Fang Senyan studied the situation thoughtfully, his gaze fixed intently on Professor Charles’s eyes, and he stated seriously, "Please forgive me, Professor, but I do not believe a mere traffic accident was responsible for your friend's demise."

Professor Charles stared blankly. "What do you mean by that?"

Fang Senyan replied coolly, "That was the terrifying might of **— the combined power of forty-six nations plus three thousand, seven hundred and ninety-six of the world's super-rich… fabricating an accident to silence one person is ten times easier than crushing a common stink bug."

Charles’s eyebrows shot up abruptly, his voice turning frigid. "Why?"

Fang Senyan spoke with detached calm. "Usually, the motive for this colossal power structure to eliminate someone is to prevent news of the impending apocalypse from spreading and causing mass panic, thereby interfering with their Noah's Ark construction plans. I happen to have a list for the second wave of targeted individuals; most of those slated were people attempting to reveal this information publicly—my companions are currently trying to save them and secure them in safe locations."

"Secondly, building the Ark requires vast quantities of rare elements or materials. Mr. Charles, if your friend was so diligently working on self-preservation, it’s highly probable he hoarded critical materials that he refused to surrender. For a time-sensitive Ark project, that would be unforgivable—may I have your friend's name?"

"Zack Vilia Burton," Charles managed to say.

Though the name was unfamiliar, Fang Senyan immediately made a call to check. He discovered Burton was indeed renowned within scientific circles—not only a Nobel laureate from '08 but also highly influential. If someone of this caliber began preparing preemptive measures for the apocalypse, his efforts were unlikely to be groundless.

Fang Senyan immediately pressed on, "Since Mr. Burton invited you, it proves he invited others as well. I maintain my previous point: to stand against the majesty and wrath of Earth, the power of one individual is woefully insufficient. I believe that before his death, Mr. Burton must have assembled a formidable team to challenge fate! Their research could be of immense help to us. Furthermore, Mr. Charles, don't you wish to uncover the true cause of your friend's death?"

Clearly persuaded by Fang Senyan's reasoning, Charles closed his eyes in contemplation, then nodded once. "Let's go."

Charles’s driver was also a mutant, immensely proud of his physical strength, and on excellent terms with Bobby. As a result, he put extra force into his handshake with Fang Senyan. To his surprise, Fang Senyan absorbed the pressure with an easy smile, then subtly countered with a squeeze of his own before releasing. The driver, Hanks, instantly went pale, grimacing openly while shaking his hand vigorously.

Fang Senyan sighed internally. Such strength was far from adequate. Destruction was invariably easier than construction. The second generation X-Men had barely matured, and Professor Charles, a master of mental assault, was hampered by the fact that all Contractors possessed inherent psychic barriers. This mutant driver’s power barely matched that of a mere Colonizer; his mission ahead remained long and arduous.

Charles’s expression remained deeply shadowed, a statue-like indifference coating his features. He recalled the strangers loitering near the funeral service that morning—they showed no trace of grief, only stares that were distinctly guarded and malevolent!

At this thought, Charles burned with the desire to race to Burton’s former residence immediately. Yet, he didn't urge Hanks on, knowing that his driver of twenty-five years would sense his intent.

In the distance, viewed through the meticulously cleaned windshield of the Phaeton, the street sign for 156th Street came into view. Hanks skillfully eased off the gas, signaled, and turned. The red-roofed villa ahead was Mr. Burton’s home—a place where Charles often enjoyed the afternoon sun and Mrs. Burton’s freshly baked biscuits while discussing matters on the impeccably kept lawn.

Regrettably, that lawn was now being brutally trampled. A group of men in black suits stood scattered across the grass. Mrs. Burton was being held by them, her cries echoing loudly. Every item of furniture had been hauled out of the house; even the wooden floorboards had been pried up in the ruthless search.

Admittedly, these men appeared professional in their searching but utterly incompetent at moving and organizing, leaving the entire residence in disarray. Due to the presence of police cars and cordon tape, very few onlookers remained.

Charles closed his eyes, his face outwardly serene, but Jean knew the old man was incandescent with rage. This was no misplaced emotion, and it was betrayed by the white-knuckled grip Charles had on the handles of his wheelchair.

