Chapter 363

"I know every small African nation has its burdens," Banner's voice echoed in the lab. "I've conducted multiple expeditions in Africa and spent long periods in East Africa—it wasn't a pleasant experience."

"Though harsh, it's true that most nations on this planet lack resilience; collapse in any single system leads to total collapse," Connors added.

"Wakanda is already the most advanced nation in Africa," Shiler said, watching his computer at the lab bench. "A modern high-tech state with its own armed forces and even super-soldiers. Its only flaw is over-reliance on a single resource."

"But that's not really a flaw—they were born on fertile land; why shouldn't they use what's within reach to strengthen themselves?"

"So what's your plan to handle this?" Connors looked at Shiler. "I heard you formed some kind of Radiant Alliance. Honestly, if Xavier weren't in it, I'd oppose you all gathering together."

Shiler smiled. "If Steelsteel is truly a Stark-designed alloy, then Wakanda is truly in danger."

"Stark may be sentimental in some ways, but when human interests are at stake, no matter how close he is to T'Challa, he won't hold back. If Stark's production lines go full throttle, vibranium will have no place left."

Connors frowned at Shiler. "You mean Steelsteel isn't a Stark-made alloy?"

"Correct. It's actually an extraterrestrial natural mineral."

"Impossible," Banner immediately rebutted. "No mineral extracted from rock can exist in that state—even vibranium requires refining before use."

"Steelsteel has been refined, but the refining agent is something called Firefire Energy—you can think of it as a kind of magical energy. The mining and smelting happen simultaneously..."

Watching Shiler's expression, Connors suddenly felt a bad premonition. "So your story about traveling to the Andromeda Galaxy must be fascinating. Care to tell us?"

Meanwhile, Stark was still on the phone with T'Challa. After hearing the story of the Sulphur Dwarves, T'Challa felt deeply moved. "I've always known Wakanda's people overvalue this resource. They believe it's what distinguishes us from other African nations—that without vibranium, we lose everything."

"In a sense, they're right. But without wise leadership and foresight, a small nation cannot safeguard such a vital resource. My ancestors and my father's generation have spent generations striving for this."

"I think you're right. Wakanda must ultimately break free from this resource dependency—and the key lies in me and my people."

T'Challa was a very open-minded man, skilled at listening to others. Every time Stark spoke with him, he felt at ease. "I think the key lies with you, T'Challa. Haven't you noticed? Everyone who speaks with you develops a fondness for Wakanda. Remember, Stark doesn't easily praise anyone..."

T'Challa smiled. "I know. I'm honored to be praised by the world's greatest scientist. Now, though times are hard, I have a way to turn things around. Relying on others won't last. Wakanda will forge its own path—we won't repeat the fate of the civilization you described."

"Then good luck to you. I look forward to the day you become Emperor of Africa."

"Oh, don't say that," T'Challa laughed harder. He thought Stark was joking. "Wakanda may be Africa's most advanced nation, our infrastructure excellent, our military strong—but we've never dreamed of using that power to invade others."

"My predecessors and I believe our faith teaches us to harness bestial strength for power, but also to preserve calm and peace to retain our humanity."

Stark felt moved. "With a leader like you, Wakanda will go further."

"Alright, I've got many tasks to handle. We'll talk later," T'Challa's tone was relaxed—Stark's words had eased his weeks of anxiety.

When he calmed down and thought clearly, he realized new material utilization wasn't simple. For the foreseeable future, most critical equipment would still rely on vibranium.

Just as Stark was about to hang up, he heard a loud crash from T'Challa's phone. Stark frowned. "What's going on?! Hey! T'Challa!... Black Panther! Are you alright?!"

"Erik! Get out! This is the palace—you have no right to be here!"

"Boom! Crash... Crash-crash!! T'Challa! This is the people's judgment on you, coward!"

"Erik! Stop! You'll destroy Wakanda!"

"You've already destroyed Wakanda, T'Challa! Such a precious resource wasted in your hands—you've brought no tangible benefit to Wakanda's people!"

A voice Stark didn't recognize came from the other end. This Erik, whom Black Panther T'Challa had mentioned, seemed to be his kin.

"What are you doing again? Calling those stupid American old men, selling out our interests? Traitor to Wakanda! I will judge you on behalf of the people!"

"Stop, Erik! I am Wakanda's king—you can't... uh..."

"Hello? T'Challa? T'Challa?! What happened? Damn it! Stop!!"

"Stupid American old men—only T'Challa, this coward, believes your lies. You can't command me. I'll make you pay."

"What are you doing? Hey! Hey!"

