Dr. MacLain was a different case entirely. His deep knowledge and passion for medieval weaponry alone were enough for Chen Mo to trust him with the Sword of Kings.
But more importantly, this was the man who had created Adamantium itself — the greatest metallurgist of his era. If anyone could unlock the sword's secrets and perhaps even draw inspiration to develop a new super-alloy, it was him.
Letting the doctor study the sword was infinitely better than letting Howard play around with it out of curiosity.
Naturally, MacLain was thrilled by Chen Mo's trust. He knew exactly what the Sword of Kings represented.
Beyond its unmatched sharpness and indestructible nature — beyond even its mysterious hidden properties — its identity as the legendary blade of King Arthur made it a priceless treasure.
There wasn't a noble, tycoon, or royal in Europe—especially the British crown—who wouldn't pay an astronomical price to possess it.
"Don't worry," the doctor promised gravely. "It won't take long. Give me one week, and I'll return it to you without a single scratch."
Chen Mo nodded, then reached into his coat again and produced a rolled-up set of blueprints.
"When you have the time, Doctor, I'd also like you to make this for me."
MacLain unfolded the papers and studied them.
"This is…?"
Howard leaned in curiously. "Wait, isn't that the armor design you came up with last time? But it looks… different."
"Correct," Chen Mo said. "I've redesigned it based on Adamantium's properties. The plates are thinner, lighter, and the joints have been optimized for better flexibility. It won't restrict movement at all."
MacLain's eyes lit with admiration. "Beautiful work! Over a hundred interlocking plates, arranged so precisely that they provide full protection while preserving mobility. A perfect fusion of engineering and artistry."
He grinned. "With these schematics, it won't take long. You'll have your armor in a week."
While the doctor worked, Chen Mo and Howard returned to the Martial Hall and resumed their unhurried routine.
Their days were leisurely—coffee, sparring, and, occasionally, "practical lessons" in which Howard was beaten black and blue.
A week passed quickly.
When they returned to the underground lab, Howard's sunglasses barely concealed the two dark rings under his eyes.
Dr. MacLain was waiting, gesturing toward a nearby rack.
"Over there."
In the corner hung a stunning suit of black combat armor, beside it resting the Sword of Kings.
Following Chen Mo's designs, MacLain had crafted more than a hundred individual Adamantium plates, each molded and polished to perfection. Every piece had been coated matte black, seamlessly embedded into a flexible, high-tech bulletproof bodysuit. The slight protrusion of the plates formed muscle-like contours, giving the armor the sleek form of a living engine.
Chen Mo stepped forward and began to suit up.
The moment he fastened the last piece, he flexed his arms and rolled his shoulders, feeling the armor move with him.
The bodysuit's elasticity was excellent, and the plates hugged his body as though tailored by an artist. Even in motion, there was no stiffness, no discomfort.
Thanks to the alloy's incredible strength, Chen Mo had reduced the thickness of each plate, making the entire suit far lighter than his previous steel-based armor. The added weight was negligible — hardly worth mentioning for him.
Tiny gaps between the plates maintained both flexibility and defense.
Layered over his already powerful physique, the black armor looked like a second skin of metallic muscle. Every vital area—chest, back, limbs, joints—was flawlessly protected, leaving only the head uncovered. Under the cold light of the lab, the armor's black surface gleamed faintly like the hide of some predatory beast.
Howard's jaw dropped. His envy was almost palpable. Behind the sunglasses, his bruised eyes stared unblinkingly, his mouth hanging slightly open, practically drooling at the sight.
Ignoring him, Chen Mo reached for the matching helmet.
It wasn't a full steel helm, but a sleek, segmented mask that wrapped around his head and neck, connecting seamlessly with the armor below. The clever design allowed complete protection while retaining full head rotation.
Now fully armored from head to toe — chest, arms, legs, knees, even hands and feet — Chen Mo stood transformed. Under the lab's light, the polished plates reflected a faint, icy sheen.
He looked less like a man and more like a living war machine — silent, cold, and deadly.
Dr. MacLain approached, visibly moved.
"Magnificent… truly magnificent. This isn't just equipment — it's a work of art."
Although he had personally built it, seeing the suit on Chen Mo's tall, muscular frame was something else entirely.
Chen Mo's physique was already the definition of perfect human proportion — broad shoulders, strong chest, and dense, sculpted muscle. The streamlined black plates accentuated every curve of power, giving him an aura of unstoppable strength.
He looked majestic — like a dark knight out of legend.
Chen Mo, too, was satisfied.
With this armor, his survivability had reached another level entirely. Whether in battle or in a plane crash back in the real world, he was confident he could walk away unscathed.
Removing the mask, he nodded approvingly.
"Perfect, Doctor. You've outdone yourself."
MacLain waved modestly. "No thanks necessary."
Chen Mo smiled faintly, picked up the longsword beside him, and stood tall — black armor and silver blade, the image of restrained, lethal power.
"How's the sword research coming along?" he asked.
MacLain chuckled. "Quite well, actually. It's given me new inspiration for future projects.
Though I haven't found any new secrets yet… unfortunately."
"Don't worry," Chen Mo said calmly. "If there's more to it, it'll reveal itself eventually. Think of it as a surprise waiting for us."
The doctor laughed. "Haha! Then let's hope it's a big one."
"Are you sure about this?"
In the lab's underground testing chamber, Howard stood beside a mounted heavy machine gun, uneasily stroking the weapon's cold, lethal barrel. He glanced at Chen Mo — fully suited in black armor — and felt a nervous chill.
"You really want to do this?"
Chen Mo, his voice a low rumble from within the armor, gave a single steady nod.
"Begin."
Howard swallowed hard and turned to the trigger.
The test of the Adamantium combat armor was about to begin.