Chapter 735

In Stark's lab, files and data piles high; JARVIS had to install a set of mechanical arms on his new body to organize all the experimental materials.

Each set has four arms, fixed at JARVIS's shoulders and waist; the upper arms assist his own in sorting documents, while the lower ones stuff them into cabinets.

Because some experimental data are too complex for simple programs to judge and must remain classified, only JARVIS and Stark can handle them.

In the adjacent room, Otto was pounding the table in fury, saying: "If you don't trust my tech, why even call me?!"

"I'll say it again—tentacles can interface directly with the human nervous system, no side effects, no need for you to add a layer of armor in between!"

"I've seen your research, but I just can't stand having four giant tentacles strapped to my back—it's hideous!" Stark raised his voice.

"You need to understand: my fans love Iron Man because they love my sleek, high-tech armor—not four ugly tentacles. I hired you to solve problems, so shut up and get to work, okay?"

Otto took a deep breath, recalled the string of zeros on Pepper's contract, shook his head, and resigned himself to installing mechanical tentacles on Stark's armor.

To further boost his own efficiency, Stark decided he needed more hands too.

People often call him an exploitative capitalist, but Stark had to prove that when he's ruthless, he exploits even himself.

He built himself a comprehensive life-support armor, powered by magical energy, allowing him to go a full week without sleep.

No food, no water, no sleep—fully immersed in experiments. That's why his anxiety was so severe before.

This time, he planned to add four mechanical tentacles like Doctor Octopus's to the life-support armor.

Though he could command JARVIS to activate robots and assist him, neither flexibility nor tactile feedback matched his own hands; if neural linkage could grant him extra limbs, it was worth it.

After hours of work in the lab, Otto had calibrated all the mechanical tentacle models; Strange stepped out of a magical portal, preparing for surgery.

Any neural connection requires surgery, but after technical improvements, Strange was experimenting with minimally invasive neural-link procedures—even external ones.

In short: use a special material to extend human nerves beyond the body's surface, making external neural devices far easier to use and sparing immense pain.

But since the technique hadn't been tested, it couldn't be used on Stark; he could only use the traditional method—internal implantation of neural interfaces—to control the tentacles.

"I must warn you: neural-link surgery carries risks. I've already given the risk notice to JARVIS, but signing it doesn't matter—if it fails, I'll activate the Stone and we'll reset."

"Also, Shieler will arrive in ten minutes." Strange glanced at his watch. "Oh no—seven minutes. He's always punctual."

"Wait—he's coming here for what?" Stark walked toward the armor, turned, and stepped backward into it as the armor enveloped him.

Unlike combat suits, the life-support armor prioritizes extreme lightness—almost weightless; when worn, Stark looked like he'd put on a tight suit, with only mechanical joints visible.

Strange placed the medical file aside and looked at Stark. "I must warn you—external neural-link surgery is excruciating. Extremely painful."

"Most importantly, you refuse anesthesia. I truly don't know how you…"

"Don't bring that up." Stark turned his head away, trying to change the subject. Otto added: "If you're trying to prove your masculinity with such childish methods, I suggest you go back to college and retake psychology."

Stark snorted. "Masculinity? I'm not as immature as Peter. Don't you know? Any dose of anesthetic could damage the brain—that's a consequence I absolutely cannot afford."

"So… when you were tinkering with that thing on your chest, you never used anesthesia??" Strange stared at Stark. "I have to admit—you do have a touch of masculinity."

Thinking of what Strange had mentioned, Stark's face paled; he clenched his lips. "Don't bring that up again. I don't want to remember."

When facing life-or-death moments, people unlock their maximum potential—but afterward, fear lingers. Stark's unstable mental state stems partly from the trauma of Afghanistan.

"Good morning, everyone." Shieler entered the lab holding a medical file, studying Stark. "I heard a certain big boy wants to prove his masculinity with a neural-link surgery—without anesthesia?"

"Enough talk. If you keep going, my heart rate won't be stable for surgery." Stark took a deep breath. "Soon, you'll see what real masculinity looks like."

Ten minutes later, a scream tore through New York's silent sky.

"Ahh!"

"!"

"!"

"!"

"Aaaah!"

"!"

"!"

"!"

"Beep—beep—beep—"

"Alarm triggered." Shieler turned to the instruments, recording. "Brainwave activity is abnormal. Stop now!"

Strange immediately halted, removed his gloves, pulled out the Stone—a flash of light—and time reversed to before the surgery.

Stark, strapped to the operating table, gasped, drenched in sweat. Though wounds and blood vanished, his memory remained—those unbearable pains had just engulfed him.

Stark, bare-chested, pushed himself upright on one arm.

Strange packed surgical tools, glancing at Stark's back—where, moments ago, a small incision had been, shallow, minimal bleeding—but the neural-link process had inflicted extreme agony.

"Dude, how the hell did you endure this pain??" Stark stared at Otto. "Even with anesthesia, this isn't humanly tolerable!"

