Chapter 145: Angry Confrontation on the Jet

"Fuck! He hung up on me again!" The woman in the yellow-and-blue X-suit, Mystique, was aboard the X-jet—the Blackbird. She glared viciously at the already disconnected handset, still trying to hack into the satellite signal to make an international long-distance call.

Hank McCoy, transformed into his blue beast form, advised from the side: "Raven, do you still want to keep trying? I really don't think asking him for help is a good idea."

"Is that so? I think it's still better than someone who, using 'for your own good' as an excuse, controls others' memories and thoughts against their will. That guy just has a foul mouth; at least his current behavior doesn't look dirty."

"I said, I did it to protect Jean!" Professor X, full of regret, forced back the urge to bite his nails, constantly rubbing his lips. "You should know, when it happened, he was still young."

"Then when do you plan to tell him? He's an adult, and he didn't just become one today. Are you going to hide it from him for the rest of his life, making him live forever in the false world you constructed? He's a human being with his own thoughts, not a marionette in your hands."

"I... I couldn't find the right moment."

"Hah!" Mystique, exploding with rage, was ferocious. Most of the X-Men on the Blackbird were her juniors, so at this moment they could only shrink their heads like quails, not wanting to be swept up in the storm of the big shots' argument.

The only two peers, Beast Hank, was panicking badly, not knowing what to do. And Professor X was scolded like a dog, unable to even lift his head.

Just as Mystique, facing backward, was about to continue her tirade and curse, she suddenly heard a "Splat!" sound, interrupting her emotions.

Mystique saw everyone in the cabin staring with wide eyes, looking utterly incredulous, so she turned around to look. That glance scared her too.

Because right on the windshield directly in front of the Blackbird, a man was clinging. It was Henry Brown, who had just hung up on her and was still in Switzerland not long ago.

"How did you..." Giving up on thinking about why that man was clinging to the outside of the plane, Mystique turned back and said: "Nightcrawler, bring him in."

Everyone's originally surprised expressions were now exaggeratedly doubled, their mouths gaping so wide they could fit a fist inside.

Mystique turned her head again and saw Henry, his whole body looking like a blurred afterimage, simply penetrate through the glass, enter the cabin, and then return to normal.

"How did you..."

Silenced for the second time, Mystique looked at the helper she had summoned.

Quicksilver, who felt the previous action most acutely, asked blankly: "How did you do that?"

Henry replied: "By utilizing ultra-high-frequency micro-vibrations to penetrate the gaps between molecules, object traversal can be achieved. By the way, did you study properly?

"If you learned a little high school physics, you should be able to think of such a thing. Then, by using your own abilities to achieve it, you can expand your powers.

"It's just that I don't know if high schools under 'happy education' teach these things. Isn't your X-Men's base that so-called Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters?

"Didn't that school teach it? Then what did you learn there? Did you only learn how to control your powers so you don't endanger society?"

Another ruthless stab landed on the depressed Professor X, making him even more stifled.

Not knowing whose feelings his knife had hurt, Henry didn't care; he just gave Quicksilver a look. The sensible speedster immediately moved to another empty seat, giving up his chair.

Henry plopped down into the empty seat and said to Mystique in the co-pilot's seat: "Speak up, what's the reason you absolutely had to call me? I'm not on the X-Men's payroll, am I? By the way, do you guys even get a salary?"

"How did you know that?" Mystique asked directly.

"Know what?" Henry looked blank. It was a question with no head or tail; only a ghost could answer it.

"That Charles did something!"

"Who is Charles? What did he do?" Henry, though roughly aware in his heart, continued to play dead. He just didn't notice that the previous question about playing dead was already the second time.

Fortunately, Mystique, with her anger at its peak, didn't notice this guy's deliberate behavior, nor did she want to cover for her own people. She pointed directly at Professor X and said: "That bald guy modified someone's memory."

Henry glanced over to confirm Professor X's condition. He wasn't as young as the actors in the movies, but an old white man in his fifties.

Carrying a bit of British aristocratic air, if not for his gloomy face, he could be said to be quite gentlemanly. But now he wore a look of deep sorrow, his brows tightly furrowed.

"I could say that's not surprising at all."

Seeing Mystique, with her blue, bumpy face and those severely jaundiced eyeballs, glaring at him, the power of this death stare was far stronger than a normal person's. Henry explained:

"I don't know what this Mr. Charles did. But judging from his behavior of directly invading my mind the moment he heard I was an alien, one can guess he is someone who, for the sake of his own sense of justice, believes he can act as he sees fit.

"So when problems arise among those around him, will he act cautiously, or will he, upholding the good and justice in his heart, choose what he deems the most beneficial course of action. That is why I say that when a good person does good, it is sometimes more terrifying than when an evil person does evil."

This wasn't the act of a hypocrite disguising their malice with good deeds. It was that some people simply don't understand what inconvenience or harm their actions bring to others, so they insist their 'good deeds' must be carried out, thereby hurting others.

Professor X was not someone who would just let people talk without fighting back. Moreover, the opponent was a stranger, unlike Raven, who was an old friend who knew him inside out.

So Professor X refuted: "You don't understand the situation at all; on what basis do you accuse my choice?"

"Heh, then let me ask you, do you think the medieval law of cutting off a thief's hand upon capture, an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, is correct?" Henry asked.

"That is obviously wrong! The purpose of punishment should be to teach people to correct their mistakes, not to hurt others."

Clapping his hands, Henry agreed: "Well said, I also agree with your statement. But why do you think that when there are bad thoughts inside someone's brain, you feel that digging that thing out is the right thing to do?"

"That's different!" Professor X shouted excitedly.

"How is it different? Physical injury is injury, mental injury is nothing. Cancer is a disease, but mental illness isn't a disease, right? Then what do you think all those psychiatric hospitals and psychiatrists across America would say?"

"You don't know anything!"

"I know nothing, but I at least know your arrogance still believes you are right."

For some reason, Henry was extremely happy. Opportunities to angrily confront Professor X like this didn't come every day, and there were no other X-Men backing him up. Moreover, having suffered once, Professor X didn't dare to use his telepathic abilities again, so he could only hold it in.

It was just that the happy Henry, for a moment, didn't pay attention to the situation he faced...

(End of Chapter)