Chapter 64: Custom-Made High-Tech Equipment (Seeking Recommendation Votes)

The drafting of the contract and the detailed negotiations were handled by Sky and Fudge. Old Wang and Matt were mainly responsible for the final step—signing their names. The rest of the time, they sat staring at each other: one with a faint trace of a smile, the other with waves of turmoil churning inside.

Matt Murdock, the future Daredevil, had not yet reached the peak of human physical prowess; in fact, he was likely less formidable than Kingpin. His true strength lay in the heightened senses granted to him by the loss of his sight. In terms of pure combat, he was, at best, on par with the Punisher.

Old Wang had no idea how things were in other worlds, but in this one—the Marvel Cinematic Universe—he estimated that Matt would lose to Black Widow ninety-nine times out of a hundred. He couldn’t even best his own master, the aged “Stick.” Daredevil, much like Captain America, possessed an all-around enhancement: strength, speed, agility, endurance, even martial skill and intelligence were elevated to impressive heights, though always slightly below those of Captain America. And, of course, he was blind.

Yet his extraordinary senses compensated for all shortcomings.

Because they hadn’t fought, Old Wang couldn’t judge Daredevil’s true ability. But since Matt hadn’t managed to cultivate “Qi,” was still young, had been trained by Stick for less than fifteen years and lacked sufficient combat experience, his martial prowess, no matter how formidable, remained limited.

The rich rely on technology; the poor rely on mutation.

Daredevil was, in essence, a kind of mutant—the enhancement of his senses far exceeded those of ordinary people. If he could cultivate “Qi,” his power would rise to a new level, surpassing Black Widow and Hawkeye, becoming a true “superhero.”

He was worth nurturing.

And for Old Wang, honored as the lifelong chief instructor of the Shangxi Martial Arts Hall, teaching students was hardly a challenge. The reason he had spent three years personally instructing Sky, only for her to fail to cultivate “True Qi,” was simply that she lacked any talent for it. Even the best master cannot teach a dull disciple.

Daredevil’s acute senses made him a rapid learner of martial arts, and he had received years of guidance from Stick—a golden seedling.

Ahem, a golden opportunity!

Excellent, excellent!

Old Wang watched Matt with a smiling gaze, while Matt stared back expressionlessly.

The trace of True Qi that Old Wang had imparted moments ago had allowed Matt to glimpse another world—a world suffused with “Qi.” Stick had once told him that “Qi” was the energy of life itself; to cultivate it signified a fundamental change in one’s existence, elevating one from mere mortal to a martial arts master.

With “Qi,” one’s physical attributes would be greatly enhanced, life span extended, even immortality would no longer be a dream.

There were very few in the world who had cultivated “Qi,” and most had acquired it through special means. Those who achieved it solely through their own abilities were rarer still.

This energy could not only harm, but also heal—even restore the dying.

Matt had often dreamed that one day he would encounter someone who truly possessed “Qi”—perhaps even possess it himself.

He never imagined that day would come so soon.

The wisp of True Qi flowed through his body, gradually fading since it was not his own, yet it brought new understanding. It was as if a maiden, once her veil was pierced, became a woman; Matt now saw hope of becoming a martial arts master.

He was just one step away.

But that step was as hard as climbing the heavens.

Just as few maidens pierce that veil themselves, requiring the help of a man or another woman, Matt knew that relying on his own ability, he might spend years or decades and still never cultivate “Qi,” nor achieve the transformation of his life.

But if he could receive the help of the “Master Wang” reclining before him, it might take only months, perhaps weeks, or even days.

Yet, why would he help him?

“He drew me here, then tempted me with a wisp of Qi—what does he want from me?”

Matt suddenly wished to see his master, whom he hadn’t met in years. Perhaps Stick could provide an answer.

“It’s done!”

The chubby blond beamed, handing two contracts to Old Wang and Matt. “Happy cooperation!”

“Happy cooperation.”

Old Wang and Matt took turns signing the papers. Matt, distracted, departed, his heart left behind in Azeroth Specialty Store.

Old Wang smiled.

When the fish catches the scent of bait, it cannot help but bite.

