yasinovel Chapter 838: It’s been a long time… Lucky Block!
Chapter 838: It’s been a long time… Lucky Block!
“What was the point of burning her backpack?”
Standing nearby, Logan frowned in confusion. “Didn’t it occur to you that it might’ve held something important to her?”
“It’s just a kid’s stuff,”
Fang Mo waved dismissively. “When I was that age, I fantasized every day about someone setting my homework on fire. Now that I finally have the power, I’m going to help others fulfill that dream...”
“The problem is, you burned more than just her homework.”
Logan’s face darkened.
“I keep telling you: kids’ things aren’t worth much.”
Fang Mo shrugged nonchalantly. “Back in my day, I didn’t have anything in my school bag except homework and a cheap pencil case. Two pens—that’s pocket change. At most, maybe an MP3 player for music, like 18 or 20 bucks.”
“That’s not what I meant—”@@@@
Logan shook his head.
“All right, so maybe it’s an MP4, fine,”
Fang Mo went on, spreading his hands again. “It’s just the same device with a small screen for watching some...um...cartoons. A hundred bucks, tops.”
“Still not what I’m saying.”
Logan cut him off once again.
“Hm?”
Fang Mo paused, then smacked his forehead as if a realization had struck. “Oh, right, I forgot—this is the U.S. So you’re referring to an MP5, I guess?”
“Which elementary school kid puts an MP5 submachine gun in their backpack?!”
Unable to hold back, Logan roared, “I’m just telling you to only burn homework. Stop destroying other stuff—especially don’t burn the planet we’re standing on!”
“Hey, hey, American kids bringing MP5s to school is practically a thing, you know?”
Fang Mo retorted confidently, then asked, “Do you know why most magazines hold only 30 rounds?”
“Because adding more ammunition makes the gun heavier and harder to hold for a prolonged time,”
Logan replied instinctively. He’d lived through WWI and WWII, so he knew his firearms well. “On the other hand, carrying fewer rounds than that reduces suppressive fire—” ℟aƝoBĘś
“Wrong!”
Fang Mo cut him off with a dramatic wave of his hand. “It’s because an American classroom typically has thirty students!”
Saying so, Fang Mo didn’t give Logan a chance to retort. He simply lowered his gaze to the little girl. “Kid, what’s your name?”
“M-my name is Anna...”
The girl answered timidly.
“If your friend ever warns you not to go to school the next day, you listen. All right?”
As he spoke, Fang Mo pulled a small ring from his pocket, slipping it onto her finger. “Or you can tell your friend they shouldn’t go to school.”
“Huh?”
Anna stared blankly at the ring on her hand.
“What’d you give her?”
Logan asked, frowning.
“Nothing special—think of it as a bulletproof vest for kids.”
Fang Mo brushed it off. In truth, it was just a “toy” ring made from Nether Venom Crystal (or some similarly bizarre material) with max projectile-protection enchantments. It wasn’t very practical overall, but it’d guard her from stray bullets in a pinch.
“A...bulletproof vest?”
Logan repeated, stunned.
“Yep, U.S.-exclusive. Only in America do they sell children’s sizes.”
Fang Mo reached out and gently pinched Anna’s cheek. Her dazed expression reminded him of his own younger sister. “Sorry for burning your backpack. Here’s a little gift—now you can ride around in a convertible without worry. It’ll keep you safe.”
“Could you tone down the dark humor?”
Logan pressed a hand to his forehead in exasperation. “At least don’t act so callous in front of a kid...”
“Doesn’t look like there’s an issue.”
Watching the ambulance drive off with Beast, Logan breathed a sigh of relief.
“Told you,”
Fang Mo chuckled. “Let’s go home and wait for the news to air.”
Logan didn’t argue. He gave a curt nod, and the two made their way back to Xavier’s School.
As soon as they arrived, Fang Mo headed straight for the library to see how Charles was getting on with that rambunctious bunch he’d introduced.
Surprisingly, they were all behaving quite well. Charles sat in the center, and the “guichu all-stars” formed a ring of small chairs around him, listening intently to his lecture. It wasn’t anything complicated—just the history of mutants. Fang Mo peered at Wang Jingze’s notebook. Among weird scribbles about stir-fried rice recipes, there were indeed notes about the origins of mutants, how the X-gene caused individual variation, classifications of mutant abilities, and so forth.
“You’re back?”
Seeing Fang Mo arrive, Charles paused.
“...Where’s Hank?”
“In the hospital.”
Fang Mo didn’t hide it. “Things went pretty well. He got himself burned pretty badly saving people. I expect he’ll be on the news tonight or tomorrow.”
“I see.”
Charles nodded, his voice tinged with sympathy. “Is it...serious?”
“Nah, just burns. He’s alive,”
Fang Mo waved dismissively.
“That’s good.”
Charles sighed in relief.
“But as for you...”
Fang Mo continued. “Once Hank’s stable, reporters are bound to interview him. That means Xavier’s School will be in the spotlight. Got your speech ready?”
“I don’t need one.”
Charles was surprisingly confident. “I’ve been waiting for this day all along. Those words for mutant equality—I’ve memorized them by heart.”
“Your resolve is admirable.”
Fang Mo shrugged, then glanced at the “guichu all-stars” around them. “But what about them? Got any idea how to handle their public image?”
“Uh...”
Charles froze. He could already imagine how the press would react to such a chaotic cast if they showed up on camera. Mutants’ reputation might plummet in an instant.
“Looks like we’ll be working overtime tonight...”
Charles murmured, rubbing his temples in exhaustion. “Any objections?”
“None,”
responded a tall, broad-shouldered African-American fellow promptly.
“I’ll be off then,”
Fang Mo said, waving a hand at Charles. “I’ve done what I needed to do today, so I’m heading out. If you need anything, just let me know.”
“Okay.”
Charles’s voice followed him as he left.
Fang Mo didn’t reply. He strode to his bedroom, intending to rest after all the day’s antics—he had considered conjuring up a few more “all-stars,” but having already created quite a large crew, he found the thought mentally draining. Simply lying down felt boring, though, so after a moment’s thought, he sat up.
“Maybe I’ll test my luck with some draws...”
He realized he hadn’t done any “lucky blocks” in a while and figured he had a bunch stockpiled, so it might be fun to give them a spin. His luck in the X-Men universe hadn’t been bad, after all.
Thus decided, he accessed “Steve” in his mind and took out a Lucky Block, right-clicking to open it.
A brilliant golden light flashed, and suddenly “Steve” was holding a strange-looking spawn egg. Fang Mo raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Huh? A spawn egg? That’s not common. Let’s see... Holy crap...?!
‘The Ten-Tails’?!?”