Hang had stayed at Xavier's School for three days.
Each day, he attended classes, trained, and ate alongside the students. Charles's lessons were meticulous, covering everything from genetic theory to the fundamentals of psychic power. Erik, on the other hand, focused on teaching them how to survive in dangerous situations.
But Hang's goal wasn't any of that.
He was here to copy abilities.
The Phoenix Force within Jean Grey was far too unstable. In just three days, it had gone out of control twice. Once in the dining hall—her telekinesis crushed every plate. Another time in the training room—flames burned straight through the metal floor.
Each time, Charles had to step in and forcibly suppress it with his psychic power.
Hang had observed Charles's telepathy.
It was powerful—covering at least a thousand kilometers. And it was pure, without impurities.
On the morning of the fourth day, Hang made a decision.
The Phoenix Force could wait—but Charles's telepathy could not.
He walked to Charles's office and knocked.
"Come in."
Charles sat in his wheelchair, coffee and documents laid out before him.
"Hang, what is it?"
"Professor, I'd like to ask about psychic power," Hang said directly. "It's my weak point."
A lie—but he needed a reason.
Charles set down his coffee. His blue eyes seemed to see through everything.
"Your mental barrier is very stable. That doesn't seem like a weakness."
"The barrier is defense. I don't know how to attack," Hang replied. "Last time Scott lost control, I could only block with an energy shield. If I knew how to calm him mentally, I wouldn't have wasted energy."
Charles fell silent for a few seconds, then nodded.
"You're right. Psychic power isn't just defense—it's communication and stabilization." He turned his wheelchair. "Sit. I'll teach you the basics."
Hang sat down across from him.
"Close your eyes. Relax your consciousness," Charles said. "Don't resist. I'll enter the surface of your mind and teach you how to build a connection."
Hang closed his eyes, loosening only the outermost layer of his mental defenses.
Charles's psychic power flowed in like a tide—gentle yet firm—touching only the surface of Hang's consciousness.
"The core of psychic connection is resonance," Charles's voice echoed in his mind. "Find the frequency of the other consciousness, then synchronize."
Hang felt the fluctuation and began to imitate it.
"Good. You learn quickly," Charles said. "Now try to connect to me."
Hang extended a thread of psychic power toward Charles. The latter didn't resist—instead, he opened a small gap.
Now.
Hang suddenly reached out and grabbed Charles's wrist.
Charles froze for a moment but didn't pull away.
A voice echoed in Hang's mind:
S+ Rank Ability: Telepathy.
Copy?
Warning: This ability conflicts with the host's existing psychic laws. Integration will require time.
Hang didn't hesitate.
"Copy."
A massive flood of information surged into his mind like a storm.
He saw Charles's memories—building the school, saving abandoned children.
He also felt his pain—the constant influx of others' thoughts, the inability to fully shut it off.
Hang clenched his teeth, using his psychic laws to forcibly suppress it. He wanted the ability—not the memories.
Three seconds later, the flood subsided.
He released his grip and opened his eyes.
Charles looked at him, a hint of confusion in his gaze.
"Just now…"
"Sorry, Professor," Hang said. "I got nervous. Needed to hold onto something."
Charles studied him for a few seconds, then nodded.
"It's fine. First attempts are always tense."
---
Back in his room, Hang closed the door.
Something in his mind was expanding. Voices flooded in from all directions.
Downstairs, Kitty was thinking about homework.
Next door, John was angry.
On the third floor, Jean's psychic power was fluctuating again—she was suppressing the Phoenix Force.
Everyone's thoughts poured into him.
He took a deep breath and activated his psychic laws, constructing a gate deep within his mind to block out the noise.
The voices gradually faded.
Hang opened his eyes, sweat forming on his forehead. He walked to the mirror and raised his hand. A strand of psychic power extended from his fingertips.
An image appeared in the air—
The dining hall. Kitty eating an apple, thinking about tomorrow's test.
He switched targets.
John's room—lying on his bed, thinking about proving himself stronger than Scott.
Another switch.
Jean's room. Sitting with her knees drawn up, her mind tearing at itself. The Phoenix Force inside her raged like a beast, ready to break free.
Hang withdrew his power. The image vanished.
This was telepathy.
Not just reading minds—but seeing them.
He moved to the window and expanded his psychic range outward.
One kilometer. Five. Ten.
A small town in northern New York—pedestrians, shopkeepers, every thought clear.
Fifty kilometers. One hundred.
New York City—millions of minds scattered like stars.
He stopped.
The psychic laws of the Marvel universe worked from inside outward, centered on control.
Telepathy worked from outside inward, centered on reception.
The logic was completely different.
Hang closed his eyes and began sorting it out.
He split his psychic system into two parts.
One handled defense and attack, preserving the original structure.
The other handled perception and connection, rebuilt using telepathy.
The process was slow. Each adjustment triggered violent fluctuations.
Half an hour later, he opened his eyes.
Success.
His psychic laws were like a blade. Telepathy was like a net. Both coexisted within his mind without interfering.
