Chapter 80: I Have Money

United States, somewhere.

A small boy, deep in sleep, suddenly opened his eyes. His pupils were crimson, dilated wide, surging with a primal, bestial hunger.

That night, in this modest household, unspeakable atrocities occurred.

...

Matt’s Apartment.

“Your physical condition is much too poor.”

Old Wang examined Matt, the Stick Elder, and Erica with a cursory hand, his brow faintly creasing.

All three were masters in combat; the Stick Elder was also a martial arts grandmaster. Yet their bodies left much to be desired. Not only did they pale in comparison to Old Wang, they were far behind even Skye, who had imbibed a fair amount of Well of Eternity essence.

Great strength is not found solely in experience, technique, or equipment—more crucial still is one’s physical foundation. The body is the true source of power.

To cultivate true energy, the importance of the body surpasses all else. True energy, in essence, is the life force itself. Without a sufficiently strong constitution and vitality, it is impossible to cultivate true energy. On the rare chance it is achieved, every strand of true energy is condensed from vast reserves of vital essence; the more true energy one amasses, the more frail the body becomes, eventually hollowing it out completely.

Martial cultivation favors the wealthy; without good nourishment and a strong physique, practicing the martial arts is slow suicide.

This is not Azeroth, not the World of Warcraft, where arcane and vital energies saturate the land, making the impossible possible.

“Let’s replenish what you’ve lost first.”

With a hint of reluctance, Old Wang produced the Eternal Flask. It was already small, and now less than a third of the liquid remained—this was after diluting it twice with liquor. The essence of the Well of Eternity was low, barely sufficient.

The Well of Eternity had once bestowed primordial Azeroth with arcane and life energies, fostering life and growth. For restoring the body and enhancing its vitality, it is the gentlest, most potent—yet also the most extravagant—remedy of all.

Only a rare few, such as the Queen of the Night Elves and the Wild Gods, ever enjoyed this luxury.

Now, beyond Old Wang, Skye, Gabe, and the Black Widow, Matt, Erica, and the Stick Elder were about to experience it as well.

What remained of the Well of Eternity’s essence was scant, but thankfully it could be replenished.

“Wait a moment,” Old Wang said.

He sent his consciousness into the Heart of Azeroth, found the young lady within to open a temporal passage, and exchanged 0.44 grams of Azeroth’s Blood for the Well’s essence, reserving only 0.2 grams as backup.

Feeling the energy within the flask multiply dozens of times over in an instant, Old Wang’s heart ached.

He hoped to resolve the Hand soon.

Alexandra likely possessed valuable artifacts, such as the remaining dragon bone. Dragon bone contained draconic power of immense value; exchanged, it could yield ample Azeroth’s Blood.

He also needed to find a way to obtain some treasures from S.H.I.E.L.D.—those mysterious 084 items they could never decipher.

Nick Fury had already consented; all that remained was the right opportunity.

“What do you prefer to drink? Coffee? Beer? Baijiu? Red wine? Or just water?” Old Wang asked.

“Water,” the three replied in unison.

The True Purity Society enforced strict discipline: alcohol was forbidden, as it dulled the senses and clouded the mind. Smoking and drugs were likewise banned, and even matters between men and women were tightly regulated—rules covering time, place, frequency, number, age, and more.

Perhaps this was one reason for the Society’s decline.

As its leader, the Stick Elder led by example, upholding all the rules. He had remained celibate his entire life, an old bachelor to this day.

Erica, because of “the Beast,” could never abide by such rules—she’d broken them countless times, though she kept up appearances, refusing to drink before the Stick Elder.

Matt was not a member of the Society. Despite his blindness, he had been in close contact with many women, though few had been more than acquaintances, and he avoided alcohol whenever possible.

“In that case, let’s have Erguotou. Martial artists can’t forgo their liquor,” Old Wang declared, producing a bottle from his pocket. He uncorked it, added two drops of the essence, and handed it to Matt.

“Three times a day, one drop each time, before or after meals as you like. Erica, take it morning and evening. Stick Elder, yours is at midday.”

Matt worked out daily and maintained the fitness level of an athlete.

Erica was similar, though after being ravaged by “the Beast” for an entire day and night, she was somewhat weakened.

The Stick Elder, elder as he was, could not handle much; his constitution was too frail for heavy supplementation.

Matt received the Erguotou, thinking it felt suspiciously like medicine.

The Stick Elder, by contrast, was thrilled, wondering if this might be the legendary Kunlun medicinal wine that aided in martial and energy cultivation.

“Every night, I’ll come by to teach you the Daoist breathing technique—helping you to open your meridians and guide you in cultivating your own energy. Memorize this number and the apartment number; if anything happens, find Robbie. He can expel ‘the Beast.’”

The Beast feeds on primal desire and sin; the Spirit of Vengeance is its nemesis. Conversely, each can suppress the other—the stronger prevails. They are natural enemies.

The Beast has not fully descended, while the Spirit of Vengeance has dwelled in Robbie for some time. Even if the Beast possesses Erica, it cannot outmatch Robbie in the short term, on any battlefield, so there’s nothing to worry about.

Old Wang gave a few final instructions and stood up. “Don’t go out for now; order takeout for meals. Get familiar with your equipment, and spend the rest of your time cultivating energy. The final battle with the Hand is near—don’t fall behind.”

The three immediately agreed, the Stick Elder vowing to fight the Hand to the end.

“Do you have any money?” Old Wang asked.

Matt remained silent. A struggling student with no parents, he’d barely managed to support himself. His father had left a modest inheritance, but years of schooling had nearly depleted it—he was nearly broke.

The Stick Elder pressed his lips together. The True Purity Society had once been wealthy, but now, with only him and Erica left in New York, their fortunes had dwindled.

Only Erica nodded. “I have money.”

She truly did. Years ago, after training briefly with the Stick Elder, she was introduced, through certain connections, to the Greek ambassador in America and became his daughter.

A few years ago, the ambassador was assassinated, and as his sole heir, Erica came into a fortune overnight.

She had since invested widely, holding shares in Stark Industries, Hammer Industries, Pym Technologies, Roxxon, and many others. Though not on the billionaire lists, she was unquestionably a multimillionaire.

In fact, she had been supporting the Society’s operations for years.

“That’s good,” Old Wang sighed in relief.

At last, he had a subordinate who wasn’t destitute. If all his people were as much of a money pit as Robbie, life would be impossible—he’d have to consider disbanding and going their separate ways.