"It's weirdly similar to the kinetic energy I felt from the Ice-Fire Palm, yet fundamentally distinct. At the very least, this raw energy doesn't seem capable of spontaneous combustion on its own." Huang Wen narrowed his eyes, his spiritual sense diving deep into the microscopic level of John's physiology. He was trying to map out exactly how the X-gene manifested its "Fireman" abilities.
"Technically, saying he can't produce a flame isn't quite right," Huang Wen mused to himself, his fingers resting lightly on John's shoulder. "It's more like he's missing the 'spark'—the initial ignition. He's a cosmic amplifier. He takes the tiny, dancing flame of a Zippo lighter and feeds it, intensifies it, and bends it to his will. But without that external seed, his power just sits there, coiled like a spring with nowhere to bounce."
"Teacher...?" John whispered, his voice trembling slightly. He had been sitting there in total silence for several minutes, a stark contrast to the violent, bone-crunching spectacle of Logan's training session. The lack of screaming was making him even more nervous. He cracked one eye open, looking up at Huang Wen with a mix of confusion and dread.
"Relax, John. I'm just taking a look under the hood," Huang Wen said, snapping out of his internal monologue. He looked John in the eye, his expression unreadable. "Tell me, when you're not around an open flame, are you able to actually feel the energy inside you? Can you exert any control over it?"
"Control it? Without a fire source?" John blinked, looking around the sterile, concrete environment of the bunker as if a torch might suddenly sprout from the wall. "I... I don't think so. Usually, if there's no fire, there's nothing for my power to 'grab' onto. It's like trying to drive a car without an engine. The power just stays... well, nowhere."
"That's where you're wrong," Huang Wen countered, shaking his head firmly. "The power doesn't vanish just because there's no fire nearby. It's an inherent part of your biology. It lives in your cells, in your blood. You need to stop looking for an external master and start becoming the master of what's already inside you. You need to learn to move the power when the world is cold!"
"I... I'll try," John nodded, though he looked completely unconvinced. He squeezed his eyes shut again, focusing all his concentration on the center of his chest. He spent a long, silent minute trying to find a "grip" on his own soul. Finally, he looked up at Huang Wen, his face a mask of frustration. "I'm sorry, Teacher. I'm failing you. I still can't make a single spark. I'm empty."
"Listen to me, John! I am not asking you to be a human matchstick!" Huang Wen's voice took on a sharper, more commanding edge, echoing off the bunker walls. "Your gift is the manipulation and enhancement of thermal energy. Yes, it usually needs a trigger, but that doesn't mean your internal reservoir goes into hibernation when you're out of matches! I want you to stop trying to make fire and start trying to move the energy itself. Circulate it! Treat it like water in a pipe. Move it from your chest to your fingertips and back again!"
John took a deep breath, trying to block out the pressure of the situation. He shifted his focus. Instead of trying to "push" a flame out, he tried to "nudge" the warmth he felt deep in his gut. To his absolute shock, it moved. "Wait... this... this actually isn't that hard," he breathed, his eyes snapping open.
It was a revelation. He had spent his whole life looking for a fire to control, never realizing he was the fire. As he began to swirl that latent energy through his limbs, he didn't produce a blaze, but his body temperature began to skyrocket. His skin took on a deep, flushed red, and the air around him began to shimmer with a heat haze.
"Good! That's it!" Huang Wen's eyes flashed with excitement. This was the proof he needed. "If you can master this internal circulation, your growth potential will dwarf Logan's. You aren't building a foundation from scratch—you're just learning to drive the high-performance vehicle you were born with!"
"Really?" A surge of joy and pride washed over John. He had always felt like a "lesser" mutant compared to the heavy hitters like Logan or Storm. The idea that he could actually surpass them sent his motivation into overdrive. He pushed the energy faster, his face glowing with a frantic, thermal intensity.
"Excellent. Now, don't lose that rhythm. Whatever happens, do not resist the flow I'm about to introduce. Memorize the path I'm carving, and let your own power follow mine like a shadow."
