Chen Mo nodded in agreement.
A brilliant scientist equipped with a superhuman mind was like a gamer suddenly switching on cheat mode — research became exponentially easier, discoveries came in waves, and breakthroughs would soon trigger revolutions in science and technology, propelling the entire world forward.
"So yes," Erskine said solemnly, "you deserve the credit — not just from me, or S.H.I.E.L.D., but from the whole world."
Chen Mo, usually calm and composed, felt his ears burn a little.
"Doctor, please— don't say that. You're the one who did all the work. The serum is your invention. I only offered a suggestion."
Erskine shook his head gently. "If not for you, there would've been no enhanced serum, and certainly no improved one. To be honest, without your warning — and your idea to fake my death — I might've been killed by Hydra's spy that very day."
The memory still weighed heavily on him. Seeing Howard's transformation earlier had stirred deep emotion in the old man's heart.
Chen Mo scratched his head, uncomfortable with the praise. Everything he'd done — helping Erskine, improving the serum, guiding S.H.I.E.L.D.'s direction — had been driven as much by self-interest as by any noble ideal. Hearing himself described like some savior felt… wrong.
Seeing Howard still basking in his newfound strength, Chen Mo grabbed him by the collar.
"Alright, Doctor, we'll head back for now. We'll visit again soon."
Erskine chuckled softly as they left, shaking his head with a warm, knowing smile.
Dragged out of the lab, Howard half-heartedly tried to resist — but Chen Mo's overwhelming strength quickly made that pointless. Defeated, he slumped in resignation and followed him back to the Martial Hall.
After that, he simply refused to leave. Every day he clung to Chen Mo, begging to be taught hand-to-hand combat.
Meanwhile, Dr. MacLain's research on Adamantium was progressing at an astonishing pace.
Having been able to invent the high-performance "Alpha Alloy" without vibranium had already proven his genius beyond question. And now, with an abundant supply of the rare metal, his progress on the real Adamantium outstripped even Chen Mo's expectations.
He hadn't managed to recreate the original Adamantium — the material from which Chen Mo's unique shield was made — but he had successfully forged a new alloy, only slightly inferior to the original: unbelievably hard, unbreakable, and virtually indestructible.
In short — the Adamantium that would later become legendary throughout the Marvel world.
A few days later, Howard — still sporting a pair of bruised "panda eyes" hidden behind sunglasses — followed Chen Mo back to the underground lab.
Before them lay a gleaming silver shield, identical in size and shape to Chen Mo's vibranium one.
The two men exchanged glances, both recalling the sight of Dr. MacLain's living room back home, its walls covered with round shields of every size.
Chen Mo could only sigh inwardly. This man's obsession borders on pathological.
Like the original alloy, Adamantium shared a defining trait — once solidified, it could never be reshaped.
When molten, at roughly 1500°F, it could be cast freely. But once cooled, it became utterly immutable. Even at 500,000°C, it would not melt or warp in the slightest.
That meant once an Adamantium object was formed, its shape was final — no reforging, no bending, no destruction.
It was, in every sense, indestructible.
And since Dr. MacLain had once again chosen to cast it as a round shield… well, it was destined to remain a shield forever.
Still, Chen Mo wasn't displeased. "It'll do nicely," he murmured. "I can give this one to Steve."
After all, he had kept the original shield that should've belonged to Steve Rogers — it was only fair to give the Captain a weapon worthy of him in return.
This new shield, forged from true Adamantium, lacked the energy-absorption property of the original vibranium shield, but its sheer durability was beyond compare.
It could withstand any current form of attack — and for the world as it was, that was more than enough.
With his enhanced physique and an Adamantium shield, Steve would be virtually untouchable.
Short of a nuclear blast, nothing on Earth could harm him.
Though both Chen Mo and Howard silently mourned Dr. MacLain's compulsive tendency to turn priceless materials into decorations, they couldn't deny the results.
After extensive testing, the Adamantium shield's performance was nothing short of miraculous — rivaling even the original alloy.
Its hardness was off the measurable scale. The testing machine's diamond press head couldn't even leave a dent.
So MacLain switched to field testing — the practical way.
Knives, axes, pistols, rifles, even grenades and rockets — he used everything at his disposal.
Cold weapons bounced off harmlessly. High-caliber bullets left only faint marks that vanished with a single wipe, the surface gleaming as if brand new.
Grenades detonated against it, rockets slammed into it — all they managed was a layer of soot. The shield's body remained pristine, unwarped, unbroken.
Had there been a tank in the lab, MacLain would've fired an armor-piercing shell at it just to be sure.
Chen Mo, however, had no doubt — even that wouldn't have made a difference. Adamantium was, after all, the strongest metal in existence — impervious even to nuclear explosions.
Still, compared to his own original alloy shield, there remained one key difference…