American comics: I am full of martial virtues and I love to be kind to others.

"Lynn—"

“This is an order, Agent Chen,” Lynn said formally, though his voice was weak from his injuries. “I may be temporarily out of active duty, but until I am officially discharged, I remain the lead investigator on this case.”

Sarah looked at him, then sighed. "Yes, sir. But you must report to me daily, and contact me immediately if there are any problems."

“I will,” Lynn said, then added more gently, “thank you, Sarah. For everything.”

“Don’t mention it,” Sarah said, her eyes reddening again. “Just promise me you’ll take good care of yourself and won’t do anything foolish.”

“I’ll try,” Lynn said, but they both knew it wasn’t a promise, just a comforting thought.

The following afternoon, a private jet belonging to Xavier's School of Thought landed at a small airport outside New York City. Logan personally came to pick up Lynn, bringing with him a young woman who could manipulate metal—she easily loaded Lynn's wheelchair and all her medical equipment onto the plane using her abilities.

The flight was short; about an hour later, they landed at Xavier's School of the Arts in Westchester.

From the air, it appears as a vast and elegant estate, with the main building being a Victorian mansion surrounded by expansive lawns and woodlands. It looks more like a prestigious school than a superhero base.

“Welcome to Xavier’s School of Thought,” Logan said, pushing Lynn’s wheelchair off the plane. “Your new temporary accommodation.”

The Xavier's Medical Center was far more advanced than Lynn had anticipated.

This was no ordinary clinic, but a comprehensive medical facility equipped with the latest technology. As Logan pushed Lynn through the corridor in his wheelchair, he saw all sorts of medical instruments he had never seen before—some looked like they came from a science fiction movie, emitting soft blue light or low-frequency humming sounds.

“This is Hank’s territory,” Logan explained. “Hank McCoy, also known as Beast. He’s our doctor and a brilliant scientist. Don’t be intimidated by his appearance.”

Just as Lynn was about to ask what he meant, the door to the ward opened.

Emerging was a massive, blue figure—covered in deep blue fur, with beast-like facial features, but wearing elegant glasses and a white laboratory coat. This combination of wildness and refinement was strikingly incongruous.

“Ah, Agent Lynn,” the creature spoke, its voice surprisingly gentle and scholarly, “Welcome to the Xavier's School. I am Dr. Hank McCoy. I have retrieved all your medical records from the hospital. Frankly, your injuries are quite serious.”

“I know,” Lynn said, trying not to show surprise at Hank’s appearance. “The doctor said I’ll need six months to regain basic mobility.”

“Standard treatment does take that long,” Hank nodded, adjusting his glasses, “but we have some unconventional options. Please follow me.”

They entered a spacious examination room. Lynn was carefully transferred from her wheelchair to a special medical bed, where various scanning devices immediately began operating.

“First, let’s fully assess your injuries,” Hank said, operating a holographic display screen. A moment later, a three-dimensional image of Lynn’s body appeared in the air, with all the fractures, internal injuries, and soft tissue damage marked in different colors.

“Comminuted fractures of the radius and ulna in the right arm, initial surgery performed but healing is not ideal,” Hank said, annotating the images. “Fractures of the tibia and fibula in the left leg with slight dislocation. Three ribs fractured, one of which punctured the pleura causing pneumothorax. Minor scarring in the lungs. Recurrence of an old injury in the left shoulder, with a torn rotator cuff. Multiple muscle and ligament injuries.”

He turned to Lynn: “With conventional treatment, considering your age and physical condition, it would indeed take four to six months. But—” his tone became somewhat excited, “if you’re willing to undergo mutant-assisted treatment, we can shorten that time to six to eight weeks.”

"Mutant-assisted treatment?" Lynn asked.

“Yes, let me introduce you,” Hank said, walking to the door and pressing the intercom. “Alyssa, you can come in.”

