Chapter 387: Allen Discovers the Planet's Weak Spot
A blanket of snow covered the vast Arctic continent.
Located at one of the planet's poles, this region remained in a constant state of cold, making it clearly unsuitable for large-scale human habitation.
Of course, indigenous Inuit people resided in the Arctic, but with a population of just two million spread across such an enormous area, it was practically uninhabited.
"I want to see penguins."
Looking out at the snowy, icy landscape, Morgan—now transformed into a seven-foot-tall beautiful warrior girl—held Mimi in her arms. Her bright eyes darted around, scanning for penguins.
"Penguins live in Antarctica," Allen replied seriously.
"Why can't they live in the Arctic?" Morgan asked, unconvinced.
"Because Antarctica is colder. Penguins would get heatstroke in the Arctic," Allen explained with utmost seriousness.
"Heatstroke?"
Morgan frowned deeply, her forehead wrinkling into the shape of the character 川 as her brain went into overdrive.
At that moment, Namor was searching the ocean for signs of Black Manta. Possessing powers similar to Aquaman, he could communicate with sea creatures, so it wasn't like searching for a needle in a haystack—it just took time.
"Aren't you cold?"
T'Challa stood trembling as he watched Allen and Morgan happily building a snowman. Both were dressed lightly and showed no sign of discomfort in the freezing cold.
Despite wearing his vibranium Black Panther suit with an added down jacket on top, T'Challa's breath fogged in the air, and his thick lips shivered uncontrollably.
"Blackie, this ain't your African homeland. If you're cold, you can head back," Allen offered.
Wow.
First, he'd called him "Black Cat Captain."
Now, it was just "Blackie."
At this rate, it wouldn't be long before he started calling him a racial slur.
"I can handle it," T'Challa said, forcing himself to stay strong, stretching in place to warm up his body through movement.
Allen, with his seventy-two-times-normal physique, was practically immune to the polar cold. Morgan, blessed by the gods, was likewise shielded by divine power and unfazed by low temperatures.
To make matters worse, Allen lay sprawled out in the snow while Morgan pushed him into a giant snowball.
"Little Morgan, push me down the slope—I want to become a snowball bomb!" Allen shouted gleefully.
"Snowball bomb, launch!"
One was crazy enough to ask; the other was crazy enough to do it.
Morgan didn't hesitate to grant Allen's absurd request.
"Ahhhhh…"
A gleeful scream echoed through the icy expanse.
The snowball encasing Allen grew larger and larger as it rolled, eventually becoming a massive sphere several meters tall.
Boom!
The giant snowball slammed into another snowy mountain.
But the problem was—it triggered a massive earthquake.
A snowball, no matter how big, shouldn't have caused the ground to shake like that.
"An avalanche!"
T'Challa turned and saw an enormous wave of snow crashing down from the towering mountain.
"Run!"
Seeing how bad things were, he shouted and dashed downhill with all his might.
Thud…
In the blink of an eye, a figure shot past like a cannonball.
It was Morgan, who had launched herself with a powerful leap, landing straight at the base of the mountain.
T'Challa was momentarily stunned, watching the scene as his mind froze. Luckily, his body didn't forget how to run.
"Grandpa, you're awesome! You hit it so hard the whole mountain shook!" Morgan exclaimed with awe.
"It wasn't me," Allen replied woozily, clearly dizzy from all the tumbling. He felt like he had motion sickness and struggled to explain, "I didn't do anything. That mountain's just... touchy. It's got a sensitive constitution—just a little bump sets it off."
"Let me try."
With the curiosity of a researcher, Morgan reached out and touched the mountain.
Boom!
Another tremor rocked the earth.
Moments later, calm returned.
"No way…" Morgan's eyes widened in disbelief at the bizarre phenomenon.
"Hmm… how could that be?" Allen frowned deeply, rubbing his chin. "Could this mountain be the planet's… sensitive spot? Just a touch and it goes off like that?"
Meanwhile, T'Challa kept sprinting for his life. The second quake made the avalanche even more intense, like a tidal wave of snow.
Confident in his theory, Allen wore a mischievous grin and reached toward the mountain, fingers wiggling in the air. He leaned in with a pervy smirk. "Oh, you naughty planet. Time for a little massage."
Boom!
Sure enough, another massive tremor followed.
Poor T'Challa got caught in the avalanche, flailing like a drowning cat in the rushing sea of snow.
Moments later, the avalanche reached Allen.
After a long while—
The snow settled.
Three heads popped out of the snow pile.
"Could this be what they call the planet's… orgasmic release?" Allen said with an awfully serious expression.
"No, don't—!"
T'Challa, seeing Allen raise his hand toward the mountain again, quickly tried to stop him.
Too late.
His palm was already pressed against the cold mountainside.
But nothing happened.
"Let me try."
Morgan offered herself up again, clapping her hands against the mountain. Still nothing.
"I get it now," Allen said, suddenly enlightened. "After Righty helps me out, she always enters this zen, post-climax state. So the impatient little frog keeps rubbing her tummy. This naughty planet must be in its post-orgasm cooldown."
"…?"
Was that even real?
T'Challa wanted to object, but he couldn't find a way to refute it.
After all, those three tremors were completely inexplicable.
"Grandpa, you know so much!" Morgan looked like she'd just learned something life-changing.
"Ah… wisdom is just one of my many irrelevant qualities—like my world-shattering good looks," Allen said, blushing modestly.
"Grandpa, you're amazing!" Morgan nodded vigorously, her admiration for Allen now surpassing even her own father, Iron Man.
"Forget amazing. Just say I'm handsome—that's all I need. I'm that shallow," Allen said shamelessly.
"Grandpa, you're so handsome," Morgan obediently chimed in.
"Aw, you're making me blush!" Allen giggled, covering his face like a shy girl.
Off to the side, T'Challa curled his thick lips in disgust.
These two were completely nuts.
He couldn't even keep up with their train of thought.
"There's someone floating in the sea."
Turning away from the madness, T'Challa spotted something unusual—fish floating on the surface… and among them, a figure facedown in the water.
"Holy crap, it's the Pirate King!"
Allen recognized the person from the tiny wings on his ankles. He immediately dashed to the water's edge to fish him out.
As he neared the shore, a burst of green light formed into a giant hand that scooped up the unconscious Namor.
"Wake up, Pirate King! Why are you always falling asleep in the water?"
Allen grabbed his shoulders and shook him violently. Namor's head bobbed back and forth like a bobblehead.
Seriously…?
T'Challa looked on in disbelief. Shouldn't Allen be giving CPR or draining the water from his lungs? Did he know anything about first aid?
Pfft!
Namor suddenly coughed up a mouthful of seawater. His eyes were glazed as he muttered, "There's a nuke in the water… they're nearby… mmm…"
And with that, he passed out again.
A nuclear bomb!
The earthquakes!
In that moment, T'Challa made the connection.
So that's what caused the avalanches—it was all just coincidence.
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