Otto shook his head. "True—I woke up screaming seven or eight times during my surgery, but it was intermittent, so less severe. If you use zero anesthesia, I can only wish you luck."

Shieler turned to Strange. "Could Professor X forcibly shut down his brain?"

Strange shook his head. "Hard to say—it might still damage the brain. His mind is too active, neural output far exceeds normal levels. If forcibly suppressed…"

Strange didn't finish. Everyone understood his conclusion. Shieler paused, then said: "What if we borrow a symbiote? Directly block pain sensation."

The others fell silent, thinking. Strange stroked his chin. "It could work. These symbiotes are extraordinary—they can control every single cell in the human body…"

"But all symbiotes returned to their homeworld… wait—wasn't there one left behind?"

Shieler and Strange exchanged glances. On the operating table, Stark suddenly felt a bad premonition.

"Rat, we meet again!"

Venom's deep, rasping voice echoed in Stark's mind. He slammed his fist on the table. "You damn blob of slime—get out of my head!"

"!"

"Oh, oh, oh—listen who's crying for his Venom Daddy because the pain's too much? I'll record every cellular change, add it to my gene catalog, and tell the entire universe: Tony Stark is a crybaby who can't handle pain! Hahahahahaha!"

"Shut up, slime. Should I tell the universe you're an idiot? I'll open a portal, visit Klyntar, and inform your kin you needed two hours to learn linear functions!"

Watching Stark sit motionless, Strange nudged Shieler with his shoulder as he prepared tools. "I bet they're already screaming at each other."

"Good. Tony needs to shift his focus." Shieler glanced back at Stark. "Don't you think he's been obsessed lately?"

Strange looked back too, lowering his voice. "I've noticed—he's chronically insecure. When things go poorly, he's irritable; when they go well, he expects collapse soon."

"Like now—the Solar System Project is progressing smoothly, yet he's grinding his mind nonstop, refusing even a second of rest."

Strange sighed. "I asked why. He said: 'They won't stay united forever. Since they're improving now, I must seize this chance.'"

Shieler paused his work, sighed. "In his mind, good times are rare. Long-term depression, despair, violence, stagnation—they're the norm."

"I think it's tied to his father." Strange's tone grew heavier. "Isn't that exactly describing an alcoholic? Qingxingdeshikeyongyuanshishaoshu ， Dabufenzhuangtaixiadouxiangyitanlanni …… Woshenyoutihui 。"

"Yes. People raised like this often feel they must accomplish everything during quiet moments—because any second, a drunken brute might burst in, screaming and beating them. That's the source of his insecurity."

"Have you ever considered treating this?" Strange looked up at Shieler. "I'm not saying you must—but if possible, he should be healthier."

"I tried before. But these traits have become his personality—part of who he is. Removing them is likely impossible."

"Wait—personality traits?" Strange turned to Shieler. "Didn't you say your Tower of Thought contains each of your personality traits, and you can control when they emerge? How do you do that?"

Shieler froze. Then, quickly resumed working, head bowed, silent—as if refusing to answer. Strange saw this and dropped the subject.

After Venom bonded with Stark, Strange resumed surgery—no incision needed. Venom opened a tiny wound on Stark's back, implanted the neural interface, then remotely linked it to the life-support armor.

Pain-free throughout. The moment connection was complete, Stark felt as if he'd gained two new arms. After confirming, he added the remaining two tentacles.

Stark sat on the table, shook his head, blinked hard. "This feels… incredible. I feel… I really have extra arms."

Otto adjusted the armor from behind. "If you bypass this armor and link directly, the sensation will be even better."

Instantly, all four tentacles twitched—one slapped Otto off-balance. Stark said: "Oops, sorry. Didn't mean to."

"Alright, let the universe's most brilliant Venom take a look at this weird contraption… Tentacles? If you wanted tentacles, why not come to me?"

Venom snorted. Instantly, countless black-slime tentacles erupted from Stark's back—each directly neural-linked, controllable by thought alone.

"Listen, even if mechanical tentacles suck, I'll never use your slime!" Stark shouted.

Ten minutes later, Stark roared in the lab:

"You blob of slime! I'm telling you again—don't mess around when I tell you to fetch files!"

One black tentacle snapped back—but another began rummaging wildly through the file cabinet.

As Stark battled the symbiote, Shieler and Strange entered, having finished organizing files. Stark didn't stop moving, but his ears perked up.

He heard Shieler say: "I've built something amazing. Want to see?"

"Amazing?" Strange turned to Shieler. "What? What could possibly be 'amazing' to you?"

Stark turned too. He and Strange saw—*click*—a glowing ring appeared above Shieler's head.

Both leaned in. Strange waved his hand. "I thought it was something special. Just a magic effect? I can do that too!"

He snapped his fingers. A glowing ring appeared above his own head. He grinned, shaking his head smugly at Shieler.

Shieler smirked. Under Stark and Strange's gaze, he reached up—and plucked the ring right off his own head.

Xiler let out a cold smile, and under the gaze of Stark and Strange, reached up and tore off the halo from his head.