Chapter 42: Spiriting Away the Ghost Rider

After nearly two hours spent outside, Old Wang and Skye finally walked back to Robbie's house.

What did they do during those two hours? Eating was a must; watching a movie was out of the question—

Old Wang had handed all his bank cards to Eli and Lucy, and the past few days’ expenses had almost emptied Skye’s savings. Watching a movie cost money—more than a meal, in fact. A fancy meal would certainly cost more than a movie, but Old Wang couldn’t afford it; he usually cooked simple dishes himself, paired with steamed buns, and only occasionally indulged his palate at the downstairs Chinese restaurant. Those two buckets of instant noodles and a bottle of chili sauce were already considered luxuries.

The only regret Old Wang had was that, in the end, they didn’t book a room.

Lack of money was the main reason.

Another reason was that now they had a place to stay.

Old Wang had healed Gabe’s leg, and both Robbie and Gabe were grateful. Upon learning of Old Wang and Skye’s (dire) situation, they insisted that Old Wang stay with them, and he couldn't bring himself to refuse.

There was a guest room.

Though only one, Eli’s room was vacant.

Of course, Robbie didn’t explicitly mention this, unsure whether Old Wang and Skye needed two rooms.

Perhaps, in this sweltering summer, they wanted to warm each other and soothe their lonely hearts?

It didn’t matter.

The reason for staying another day was that Old Wang’s other purpose for coming hadn’t yet been achieved.

The first goal, the Heart of Azeroth, had already been reclaimed.

The second was the Book of Dark Gods.

It wasn’t particularly hard to find; as a grand master monk who had meditated in the Zen Staff Forest for a full year and had long communed spiritually with Divine Child, Old Wang could awaken Joseph mentally and then use physical persuasion to pry the whereabouts of the Book of Dark Gods from him. It was never going to be all that difficult.

Did it really require such a convoluted journey? Did he really need to offend S.H.I.E.L.D. and Hydra?

Was it just to win over Eli and Lucy?

Yes, they were talented, but in this world, talent was the least scarce commodity.

What was rare was genius.

The Ghost Rider was a genius, born to be the perfect material.

When all was said and done, Old Wang was after the Ghost Rider.

Such an impressive fellow shouldn’t be wasted; hellfire roasting purple yams must taste delicious—crispy on the outside, tender inside, fragrant and with that familiar demonic aroma, so pleasantly familiar.

Even if he set aside the matter of the yam spirit, Old Wang was genuinely interested in Ghost Rider himself.

Because in Azeroth, he had encountered more than one demon living as a parasite within a host, and had met a spirit of vengeance akin to this—Maiev Shadowsong’s God of Vengeance, the warden of the night elves.

Back then, he and Maiev had engaged in exchanges that transcended ordinary boundaries in the quiet depths of night, though their conversations rarely touched upon the God of Vengeance—their time was spent wrestling like fairies.

After all, Old Wang, though a robust Pandaren at the time, was matched by Maiev, a night elf who had lived for over ten thousand years, equally strong and formidable. Two worthy opponents, both keen to be bested by the other, could only fight with abandon.

Now, encountering a spirit of vengeance similar to the God of Vengeance, Old Wang certainly couldn’t let the opportunity slip by.

Helping Robbie seek vengeance, healing Gabe’s leg—Old Wang and the brothers were in the throes of a honeymoon period, the spark still burning. He must strike while the iron is hot, make the deal, and bring them aboard his war chariot.

As for how to persuade them?

In truth, it wasn’t hard.

His middle school literature teacher had always said, when teaching how to write argumentative essays, that the best way to convince others was to lay out the facts and reason with them.

Old Wang was a man of reason.

Though he usually reasoned with his fists rather than his words.

“S.H.I.E.L.D. and Hydra aren’t fools. Since Ghost Rider has caught their attention, they’ll definitely investigate, and they’ll find you,” Old Wang said, settling into the sofa in the most comfortable position. “Under the bald egg’s leadership, S.H.I.E.L.D. is relatively mild and shouldn’t do anything to you. But Hydra won’t sit down for coffee and chat with you. Whitehall is a perverted old man obsessed with youth. He’s already captured Joseph—by now he’s surely pried the truth out of him, knows everything, and will soon come knocking with guns. So, you’re not safe.”

