Marvel: Apocalyptic Beginning, a High-Level Game!

Chapter 317 Old Friends Meet Again

No deity dared to spy on them anymore.

Even if it was just an avatar of that great being.

Those gods who once held sway, viewing the entire multiverse as a chessboard, were now all silent. They withdrew their gaze, their divine senses, and their ever-present tentacles—

Like a flock of startled pigeons, they flapped their wings and retreated to their respective corners. Because they finally understood:

That man was no longer someone they could "observe".

He is the sun. Looking directly at the sun will only burn your eyes.

But—Hanlu, who had long since transcended all of this, didn't care.

He was aware of his current size.

That feeling is hard to describe—

It's not about "big", not about "many", not about any state that can be described in words, but about a sense of fullness that fills every crevice, every texture, and every tiny fold.

He felt himself permeating every nook and cranny of the entire Marvel Universe—omnipresent and omnipotent.

He is bound to all civilizations. He is bound to all life.

Because as long as you are a conscious being, as long as you possess a memory, as long as the thought "I exist" has arisen for even a single second in your life—

Then you will connect with him, he will sense you, and he will become you.

It's not about binding—it's about symbiosis.

It's not about ruling—it's about establishing the foundation.

His ideas began to expand wildly.

Like tree roots sinking into the soil, like ink soaking through paper, like sunlight filling a room—unstoppable and irreversible.

Aside from the observers who remain entirely outside the dimensional universe, the celestials protected by their leader, and the creator gods shielded by annihilation within the creator pantheon—

He has extended the concept of "civilization" to every corner of the universe.

Every planet with life.

Every galaxy has a story.

Every dimension with history.

He's everywhere.

His power is boundless.

It's not a metaphor, not an exaggeration—it means "endless" in the literal sense.

As long as there is one life breathing, as long as there is one civilization continuing, its power will never be exhausted. You cannot kill it, because you cannot kill "existence" itself.

Hanlu, sensing everything she had, suddenly felt like laughing.

Is this what is meant by the "mega-universe"?

This was something he had always longed for but could never attain—

Like a cloud on a mountaintop, visible but untouchable. Every time I think I'm about to reach it, I look up and it drifts further away.

But through his frantic calculations and ruthless maneuvering, he finally reached that level.

He recalled everything that had happened along the way.

At the single-entity level, it tirelessly strives; at the multi-entity level, it darts about aimlessly, constantly running between different universes.

It's all for the present.

He wrote his own legend in the Marvel editorial department.

The least known of the creator gods—the God of Civilization.

He bound himself to all existing civilizations, and as for his achievements—he simply rewrote all his past stories, released them, and incidentally added our everyday planet devourers, eternity, and infinity to elevate himself to an existence on par with annihilation.

He even felt that he, the "god of civilization," might have become somewhat special.

It's somewhat like a "god of existence"—as long as all things exist, it exists.

After all, any life that exists in the world, has its own memories, its own life and story, falls within his scope of management.

In that sense, it seems plausible to call oneself a "god of existence."

However, the word "existence" just sounds really awful.

Keep it.

---

Hanlu calmly adjusted her robes—the long robe with gold-edged cloud patterns and yin-yang symbolism fluttered in the air like a flag waving in the wind.

He lowered his head, patted off non-existent dust from his cuffs, then looked up, ready to go home.

This time, he can go back with his head held high.

It wasn't because he was fleeing for his life, nor because he was retreating—it was because no one could stop him anymore.

It is a pity.

Just as he was about to turn around, a portal appeared behind him without his knowledge.

That door was unlike any he had ever seen in any universe.

It wasn't the rainbow's iridescent light, nor the blue sparks of the Space Stone, nor Doctor Strange's golden aura.

It was green, dark green, like a bottomless lake, with some ancient, cursed runes flowing across its surface.

Then, a man wearing a green cloak and a metal mask walked out of the door.

Hanlu was stunned on the spot.

That mask—that silver, expressionless mask that only revealed two eyes—was all too familiar to him.

Beneath that mask lies a soul more insane than a madman, more genius than a genius, and more villainous than a villain—a man who never bows his head in any universe, any timeline, or any possibility.

Dr. Destruction.

"This really surprises me." Han Lu's voice was squeezed out from deep in her throat, each word like a quenched blade, carrying an anger and mockery that had been suppressed for too long and finally found an outlet. "I never thought—you would actually dare to show your face in front of me."

A smile curved his lips.

That wasn't a smile; it was an almost bloodthirsty excitement, the kind a hunter feels when he sees his prey.

He slowly raised his hands, his movements unhurried, but every subtle movement left an indelible mark on the space.

