Chapter 120: A Bitter Parting

Jean Grey wasn't some young fool who took abuse without reply; she snapped, "What's wrong with doing something if it brings a good result?"

"Even if it goes against the person's own will?" Henry countered.

Jean Grey fell silent, then reluctantly said, "We're doing it for his own good."

"Ah," Henry pressed further, "suppose there's an old woman whose beloved child died in an accident, leaving her drowned in grief that harms her health and daily life."

"Would you think it better to erase from her memory the fact that her child died in an accident—turning her knowledge of his death into his disappearance, turning her sorrow into worry?"

"Or better yet, erase all memory of the child from her mind entirely—so she forgets she ever had a beloved child, and thus need never sink into grief, nor suffer her health?"

"Would that be a good thing? A right thing? She no longer feels sorrow—but neither does she hold those most precious memories."

"No sorrow, no love—your actions have carved out a piece of her life, perhaps the most important piece. Is this a decision you're entitled to make without her consent?"

"I..." Jean Grey, stunned by the question, looked utterly lost.

Henry delivered his final blow, pointing at Jean Grey: "If the tragic protagonist in this story were you yourself, would you still think those who did this were right?"

Though she wasn't the version he knew, the naive, sweet, innocent-looking—no, pure-looking—girl made it clear that Xavier's mental restraints still held her in place.

Of course, Henry didn't say this to expose anyone—he simply couldn't resist a few barbs.

Then Mystique stepped in, embracing her student and shouting, "Ignore his words. He's just swapping concepts, muddying your judgment."

"Ah ha, there's still a smart one among you," Henry laughed. Decades of professional keyboard warrior skills—even with a gap in practice—were more than enough to outtalk a green girl.

This version of Phoenix Girl looked barely adult, perhaps just graduated college. With Xavier's overprotective upbringing, she'd seen little of the world—easy to manipulate. Not toying with her would be a sin.

It was like seeing a kitten and feeling an irresistible urge to tug its whiskers. Pure mischief.

But Mystique was a seasoned veteran who'd seen it all, and had studied psychology extensively.

She pointed toward the exit: "Get out, alien. We've learned our lesson from your offense today. You don't need to stay and keep spouting off."

It was a dismissal. Henry smiled: "Oh? Is this an apology?"

"A woman of no class like me—would I apologize?" Mystique struck back hard, seizing on Henry's earlier mocking remark.

"Hehehe. I offer my most sincere apologies for the trouble we've caused you. I'm truly sorry. No worries—I forgive you."

Though these words sounded like an apology, Henry delivered them as if representing the X-Men, making them apologize to him—and then he graciously forgave them.

Before Cyclops, still wearing his eye patch, could explode again, Henry walked away with a light step.

On his way out, he assessed the unexpected clash. Though he'd narrowly bested the X-Men, Henry felt no triumph.

It wasn't that Kryptonian power under a yellow sun was overwhelmingly strong—it was the intelligence gap that let him catch them off guard and secure victory.

Though he hadn't recognized anyone at first glance, he'd still identified them by certain traits, and thus knew their abilities.

Add to that the most dangerous Omega-level mutant—Professor X was neutralized instantly. With his own intel still hidden, and the enemy unprepared, such results were unsurprising.

Besides, this was just a warm-up—neither side had truly started fighting to kill.

The most annoying trait of superheroes is their unyielding resilience. Japanese call it "cosmic explosion"; Marvel's own term is "I can play with you all day."

They keep resurrecting with full health out of nowhere—sometimes I wonder if they're even human.

And when real life-or-death combat comes, they won't play around like children anymore.

That's why Henry considered this only a minor win—not some glorious, crushing victory worth boasting about.

Honestly, he'd prefer not even this small win. Exposing his abilities for no gain was pointless.

He had no intention of joining the X-Men, nor becoming one of them. What good was revealing his powers?

This wasn't like last time, when he'd exposed his steel body just to boost his chances of landing Audrey Hepburn's job as driver and bodyguard. This time, he was forced.

As for the mutant issue—he'd said it before: he was an alien. Why get tangled up with them?

The effort wouldn't be worth it, but worse—even if he achieved something, he couldn't count on gratitude from all mutants.

There'd always be opposition, traitors dragging him down, opportunists only seeking benefits, bleeding-heart idealists demanding more sacrifice, and far more surrenderists and escapists who believed they could return to ordinary life.

Honestly, black communities were easier to deal with!

Back in Manhattan, Henry still played the role of a washed-up movie star's assistant—he had no interest in mutants' fates. He had work to do.

Today's outing was just a stolen break from his busy schedule. Too bad those clueless intruders ruined it—and lost time couldn't be recovered.

So Henry used his superpowers to compress his tasks, handling as much as possible. He had to drive to pick up Lady He Ben and her family before dinner, to the reserved restaurant.

As it happened, Lady He Ben's eldest son, Xiao En, after graduating college, used his parents' connections to enter the film industry.

This year, he served as executive producer for his first film—his father, veteran star Mel Farrell, even made a cameo.

Her younger son, Luca Dotti, was still in college and had taken leave specifically to meet his mother.

How ironic. Though Audrey Hepburn valued family, her relatives—aside from her—had no real bond, and were distant from one another.

After today's meal, only Robert Wards, her current boyfriend, would stay—her two children would return to their separate lives.

Just like the Buddhist suffering of unattainable desire.

(End of Chapter)