Skye sat beside Old Wang.

Robbie sat opposite.

As for Gabe?

Old Wang had infused a surge of vital energy, sending him into a deep sleep—unless Old Wang allowed, he’d sleep at least a full day and night.

It was actually beneficial.

Gabe had barely slept last night, constantly exhausted.

Though his physical condition was now exceedingly good, bodily satisfaction couldn’t relieve mental fatigue—a good sleep would help.

Gabe had never known Robbie’s true situation; Robbie dared not tell him, nor did he wish to.

Now, hearing Old Wang’s words, Robbie realized his brother was facing a threat far more terrifying than a broken leg—a threat of death.

He himself wasn’t afraid; as Ghost Rider, he possessed immortality.

But Gabe did not...

What to do?

Move house?

Where could they go?

According to Old Wang, Hydra could even infiltrate S.H.I.E.L.D.—there was nowhere safe to hide. He couldn’t stay by Gabe’s side every moment.

Thinking of this, Robbie grew anxious.

If the spirit of vengeance wasn’t so unruly and uncontrollable, he’d give it to his brother to ensure his safety.

Wait—Mr. Wang!

Since Mr. Wang brought it up, surely he has a solution.

A jolt ran through Robbie; he looked to Old Wang, eyes ablaze with fervor: “Wang—”

“Don’t look at me with such fiery eyes, I’ll be melted by your hellfire,” Old Wang waved him off and said, “Actually, the best way is to let Gabe grow strong himself. He’s drunk my essence brew—his physical capabilities will improve greatly, but it’s not enough. If he drinks a drop or two every day and trains with me, in a month, handling a few agents would be no problem. He might even survive gunfire—he’d have real self-defense.”

Skye and Robbie were both stunned.

So powerful?

Skye’s first reaction: Wang, I want it too, I want your essence brew—a daily sip to live to ninety-nine!

Robbie’s thoughts were different: He saw Wang take only a small sip each day, had only given his brother two drops before—it must be very expensive. If it’s a drop or two a day, who could afford it?

After thinking, Robbie still asked, “How much does your essence brew cost?”

“One drop, one million,” Old Wang shrugged.

“How much?” Robbie clearly couldn’t believe his ears.

“You heard right,” Old Wang smiled—it was the truth.

So black... Robbie actually felt relieved.

Completely unaffordable...

A drop a day, a month’s supply would cost thirty million—selling himself wouldn’t cover it, so there’s no point considering it.

What to do?

“This time, you helped a lot with the Book of Dark Gods. Giving you the essence brew is nothing,” Old Wang continued, “But here’s the thing—essence brew gathers the spiritual energy of heaven and earth, the essence of sun and moon. Ordinary people can’t absorb it directly; they’d explode with a ‘bang.’ I have to constantly help them process it. Also, merely having a strong body isn’t enough—you need to know how to use it, learn real martial arts, and I’ll soon be returning to New York.”

Hearing the first half, Robbie felt like a drowning man glimpsing hope—grateful and ashamed.

Grateful for Old Wang’s generosity—a gift worth thirty million, given without hesitation;

Ashamed because, honestly, he hadn’t helped much this time—he’d been little more than a bystander...

The second half left Robbie conflicted.

He couldn’t ask Old Wang to stay for a month, could he?

Wait...

He’d just been thinking about moving, hadn’t he?

Yes, moving!

Robbie made up his mind, solemnly declaring, “Mr. Wang, I understand. I’ll go with you!”

Old Wang was about to launch into his second prepared argument, ready to persuade Robbie to follow him.

But before he could speak, Robbie volunteered.

So proactive...

Not bad.

Old Wang looked on with satisfaction, as if watching a stalk of golden chive run to him on its own two legs.

Robbie, you’ve grown up—now a mature chive, ready to harvest itself!