The Comprehensive Evolution of American Comics

Before Golem could even land from the impact of the explosion, Whiplash had already charged forward again.

He waved away the smoke and dust stirred up by the explosion with one hand, appearing beside Golem like a demon.

"Bear!"

Pale blue energy appeared on Whiplash's fists, and he showed no mercy to Golem, whose defenses were wide open. For a time, his fists rained down like a storm.

Golem's arms were barely raised before being struck down with even greater force by Whiplash. Faced with this storm of attacks, Golem couldn't even mount an effective resistance.

"Bang!"

With a punch, Golem's body flew back several meters before crashing to the ground. The man who had been like an iron tower was now unrecognizable.

His usually prized rock armor was now tattered. His cracked shell was like parched earth, with bright red blood constantly gushing from the openings, revealing the red muscle beneath.

"Drip."

Whiplash looked at his bleeding fists. The blood on them was both Golem's and his own. To break through that kind of armor, how could there not be a price?

Tearing off a piece of his battle skirt, Whiplash bandaged his hands as he walked towards Golem. When he reached him, Whiplash first stepped on Golem's prone shoulder, kicking him over to face up before leaning down and reaching out his right hand.

Whiplash placed his right hand on Golem's chest, and the pale blue light lit up once more, but this time it came not from Whiplash, but from Golem.

Pale blue energy poured out continuously, climbing up Whiplash's body along his right hand. Just as he was about to drain all of Golem's energy, Golem moved.

"Snap!"

Golem's right hand suddenly grabbed Whiplash's arm. Whiplash's expression remained unchanged, not at all frightened by Golem's sudden animation, but merely looked at him coldly.

"Let... go, of my... family," Golem pleaded.

"I... beg you!"

Whiplash stared expressionlessly at the already deceased Golem, whose hand was still tightly gripping his arm. Whiplash couldn't pull it away without force.

Without hesitation, Whiplash increased his strength and pulled his arm from Golem's hand. Looking at the twisted but limp right hand, the power he had unleashed before his death made him slightly impressed.

"Huff!"

Whiplash pointed his right hand at Golem's corpse, and the pale blue energy burst out once more, burning the body to ashes.

After doing all this, Whiplash dispersed the energy in his hand and walked towards the aircraft.

"Five minutes," Maximus said, standing at the entrance of the aircraft.

"You only took five minutes to deal with the best warrior under my command. Your performance is a pleasant surprise, Whiplash."

"Please allow me to correct a mistake you made," Whiplash looked up at Maximus on the steps.

"Oh?" Maximus said with a smile. "What mistake?"

Whiplash said, word by word, "I am the most powerful warrior under your command."

Maximus was stunned for a moment, then laughed and said, "That's right, look at me, I could actually get such a simple thing wrong."

Whiplash didn't interrupt, but just quietly watched Maximus laugh foolishly. The surrounding guards were also silent, not one of them daring to laugh along.

This was the mad Maximus, an unpredictable fellow. No one knew if he would pull out a gun and kill someone in the next second.

"Oh, right," Maximus wiped the tears from the corners of his eyes, looking at Whiplash as if suddenly remembering something.

"What did Golem say before he died?"

"He said to spare his family," Whiplash honestly recounted what had just happened.

After listening, Maximus curled his lip in disdain, saying with a hint of anger, "What a fool, how could I kill people at will inside Attilan? That would attract my brother's attention. What punishment would the great Black Bolt give me if he knew I was wantonly killing his people?"

Maximus revealed a playful smile, saying, "He might walk up to me and quietly say goodnight, and then my body would go bang!"

Maximus opened his hands in a firework shape, as if to illustrate his tragic end.

"I will block his Majesty for you," Whiplash solemnly promised.

"Oh, thank you, Mr. Overestimate Yourself," Maximus waved his hand. "Don't worry, I won't expose myself, nor will I let you go to your death for nothing. I already have some ideas about how to deal with the great Black Bolt."

Maximus revealed a bloodthirsty smile. Although Whiplash didn't know what his master's plan was, he chose to believe. The other soldiers didn't even dare to fart, while Yang Le was almost driven mad. They were finally about to hear a grand plan, but why did he stop talking?

The most ⊥ new ⊥ small ⊥ said ⊥ in ⊥ six ⊥ 9 ⊥⊥ book ⊥⊥ bar ⊥⊥ first ⊥ hair!

Yang Le: 'Riddle Man, get out of the Marvel Universe!'

…

"Scott!"

Cyclops turned his head and saw his girlfriend Jean walking towards him with a pile of files.

"What's wrong, looking so listless? Aren't you happy to see your girlfriend?" Jean pretended to be angry, puffing out her cheeks and looking at the dejected Scott.

"No, Jean, I would definitely be very happy if you weren't holding a pile of files," Scott accurately found his coffee cup from the pile of files and took a sip.

"You know I've been working overtime for three days, and the headmaster has been gone for a long time. I can't be happy no matter what."

Jean put her hand on Scott's shoulder and comforted him, saying, "I know you're tired, but this is for all our fellow mutants. We'll all help you."

"As for the headmaster, doesn't he contact Beast every day? Don't worry, no one in this world can harm the headmaster."

"I know," Scott sighed. "I'm just worried…"

…

On the boundless sea, there was an island that looked like it had been pieced together. The island wasn't large, about the size of a soccer field, and you could see from one end to the other at a glance.

There was no vegetation on the island, only various corpses lying on the ground. They were in different shapes, and some facing up still had horrified expressions. The overturned soil beside them was proof of their previous struggles.

Following these crooked corpses forward, it was easy to see a middle-aged man in a red suit. He was probably the only 'living person' left, and he was sitting with his head down on a metal chair.

The man tightly gripped his hair mixed with white strands, and the howling wind made his coat rustle. Suddenly, a burst of thunder lit up the man's face. That was…

Magneto?