At dawn, the campus of Godolkin University was broken by the discordant whistling of air currents.
A black off-road vehicle flew in steadily from outside the school at high speed, golden flames spewing from its rear.
"Holy crap! Look! What's that?"
"A new type of hovercar? Did Vought release new tech again?"
"No, it's a UFO!"
Several early-rising students and teachers immediately pulled out their phones, aiming their lenses at this spectacle.
It wasn't until the off-road vehicle slowly landed in the parking lot that they saw clearly: it wasn't some anti-gravity device or high-tech gadget at all, but two people carrying the car.
"Tch... just rickshaw pullers, let's go."
"No vision. Look who's carrying the car; I'm definitely leaching off this hype."
Near the ground, Wade and Luke, one in front and one behind, shouted a slogan: "Three, two, one... release," and gently set the car down.
Andre jumped down from the roof of the car and high-fived the two as they walked over: "Great job, brothers, we did it!"
"I told you it would work!" Wade and Luke high-fived and bumped shoulders, laughing heartily. "That was awesome, so exciting!"
The car doors slammed open, and Cate and Jordan Li got out one after the other with cold faces, silently taking out their luggage. The atmosphere instantly turned cold.
Jordan Li slung his backpack over his shoulder, glanced at the others without saying a word, and turned to stride away.
"Lee..." Luke reached out, seemingly wanting to say something, but swallowed his words.
"See you two later." He gave a stiff nod to the others, picked up his duffel bag, and turned to leave.
Andre pulled his suitcase and waved goodbye: "They'll figure it out; they just need some time."
Cate tossed her messy blonde hair and whispered as she passed Wade, "Keep it safe, our... little secret." After speaking, she followed Luke with light steps.
Wade stood there, watching this fractured group, then turned to walk towards the stadium.
"No classes this morning, perfect time to hone myself as planned."
As Wade walked through the forest path, two dragonflies perched on a tree silently landed in his palm.
"Oh, got it?"
A blurry surveillance image flooded into Wade's mind. He fast-forwarded and analyzed the useful information:
[Target: Underground Facility "The Woods"]
[Disguised substation exit, entry/exit timing:
1:00 AM - 1:30 AM, guard shift change;
5:00 AM - 5:30 AM, other personnel passage]
After digesting the information, Wade glanced at the rising sun: "Tonight after feeding No. 1... I'll go check it out if I have time."
...
The stadium was bustling with noise.
The dull thud of muscle collisions, the clanging of weights hitting the floor, and the whoosh of speedsters running past intertwined into a passionate symphony.
Wade warmed up as he walked, heading straight for the power area filled with the smell of sweat and intermittent grunts.
Muscular men were roaring as they pushed up heavy, oversized barbells, their veins bulging.
Wade stood in front of an empty bench press rack, his gaze locking onto a one-ton barbell with plates labeled 50kg each, ten on each side.
He didn't bend down to grab it like a normal person; instead, he slightly raised his right hand, fingers spread.
Buzz—
Invisible air currents instantly converged, like countless unseen giant hands, tightly gripping the bar.
The barbell began to tremble violently, slowly bending as it rose, letting out a piercing creak.
"Up... you go!"
The barbell shakily left the rack and hovered in mid-air.
Fine beads of sweat broke out on Wade's forehead, his temples throbbing uncontrollably.
He felt like his brain had been stuffed into a high-speed rotating turbine; performing such precise control with this weight for the first time consumed a terrifying amount of mental energy.
He clearly realized: as the gas coverage expanded, the air currents became thin and loose, causing precision to plummet; when pursuing extreme compression, the control range would shrink drastically.
It was like stretching a rubber band with limited elasticity; focusing on one meant losing the other.
For the first ten minutes, the barbell swayed precariously in the air, nearly losing control and crashing down several times.
He had to focus entirely, as if walking a tightrope.
After twenty minutes, a subtle feeling emerged.
He stopped trying to control all the air currents with "brute force" and instead guided several core currents to support key stress points, letting the others attach naturally.
The barbell's stability improved visibly.
After thirty minutes, inspiration struck, and he tried to create a continuous upward miniature Cyclone beneath the barbell, like an invisible auxiliary spring.
The previously heavy burden suddenly lightened; the barbell was no longer being forced up but was being supported, making its movement up and down unprecedentedly smooth and free.
Wade rubbed his temples, feeling that under this weight, his mental energy consumption had been reduced by a third, and control stability had greatly improved.
Clang!
With a release of his mental focus, the barbell landed steadily on the buffer pads.
Several buff men nearby who had been secretly watching were left dumbfounded.
'Not enough,' Wade panted, feeling the soreness in his consciousness, 'this is just static weight. Air manipulation in actual combat needs to handle rapidly changing dynamic pressure.'
He lifted the one-ton barbell with both hands and easily put it back in place, making the onlookers' eyes twitch again.
"Yo! Cyclone, your physical fitness is pretty good." Wolverine and Iron sheet walked over side by side and nodded. "Want to come practice combat with us?"
Wade recognized the two; they were the contestants in the first competitive match he watched after enrolling.
He tossed a bottle of chilled mineral water to each of the sweating men: "Thanks, I'll go after I finish my other exercises."
Wolverine drank the water and laughed softly: "Go find Teacher Tracy later. She's beautiful and kind, with ten years of teaching experience... she's one of the mentors for us close-combat supes and is quite patient with newcomers."
"Got it."
Moving to the track.