The surging divine power burst forth from his palm, pressing outwards in all directions like a flood bursting its banks.

He is compressing space, compressing light, compressing time itself, squeezing this dimension tightly like a sponge.

Doctor Doom can't escape.

His body swayed slightly—not as a tremor, but as an instinctive perception of danger.

His cloak clung tightly to his body under the pressure of divine power, like a piece of green canvas ruffled by the wind.

Beneath the mask, his eyes narrowed slightly.

But Doctor Doom seemed quite surprised by the other party's vigilance.

His brow—if that mask could display any expression—further furrowed.

"I think—" his voice came from behind the mask, deep and steady, with an innate, unquestionable confidence, "that we don't have any real conflict of interest."

His gaze fell on Hanlu's face. There was no fear or hesitation in her eyes, only a composure that bordered on arrogance.

"And I believe we have many areas where we can collaborate."

"For example?"

Hanlu tilted her head.

The angry smile still lingered on his lips, but the bloodthirsty glint in his dark eyes had subsided slightly.

His tone remained aggressive, each word seemingly squeezed out from between his teeth—

There's no way around it, anyone who finds themselves sitting on a broken throne, looking like the emperor next door locked to a golden toilet, would be furious, okay?

what--

Do you know how tiring it is for him to run around everywhere every day with only single-universe-level clones?

Doctor Doom did not answer immediately.

He simply stood there quietly, letting the immense, oppressive divine power flow past him, like a rock motionless in a rushing river.

"I can help you."

He finally spoke, his voice as calm as if stating a theorem that had been proven countless times: "To help you become stronger. And based on that—to withstand the final end."

Hanlu's hand paused.

In the void, a mechanical puppet—Lycurgos—appeared at some unknown time.

It stood a step behind Hanlu, its empty optical lenses staring straight at Doctor Doom, like a silent guardian.

Hanlu's gaze swept back and forth between the two, as if assessing something.

Doctor Doom stood there, composed and arrogant; the mechanical doll was as quiet as a corpse.

But Doctor Doom seemed absolutely certain that the other party would agree.

---

In fact, Doctor Doom himself is also in a lot of trouble.

His original plan was to work alone.

Hanlu was merely a pawn he used to attract attention.

But unexpectedly, the other party was so powerful that they pushed him step by step to the level of a super-universe.

You have to understand, even after absorbing a whole bunch of special characters, I only barely managed to reach the multiverse level.

Heaven knows that the moment Hanlu advanced to the super-universe level, he was among the gods of all the heavens and myriad realms who cast their gazes upon him.

Too fast, too fast.

The other party moved incredibly fast.

It was so fast that his ever-calculating brain couldn't react in time, and so fast that his ever-observant eyes couldn't capture it.

But Doctor Doom could never have imagined—

The Cold Dew solar term can reach the super-cosmic scale of a civilization god; where does its power come from?

There's no way around it; with a bug like "Marvel Editorial Department" helping him, it's hard not to become awesome.

At least Hanlu could already sense that her "summoning" power had begun to extend to each of her clones—

However, due to the issue of permission levels, some clones can access more functions, while others can access fewer.

But in any case, those forces are there, like an inexhaustible mine.

As for now—

"Tell me your way." Han Lu's voice turned cold, her dark eyes devoid of any emotion. "You have no right to refuse me—I wouldn't mind reading your brain first."

He stood still, staring directly at the man in front of him.

His posture was haughty, like a king interrogating a beggar who had broken into the palace.

This posture, this awareness, this sense of oppression—

It is only Doctor Doom who inflicts harm on others.

Never, never, anyone has ever dared to face him in this way.

But today—

"I think—" Doctor Doom's voice remained steady, but the light in his eyes dimmed slightly, "you may have misunderstood some things."

He paused, and the corners of his mouth—if you could see them—must have turned up slightly in an indescribable arc.

"You're not the only one who's reached this level. There are others too."

As soon as he finished speaking, a figure walked out of the portal beside him.

The man was neither tall nor strong, wearing an ordinary-looking gray coat, and his hair was sticking up like a burning flame.

He had a casual, lazy smile on his face, as if he were greeting a neighbor.

"Hi—" he waved, his tone relaxed.

"Hello, nice to meet you."

Molecular Man.

The cold dew froze.

He could clearly see that the strength of the molecular man in front of him might far exceed that of the Doctor Doom beside him, and might even be slightly higher than his original rank.

Not just a little—it's a lot.

The feeling is like walking along the wall in a dark room, thinking you've reached the end, then looking up to find the ceiling still above you, still above you, still above you—so high you can't see the end.

His eyes narrowed slightly.

In the void, three people faced each other.

The wind blew through that space compressed by divine power, like a sigh.