When the cat smells dried fish, it cannot help but sneak a taste.

It was said that gathering seven superheroes could save the world.

Now, that was the second…

No, counting Sky, it was the third…

If that was the case, seven was too few.

Should he gather twelve zodiac signs, or twenty-eight constellations?

Thirty-six Heavenly Spirits, seventy-two Earthly Fiends, or perhaps one hundred and eight generals?

Wasn’t Egghead assembling the Avengers?

Perhaps he could form a stronger team, or at least a larger one?

…

…

S.H.I.E.L.D. worked far more efficiently than other agencies.

The promised surveillance equipment quickly arrived, and Egghead even sent people to install it. The main control room was set up at Azeroth Specialty Store, and Sky could monitor all the streets of Chinatown via computer and mobile phone.

Security was greatly improved.

Of course, S.H.I.E.L.D. certainly left a back door, monitoring everything in sync.

S.H.I.E.L.D. monitoring meant Hydra monitoring as well.

Old Wang, unceremoniously, had Sky overhaul the entire system—software, permissions, everything encrypted layer by layer. Without her approval, no one could access a thing.

This ensured Gabe’s safety as well.

Most importantly, neither S.H.I.E.L.D. nor Hydra could easily track Old Wang’s movements.

This benefited his dual identities—Kunlun Iron Fist and Master Wang.

Not everyone was Daredevil; at least for now, no one else would link Iron Fist to him.

Afterward, Old Wang enjoyed Sky’s massage while phoning Natasha.

He stated his demands.

“S.H.I.E.L.D. field agent gear—the newest model. I want five sets.”

“A metal staff—length… diameter… hardness… solid… If possible, make it from vibranium… What? None? Adamantium will do, but only the real kind, not the inferior grade… None of that either? Not even the inferior grade? Fine, get me a titanium alloy one, the advanced kind.”

“And one pair of gauntlets, also titanium alloy, with crocodile leather!”

Old Wang sighed.

Egghead was stingy.

During World War II, the Strategic Science Reserve managed to acquire vibranium to make Captain America’s shield; he couldn’t believe S.H.I.E.L.D. had no stock.

Moreover, adamantium was developed by the U.S. government. Its chemical structure was a closely guarded secret; it was said to be as difficult to produce as vibranium.

Neither would be provided—excessive.

Titanium alloy would suffice; it was hard enough, barely usable.

Honestly, he could grab a staff of fine-quality felsteel from World of Warcraft, which would surpass titanium alloy, but it wasn’t cost-effective—the shipping was too expensive.

If he were to redeem one, at minimum it should be epic-grade, preferably legendary—like the artifact staff he’d grown accustomed to.

But it was far too costly, beyond his means.

Titanium alloy it would be, for now.

…

…

S.H.I.E.L.D. Triskelion Headquarters, Director’s Office.

Natasha hung up the phone, casting a glance at Egghead; her meaning was clear:

Director, you’re stingy!

Egghead snorted, shooting Natasha a glare, his meaning clearer still:

Agent Romanoff, remember who you are—you work for me!

Thinking of that fat man on the other end of the line, Egghead felt a headache coming.

Vibranium—S.H.I.E.L.D. had some, but it was reserved for research. How could he just give it away?

And at ten thousand dollars per gram, a solid staff would weigh at least fifteen kilograms, costing a hundred and fifty million, with black market prices several times higher.

Not to say they didn’t have it; even if they did, he couldn’t afford it!

The same applied to adamantium.

Secondary-grade adamantium was cheaper, but still over a thousand dollars per gram and nearly impossible to obtain.

Wang, you’re asking too much!

“Have someone custom-make it! Not the tech department—let those two students handle it. What are their names again?”

Egghead tapped his temple.

He usually had an excellent memory, but recently he’d been overwhelmed: Hydra, the Hand, terrorists, Tony Stark, the Hulk—he was swamped. How could he remember two students?

“Keep an eye on the Hand.”

Egghead looked at Natasha, reminding her, “Do your best to support Kunlun and Iron Fist. Find a chance to talk with them… S.H.I.E.L.D. needs allies, and Hydra won’t be easy to deal with!”