C82: Intersection
"Master Ye, someone's looking for you!"
New York City, nestled within the Chinese enclave of Chinatown, just off Delancey Street and edging into the gritty heart of Hell's Kitchen, a zone constantly trapped between vigilantes and villains, the shout rang out from a thin little girl holding a worn, yet meticulously clean, Hello Kitty plush.
She stood outside a traditional Chinese medicine shop, paper lanterns swaying slightly in the warm breeze.
Inside, a composed man in a worn Tang suit, sipping tea while reading an old manual on Bagua Zhang, turned his head toward her.
Ip Man, or as the locals respectfully called him, Master Ye Wen, smiled instinctively upon seeing the child.
He was about to respond when commotion erupted on the street.
"Move—move! I've lost control of the brakes!"
A white teenage boy, his GrubHub uniform flapping like a cape, skidded through a crowded sidewalk on a damaged electric delivery bicycle. The wobbling tires screeched as he careened toward the little girl.
"Watch out!"
"Holy crap!"
"Oh my god—"
Time slowed for those watching. Some vendors ducked behind their pork bun carts, others froze in place. The girl simply stood paralyzed by the shriek of rubber.
In the next breath, a shadow dashed forward.
A hand reached out, scooping the girl up with seamless grace. With a swift pivot, the man used one foot to kick the bike's front tire, halting the vehicle while simultaneously snatching the teen from the seat and setting him gently on the ground.
Whump—
The bike collapsed beside them, harmlessly.
"Kid," Ye Wen said sternly, dusting off the startled teenager, "you could've killed someone."
The boy, wide-eyed and pale, stammered. "I—I'm sorry, sir. The brakes just gave out. I didn't mean to—"
"Intentions won't help if someone ends up in the morgue."
Ye Wen looked down at the girl, still calm in his arms.
"You alright?"
"Mm-hmm."
"You didn't cry."
"My dad said Master Ye can beat up bad guys like those weird gangsters from the docks. He says you're better than Spider-Man and Iron Fist."
Ye Wen had only arrived a few weeks ago. Since then, he had driven out a faction of Maggia thugs extorting local vendors—some say with moves rivaling the footage of Shang-Chi seen during the Golden Daggers Club fight. His legend had grown fast.
He chuckled, gently flicking the girl's nose. "Still, even a hero can't be everywhere at once. Watch yourself next time."
She nodded dutifully. Ye Wen then asked, "And your mom? Is she feeling better?"
"She stood up yesterday! Even made noodles!"
Smiling warmly, Ye Wen slipped a piece of traditional haw flakes candy into her hand.
"Then go. Your mother's waiting."
"Thanks, Master Ye!"
She skipped away, happily chewing. But halfway down the block, she paused, eyes lighting up in realization.
"Oh! A curly-haired man said he knew you. He was with a guy in black glasses. Said they're looking for you!"
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Elsewhere, Chinatown – Second Floor, Phoenix Garden Restaurant
From behind decorative screens shaped like Chinese dragons, Jessica Jones squinted at the street.
"He's not here. Your method sucks, Danny."
Jessica turned to Danny Rand, former CEO of Rand Enterprises, current Iron Fist and sworn enemy of the Hand.
Danny leaned back against the chair. "If we just walked up and begged for help, we'd be inviting an ambush. I have proof: the Hand is regrouping. Something big is going down. They're targeting everyone who's fought them—Daredevil, Luke, even me."
"He's right," said Matt Murdock, adjusting his red-tinted glasses. "The Hand's been quiet since we collapsed their resurrection compound in Midtown, but we can't assume they're gone. Stealth is all we've got."
Jessica sighed, crossing her arms. She hated skulking.
But the memory of the Fire Cloud Evil God who nearly killed Matt and dislocated her shoulder with one palm strike—silenced any objection.
Then Matt's head tilted slightly.
"Footsteps. Smooth. Balanced. Like… flowing water."
"Are you seriously ID'ing people by footsteps?" Danny asked.
Luke grinned. "He's Daredevil. He can hear a hummingbird's heartbeat."
Jessica rolled her eyes. "Alright, Batman-lite. Tell me it's him."
As she spoke, a man in a dark navy silk Tang suit, calm and unreadable, stepped onto the second floor.
"Master Ye."
Danny stood and respectfully clasped his fists. "Thank you for coming."
Ye Wen nodded in greeting. "Danny."
His gaze swept the room, eyes briefly lingering on Jessica's torn jacket, Luke's bruised ribs, Matt's cane.
"Who are your friends?"
"They're allies. All of us fought the Hand. We lost someone close. That's part of why we asked you here."
Matt cleared his throat. "I heard of you through someone called A Xing. He spoke highly of you. Said you trained in Penglai."
Ye Wen's smile faded. "A Xing?"
Matt nodded. "He fought with us at the Port of Harlem. Died saving my life."
Jessica's voice cracked. "He was strong. Too strong for what we put him through."
A shadow passed over Ye Wen's expression.
Danny interjected, "We're here not just for A Xing. Something worse has appeared. Someone called the Fire Cloud Evil God—"
Ye Wen froze mid-step.
Danny continued, "He uses chi, but it's corrupted. Like the Shou-Lao energy inside me, but twisted. Ancient. Violent. He wiped the floor with us. We think he's connected to something deeper—maybe even the old bloodlines of Kun-Lun and Penglai."
Ye Wen narrowed his eyes, voice low: "If what you say is true, then this so-called Evil God may not just be a rogue user. He might be one of the ancient guardians of forbidden sutras, expelled from the Temple of Nine Paths."
Matt frowned. "That's not in any of our files."
"Because it predates them. Even Kun-Lun refused to archive it. We called him the Devourer of Disciplines. If he's truly back, then I fear A Xing's death is just the beginning."
Silence hung in the room.
"Will you help us?" Danny asked.
Ye Wen's fists tightened—an ancient Wing Chun reflex.
"Yes. For A Xing. For the girl outside. For all of Chinatown."
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