Chapter 97: The Old Ace’s Master Key

Feirstone Base.

Skye stared unblinking at the sixteen computer monitors before her.

Inside the countless tiny windows was live surveillance of every major street in Hell’s Kitchen, along with the interior of that skyscraper.

Hundreds upon hundreds of green and red dots kept flashing.

Green meant allies. Red meant enemies.

The dense field of red dots was thinning by the second. Scarlet gave way to green, until the lone yellow dot had already vanished without a trace.

“Wang, are you all right...”

“Please, don’t let anything happen to you. Aside from parents I can barely remember, you’re the only family I have...”

Skye drifted for a moment in a daze when Erika’s voice suddenly came through the headset, weary but carrying a note of relief.

“Everyone, the Beast has been slain by Master Wang. We won! Matt, Sensei, I’m coming to support you now.”

Skye froze for two seconds.

Then she leaned back all at once, a springtime smile blooming across her face.

“I knew you could do it, my king!”

...

...

Underground.

The corpses of Hand members lay strewn everywhere, like a platter of crayfish. At the center stood the four fingers of the Hand in neat order, like a tied and steamed crab placed in the middle of a dish.

For the Beast, perhaps it would have made a fine meal, but Old Wang clearly had no interest.

Even after earning the achievement for devouring the world’s finest monsters and eating his way through Azeroth, Outland, Argus, and several other planets, he had never once laid a hand on a pandaren.

Well, roast quail did smell quite nice. Thinking about it now, he almost missed it...

With a casual wave, he drew the four bodies into the Heart of Azeroth and walked up to the stone prison sealed by Iron Fist.

He reached out.

He had only observed it in spirit form before, never touching it in a physical sense. Old Wang’s preliminary judgment was that breaking this seal would require either Iron Fist himself or a power strong enough to overwhelm the seal outright—

perhaps something at the level of the Hulk, or even Thunder God Hulk.

His flushed palm pressed against the stone prison, and a surge of chi flowed into it.

Countless runes lit up at once.

A similar but not identical chi, like a young girl home alone, resisted Old Wang’s intrusion. His own green chi could not penetrate it at all. It could only flow over the surface of the stone prison, blocked by the runes.

The resistance was immense.

“Interesting.” Old Wang withdrew his hand.

He was the greatest grandmaster monk in the entire history of World of Warcraft, the “god” in the eyes of all monks, a figure whose status even surpassed Emperor Shaohao, standing alongside the four August Celestials. His mastery and understanding of chi far exceeded anyone else’s.

All chi comes from life itself; in essence, it is the energy of life.

Because of that, chi of different qualities can be transformed into one another.

Pandaren chi is chiefly green, the color of life, but pandaren abilities are not limited to that alone.

With chi as the foundation, they can invoke all manner of other energies, much like the immortal cultivators of legend, who use their own spiritual power to draw upon the world’s primal force.

Brewmasters and windwalkers are more adept at energy that also springs from life itself, while mistweavers, much like druids, excel at manipulating natural power.

A sufficiently powerful monk master can even command elemental power: earth, fire, water, and wind, as well as the fifth element, the spirit.

Even chi itself differs completely from one monk to another.

Chi from the earth-water schools is softer and deeper; chi from the fire-metal schools is fiercer and more violent.

Monks of the Jade Serpent Temple carry chi rich with the enduring vitality of life. Monks of the Red Crane Temple infuse theirs with the fervor and liveliness of elemental fire. The chi of White Tiger Temple monks is more suited to killing, while monks of the Black Ox Temple are more skilled in defense.

Old Wang belonged to no school and no temple.

As Azeroth’s only master of all three disciplines, he was more accustomed to using pure, attribute-less chi. But at any moment he could adjust it slightly.

To disguise himself as an earth-water or fire-metal practitioner was as easy to him as eating and sleeping.

And what he needed to do now was simulate the endless flow of Iron Fist’s power within the stone prison.

The stone prison was a lock. Iron Fist was the key.

The original key was naturally the best, but as long as it matched, another key could still open it. A flag on the side is cute, and wildflowers by the roadside can be picked just the same.

Old Wang was a master key.

Iron Fist’s chi came from the dragon Shou-Lao.

This immortal dragon unique to the Marvel universe resembled the divine dragons of Chinese legend, and the Azure Dragon among the August Celestials, but it was by no means the same.

A postdoctoral scholar may perhaps pass for an ordinary college student, but an ordinary college student can never pass for a postdoc, even with a doctoral degree in hand.

The chi of an ordinary monk was simply too low-grade to simulate the exalted power of Iron Fist. But Old Wang was no ordinary monk.

His level stood even above that of the immortal dragon.

A full half hour passed.

Old Wang kept shifting his posture and stance, unleashing ever-changing chi against the stone prison. Countless runes flickered like a young girl’s shy glance, surging with Iron Fist power, half resistant, half inviting.

In and out. Back and forth.

After countless attempts, Old Wang finally found the lock’s hidden sweet spot.

The key slid into the keyhole, and the girl home alone blushed scarlet.

He smiled.

He raised a hand and gave the stone prison a light tap, just as he had once stroked the green dragon queen’s beautiful back after the candlelight went out that night.

Time seemed to freeze in that instant.

The next moment, Old Wang heard a sound like the shell of Black Dragon Wrathion cracking open.

A faint fracture appeared on the stone prison.

Then it spread, branching and splitting.

Very quickly, the entire prison was covered in millions of cracks.

With a series of deafening roars,

the entire stone prison collapsed completely.

The colossal prison, a hundred meters long and wide and more than thirty meters high, vanished. The Iron Fist power and dragon power that had accumulated there for who knew how many hundreds or thousands of years dissolved all at once, surging outward in every direction.

The earth trembled slightly.

The dust soon settled.

Before Old Wang stood a winding, massive bone dragon.

...

...

Inside the building.

“It’s finally over!”

After taking out the last Hand member, Black Widow leaned against the wall and gasped for breath. A slightly plump figure surfaced in her mind.

“Master Wang, the Immortal Iron Fist...”

Suddenly, the entire building began to shake.

But it lasted only a few seconds before returning to silence.

“Another minor quake?”

Black Widow’s beautiful eyes narrowed, and a deep confusion rose in her heart.

What on earth had happened?

Could it be...

Was that Master Wang again?

...

...

Top floor of the building.

As the shaking building settled, Matt tilted his head to listen under the gaze of Stick and Elektra.

Every sound, after being filtered, processed, and integrated by his brain and nerves, finally became a clear yet abstract image in his mind.

A full three minutes passed.

He gave a slight nod, his voice thick with awe. “He did it. He broke the seal you were talking about.”

Stick’s taut nerves finally relaxed, and the last trace of doubt in his heart vanished completely.

“That settles it. He is the Immortal Iron Fist!”