A young girl walked in, looking about sixteen or seventeen years old, with long blonde hair and warm brown eyes. She was wearing the Xavier's School uniform and seemed a little shy.

“This is Alyssa,” Hank introduced. “She has the ability to accelerate biological healing. Not self-healing like Logan, but the ability to speed up the natural healing process of others.”

“Hello, Agent Lynn,” Alyssa said softly, “I’ve heard about what happened. Thank you for wanting to help those controlled mutants.”

“I’m just doing my job,” Lynn said, then looked at Hank. “Are there any risks associated with this treatment?”

“There are some,” Hank said honestly. “Alyssa’s ability greatly accelerates cell division and tissue regeneration, meaning your body will complete healing processes that normally take months in a short time. This consumes a lot of energy, leaving you extremely tired and hungry. And, if not handled properly, it can lead to misaligned bone healing or excessive scar tissue growth.”

“That’s why my supervision is necessary,” Hank continued. “I will precisely control the speed and direction of the treatment to ensure your bones are properly aligned and your tissues regenerate correctly. The entire process will be divided into multiple stages, and you will need ample rest and nutritional replenishment after each treatment.”

Lynn pondered for a moment. There were risks, but if successful, he could regain his mobility within two months, instead of six. This meant he could rejoin the hunt for Victor much sooner.

“I agree,” he said. “When do we begin?”

“I admire your determination, but not now,” Hank said. “Your body is too weak to withstand the burden of accelerated healing. First, we need to stabilize your condition and strengthen your constitution. You need special nutritional supplements, physical therapy, and plenty of rest. We will begin the first phase of treatment in a week.”

For the next week, Lynn's life turned into a strict rehabilitation program.

Every morning at six o'clock, a mutant student who can manipulate gravity—an eighteen-year-old boy named Alex—comes to help him get up and wash. At first, Lynn felt ashamed and frustrated about needing help, but Alex's professional attitude never made him feel embarrassed.

“I was seriously injured in a car accident before,” Alex once said. “I was also lying in bed, unable to do anything. I understand that feeling. But believe me, this is only temporary.”

Breakfast was served in the medical center's small cafeteria. Hank devised a special diet plan for Lynn—high in protein and calories, with various vitamin and mineral supplements.

“Your body needs a lot of building materials to repair itself,” Hank explained. “Especially during accelerated healing, your calorie needs will be three to four times higher than usual.”

The morning is physical therapy time. A mutant therapist named Caitlin—who can sense and fine-tune other people's muscle tension—helps Lynn with various stretching and strengthening exercises.

“We need to keep your uninjured muscles active,” Caitlin said. “Otherwise, when you can move again, you’ll find that all your muscles have atrophied.”

The training was painful. Even simple movements—raising his left hand, turning his head, taking a deep breath—would aggravate his wounds, causing Lynn to grit his teeth. But he persevered, never asking to reduce the intensity of his training. Afternoons were usually rest time, but Lynn rarely truly rested. He required Sarah to send him daily reports on the case's progress, studying Victor's possible patterns of action and analyzing the background information of the three mutants.

“You need to give your brain a rest too,” Hank once reminded him. “Excessive mental stress can hinder the body’s healing process.”

“While I was resting, Victor was still on the move,” Lynn replied. “I can’t waste any more time.”

Professor X himself will visit in the evening.

Charles Xavier is a bald man in his fifties who sits in a wheelchair, with wise and gentle eyes. Despite his physical disability, he exudes an aura of power and authority.

“Agent Lynn,” the professor said during his first visit, “I admire your determination and courage. Not every human is willing to risk their life to protect mutants.”

“Those controlled by Victor are not criminals; they are victims,” Lynn said. “Whether they are human or mutant, they deserve to be protected.”

“A noble belief,” the professor said, “but I must warn you, Victor’s abilities are very special. Even for me, removing the mental influence he implants is extremely difficult. He doesn’t simply control minds; he reconstructs belief systems, making victims fundamentally believe the ideas he instills.”

