Chapter 69: Leave This to Me!

The old man with the staff was utterly helpless.
In truth, I never wished for this, but what choice did I have?
The True Purity Society is in New York; originally, there were a few others, all undercover within the Hand, responsible for intelligence. It was they who told me about Lady Gao and Iron Fist.
But they're dead now, killed by the Hand.
If things hadn't deteriorated so badly, I wouldn't be here asking for your help!
If I had a whole gang of brothers under my command, I'd have brought them over to confront the Hand head-on; why would I be so pitiful now?
With no one left, what can you even say...
Matt was at a loss for words.
The Hand could casually send dozens of people, armed with guns; Lady Gao's followers were even more numerous—hundreds, and that was just two of their fingers.
One is Japanese, the other Chinese, and New York isn't their home turf.
The real home advantage belongs to Alexandra, who hasn't even made a move yet!
Your True Purity Society has just two people, no guns, one old man and one woman—where have all the men gone?
Old man, are you here to make jokes?
"Don't worry, we can escape; I've got experience," the old man reassured.
"Actually, we were hunted as soon as we got off the plane. The situation wasn't much better than now, yet we still managed to escape," Erica chimed in.
The two of them—what's there to be proud of...
Besides, after being hunted, you still came to find me—truly a good teacher and ex-girlfriend...
Matt sighed, picked up his phone, and dialed a number. "Let me ask for help..."
Bang!
A bullet flew past.
Matt dodged quickly.
Several more shots rang out, forcing Matt to toss his phone and evade with all his strength.
The number had just connected; it rang once, then the phone shattered.
(My phone was smashed by my baby, too. Sigh.)
A bloody battle had begun.
...
...
Azeroth Specialty Shop.
It was already night; Robbie and Gabe, not wanting to be third wheels, had gone home long ago.
After dinner, the shop closed. Old Wang prepared a private session for Skye, using true energy to help her adjust her body and boost the absorption of internal essence.
Skye, destined to become "Quake," had powers that placed a heavy demand on her body—the better her physique, the stronger and faster she could withstand the vibrations, and thus, the more powerful her shockwaves.
Though Skye wasn't a natural martial arts candidate—her posture was all wrong—it didn't mean she couldn't possess true energy.
Before the Heart of Azeroth, Old Wang relied solely on his own cultivation. His abilities were limited, so he couldn't help Skye open up her meridians or stimulate her body to produce true energy and establish a stable internal circulation.
But now, after drinking so much Well of Eternity essence, his physical fitness had risen further. The total true energy in his body had reached the level of a Monk Master, just one tier below Old Chen and Zhu Talan, so he could naturally help Skye.
Of course, this was a gradual process, not something that could be accomplished in a day.

Old Wang decided to sleep in the shop with Skye.
It was Skye's suggestion; she wanted to seize every moment, impatient to experience the mysteries of true energy, like a maiden eager to taste forbidden fruit.
Such temptation is irresistible.
"Change your posture, let's try again," Old Wang said, giving Skye a playful pat.
True energy stimulation required different postures—lying, prone, standing, sitting—each had varying effects. In this, Old Wang was a master among masters; Lady Gao probably knew less than he did.
Back in Pandaria, to help the pandas quickly grow strong enough to face the Sha and the Burning Legion, Old Wang had specially illustrated a manual—one hundred and eight poses, each with accompanying moves, richly detailed. Even after he left, it was still in use, and had even spread to other continents, benefiting all of Azeroth.
Suddenly, the phone rang.
"Huh, it's that blind lawyer. What is he calling at this hour for?"
Skye frowned, annoyed that someone was interrupting her and Old Wang's session.
She reached to answer.
The call ended.
"Psychopath..." Skye muttered, then resumed her position: knees and hands on the floor, ready for Old Wang's ministrations.
But Old Wang stood up after patting her again.
"What's wrong?" Sensing the forbidden fruit... the true energy had vanished, Skye realized something had happened and quickly asked.
"My intuition tells me something is off."
He picked up the phone to call back—powered off.
Out of battery?
Too much of a coincidence; the future Daredevil wouldn't make such a rookie mistake.
"Skye, hack Columbia University's surveillance—stay in touch at all times."
Old Wang worried about the future Daredevil, not wanting the young man to die inexplicably because of his own butterfly effect in this world, just as Lady Gao had.
No equipment needed.
Absolutely no driving.
He donned his mask, determined his direction, and set off into the night.
Under the Chinatown night sky, a slightly plump figure leapt between rooftops, not unlike a nascent Spider-Man.
...
...
Bang bang bang!
Continuous gunfire awakened the sleeping Columbia University.
The dormitory area for the law students was eerily quiet; the students, startled from their dreams, weren't foolish enough to play hero, hiding instead, maybe calling the police.
Western education first teaches self-preservation; survival above all else.
When faced with unbeatable violence, choosing to flee isn't cowardice; sometimes it's even praiseworthy—meaningless sacrifice achieves nothing.
Even Old John, the gatekeeper, and his guard dog hid away.

Three shadows fled through the darkness, pursued by dozens of Yakuza ninjas.
Matt ran, gritting his teeth against the pain.
He'd been shot.
The old man with the staff was just too old, his reactions no longer quick enough. If he hadn't blocked a bullet at the crucial moment, Matt would already be a cold corpse.
The light of justice flashed in his heart, but the pain in his back and the draining strength pulled him back to reality.
The enemy is strong, we're weak—no point in a frontal clash. Guerrilla warfare in a complex environment would be more advantageous.
Most importantly, there were many students in the dorms.
The Yakuza clearly wouldn't, and couldn't, trigger a nationwide massacre—that would enrage the public and force the police to act ruthlessly. But stray bullets could always harm innocents; just now, Matt had heard several screams from the nearby woods—some tragic, some not so much.
Matt didn't want his fellow students to get hurt.
He had to change the battlefield.
The gymnasium, closest by, was the best option.
The old man and Erica were experienced; Matt's senses were keen.
He could even judge the ninjas' firing direction and timing from the sounds of their bodies moving and blood flowing, allowing him to dodge in advance.
But if the bullets were too dense, it became impossible to evade—his less-than-superhuman body limited his abilities.
Even when he reacted the instant a bullet left the chamber, he still couldn't avoid it.
The gymnasium was in sight.
Yet the short distance felt like an uncrossable gulf.
The fire of life might extinguish in the next moment; Matt burned with longing for life and the vibrant world, but if he could die with his mentor and ex-girlfriend, it wouldn't be so lonely. God had not forsaken him.
Dozens of ninjas fired simultaneously.
With perfect coordination, they wove the bullets into a net—a net impossible to escape.
The scythe of death had fallen.
A dull groan, a scream of agony.
Matt's heart trembled.
Both the old man and Erica had been shot; Matt himself took a bullet in the back, death imminent.
Suddenly—
A spherical object rolled at high speed from the opposite side, veering as it passed, coming to rest behind Matt.
"Get them out first."
The sphere unfolded, becoming a slightly plump figure who stood like a mountain.
Old Wang reached out; a bullet dropped from his palm with a crisp sound. "Leave this to me!"