"No! I didn't kill anyone—I just hit them!" Yi Feng's voice cracked with panic.
"You might want to keep your voice down," Jue said, stepping out of the shadows. His calm tone cut through the rain-soaked street. "If they call the authorities, things get… complicated."
Yi Feng froze. A moment ago, he'd been struggling like a cornered animal. Now he was staring at Jue as though he'd seen a ghost.
"You're breathing too loud to be playing dead," Jue added, giving him a nudge with his foot. "You're Chinese, aren't you?"
The words jolted Yi Feng out of his stupor. "I… my name's Yi Feng. You're a mutant too, right?" His voice trembled.
Just days ago, he'd been a high school senior with a shot at MIT and a family planning for Christmas. Now his world was drenched in blood and chaos.
"Sir," Yi Feng said, his voice steadier now, "you're strong… strong enough to kill all these people. Please—save my mother." His knees hit the pavement as he bowed low, eyes burning red.
"I'm not a mutant," Jue replied, "but I know plenty of them." His gaze sharpened, catching the pain and hatred in Yi Feng's eyes. "You're the first Chinese I've met since arriving here. Maybe I'll help you—tell me everything."
Yi Feng swallowed hard. "We're all mutants, but my father and I… our powers are weak. My mother, though—she can heal anything. But her mutation changed her—pointed ears, ageless skin, like an elf. She hides at home, but someone found out. A local gang came. They killed my father and took her—to sell her to rich collectors." His nails dug into the ground until blood welled from his fingertips.
Jue's eyes darkened. "Your parents are Chinese?"
"Both came here for university, stayed after graduating."
"Then we act. No one sells our people like merchandise." Jue's voice was cold steel. "Can you stand?"
Yi Feng staggered upright. "I know where they drink—at a bar. We can—"
"How does a good student like you know that?" Jue smirked. With a flick, he drew a drop of blood from Yi Feng's cheek. "Originally, I could only track with spiritual pressure. Now—thanks to a little modification—I can track through blood."
He gathered the ambient reishi around them, his fingers weaving a pattern.
The heart of the south, the pupil of the north… drive away the rain and scatter.
A sphere of blue light flared, turning crimson as Yi Feng's blood merged with it. Jue locked onto a direction, cloaked them both with Curved Light, and they vanished into the night.
****
On the outskirts of New York…
Zhuge Siting, bound inside a sack, had stopped struggling. Her husband was dead, her son missing—only the looming dread of what awaited her remained. The van jolted to a stop. She thought: Is this the end?
Then—her son's voice. Desperate, calling for her. The ropes loosened, light burst in, and she was free.
"Xiaofeng, you're hurt!" she cried, clutching his shoulders.
"It's nothing, Mom." His voice had changed—no longer the tone of a sheltered boy. "This is Mr. Jue… he saved us."
Jue stood nearby, studying her with quiet interest. Even weary, she carried herself with that refined beauty of Chinese heritage.
Around them, gang members lay frozen, arms locked behind their backs, faces pale with fear.
"What now?" Jue asked evenly.
Yi Feng hesitated, then glanced at his mother. "We… hand them to the police?"
Jue shook his head. "From today, you're different. A boy needs enemies to grow. The leaders of this gang—yours to deal with. These grunts… I stay in the shadows."
He stepped forward, palm raised.
O King, mask of blood and flesh… Burn, without a trace—Hadō #31: Shakkahō!
The fireball formed slowly, controlled with surgical precision. No scorch marks, no sound—just sudden annihilation. When the smoke cleared, only three figures remained: two men, one woman—terrified survivors in a world they didn't understand.
****
Snow swirled gently outside Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, dusting the windows like frost-painted runes. Inside, the great hall was alive with music, laughter, and the warmth of people who—at least for tonight—were free from the weight of the world's hatred toward mutants. Even without using his telepathy, Professor Charles Xavier guided the atmosphere like a conductor, ensuring every heart in the room beat in harmony.
From the shadows of a quiet corner, Jue—once a veteran Shinigami of the Gotei 13—stood silently, his dark gaze fixed on the heart of the gathering. Christina and Yi Feng, the newest arrival, were surrounded by students eager to make them feel welcome. The sight stirred something faint and unfamiliar in him, though he made no move to join.
"Why don't you celebrate with them?" Zhuge Siting, dressed simply but with a quiet dignity, approached through the crowd.
Jue's amber eyes flicked toward him. "And why aren't you celebrating?" he asked, noting the trace of sorrow hidden in Zhuge's expression. "Besides, the Professor isn't too fond of me being near his students. I'm still considered… dangerous."
Before Zhuge could answer, Storm—stepped into the conversation. Her eyes were steady, but her tone was sharp. "You're too extreme. It reminds Charles of an old friend." She didn't need to say the name—Magneto's shadow was never far from Xavier's mind.
"I act before the storm breaks," Jue replied, his voice calm with the weight of centuries. "I've cleaned up enough messes in my life. It's better to stop the disaster before it starts, even if the method feels… cruel."
"And what if you're wrong?" Storm's voice was as cold as the snow outside. "What if your 'prevention' hurts the innocent?"
"At least I'm not hurting the wrong ones," Jue answered evenly, his attention shifting as Professor Charles himself wheeled toward them. "It seems the headmaster wants a word."
Sensing the change, both Storm and Zhuge Siting drifted away, leaving the two men alone in the quiet eye of the festive storm.
"Thank you for what you've done for my school," Xavier began, though the warmth in his voice was absent. His eyes were guarded. "Ororo told me you wanted to speak with me. I've also heard… of your recent activities."
"I'll be direct," Jue said. "I want you as an ally. And I need you to be stronger than you are now. I'm neither hero nor villain—my duty is to maintain balance. That often means choosing the cold middle ground when others cling to ideals."
Xavier studied him, his telepathy unable to pierce the dense spiritual defenses of a Shinigami's soul. He knew mutants were running out of time—he and Erik were both aging, and their protection wouldn't last forever. Jue's strength could be a boon… or a catastrophe.
"The mutant question can't be solved with force," Xavier said at last. "Force will only push us further from humanity."
Jue's smile was faint but knowing. "Peace requires space. And space—real, lasting space—must be defended. Even your peaceful dream needs a shield, Charles. Without it, it's only a matter of time before it's crushed."
His gaze shifted briefly to where Scott Summers was awkwardly apologizing after bumping into a silver-scaled teacher, her beauty marked by the glint of her mutation. Jue's eyes narrowed in amusement before returning to Xavier.