Hanks smoothly applied the brakes and engaged the parking brake. His first instinct was to open the door, but a series of bizarre clicking sounds erupted from behind. Fang Senyan looked over and saw that Charles’s wheelchair was undergoing rapid transformation!!

Yes, transformation!

The chair folded, reconfigured, and assembled itself with practiced speed, finally forming a unique exoskeleton around Charles’s legs, reminiscent of a sneaker's frame. This device allowed the paralyzed Charles to suddenly stand up, and with sharp clack-clack sounds, he strode towards the house.

Charles’s face remained impassive, but Fang Senyan felt a profound sense of wrongness—an acute distortion! It was as if his own thoughts were being interfered with, beginning to slow down.

More alarmingly, everywhere Charles passed, the people around him seemed frozen in time, paralyzed in place, their mouths agape and faces twisted—like wax figures.

"Hmm, what ability is this?" Fang Senyan frowned. "Memory Enslavement? Looks like the old man is truly furious."

These rigid police officers and FBI agents remained frozen for ten minutes before recovering. Their memories were stuck at the moment of their arrival. They recalled nothing of what followed. Even more terrifyingly, a violent headache soon assaulted them—as punishment, Charles had not only stripped them of a segment of memory but had also caused the brain cells storing those memories to die!

This meant these unfortunate individuals would suffer from ceaseless torment, similar to trigeminal neuralgia, for the rest of their lives, resistant to all treatment. This was the price of enduring Charles’s wrath.

After ensuring Mrs. Burton and her family were resettled, Dr. Charles finally addressed Fang Senyan with a furrowed brow. "They did establish such an organization, and their research had already entered the testing phase. However, due to Burton's capture and financial strain, the group is on the verge of collapse. More critically, they are essentially leaderless; no one can fill the void left by Burton’s authority."

Fang Senyan smiled. "Money shouldn't be an issue; my vampire allies are immensely wealthy. More importantly, Professor, if our plan shows a high probability of success, the government can charge a billion Euros for passage onto the vessel, and we can charge two billion! As for a leader, I will consider it; there must be a solution."

Professor Burton's research data was stored on a USB drive. Facing the imminent apocalypse, the terrifying earthquakes guaranteed that underground nuclear bunkers would become tombs, and most scientists favored the Ark model.

Unfortunately, Professor Burton and his team could not simply replicate the Ark design. But the Ark was not the only option; their final proposal was a dirigible!

A colossal airship!

The theoretical design indicated the airship would ascend directly to an altitude between fifteen thousand and twenty thousand meters, entering the stratosphere. This height would perfectly negate the lightning, hail, and torrential rain common in the troposphere.

The airship prioritized payload capacity, sturdiness, and stability over speed. If the design proved successful, the ship’s greatest enemy would be high winds, meaning engine and fuel requirements would be modest. Under this design philosophy, a single airship could achieve a load capacity of eight hundred tons!

This translated to a carrying capacity of five thousand people—even calculating the average adult weight at sixty kilograms (three hundred tons for five thousand people). If living conditions were slightly restricted, the absolute limit could reach ten thousand people.

Because the ascension altitude was so extreme, even volcanic ash would mostly remain confined to the stratosphere, allowing solar panels to serve as a stable power source. Once onboard water reserves were depleted, the airship could descend into the troposphere to collect more. The design even suggested constructing two or three dedicated airships as resupply platforms for fresh water and food, and collisions or crashes would pose no major concern.

Those aboard the airship might face rationed food and water, with personal living space comparable to that of a prisoner. However, projections showed the apocalypse would likely last about a month. Even enduring a month in confinement was infinitely preferable to death.

Undoubtedly, Fang Senyan knew the specifics of the coming apocalypse, and he felt this plan held a very high chance of success! He read further and discovered the research team faced three primary challenges: First, the inability to create a sufficiently resilient metal framework for the airship structure.

Second, the persistent lack of adequate lift power for sustained flotation.

Third, insufficient thrust for the propulsion system.

If these three hurdles were overcome, the project could immediately move into the construction phase. Upon reading these three difficulties, Fang Senyan felt a rush of epiphany, realizing the biggest obstacle was already within grasp. He couldn't help but laugh out loud with exhilaration. (To be continued)