Chapter 84

Just as Zhou Yi asked Mystique to convey his invitation to Magneto Erik, Wolverine Logan also encountered an extremely important opponent in his life.

Because Rogue was required not to leave the sight of Ororo and Jean Grey, Logan had to follow a group of troublesome women around all day. This was not a pleasant experience for him.

If he had only been with Jean Grey or Rogue, perhaps he wouldn't have felt annoyed, but following four or five women, three or four of whom were young girls, was definitely a huge challenge for his tolerance.

Logan was never a good-tempered person. If it weren't for Jean Grey, who he had an unusual fondness for, and Rogue, who he felt like family, he might have already lost control and quit. But for these two people, he endured it. It wasn't until the group returned from their outing that he finally relaxed his tense nerves.

Because the whole process was so painful for him, he now desperately needed to release his stress. What methods does a mature old man use to release his stress? There are only a few, and the most common are smoking, drinking, and women.

Women were very common for Logan. A man like him, with his rugged charm, didn't need to chase women; they would naturally come to him. He had had many women in his long life, most of whom were fleeting, leaving only a few with a deep impression. The most tragic part was that one experience made him forget everything, including a woman who was very important to him.

Although he found this feeling again with Jean, his instincts told him there was a difference. Perhaps because of these reasons, he had no intention of finding a woman this time.

As for cigarettes, Logan, who already had a 40th anniversary commemorative premium cigar, had no desire for more. So, naturally, he went to a bar.

Perhaps due to the residual memories in his bones, Logan didn't like very noisy nightclubs but was more fond of old-fashioned bars. Especially those with struggling singers performing, filled with soothing music, were his favorite places to linger.

Although it was his first time in Paris, with his dog-like sense of smell and the intuition of a seasoned old drunk, Logan didn't have much trouble finding his target on a street with some history.

This old bar was called Lion's Pride, which sounded quite majestic. But once inside, it gave a sense of decline. The bar was filled with old tables and chairs, and the pine scent permeated the air. Instead of feeling old, one felt a precious imprint of time.

On the stage, a slightly depressed singer hummed softly, and the melodious music echoed in the bar. In the not particularly bright light, the long bar counter reflected a warm glow.

Combined with the intoxicating aroma of alcohol and the low murmurs and laughter of the guests, stopping here was enough to make one feel as if time had slowed down and was flowing gently.

This was Logan's favorite feeling. As soon as he walked in, he felt like he was at home. Compared to modern things, these old things were more deeply rooted in his memory.

"Whiskey, on the rocks!" Sitting down at the bar, Logan said to the balding, fat bartender and then took out a cigar, puffing contentedly.

The bartender quickly pushed a glass of whiskey on the rocks to Logan. Perhaps because there weren't many customers, he didn't leave but instead wiped a glass while talking to Logan.

"You look a bit unfamiliar. Is this your first time here?"

"Me and a few guys just came from America. I didn't expect to find such a place with atmosphere here!" Logan downed the drink in one gulp, tapped the table, and signaled the bartender to refill it. In this leisurely environment, he didn't mind chatting a bit more with the bartender.

"There aren't many people like you these days." The bartender refilled Logan's glass, sighing. "This bar has been in my family for over seventy years, passed down from my father. Not many people come to places like this anymore. Most are regulars. Tourists like you are not very willing to come here."

"Tch! That's because those kids don't know how to appreciate it. Only places like this are worth stopping at." Logan sneered, expressing his opinion.

"If there were more people with your taste, I'd really have to thank God." Seeing Logan finish his drink again, the bartender refilled it and said generously, "This one's on me!"

Logan raised his glass, thanked the bartender, and closed his eyes to savor it. When the bartender saw more customers coming in, he stopped chatting and went to serve them. For a moment, Logan's surroundings became quiet. This was familiar to him, as he was a lone wolf.

This situation changed when a somewhat familiar figure approached him. It was a tall white man, over two meters tall, with a massive, muscular build that exuded a sense of oppression. His rugged face was most notable for his cat-like, half-closed eyes and slightly exposed fangs. His worn, oversized coat and messy hair made him look more like a homeless person than a customer.

