Mastering the Body and Mind
Many assumed that practitioners of traditional Chinese martial arts avoided the foundational strength training common in Western disciplines. In truth, such training was essential in testing and enhancing raw physical ability. Throughout history, Chinese warriors had used stone locks, weighted mills, and other rudimentary equipment to build their strength—tools that paralleled modern gym apparatus.
Huaxia boxing emphasized not just brute force but the art of leveraging energy, akin to an algorithm where a single unit of strength could be amplified into two or three times its original force. This philosophy of efficiency and redirection formed the basis of countless traditional combat styles. Jujitsu, joint locks, and later martial disciplines all incorporated the principle of leverage, where a weaker opponent could overcome a stronger foe through technique alone.
But what if the starting point was not weak at all? What if an individual possessed raw strength beyond human limitations? A mutant with an extraordinary physique practicing these arts would be exponentially more powerful than any ordinary master—perhaps even reaching an entirely new realm of combat effectiveness.
James Howlett, however, was more than just a powerful mutant. In a past life, he had been Bai Feng, a grandmaster of Chinese martial arts. His reincarnation into this world had created an anomaly—an impossible fusion of vast martial knowledge, superhuman ability, and historical foresight. With each passing day, he honed his strength, merging the best of Western and Eastern training methods into a discipline of his own making.
After twenty sets of squats and deadlifts, each pushing the limits of his endurance, James donned a hundred-kilogram weighted vest. His training was only beginning. The true test lay in exhausting himself, then pushing past that exhaustion to tap into the deeper mechanics of martial movement. The strict separation between styles had long ceased to exist for him. The circular footwork of Baguazhang blended seamlessly into the spiraling force of Taijiquan. The explosive straight-line power of Xingyi merged with the elusive "shrinking ground" techniques of ancient legends.
He was approaching something beyond conventional martial arts—a pure, instinctive combat form unrestricted by lineage or doctrine.
Hours passed. The clock in the underground chamber chimed softly, marking the fifth hour since he had begun. James finally slowed, stretching his limbs and focusing his breath. His pores, tightly shut throughout the training, retained every ounce of energy. Instead of sweating profusely, he directed the heat inward, circulating it within his core. With a slow exhale, his breath surged like a blast of wind, briefly illuminating the chamber's brazier like a bellows feeding a fire.
Not a single drop of sweat had escaped his body. This was the mastery of internal boxing—the control of power down to the finest detail.
Ascending the long, stone staircase, James emerged through a hidden panel in the study. Rows of finely crafted firearms lined the walls, but he ignored them, changing into fresh clothes before heading downstairs for dinner.
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The Instinct of the Hunt
Victor Creed had spent months combing the forests, searching for signs of something unusual. Since the disturbing discovery he had made in late autumn, he had remained vigilant, watching for disturbances in the wilderness. Yet, whatever had left those monstrous tracks and unnatural damage seemed to have vanished without a trace.
His instincts, however, told him otherwise. He could feel it—his "kind" was out there somewhere, moving just beyond his reach.
Over a century later, geneticists would come to define this phenomenon as the "mutant community effect." Among mutants with animalistic traits, particularly those linked to predatory instincts, there existed an innate drive to seek out others of their kind. It was an ancient instinct, rooted in the primal need for survival. Wolves gathered in packs, lions followed their pride, and certain mutants—especially those with enhanced senses—were compelled to find their own.
But that instinct came with a paradox. The strongest among them would always seek dominance. In the animal kingdom, there was only one alpha per territory. The bond that drew them together also dictated that, eventually, they would fight for supremacy.
Victor Creed had yet to meet this unknown "kindred spirit," but he already knew how their relationship would end. Either they would hunt together, or they would battle to decide which of them deserved the title of king.
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The Winds of War
After dinner, James sat in his study as Butler Wayne delivered a stack of letters from the United States. They detailed the escalating tensions in the nation—the failed uprising of John Brown, the growing influence of a rising Republican leader named Abraham Lincoln, and the undeniable momentum pushing the country toward civil war.
James read carefully, absorbing every detail before drafting his response. He issued a series of precise instructions, mapping out Howlett family investments and alliances in preparation for the inevitable conflict.
The American Civil War had not yet begun, but its shadow loomed over the continent.
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The Final Days of Mr. Howlett
The Canadian winter was silent—so silent that it seemed as if the world itself had paused. Thick layers of snow clung to the towering peaks of the Rockies, muffling all sound. Inside the grand Howlett estate, the bedroom fireplace crackled steadily, casting a warm glow across the room.
James sat cross-legged on a thick Persian rug, meditating near the fire. His sharp features were highlighted by the flickering light, his mind momentarily at peace in the presence of his grandfather. Here, in this quiet, he felt a connection—not just to the old man but to something deeper, a tether anchoring him to this world.
A sudden coughing fit shattered the stillness.
James opened his eyes and immediately moved to the bedside, supporting Mr. Howlett as he struggled to sit up. The old man's breath was labored, but his eyes were sharp with determination.
"Jamie… help me sit up. Just for a while. I want to talk."
James arranged the pillows behind his grandfather, ensuring he was comfortable. Despite the weakness in his body, the old man still carried the remnants of his former strength in his gaze.
"These nights must be tiring for you," Mr. Howlett said with a faint smile. "Spending every evening with an old man… You should be out running the estate, not tending to a dying relic."
James shook his head. "No one else should be doing this, Grandfather. This is where I belong."
A raspy chuckle. "You're too stubborn… just like me."
Mr. Howlett fell silent for a moment, staring into the fire. Then, he exhaled slowly. "I've lived long enough to see the world change, Jamie. But I've also seen enough to know what truly matters."
He reached for James' hand, gripping it with what little strength remained.
"You have ambition, intelligence… but remember this—no lone wolf can stand against a lion. Strength means nothing without people you can trust. Surround yourself with those who will fight for you, not just obey you. A pack, not just subordinates."
James nodded, the weight of his grandfather's words settling deep within him.
"The legacy of a family isn't just blood—it's spirit, perseverance. It's the people who choose to stand by you. Never let that be forgotten."
"I promise," James said, his voice unwavering.
"And one more thing," Mr. Howlett murmured, a ghost of a smile on his lips. "Have children. Many of them. This world is big enough for more Howletts."
The old man's voice grew fainter, his energy slipping away. James helped him lie back down, his keen senses attuned to the slowing rhythm of his heartbeat.
The once-powerful patriarch of the Howlett family closed his eyes, exhaling one final breath.
James remained by his side, holding his grandfather's hand as the warmth slowly faded.
The night outside was still and silent.