Huang Wen didn't hesitate. He activated the Frostfire Palm, but instead of a destructive strike, he refined the output into a dual-stream of internal energy. One side was biting, absolute zero; the other was a searing, solar heat. He channeled this twin-stream directly into John's primary meridians.
John's entire body buckled. It felt like his veins were being filled with liquid nitrogen and molten lead at the exact same time. His natural mutant energy instinctively flared up to fight the "invaders," but John remembered Huang Wen's warning. He gritted his teeth, forcing his own power to stand down and merge with the incoming flow.
If he hadn't, the collision of these three forces would have turned his internal organs into a slushy of scorched meat. Even with his slightly enhanced mutant physique, the strain was immense.
As the Frostfire energy reached John's Dantian, something miraculous happened. Instead of just sitting there, the mutant energy began to 'eat' the internal force. It was an assimilation. But because the energy John was absorbing was the Frostfire Palm—a technique built on the impossible balance of opposites—his very DNA began to vibrate in sympathy.
If Huang Wen had taught him a pure fire technique, John would have just become a more powerful flamethrower. But the Frostfire Palm was a catalyst for something much deeper. It was triggering a secondary mutation—a forced evolution.
"AHHHHH!"
John's scream was different from Logan's. It was a dual-toned wail. His left side began to turn a pale, crystalline blue, frost crystals forming instantly on his eyelashes and hair. His right side, meanwhile, turned a violent, angry crimson, steam billowing off his skin as his sweat boiled away instantly.
"Hold on to your sanity, John!" Huang Wen's voice was like an anchor in the storm of pain. "If you break now, you'll just be a heap of ash and ice. But if you hold on... you won't need a lighter ever again. You'll be the master of both ends of the spectrum. You'll be what Bobby should have been!"
"Bobby...?" The name of his rival, Bobby Drake—the Iceman—hit John like a physical jolt.
Their history was a tangled mess of envy and resentment. John had always been the 'bad boy' who could only play with fire if someone gave him a light, while Bobby was the golden boy who could freeze an entire city block without breaking a sweat. John had never beaten him. Not in a fight, and certainly not in the eyes of their peers.
The thought of finally standing on equal footing—or even looking down on Bobby—was the fuel John needed. He clamped his jaw shut so hard a tooth cracked, refusing to let another sound escape. He embraced the cold. He welcomed the heat. He forced the two warring halves of his soul to shake hands in the center of his chest.
The bunker went silent, save for the sound of crackling ice and hissing steam.
Finally, the chaos subsided. The extreme colors faded back into normal skin tones, but when John opened his eyes, he was no longer the same man. His eyes had undergone a permanent, heterochromatic shift: the left was a piercing, glacial blue, while the right was a swirling, volcanic orange. The title of "Fireman" was officially obsolete.
"How do you feel?" Huang Wen asked, stepping back to admire his handiwork.
"Teacher... I feel... I feel like I could restart a dead star," John whispered. He stood up, his movements fluid and packed with a new kind of density. "My physical strength... it feels like it's doubled, maybe tripled. And the power... look."
John held out his hands. He didn't reach for a lighter. He didn't look for a spark. With a simple flick of his wrist, a jagged shard of pure ice materialized in his left palm, radiating a soul-chilling mist. Simultaneously, a sphere of roaring, self-sustaining flame ignited in his right. He wasn't just controlling them; he was creating them.
The Frostfire Palm hadn't just given him a new skill; it had rewritten the laws of his own power.
"Not bad at all," Huang Wen nodded, a sense of genuine satisfaction warming his chest. "You've made the most significant leap today. You've bridged the gap between genetic mutation and cultivated internal power."
Watching John, Huang Wen realized that the barrier between "superpowers" and "martial arts" was thinner than he had thought. Whether the power came from a mutated gene, an Infinity Stone, or forty years of sitting in a cave, it was all just energy. The only difference was the 'software' used to run it.
Magneto had been the first hint—the way the Master of Magnetism had used his mutant field to brute-force his way out of an acupuncture lock. Now, seeing John evolve, Huang Wen knew that he wasn't just teaching martial arts. He was building a new breed of powerhouse.