Chapter 17: The Hu Zi Dilemma

"You can do that?" Henry asked in surprise.

Although he didn't know the details, Henry knew one thing: he had no legal identity. Where to get documents—even fake ones—he had no idea.

Now Tang Mu said he could get them; how could anyone not be astonished?

Old Tang Mu grinned proudly: "This is Alaska. As long as you're not a federal fugitive, everything's doable."

He paused, then whispered slyly: "Actually, even if you were, there's still a way to handle it. You're not, are you?"

Henry quickly shook his head: "Of course not."

"Good," Tang Mu said, returning to his casual demeanor.

He turned a corner and stopped before an office with large floor-to-ceiling windows. The windows bore the sign: "Old Tang Mu Personnel Agency & Consulting." Inside, a middle-aged woman was sorting papers.

Tang Mu led Henry inside, but the woman didn't look up or even glance at them. Her attitude was unmistakably that of a jaded, veteran clerk.

Several strange gold coins lay scattered on the desk; only after Old George gestured did the woman slowly sweep them into a drawer.

As Henry passed beside her, he wasn't surprised to receive a disgusted sniff. The woman said: "Ugh, where did you dig up this stinking mess?"

"Old George's crewman. Just got off the ship."

"Oh, okay." Clearly, the woman knew who Old George was—and understood the implication of "just got off the ship."

Sure, he stank, but he had money in his pockets. So even if he stank, you had to tolerate it. Don't think white people are nobler and all refuse to bend for five pecks of rice.

Fortunately, the woman didn't suddenly switch to fawning flattery—otherwise Henry would've been mortified. He feared his long-suppressed iron fist might unleash fully.

But this kind of treatment—judging people by appearance—Henry had seen enough of in his past life. Not common, but not shocking either.

He wasn't angry. Her attitude was merely rude, not outright hostile or physically threatening. Besides, he was a mess—how could he expect others not to comment?

By the way, this body didn't actually sweat—it only emitted normal body heat.

So the smell came from seawater mixed with various strange fluids from king crabs, then intensified by body heat and rapidly cooled by the outside cold, creating a double assault.

Especially the salt in seawater. That alone made any odor turn bizarre.

Taking clean clothes from Tang Mu, Henry used his office bathroom. As he passed the large bed, he couldn't help but suspect: did this guy hope for a secret affair with a female secretary—or paying female clients?

But given this dump, the bed probably hadn't been used more than a few times.

Bathing was simple: scrub hard. Since he couldn't damage himself, he scrubbed until every stain was gone—like a thorough cleanup.

The foreign grime on his body was easy to remove, but his hair and beard? No solution.

Henry tried cutting a strand with scissors—found he couldn't cut it—so he gave up on forcing it. He feared he'd just break the scissors.

So how was he supposed to deal with this face?

In his memories, he'd seen Superman's cartoon: Big Superman used heat vision and mirror reflection to groom himself.

Could his own eyes shoot heat beams? He'd never tried.

To avoid damaging the bathroom, Henry raised his palm before his face, planning to use himself as the target.

But how to fire heat vision? No online tutorials existed!

He strained like he was holding in a bowel movement, eyes bulging. Naturally, nothing happened.

Then he silently commanded: "I want to fire heat vision." Still nothing.

So Henry turned to distant memories. Many works described Superman's origin, but the most detailed was the long-running TV series Smallville.

The Kryptonian boy Clark Kent, slowly awakening his powers, fired his heat vision for the first time because… sexual arousal!

A normal boy seeing a beautiful, long-legged female teacher might dream and nosebleed. But future Big Superman? His eyes blazed—nearly burned down his family barn!

So… what was this implying? Should he seek his delayed puberty?

Or recall his own puberty, over thirty years in the past?

To shave and cut his hair, Henry had no choice but to try the desperate method.

He closed his eyes. Images of his former teachers flickered before him. Thanks to his super brain, every film he'd ever seen was crystal clear—even the catalog numbers.

As expected, his lower body reacted first. Then a hot surge rose from his tailbone, traveling up his spine, neck, and back of his skull.

This change reminded Henry of the new Hollywood Godzilla's prelude to firing its nuclear beam.

Was he not a Kryptonian after all—but a humanoid Godzilla?

Suddenly, a final surge of primal desire flooded… his eyeballs. Henry involuntarily opened his eyes—he saw everything red, then felt searing pain in his right hand.

The sensation came fast and vanished fast—just like a man's climax.

The world returned to normal colors. His right hand, held up as target, wasn't pierced—he only had two charred marks on his palm.

Henry had secretly tested himself with boiling coffee water—he touched it with bare hands and felt nothing. Just hot, no pain, no injury.

This pain, however, was the first sensation he'd felt since leaving the underground lab.

But it felt like breaking through a membrane—lifting some restriction. Now, whenever he willed it, he could fire heat vision, adjusting intensity and duration at will.

It was like installing a heat vision switch and valve in his mind—though fine control would require practice.

Alright, now that he'd mastered this Kryptonian sexual instinct, the next problem was even more troubling.

How could he reflect his heat vision off a mirror—strong enough to melt his own hair?

It was like grabbing any ordinary mirror and bouncing back Godzilla's nuclear beam.

Yet Superman somehow pulled it off!

So if someone claims Superman's powers are scientific and thus weak against magic, let them explain how a regular mirror reflects heat vision to shave a steel body's beard.

If anyone could give a plausible physical explanation, they deserved a Nobel Prize.

New book seeking follows, collections, and recommendations, thank you~~

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(End of Chapter)