"Damn it..." Stark hung up. He reached into the air, and a suit flew to him, armor sealing onto his body. He was about to fly out the window when he suddenly remembered something. He paused, thought, then opened his phone and called Connors. "Hey? Connors? You need to cover for me—I've got something urgent to handle. Two research projects are unfinished. Get here fast—I'm desperate..."

Connors was still listening to Shiler's story about humans rescuing people in the Andromeda Galaxy, just reaching the critical part, when Stark called—panicked. Connors frowned. "What's wrong? What's so urgent?"

"A friend of mine has been kidnapped. The kidnappers probably plan to kill him. I have to go save him!"

"A friend? Who?"

"T'Challa! Don't you remember? The Black man we worked with at the General Lab—the king of Wakanda..."

"Oh, him!" Connors looked suddenly enlightened. "He's a good guy. How did he get kidnapped?"

"I just said—he's the king of Wakanda. Someone's trying to usurp the throne!"

"Alright, I knew it was something like that. I'm on my way. Wait for me."

Connors hung up and explained the situation to the other two. Shiler frowned. "Stark isn't planning to fly there in his armor, is he?"

"What else can he do? Private jets won't get to Africa that fast..." Connors frowned. "Even if he flies in armor, it'll still take time... Oh, right—don't we have wizards? I'll call Strange and ask him to send a wizard to open a portal for Tony."

Shiler shook his head disapprovingly. Connors assumed he disapproved of Stark going to save T'Challa. He sighed. "Alright, I know Africa's chaotic—kings and rulers change often. If we rescued every one, we'd never stop. But T'Challa really is a good man..."

"And he's an exceptional scientist. The fact that Stark treats him with such urgency proves his ability and character, doesn't it?"

"I'm not saying not to save him," Shiler shook his head. "I'm just puzzled—why use such an inefficient method? Even if his armor flies fast, if the kidnappers could overpower T'Challa, killing him would take seconds."

Connors's brow tightened further. Shiler said: "Call Strange—but don't ask him to send a wizard. Tell him to contact Wakanda's superior directly."

"Superior? What superior does Wakanda have?"

Two minutes later, in the Sanctum Sanctorum office, Strange, facing three computer screens, pulled out his phone amid his chaos. "Hello? I'm busy—call back later..."

Strange's face glowed with screen light, data reflecting on his glasses. Phones rang around him constantly. The one in his hand was his personal phone.

"Life-or-death matter," came Shiler's voice. Strange wasn't surprised. "I knew it was you. You can't rest unless you give me trouble."

"Don't be like that. This is serious," Shiler switched hands. "You know about a country in Africa called Wakanda?"

"What do you mean? Do you think I'm one of those mutants? Of course I know how many African nations there are—let alone Wakanda, the most famous!"

Strange's tone was sharp—he was overwhelmed. Shiler didn't mind. "Wakanda's king is T'Challa. He's Stark's friend. He's in danger. Stark's about to fly there in armor."

"Then let him go. Why call me?... Oh, you're not asking me to open a portal again, are you? I repeat—wizards aren't walking portals. You can't demand—"

"If that were the case, Stark himself would've called you. He's not mute—why wouldn't he call you directly?"

"Then what do you want?"

"Check your phone directory. Is there a demon god named Panther God? He's the deity worshipped in Wakanda. Strike a deal with him: offer a free quarterly membership, throw in some membership gifts, and ask him to help."

Stark showed no surprise at Shiler's bizarre idea. He only asked, puzzled: "Panther God? I've never heard that name. Another backwater demon god?"

"Wait..." Strange hung up. He stood, clapped his hands, drawing all staff attention. "Check your contact list. Is there a demon god named Panther God? I need to reach him."

"The Lone Step to Immortality"

"Panther God?" Below, staff exchanged glances. Some flipped through phone pages. Others asked colleagues. No one stepped forward. Strange sighed. "Looks like another backwater demon god."

"Alright, find a way to contact him. A life-or-death matter requires his help."

The discussion below grew louder. Everyone exchanged information, trying to trace this unknown demon god through their networks.

Finally, a female wizard stepped forward. "When I passed Heliopolis, I saw a lion. I wonder if it's related to Panther God..."

"Heli... what?"

"Oh, that's the Celestial Realm. You've heard of the African pantheon? Kamchatka Sect should have scrolls on them. The Supreme Sorcerer once borrowed their power. They primarily govern bestial and wild forces, and some also oversee sorcery."

"Alright, if you can reach that lion, ask if he knows Panther God."

"I can reach him...," the female wizard gave a pained expression. Strange rarely saw such a look on Kamchatka wizards. He asked: "What's wrong? Trouble?"

"It's just..." The wizard gave a helpless, half-laughing, half-crying look. "... hat lion can't speak human language."