Grant didn’t need Natasha’s life.
Truth be told, Grant could easily mass-produce a serum similar to Captain America’s for Uncle Ben, Aunt May, and his future father-in-law to ensure both families’ safety.
However, considering Spidey’s tendency to jump right into the action—back when he was eight or nine in the movies, he would put on a plastic mask and run into the streets to join the fray, even before he ever acquired his spider genes.
Uncle Ben’s inherent goodness and sense of responsibility were another issue.
Grant had no desire to see a “Captain New York” or an “Old Cap Ben.” That would only throw Uncle Ben onto the front lines, making an accident far more likely.
In Grant’s plan, any serum given to Uncle Ben and Aunt May would only serve to enhance their physique, extend their lifespan, or revitalize them enough to have a child of their own and experience parenthood—not to forge an Old Cap of America.
Genetic serums had their limits.
Even if one could attain sub-Heavenly-Father-level power through a genetic serum, it would inevitably break a human’s fragile body, turning them into a monster—much like the Abomination, who was set to appear in a few days.
For humans to achieve transcendent power, there were basically only three pathways.
The first was innate bloodline—having the genes of some cosmic bigwig flowing through your veins.
But under those circumstances, aside from psychological self-identification, you were hardly human anymore.
The second was psionic potential, exemplified by the Scarlet Witch and her innate abilities.
The third was talent in the mystical arts, epitomized by Doctor Strange, who, as a mere human, became the Sorcerer Supreme in a short span of time.
Anyone else—even Grant himself—could never become a sub-Heavenly-Father tier powerhouse purely through genetic alteration.
Grant had learned firsthand how grueling physical strain could be.
Dr.
Banner altered his genes via gamma radiation, giving rise to the Hulk, while the Abomination was a prime example of genetic collapse.
The human brain couldn’t comprehend genetic power far beyond its control, leaving the genes to mutate wildly.
The ultimate result was the human body mutating into monstrosities.
If that was hard to grasp, playing *Resident Evil* would quickly show what happened when people tampered recklessly with genetics.
Even looking at the births of villains like the Green Goblin, Lizard, and Sandman in the Marvel Cinematic Universe was a sufficient wake-up call.
It was the restraint shown by Peter Parker’s father in genetic research that allowed Spider-Man’s power to remain controllable.
But being controllable meant its ceiling remained within the human realm, just far more well-rounded.
If an exception ever occurred, it wouldn’t be thanks to genetics, but rather idealistic conviction and infinite love.
Take the hand-sanitizer god from *Resident Evil*, Ho Yinsen, or the various mutated genetic heroes across the Marvel multiverse, or even Captain America, who could stand toe-to-toe with Thanos in the endgame powered by an ancient serum—they all drew upon an idealistic conviction that enabled them to wield Mjolnir.
That was the ultimate capital allowing Cap to fight to the end.
Most of Grant’s power came from the mystical side—namely, worldly energy, spiritual qi, and cultivation techniques.
A small portion involved idealistic conviction, which unlocked infinite potential for his future growth.
But that idealistic aspect carried a mythological lineage spanning tens of thousands of years from ancient China.
If you bestowed the power of the Wenqu Star or the Martial Saint onto an American, even given a hundred thousand years, he could never cultivate the Seventy-Two Earthly Transformations.
At best, he’d manifest as some non-human deity—a sun god, a dark goddess, a war god, or a Superman.
Therefore, Grant had long made his plans.
He needed Natasha and her family to lead the Black Widows and serve as the Dark Knights guarding the Lawson and Parker families.
To achieve this, he had to employ both fear and favor.
Fear was something Grant had in abundance.
The growing influence of his faction and the terrifying pressure exerted by his personal martial prowess were more than enough to crush any thought of armed resistance from ordinary humans like Natasha.
However, the minor favor of being her friend wasn’t enough to gain Natasha’s genuine loyalty.
She was a Black Widow, an elite operative who constantly weighed costs and benefits.
So Grant chose a different way to grant favor.
*You have physical flaws and trauma?
I will fix them.* *You harbor guilt?
I will help you redeem it.* *You regret the lost warmth of family?
I will make your family whole.* *You have unavenged vendettas?
I will place your enemies before you so you can strike them down yourself.* *I bestow immense favors upon everyone in your family, Natasha.
Your only choice is to willingly shield my family from all darkness.* Grant disliked underhanded conspiracies, but deep down, he wasn’t above ruthlessness.
Uncle Ben’s appearance had softened his edges, but that ruthless spark hadn’t vanished entirely.
When dealing with Natasha, Grant’s open scheme carried a condescending, somewhat dark amusement—an outlet for the shadowy corners of his mind.
Yet regardless of his cheeky malice, the outcome Grant offered Natasha was a happy ending.
She stood to gain everything.
At worst, his teasing tore open her old wounds first, leaving her momentarily breathless.
It was still infinitely better than Nick Fury’s methods, which the Ancient One had foreseen.
Grant raised his hand like a caring elder, even though he was technically younger than Natasha.
But when his hand rested on the top of her head, Natasha went still and quiet.
“Don’t rush, Natasha.
It’s not too late.
I will grant you enough power to accomplish this.
