Chapter 72: You Better Repay Me Well

Stephen had exhausted the last of his fortune.

Following Professor X's cryptic guidance, he journeyed to the roof of the world—Tibet. Only then did it occur to him that he should've informed his loyal assistant. But when he dialed the number, he found it had been deactivated.

"Even Professor X isn't sure what lies ahead… Kamar-Taj…"

His hands trembled as he clutched the scrap of paper. After a long, arduous trek, he finally set foot on the land whose altitude alone was enough to suffocate hope.

The howling winds never ceased. Each gust sliced into him like a blade, making his already wretched appearance even more disheveled. Standing in the street, hair wild and bloodshot eyes wide with desperation, he searched the crowd helplessly.

Stephen wandered into a marketplace, holding out the paper and asking passersby, "Kamar-Taj?"

Everyone shook their heads.

Undeterred, he kept asking. But the answers never changed. Each "no" chipped away at his spirit until it froze over completely.

Then came trouble, a gang of local thugs encircled him with malicious intent.

"Kamar-Taj?" he repeated, hopeful, even now.

Smack!

A slap cracked across his face, leaving a bright red mark.

"Kamar-Taj?"

"Look at this idiot," one of the thugs jeered.

The gang began to paw through his pockets, taking whatever looked remotely valuable.

"Another one's coming… and he's loaded!"

One thug, sharp-eyed, spotted a well-dressed man stepping out of a yellow Volkswagen Beetle and shouted.

The group immediately abandoned Stephen, like vultures chasing fresher meat.

"Oh? You mean me?"

The man who had just arrived was the picture of sophistication. Every stitch of his immaculate black suit screamed wealth, likely worth more than everything in the market combined. Not a strand of his dark hair was out of place.

No wonder he was a target. To them, he was a walking payday.

"Hand the goods! That too, take it off, now!" the gang leader barked in broken English.

The man, Martin, just smiled.

Was there anything more ridiculous?

These idiots thought they could rob him?

"You must be tired of living," muttered one of the thugs, drawing a knife and gesturing toward Martin's calmly smiling face.

Martin, unfazed, looked past them and locked eyes with Stephen, who was now struggling to stand.

"You too, my good sir? Robbed by these clowns?" Martin chuckled warmly. "Traveling alone and no weapon? That's risky."

"I… I didn't think that far ahead…" Stephen muttered, face bruised, wiping the blood from the corner of his mouth. Gone was the confident, arrogant man he once was, now he was beaten, broken, and small.

"Thinking now is better than never," Martin replied, still smiling.

The thug lunged.

Crack.

In a flash, Martin twisted the thug's head clean off.

That wasn't metaphorical. One hand on the shoulder, the other on the neck, and with a fluid, effortless twist, it was like tearing a loaf of bread. The man's head came off with a grotesque pop. Blood fountained into the air.

The street went silent.

Everyone. Stephen, the bystanders, and the remaining thugs, stood frozen in horror.

Martin dusted off his hands and turned to Stephen with a grin. "See? Sometimes change really is that simple. People are just… different."

Stephen's eyes widened, pure fear creeping into his soul.

The thugs broke. Screaming in panic, they tried to run.

"Bumblebee. Eliminate them."

Martin raised a hand and pointed.

The yellow Volkswagen roared to life, shifting and twisting with mechanical precision. In seconds, it had transformed into a towering yellow Autobot, Bumblebee. A cannon unfolded from his arm, and with one deafening blast, he vaporized the fleeing thugs in a flash of fire and plasma.

Gone. Disintegrated in the street.

The scene was over in moments. Some bystanders hadn't even registered what had happened before the screams began.

Martin calmly pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, wiping away the specks of blood, strolling over to Stephen with Bumblebee loyally following behind like a sentinel.

[Bumblebee]

Faction: Autobot Reconnaissance Unit Commander

Personality: Energetic (Persistence +20%)

Height: 6.5 meters

Energon Output: 6,000,000 units

Status: Optimal

Combat Rating: Tier 3

Signature Quote: #¥%# (incomprehensible static)

Evaluation: The most elite scout of the Autobot forces. Though small in stature, Bumblebee carries immense power within his compact frame.

"You… You're Martin? The Martin?! Professor X said you could heal my hands!"

Stephen stared at Bumblebee, stunned. But the shock was quickly overtaken by hope, a desperate, ravenous hope. He grabbed at Martin, eyes wide with pleading. "Please! I'll do anything! Just help me… fix them! I'll pay any price!"

Martin rubbed his chin, genuinely considering it.

For a moment, he was tempted.

Stephen's magical potential was enormous, greater than the Ancient One's. With centuries to grow, and Martin's support, he could easily evolve into a solo Skyfather-level sorcerer. A cosmic-tier threat.

But…

"Unfortunately," Martin said with a sigh, "you don't have what I need."

To interfere here would mean stealing Strange's path before it even began, and the Ancient One would definitely come after him for that.

Too much trouble.

Stephen's expression collapsed into despair. Then, as if grasping at one last straw, he asked, "Then… why are you here? You're looking for Kamar-Taj too?"

"Already found it." Martin grinned. "The people from the Kamar-Taj have been here all along."

At that moment, a figure in tattered robes stepped forward, pulling back their hood to reveal a dark-skinned face.

"You didn't have to kill them," Mordo said coldly. "A simple lesson would've been enough."

"They got themselves killed," Martin replied casually. "That's not on me. Or is everyone at Kamar-Taj a sanctimonious pacifist?"

He turned back to Stephen and grabbed him firmly.

"Where are we going?" Stephen asked, dazed.

"Away from this idiot," Martin said, nodding toward Mordo, "and off to heal those hands. I'm doing you a favor, so you'd better repay me. With everything you've got."

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