"Is there any way to fight him?" Lynn asked. "I mean, besides finding him in person."

“There are several methods,” the professor said. “Mental barrier training, meditation techniques, and some medications can enhance mental resilience. But the most effective defense is a clear understanding of oneself and unwavering conviction. Victor’s abilities require exploiting people’s doubts, fears, and desires—if a person has absolute clarity about who they are and what they want, their influence is greatly diminished.”

“That’s why he couldn’t completely control me,” Lynn said, recalling her encounter at the art museum.

“That’s part of the reason,” the professor nodded, “but there’s another factor. Agent Lynn, would you mind if I stepped into your mind to do a simple check? I want to confirm a few things.”

Lynn hesitated for a moment. Letting others into one's mind is an extremely private and vulnerable experience. But he trusted the professor's integrity.

“Yes,” he said.

The professor gently touched his temple with his fingers and closed his eyes. Lynn felt a strange sensation, like warm water flowing softly through his consciousness. It wasn't intrusive; it was more like a guest politely knocking on the door.

A few minutes later, the professor opened his eyes, looking somewhat surprised.

“Interesting,” he said. “Your mental structure is very orderly. Most people’s minds are like a chaotic library, with books piled up haphazardly. But your mind is more like a well-organized archive, where everything has its place, with clear categories and labels.”

"Is this the result of FBI training?" Lynn asked.

“Perhaps partly, but I think it’s more your nature,” the professor said. “You are a highly rational and organized person. This mental structure naturally resists chaos and external influences. Victor’s ability is to introduce new ideas and reorganize belief systems, but in your case, he finds all the ‘files’ locked and difficult to rearrange.”

"So, does that mean I'm immune to his abilities?"

“No, no one is completely immune to mind manipulation,” the professor warned. “Given enough time, and if your mental defenses are weakened by fatigue, stress, or drugs, he can still influence you. But you are indeed more difficult to control than the average person.”

This discovery gave Lynn some confidence, but also reminded him not to let his guard down.

A week later, the first accelerated healing began.

Lynn was placed in a special treatment room surrounded by various monitoring devices. Hank carefully examined the location of all the wounds to ensure the bones were properly aligned.

“We’re only treating the fracture in your right arm today,” Hank said. “This is the most serious but also the most critical injury. The whole process will take about three hours. Elisa will gradually accelerate your cell division, and I will monitor it in real time to ensure the bone heals properly.”

"Will it hurt a lot?" Lynn asked.

“Yes,” Hank said honestly. “Bone growth is a painful process in itself, let alone accelerating it. We’ll give you painkillers, but not too strong ones, because I need you to stay awake and tell me immediately if you feel anything is wrong.”

Lynn nodded: "I'm ready."

Elisa approached and placed her hand on Lynn's right arm. Her hand began to emit a soft golden light.

“Relax,” she whispered, “let your body accept the process.”

At first, Lynn only felt a warmth spreading from the point of contact. Then, the warmth turned into a stinging pain, and the stinging pain turned into excruciating agony—as if someone were drilling a hole in his bones and then injecting magma.

He gritted his teeth, gripped the sheets tightly, and forced himself not to scream.

“The bones are healing correctly,” Hank said, staring at the holographic display. “Cell division is stable, and calcium deposition is normal. Continue, Alyssa.”

Three hours felt like three days. Lynn was drenched in sweat and pale, but he persevered. When Elisa finally removed her hand, Lynn was almost completely exhausted.

“It’s done,” Hank said, his voice tinged with satisfaction. “The fracture in his right arm has fully healed. Now he needs rest and nutrition.”

Lynn looked at his right arm—the swelling and bruising were receding quickly, and he could move his fingers a little, though they were still stiff.

“This is unbelievable,” he murmured.

“This is just the beginning,” Hank said, “but your body needs to recover now. For the next three days, you just need to eat, sleep, and engage in light activity. After three days, we'll deal with your left leg.” (End of Chapter)