All you need to do is wait two days, and you will have the chance to handle it yourself.
Or would you prefer I step in?” Natasha hesitated, but ultimately followed her heart.
Rather than having Grant do it for her, she preferred to right those wrongs with her own hands.
“Grant, I’m willing to wait.
I just hope you can hurry.” Grant nodded with a smile, then gave Hawkeye a brief wave.
Seeing that it was still early and Tony wouldn’t be back anytime soon, it was the perfect time to handle Natasha’s genetic serum.
After Grant left, Hawkeye could visibly see Natasha transform.
It was as if she had shifted from a battle-hardened master operative back into a twenty-four-year-old young woman enjoying her youth.
Hawkeye quietly pulled back.
Finding a secluded corner, Grant opened a portal with Caleb and arrived at Stark Tower.
Upon entering, JARVIS greeted them immediately.
“Good morning, Mr.
Vance.
Mr.
Stark is scheduled to return to New York in four hours.
I have notified Miss Pepper to prepare a cup of Tieguanyin tea for you, or would you prefer Pu’er?” “Hello, JARVIS.
Tieguanyin is fine, but I’ll need some Pu’er as well for the young guy with me.” “Very well.
Please wait a moment.” A moment later, Pepper arrived with two sets of tea service.
Grant mentioned to Pepper that he needed to work on some serums, so before he could even drink his Tieguanyin, he left Caleb behind and was escorted to the bio-lab Tony had prepared for him.
The laboratory wasn’t located inside Stark Tower, but at an old weapons manufacturing plant.
The location was remote and secretive enough, with high security and, most importantly, no people around.
In Grant’s view, this was the proper location for biological research.
What he couldn’t comprehend was why villains like the Lizard or the Green Goblin always ran secret labs in the middle of dense urban centers, triggering chaos in the city at the drop of a hat.
Why conduct genetic engineering in densely populated metropolitan areas?
Nick Fury was completely useless—he lacked any sense of crisis management.
If something catastrophic leaked, the entire city would paralyze overnight, and human-to-human transmission would ignite all of New York.
Yet Fury’s remaining eye might as well have been blind for all the good it did.
Pepper explained that Grant was the sole authorized user for the facility—even Tony himself lacked clearance to enter.
Having driven him to the entrance, Pepper bade him goodbye and drove off as Grant stepped out.
From the outside, it looked like nothing more than a small industrial plant.
Grant opened a portal, reached through to a drawer in his university dorm room, and pulled out a keycard.
Tony had tucked it into the pocket of a suit he’d gifted him earlier.
Grant hadn’t known what it was for at the time and tossed it in a drawer.
Only now did he realize that when Tony had mentioned building a lab for him, he had already been building it.
Swiping the card at the plant’s main entrance, the motion lights turned on automatically.
The floor split open to reveal a short staircase leading down to an elevator.
Grant took the elevator down roughly twenty meters below ground.
Exiting into a long corridor, he saw rooms categorized by different specialized functions lining both sides.
Grant gave a mental thumbs-up.
Tony certainly knew how to treat people right.
*Hurry up and build the Mark IV, Tony—I’m definitely giving you a proper gift today.* By the time Grant returned to Tony’s office, it was already afternoon.
Although he had long mastered *bigu*—fasting from mundane food—Grant still had Tony order him a steak, which he enjoyed at a side dining table.
After finishing, he pulled out one of the two cases he brought, opened it, and slid it toward a startled Tony.
“What’s this?” Tony leaned over to look.
Inside was a vial of pale blue serum.
“An all-around enhancement serum,” Grant said.
“Strength, endurance, speed, self-healing, you name it.
Personally, I think your Mark III is about to become obsolete.” The self-healing and other traits were genetic templates analyzed from skills like his Nine Breaths Technique.
Grant had simply integrated them.
With the vast repository of genetic templates stored within the Wenqu Star, Grant could easily select specific traits or synthesize a near-perfect genetic serum.
Without factoring in idealistic conviction, this serum was far superior to Captain America’s.
But once idealistic conviction entered the equation, none of these genetic serums could beat Cap—at best, they’d fight him to a draw.
Cap had walked the path of idealistic conviction ever since taking the serum, which probably made him the ultimate fighter among them.
Grant had no intention of distributing it recklessly.
Apart from Tony, he had only prepared a dose for Natasha.
As for the other Widows she would rescue later, Grant would only heal their afflictions without giving them further enhancements.
He needed to ensure Natasha maintained her leadership position.
Tony was naturally thrilled, though he harbored a slight regret.
“The suit I’m making for you is only half-done,” Tony said.
“Grant, you should’ve given this to me later.
Flying is actually an incredible feeling, you know?
You should experience it instead of drawing magic circles to teleport everywhere.
I know it’s convenient, but life needs different experiences—like flying over to Afghanistan with me to mess around in armored suits!” Grant glanced over at Tony, stood up, and opened a fist-sized spatial portal behind him.
The Void-Cleaving Sword drifted out from within.
Tony watched in amazement as Grant casually sat atop the floating Void-Cleaving Sword, crossing his right leg over his left knee, resting his right elbow on his leg, and propping his chin on his hand as he hovered mid-air, looking back at Tony.
“I *can* fly.”