Marvel: Beginning with the Collection of Shinra Tensei

Transferring Ultron's consciousness into the Celestial Demon Puppet required little manual intervention from Han Yu. As long as he set up a clear concept, the Green Lantern ring, being a highly advanced semi-automated computer, would handle the rest.

The ring could execute all tasks autonomously, with the exception of requiring input commands from its bearer.

After configuring the consciousness transfer program, Han Yu removed the Green Lantern ring and placed it in front of Ultron. Since the ring needed to continuously operate the transfer process, and Han Yu didn't want to stay there indefinitely, he simply left the ring to work on its own.

This was the first time he had voluntarily taken off the Green Lantern ring. He wasn't concerned about theft—being directly bound to him via the system of his general store, the ring was nothing more than an ordinary jade accessory without his authorization, and possibly not even worth much.

Han Yu stepped out of the workshop, stretched broadly, and glanced upstairs.

"It's unusually quiet this afternoon. Looks like Wanda and Pietro are seriously processing that potion. Kind of boring, though."

Typically, at this hour, loud shouts or laughter would emanate from the upstairs computer room. Although it could be noisy, it added a sense of liveliness to the shop, preventing it from feeling too desolate.

Now, with Ultron transferring his consciousness in the workshop and Wanda and Quicksilver upstairs absorbing the super serum, there was little happening. The store felt eerily quiet again.

"Well, I might as well pick up the mutant plan I've put on hold for so long. Let's check in with Professor X and see how things are going."

Shaking his head, Han Yu exited the shop and walked into the back alley. He prepared to take off into the air with a thought. "Up!"

Yet, he remained firmly on the ground, unmoving. The atmosphere turned awkward.

"Oh, right. I took off the Green Lantern ring."

Scratching his head sheepishly, Han Yu realized he had grown so accustomed to flying using the ring that he had forgotten he wasn't wearing it anymore.

"This Reaper Seal is really something. Couldn't even give me a flying ability," he muttered, mildly irritated. Without the ring, he was now lamenting the limitations of the system. The Reaper Seal only enhanced his physical and mental attributes—flying wasn't part of the package.

Without further delay, Han Yu contacted Stark to arrange a private jet. It was a minor issue, and Stark didn't ask too many questions. Without hesitation, he handed Han Yu a phone number.

"I've got several private jets. You can use one of them. Just call this number—it connects to the pilot of one of my planes. You can take off anytime."

Impressed by Stark's generosity, Han Yu raised an eyebrow but didn't refuse. Building rapport through such gestures seemed like a smart move, and he accepted it without hesitation.

"Hm, I guess I should start preparing some everyday transport options for myself. Just having a car isn't enough."

Rubbing his chin, Han Yu casually referred to a private jet as an "everyday transport option," fully embracing the demeanor of a wealthy tycoon.

Before leaving, he downloaded an X-System program from Ultron's computer onto his phone. This would help him identify mutants. For now, it wasn't integrated with S.H.I.E.L.D. and couldn't confirm large-scale mutant locations—it was a matter of taking things one step at a time.

"Let's go!"

Berlin's time zone is six hours ahead of New York. While it was just past 10 a.m. in New York, it was already 4 p.m. when Han Yu's plane landed at Berlin Airport.

Stepping out of the airport, Han Yu flagged down a taxi. "Hello, please take me to Berlin First High School. Thank you."

"Sure," the driver replied.

As the scenery outside the car window kept changing, Han Yu was lost in thought, contemplating what he should say to Professor Charles Xavier when they met. Meanwhile, the taxi driver, noticing Han Yu's distracted state, suddenly changed course. What should have been a journey of less than half an hour was now redirected to a route that would take at least an hour.

By the time Han Yu snapped out of his thoughts, an hour had already passed. Seeing that the car had yet to stop, he frowned and asked, "Driver, I recall that the airport is less than 30 minutes from First High School. Why have we been driving for an hour and still not arrived?"

"There was a traffic jam, so I took another route. Otherwise, we'd still be stuck," the driver replied, calm and composed. It was evident that he had done this many times before, as he responded without hesitation when questioned.

Han Yu rolled his eyes. Traffic jam? Nonsense. Although he had never been to Berlin before, he knew that this wasn't the tourist season. The route from the airport to First High School included a long stretch of relatively unused road, one that wouldn't be congested even during peak hours.

It was clear to him that the driver had noticed his foreign appearance and was attempting to overcharge him. This wasn't the first time Han Yu had encountered such behavior. In his previous life, he had met similar drivers who used flimsy excuses to scam customers for extra money.

Han Yu chuckled softly but didn't argue. He patiently waited for the driver to reach the destination.

When they finally arrived at First High School, it was already 5 p.m.

Without sparing a glance at the taxi meter, Han Yu pulled out a few large bills from his pocket and handed them to the driver. "Here, take the extra and buy yourself some eye drops," he said.

Before the driver could respond, Han Yu stepped out of the car. Delighted by the generous payment, the driver grinned from ear to ear. This single fare had earned him as much as several trips combined.

But just as the driver was basking in his good fortune, he suddenly felt an intense itch in his eyes. Moments later, tears began streaming uncontrollably from his eyes, as if a dam had burst.

In an instant, the driver was reduced to a "weeping mess," his face drenched in tears.

"Richard? What's wrong? Are you okay?"

Another taxi driver, recognizing the weeping man as an acquaintance, approached with concern.

"I... I'm fine... I think," Richard stammered, utterly bewildered by his sudden outburst of tears.

The surrounding onlookers were equally confused. They knew Richard's reputation—he was notorious for overcharging passengers by taking unnecessarily long routes. Seeing the thick wad of cash in his hand, some speculated that he might have extorted an unusually large sum this time and was overcome with emotion.

The dramatic scene of Richard bawling like a storm-drenched flower drew a growing crowd. People marveled at the sight, some even expressing disbelief.

"If someone told me a person could cry like a broken fire hydrant, I wouldn't have believed it," one bystander said.

"Now that I've seen it, I can confirm it's possible," another chimed in.

Indeed, Richard's exaggerated tears flowed as if they were free, pouring endlessly from his eyes.

From a distance, Han Yu watched the spectacle with a faint smile. "That's what you get for trying to scam me. Cry all you want—you won't stop for at least half an hour."

The reason for Richard's uncontrollable tears was simple: Han Yu had discreetly tossed him a potion of "Weeping Storm" as punishment for his dishonesty.

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