While others were sweating and running on the synthetic track, Wade put on a specially made weighted armor, hovering half a foot off the ground as he moved forward in the outer lane.
This wasn't a simple weight-bearing exercise. He added 1.5 times gravity to the armor and created a ring of continuously impacting air currents around himself.
In an instant, he felt as if he had fallen into a thick mire, each step requiring him to tear through the solidified air in front of him;
At times, it was like moving against a gale-force wind, requiring forceful kicks against the turbulent air currents just to take a difficult step forward.
Wade's muscles were tense, and his mental energy was rapidly consumed under the dual burden.
Half an hour later, he found a rhythm and pattern. He stopped fighting the turbulence and instead tried to guide it.
Using subtle air currents as "probes," he sensed the gravity on his body and the strength and direction of the air currents ahead, making micro-adjustments to his hovering body.
After flying five laps around the track, Wade finally took off the armor.
He jumped up and flew rapidly into the high sky, moving through different air layers, feeling his adaptability and sense of dynamic balance in complex airflow environments significantly enhanced.
The last stop was the combat zone.
Here, Wade didn't use any superpowers beyond his physical attributes, joining in to learn from the basics.
Tracy, the lean female combat coach, skillfully used trips and joint locks to take him down cleanly again and again, just like a sandbag.
Thud!
The dull thud of his back hitting the thick mat made Wade grimace.
"Ugh!" His elbow joint was locked in the opposite direction, sending waves of aching pain; everything was so real yet unfamiliar.
"Coach," Wade panted heavily during a break, complaining, "is it necessary to train this hard? My superpower isn't a close-combat type."
"I've seen your fight too." Tracy pulled him up. "Forgotten the lesson of having your powers suppressed last time?"
Before she finished speaking, a swift leg sweep took Wade down again, and she used her knee to pin his spine, completing the suppression.
"If you had mastered the techniques I'm teaching back then," her voice came from above, "you could have used your physique to dislocate their arms before they even touched you! Wouldn't winning have been easier?"
When he was caught in the same armbar for the third time, Wade didn't struggle fruitlessly like the first two times.
He endured the joint pain, recalling the movement of Tracy's center of gravity and blood flow when she exerted force: "Coach! Why do you always move your left foot first and grab with your right hand? If I dodge now, can you still catch me?"
Tracy's movement paused slightly, her grip loosening: "Oh? You noticed?"
She let go, stood up, and signaled for Wade to get up as well. "That's right, every attack has a sign... you have some savvy, you're not just a pure brute."
"Remember this feeling. Your perception is sharp, so use it for prediction! Fighting with your brain is much more advanced than using brute force."
These words were like a sudden enlightenment.
Wade rubbed his aching shoulder, a sudden realization dawning on him: 'I see... superpowers and combat techniques aren't opposites. If my [Blood Perception] and [Gas Perception] can be used to catch the tiny signs before an opponent exerts force, I can make predictions.'
Twenty minutes later, Wade squatted by the side of the field moving his joints, watching Tracy explain and demonstrate techniques: 'Coach's strength and defense are so strong; I can't even budge her move for move. I wonder to what extent she's developed them.'
Just then, Wolverine came over and handed him a functional drink: "Tsk, that looks painful."
"But training is better than not training, right? In case you meet someone whose ability completely counters yours one day, knowing one more move could give you a chance to turn defeat into victory."
"True." Wade opened the drink cap and asked the question he had been harboring: "Senior, is there an upper limit to superpower development?"
Wolverine squatted on the ground doing stretching exercises and said casually: "Yeah! In terms of potential and development, it's divided into five levels... namely Basic Level, Advanced Level, Proficient Level, Master Level, and Grandmaster Level."
"And abilities degrade and go out of control as you get older, so these theories have been swept into the trash heap of history."
"What's the point of just fighting and killing? Nowadays, you can only make big money and enjoy life by focusing on packaging and brand image." Iron sheet, leaning against the wall nearby, added, "Training to Level 2 Advanced is enough. No one risks their life to develop superpowers; taking care of your body is what matters."
"What about Homelander?" Wade raised his hand and asked curiously.
Wolverine sat cross-legged on the ground and whispered: "He's an exception, the chosen one, the only Level 4 supe... he's the star, with the top research experts and maintenance teams. We can't emulate that."
"Alright." Wade sighed, finally understanding that there were so many intricacies in the fully capitalized supe industry. 'It seems just stacking superpowers isn't enough; that's only good for bullying weaklings... my [Gas Manipulation] development has only just touched the Level 2 threshold. I'm still far off!'
For the next hour or so, Wade listened extra carefully.
He initially mastered the basic principles and techniques of using the ground for side control, followed by transitions into armbars and arm triangles.
At noon, Wade sat cross-legged on the stadium steps; his wet training clothes had completely dried.
He picked up his water bottle and took a large gulp, his eyes exceptionally bright.
"Phew... I'll just keep training like this; there's still plenty of room for improvement."
Heavy air current support and adaptation, precise air manipulation, action prediction and capture...
Once these techniques are integrated, within twenty meters, the air currents will be like an extension of his body.
'My ability development hasn't reached its limit yet... a hundred meters, a thousand meters, it's all possible.'
Plus, vacuuming oxygen to create a suffocation field, mixing toxic and harmful gases; compressing and churning air to form attacks and barriers...
'By then, opponents will silently succumb in the struggle.'
This is what Wade pursues: Absolute Control!
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