rampage, Destruction.
Act Three: Restraint, Backlash, and the Holy Mother's Aura at its peak.
King T'Chaka stood on the high platform, his voice amplified throughout the hall. "This is just a basic test. We need to assess the fluctuation threshold of her internal energy in order to formulate a subsequent treatment plan. Okoye, that's enough."
A tall, bald female warrior walked into the arena.
Okoye, the youngest captain in the current Royal Guard, holds a silver Vibranium Spear and has a solemn expression.
"I'm sorry."
Without a word, Okoye flicked his spear, the tip drawing a silver arc as it pierced Barbara's shoulder.
The attack was swift, accompanied by the sound of wind breaking through the air.
Barbara's pupils contracted vertically.
In her vision, Okoye's movements were slowed down several times.
The trajectory of muscle exertion, the angle of the spear's attack, and even the fluctuations in airflow were clearly transformed into a slow-motion breakdown in her enhanced eyes.
Too slow, full of flaws.
Barbara even had time to mentally assess the situation: her left foot was too far forward, her right ribs were completely exposed, and if she wanted to, she could cut her throat in a second and then kick that bald head into the goal like a ball.
But that won't work.
She was a "victim," not a killing machine.
She's now a pathetic creature who can't even control her own power.
Barbara clumsily rolled to the left, barely avoiding the spearhead, and even stumbled on the ground due to losing her balance, swallowing a mouthful of sand.
A burst of laughter erupted from the stands.
"Stand up!" Okoye roared, his spear sweeping across, blocking all of Barbara's escape routes. "Show me the skills you use to kill in the jungle!"
The offensive resumed.
Barbara kept hiding.
She rolled and crawled on the sand, looking like a rabbit cornered by a Extremis.
That's about enough. The emotional buildup is there; it's time for the main course.
Right now.
Barbara let out a low growl as the spear was about to strike her calf.
His originally brown pupils were now covered in gold, and his fingernails grew out of proportion.
Okoye only felt a blur before his eyes, and the woman who had been in such a sorry state just moments before vanished.
"What?!"
Immediately afterwards, a chilling sensation ran down the back of my neck.
That's too fast!
With his honed combat instincts, Okoye instinctively turned and swept his arm around, attempting to force back the threat behind him.
A sharp claw was already pressed against her face.
The entire hall fell silent.
Okoye could even see the fine lines on the claws and feel the killing intent emanating from their fingertips.
If the opponent moves even a little further forward, her head will explode like a rotten tomato, splattering red and white matter all over the training ground.
"Kill... kill..."
Barbara trembled violently, muttering broken words, her claws twitching less than a centimeter from Okoye's nose. She was fighting against her instincts.
"Ugh!"
Barbara suddenly let out a scream, forcefully twisting her body and slamming the force she was about to unleash into the ground beside her.
"Boom!"
A large crater was punched into the hard sand.
She curled up in a ball, as if enduring immense pain.
"She... she stopped?"
"To be able to control one's killing intent in that berserk state? How strong of a will does that require?"
"She would rather harm herself and have her meridians damaged than harm her compatriots."
The wind has changed direction.
What started as skepticism turned into admiration, and even shame.
The Wakanda revere force, but they value even more the kindness and restraint ingrained in their very being.
This is a true warrior, a sufferer with a noble soul.
Okoye stood frozen in place, staring at the figure convulsing on the ground, his hand gripping the spear turning slightly white.
She lost, and she lost completely.
The other person saved her life.
A young figure rushed onto the field.
That's T'Challa, the prince of Wakanda.
He disregarded the bloodstains on Barbara's body and knelt down on one knee to help her up.
"It's alright now," T'Challa said gently. "You're safe. Welcome home."
Barbara struggled to open her eyes, looking at the clear-eyed young man before her, and chuckled inwardly: What a silly boy. If the throne is passed to you, Wakanda will have to change its name sooner or later.
But outwardly, she leaned weakly against T'Challa's chest, her voice barely audible. "I... I didn't hurt anyone... I controlled myself..."
"Yes, you did very well."
T'Challa held her trembling hand tightly.
King T'Chaka strode down from the platform and came before the two men.
He took off a bracelet made of black beads from his wrist.
Those were no ordinary ornaments; each bead was engraved with miniature protective runes, making them exclusive tokens for members of the royal family.
"This is to honor your noble soul." T'Chaka personally placed the bracelet on Barbara's slender wrist. "Here, no one can harm you, and no one will treat you like a monster anymore."
The entire audience stood in silence, with countless people clenching their right fists and striking their left chests in tribute to this "returning hero."
Barbara looked at the beads on her wrist, and tears welled up in her eyes.
"Thanks..."
She buried her head in T'Challa's arms and cried her heart out.
But with her lowered eyelids obscuring her view, Barbara quickly glanced at the string of beads.
"Take her to rest," T'Chaka ordered. "Use the best medicine."
Barbara was lifted onto a stretcher and left the training ground amidst respectful gazes.
She closed her eyes, her fingers stroking the string of beads.
Step one, perfectly achieved.
These simple-minded Wakanda were deeply moved by her "noble soul".
Next, the task is to find what the boss wants in that so-called archive.