Perhaps because of his intimidating appearance, the bartender didn't stop him but let him walk to Logan's side and sit down.

When he sat down, Logan noticed his presence. This was highly unusual for a lone wolf. His instincts and senses were no less acute than those of real animals, yet he had no awareness of the person beside him. So when he noticed this guy, he immediately became alert.

Not everyone is hostile, but this person was definitely an enemy to him. This was not only because they had clashed over Rogue before but also because his soul was constantly warning him. As a lone wolf, he trusted this feeling more than any fact he saw.

"Looks like you know who I am?" The tall man's face showed a lazy expression like a large cat. He squinted at Logan and, without hesitation, grabbed a bottle of alcohol from the bar and poured it directly into his mouth.

After a long time, he put down the bottle, casually wiped the liquid from his mustache with his tattered sleeve, and asked Logan, "If you can, you should tell me, or you won't have the chance later."

"Do you think I know the name of a stray cat?" Logan retorted, his face showing a fierce expression. This was his instinctive reaction. When dealing with this person, his instincts took precedence. "Besides, I don't think you need to know. Because even if you do, you won't have the chance to celebrate."

"Is that so? Then it doesn't matter." Slowly opening his eyes, the tall man exuded a savage and brutal aura. "They call me Sabretooth. I think that's a pretty good name. So, you disgusting guy, you can die now."

With that, he extended his large hand and swung it fiercely at Logan. As he moved, the black nails on his fingers extended sharply, as sharp as a predator's claws, and in fact, even more powerful.

Logan barely dodged the attack, listening to the wind. Sabretooth's claws landed on the bar, and the old wood was as fragile as paper in front of his claws. A loud scraping sound filled the air as large chunks of wood were torn away.

Looking at the bar, the deep claw marks were enough to make anyone shudder.

After dodging the attack, Logan immediately counterattacked. The adamantium claws between his fingers extended sharply, and the wind whistled as he slashed at his enemy.

Logan had no intention of holding back against his enemy, especially not against someone he had fought before.

When Logan's claws swung at Sabretooth, the tall mutant immediately leaped back, his large body displaying an agility that was unimaginable. Naturally, Logan's attack missed. His claws only sliced through the air where Sabretooth had been sitting, leaving no impact on the real target.

As they began to fight, the crowd in the bar started to flee in panic, including the bartender who had been chatting with Logan. In a normal fight, the bartender might not mind giving a lesson with the shotgun under the counter, but with two mutants, he could only leave quickly.

Mutant battles were not something ordinary people could interfere with. It was a matter of life and death, and humans had long learned to stay out of it.

The two fighting mutants were not disturbed by the fleeing crowd. They began to circle each other, looking for the best moment to attack. The one who lost their cool first was often the one who suffered.

But Logan chose to attack first, relying on his healing factor and steel-like body, wanting to end this quickly.

He roared and charged at Sabretooth, his claws extended, like an arrow from a bow.

Sabretooth, who had been watching Logan closely, only moved at the last moment. Using his height and reach, he brought his claws together and stabbed at Logan's back, wanting to see if he could rip out his heart.

Sabretooth's advantage was clear. His arms reached Logan's back first. Before Logan could touch him, he had already ripped a large chunk of flesh from his back.

The pain of being cut made Logan growl fiercely, but an indescribable emotion took over his body, making him ignore the pain. Instead, he extended his arms with even more force.

The adamantium claws plunged straight into Sabretooth's waist, the razor-sharp blades cutting through his muscles, bones, and organs. When Logan roared and pulled his left hand out of Sabretooth's body, he could see a half-severed kidney and intestines in the large wound.

Logan was not in good shape either. A large chunk of flesh had been torn from his back, and the wound glinted with the metallic sheen of adamantium bones protecting his heart. Even so, his condition was not good.

Of course, compared to Sabretooth, he was in better shape.