A knock came at the door.
He opened it. Charles was outside.
"May I come in?"
Charles rolled in, studying him.
"What were you just doing?"
"Practicing psychic connection."
"No." Charles shook his head. "Your psychic fluctuation covered the entire building. Everyone felt it."
Hang fell silent. He hadn't expected the integration to cause such a disturbance.
"Sorry. I didn't control it well."
The doubt in Charles's eyes deepened.
"Your psychic power shouldn't be this strong," he said. "Even Omega-level mutants need years of training. You've only been here three days."
Hang knew—Charles was starting to suspect him.
"I'm not sure. Maybe my energy resonates with my psychic power."
The explanation was weak, but Charles didn't press further. He simply gave Hang a long look.
"Starting tomorrow, you'll train with me alone," he said at the door. "Your ability is too dangerous. It needs stricter control."
The door closed.
Hang knew—Charles was now on guard.
But it didn't matter.
He had already obtained telepathy.
Next would be mind control, then Magneto's magnetic manipulation.
As for the Phoenix Force—he needed a better opportunity.
---
The next afternoon, Charles brought Hang to a private training room on the second basement level.
The room was pure white, with two chairs in the center.
"Sit," Charles said. "Today we focus only on psychic power. I'll attack—you defend."
Hang nodded.
Charles closed his eyes.
The next second, a tsunami of psychic power crashed into him.
Ten times stronger than before. Hang's mental barrier trembled violently, cracks forming across its surface.
He gritted his teeth, reinforcing it with a second layer.
Charles's psychic power transformed into a drill, tearing at the barrier.
"Your defense is strong, but not flexible," Charles's voice echoed. "The mind is not a wall—it's a river."
The attack shifted. Countless fine tendrils seeped in from all directions.
The barrier began to collapse.
He couldn't let Charles see his core memories.
Instantly, Hang constructed a second inner barrier, filling it with fabricated memories: awakening powers, being cast out, wandering, arriving here.
Charles's psychic power touched those memories—and paused.
"You're hiding something."
Hang didn't respond.
Suddenly, Charles withdrew all his power.
The next moment—an even stronger attack.
A pure psychic shockwave slammed into Hang's consciousness like a hammer.
His body jerked. Blood began to drip from his nose.
"Hold on," Charles said. "If you can't withstand this, you have no right to call yourself Omega-level."
Hang wiped the blood away, stabilizing his mind.
Then he changed approach.
His psychic power followed the path of Charles's attack outward—tracing it back to its source.
He found the core node of Charles's consciousness.
Charles froze.
"What are you doing?"
Hang didn't answer. His psychic power hovered at the edge of Charles's mind—like a blade at his throat.
Charles immediately withdrew all attacks.
"Stop." He opened his eyes, staring at Hang. "How did you do that?"
"You said the mind is a river," Hang replied. "Rivers flow both ways."
Charles fell silent, his expression complex—shock, and caution.
"You're learning too fast. Abnormally fast."
Hang said nothing.
"And one more thing," Charles's voice turned cold. "What you just used wasn't telepathy. It was something else—sharper, more domineering."
Hang's heart tightened.
Charles had sensed the Marvel-universe psychic laws.
"I don't know what that was."
Silence filled the room.
Charles stared at him for a long time, then finally sighed.
"I won't force the truth out of you. But if you threaten anyone in this school, I will erase you—no matter the cost."
A threat. Almost laughable to Hang—but he still nodded.
"I won't."
"I hope so."
Charles turned his wheelchair, stopping at the door.
"One more thing," he said, looking back. "Stay away from Jean. The power inside her is more dangerous than you think. If you try to touch it, it won't just kill you—it will destroy everyone here."
The door closed.
Hang sat there, wiping the blood from his hand.
Charles's attack had been stronger than expected.
But he had confirmed something important—
Telepathy and his psychic laws could complement each other. His mental combat power had increased by at least fifty percent.
He left the training room and returned to his dorm.
A dull explosion echoed from the third floor.
Hang's psychic power instantly locked on—Jean's room.
She had lost control again.
Orange-red flames burst from the window, shattering glass. Charles's psychic power surged in—but even he struggled to suppress it.
Hang didn't move. Going now would only deepen Charles's suspicion.
Ten minutes later, the flames subsided.
He scanned again. Jean was unconscious. Charles sat beside her bed, sweating heavily, clearly exhausted.
Erik entered the room.
"She won't last much longer."
"I know," Charles replied, weary.
"That new one—he's been watching her," Erik said.
Charles was silent for a moment, then nodded. "I've noticed. I'll keep him. I want to see what he's after."
Hang withdrew his psychic power and lay back down.
He had heard everything—and didn't care.
The plan was already set.
Six days later—copy Charles's mind control.
One week after that—copy Magneto's magnetic manipulation.
Then, during Jean's next loss of control—make contact with the Phoenix Force.
As for Charles's surveillance—
Just a minor inconvenience.
Hang closed his eyes. Deep within his consciousness, telepathy and psychic laws slowly began to merge.
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