Vibranium in Hand, Secret Base
Just as Xu Mo was about to strike—
Boom!
A massive figure leapt from the shadows.
Sabretooth—Victor Creed—lunged straight at him.
"Roll!"
Xu Mo snapped a kick into Creed's chest. The mutant flew backward like a ragdoll, smashing through a cabin wall.
Seconds later, Creed clawed his way back up, wounds already sealing.
Xu Mo shook his head. "That healing factor of yours is a pain… but don't think it makes you untouchable."
Before he could finish him off, Ulysses Klaue—who had been ignored until now—snarled in fury.
"Asshole!" Klaue roared, swinging his prosthetic arm. "Everyone, open fire!"
His mercenaries hesitated. The deputy leaned in. "Boss… which one do we shoot?"
Klaue slapped him hard. "Both of them! Kill them all!"
The order was given. Dozens of rifles thundered, filling the cabin with smoke.
But every bullet froze in midair, suspended inches from Xu Mo's body.
Creed wasn't spared. Bullets tore through him, riddling his torso with bloody holes. He only roared louder, abandoning Xu Mo to charge at the gunners.
Xu Mo cut him off. "Trying to steal my kills? Think again."
His fist drove into Creed's face, while four titanium-alloy throwing knives spun out under telekinetic control.
The instant his knuckles touched Creed's skin, Xu Mo fused two forces together. Thirty tons of strength detonated from his fist.
Boom!
Creed's face shattered, his body blasted across the room and buried in the far wall.
Meanwhile, the flying knives ripped through the mercenaries like a storm. Men fell in droves, blood painting the floor.
"+80 points!"
"+60 points!"
The system prompts echoed in Xu Mo's mind.
In less than ten seconds, it was over. Dozens of bodies lay sprawled, throats cut clean, while the knives hovered beside him—gleaming, unstained.
Only Klaue remained, trembling.
"D-Devil… you're a devil!"
"Thanks for the compliment," Xu Mo said coldly. "Now I'll reunite you with your men."
His hand closed on Klaue's throat.
Crack.
"Villain slain. +2000 points."
He checked his system panel—over 6,000 points accumulated. Nearly 5,000 earned in under a minute.
Closing the display, Xu Mo glanced toward Sabretooth's last position.
Creed, of course, was gone. Even with his face caved in, his regeneration made that strike a setback at best. He had fled.
Xu Mo expected as much. Calmly, he retrieved the vibranium Klaue had been smuggling and left.
---
Back aboard his helicopter, Xu Mo activated a tablet. A map appeared, marked with two blinking lights.
Red: himself.
Blue: Victor Creed.
During their clash, Xu Mo had planted a micro-tracker on Sabretooth.
The system's logic was clear: the stronger the target, the greater the reward. Thugs gave dozens of points. Kingpin had been worth hundreds. Creed, clearly under psychic control, promised far more.
Mind-control mutants were rare. Anyone who could bend Sabretooth's will was almost certainly a villain—and a valuable kill.
And with the Star Tower embedded in his consciousness, Xu Mo was nearly immune to such psychic abilities.
The blue dot accelerated, leaving Africa and streaking toward America.
Minutes later, Xu Mo's private jet took off in pursuit.
---
Hours later, the tracker stopped deep in the Florida mountains.
Xu Mo's jet didn't risk radar detection. He disembarked early, moving across the Appalachians alone.
On a hidden mountain platform, a sleek aircraft descended. Sabretooth disembarked with a middle-aged handler. A vast alloy door opened in the rock, swallowing them inside.
They passed through sterile corridors into a sprawling underground laboratory. Glass cells lined the walls, each imprisoning mutants—strapped to operating tables, drugged, or staring blankly with hollow eyes. Scientists in white coats prowled among them.
Finally, they stopped before an elderly man in his sixties.
"What? You failed?" His face twisted with rage. "Useless trash! You can't even handle one man?"
"I'm sorry, Dr. Faulkner…" the handler stammered. Sabretooth only stood dazed, his expression slack.
The old scientist's fury spiked. He beat Creed savagely until his fists ached, then collapsed into a chair, panting.
"Damn it! Without an adamantium matrix, I can't transfer the healing factor into my body!"
The handler tried to soothe him. "Doctor, we'll find a substitute metal. There must be something else strong enough."
Dr. Faulkner sneered. "Perhaps. But it won't be easy…" He strode toward the glass-walled labs, eyes gleaming with obsession.