The seven-day cooldown had ended.
When the system's notification faded from his mind, Hang stood silently by the window. Night stretched like ink, the stars dim and distant. Within his body, ten laws flowed like tamed rivers, steady and controlled. Molecular manipulation had long since become as natural as breathing.
He pulled out a worn map from beneath his pillow, his fingers tracing a location in Egypt marked in red ink.
Apocalypse's tomb.
His last visit had only yielded molecular manipulation—that was far from enough. Within that ancient mutant's genetic treasury lay another ability he was determined to obtain—
Mutant Ability Amplification.
He needed it.
For Jean Grey.
At the thought, her figure surfaced in his mind. In the dead of night, he could sometimes sense the fleeting mental fluctuations when she woke from nightmares—fear, confusion, and something deeper. The Phoenix Force, that universe-level power, was sealed deep within her soul by layers of Charles's psychic restraints. But cracks had already formed. One day, that fiery bird would break free and burn everything to ashes.
Ability amplification might be the only key to taming the Phoenix.
Hang folded the map away. Without alerting anyone in the mansion, a golden spatial rift silently split open in his room. Light swallowed his figure, and he vanished instantly.
The next moment, he stood in Egypt's endless desert.
Scorching air mixed with sand blasted against him. His mental force swept across the sky like radar. After confirming there were no satellites observing, he raised his hand and pressed down toward the ground.
Space law transformed into invisible blades. The parched earth split open instantly, forming a bottomless fissure that plunged fifty meters underground.
He leapt in. The crack sealed behind him without a trace.
Inside the tomb, eternal darkness and silence engulfed everything. His mental force had already mapped the entire structure. Three layers of barriers—spatial lock, temporal lock, and psychic lock—remained intact, guarding the stone sarcophagus at the center and ensuring Apocalypse's slumber.
Hang walked slowly to the sarcophagus, placing his hand on its cold surface. Closing his eyes, Apocalypse's vast array of abilities unfolded within his consciousness.
Super strength, immortality, energy manipulation…
He skipped past them all, locking precisely onto his target.
"Mutant Ability Amplification."
[Copying ability: Mutant Ability Amplification]
[Level: SSS]
A torrent of complex information flooded his mind. This was no simple enhancement—it operated at the deepest level of the genetic chain, decoding and rewriting the X-gene, breaking the limits of individual growth and forcibly unleashing all latent potential.
He saw the terrifying nature of this power.
If the process failed, the target's genetic chain would collapse instantly, reducing them to writhing flesh in unimaginable agony. Even if successful, the target's mind would be branded permanently, turning them into Apocalypse's most loyal puppet.
Hang didn't want puppets.
What he wanted was the core principle hidden beneath that tyranny—how to safely guide genetic mutation, how to stably release suppressed potential.
Fifteen minutes later, the copy was complete.
Hang withdrew his hand. Fine beads of sweat lined his forehead. He could clearly feel a new power coiled within him, like a cold serpent lurking deep in his genes, flicking a dangerous tongue.
He could even sense the violent will embedded within it—the same tyrannical intent Apocalypse used to dominate all life.
Slowly raising his right hand, he activated the Law of Life. A golden-red glow formed in his palm, enveloping the new power. Gradually, its brutality faded, becoming stable and controlled.
Hang stared at the light.
This would be the key to saving Jean.
Charles's psychic restraints treated the symptoms, not the root cause. The harder they suppressed the Phoenix, the more violently it would rebound. Suppression was no longer an option—it had to be guided.
Jean needed to consciously face it, adapt to it, and ultimately control it.
And that required a catalyst.
A situation where she would feel the threat of death—yet remain within controllable limits.
Apocalypse was the perfect trigger.
Hang turned back to the sarcophagus. Raising his hand, nine laws intertwined at his fingertips.
The spatial lock began to unravel.
The temporal lock slowed.
The psychic barrier weakened by thirty percent.
He precisely reduced the total strength of the three seals to forty percent. At this rate, Apocalypse's consciousness would fully awaken within nine to twelve months.
As he finished, a faint vibration echoed from within the sarcophagus—
Like the heartbeat of something that had slept for millennia.
Slow. Heavy.
Hang extended his mental force into the depths. Within Apocalypse's barren mental desert, the blood-red sun hanging in the sky burned brighter than before.
A low, hoarse voice echoed across the psychic plane.
"You've returned, intruder."
A fragment of memory had been stirred.
"Do you truly believe such pathetic seals can imprison a god?"
Hang withdrew his mental force, a cold smile curling his lips.
A god?
He had faced Odin. He had ended Thanos's reign with his own hands. Apocalypse wasn't even close.
He turned to leave. Nine to twelve months was enough time to fully refine Ability Amplification, removing every trace of mental control and ensuring absolute safety for Jean.
This was a gamble.
The stakes were Jean's soul—and the most violent force in the multiverse.
Win, and the horizon would be limitless.
Lose, and everything would fall into ruin.
A trace of gravity flickered in Hang's heart—so faint he barely noticed it himself.
But there was no other path.
Just as he stepped toward the spatial rift, the sarcophagus trembled again—clearer this time.
Hang didn't look back.
Let him dream of ruling the world.
When he awakens, what awaits him will be a Jean Grey who has mastered her own destiny—and the Phoenix Force.
Golden light flashed.
The tomb fell back into darkness and silence, save for the faint, rhythmic heartbeat counting down to an inevitable moment.
…
Seconds later, Hang appeared in the backyard of Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters.
The setting sun bled across the sky.
He looked up toward the second floor—to Jean's room.
His mental force clearly sensed her sitting by the window, reading. Calm. Serene. But beneath that surface, deep within her soul, a golden-red energy was violently colliding with Charles's psychic restraints.
He could even hear its whispers—
Tempting. Roaring. Tearing at her will.
Every second she remained conscious, she endured unimaginable torment.
The cracks were deeper now than before.
Hang lowered his gaze and turned toward his room.
He had never feared challenges.
From the smoke of World War II to the dark forests of the cosmos, every step he had taken was a dance on the edge of a blade.
He survived.
And each time, he grew stronger.
This time would be no different.
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