"Brother Wen, we know we messed up. We just... we wanted to show a little bit of our worth!" Zhong Qiang grumbled, his voice cracking slightly. He looked at Huang Wen with a bitter, pleading face, trying to gauge the level of his teacher's fury.
"We'll be careful from now on. We learned our lesson, really. If we encounter anything even remotely above our paygrade, we'll hit the SOS on the watches faster than you can blink. Oh, right! Speaking of things being handled... the martial arts school renovation is finished. When are you coming back?"
Huang Wen stared at the kid, watching the way his eyes darted around, clearly trying to steer the conversation away from his near-death experience. He shook his head helplessly. However, as he looked at Zhong Qiang, he realized the boy wasn't just whistling in the dark. After consuming the Blood Bodhi, Zhong Qiang's essence, qi, and spirit had surged by 500 points across the board. The clumsy kid who struggled with basic forms was gone; in his place stood a minor expert.
Even if the Iron Monger were to crawl back out of the scrap heap, the current Zhong Qiang—with his newfound physical power and sharpened reflexes—would likely be able to dance around it using the Light-Body technique and dismantle it piece by piece.
"Hmm, I'll go back and discuss it. Let me send you guys home first," Huang Wen pondered for a moment, his expression softening just a fraction. "And listen to me carefully: no one is allowed to tell Uncle Zhong about what happened tonight. I don't want him losing sleep because his son decided to play target practice for a giant robot. Understand?"
"Go back and discuss it? With whom?" Zhong Qiang was stunned, the gears in his head turning slowly. As for not telling his dad, he was already two steps ahead of Huang Wen on that one. Since he was still breathing, there was no reason to give the old man a heart attack by relaying the gory details.
Huang Wen glared at Zhong Qiang irritably. "You're allowed to have a girlfriend and a secret life as a 'Swallowtail' hero, but I'm not allowed to have a partner? If I don't find someone soon, your dad will probably start dragging me to blind dates with the daughters of his grocery suppliers!"
He turned his gaze toward Jack, who was standing at a respectful distance. "Jack, I need to trouble you with something official."
"Teacher, just say the word," Jack's eyes lit up, his posture straightening instantly. "Whatever you need, as long as it's within my power—and even if it's a little outside of it—I'll do my best!"
"Well, Belle came from a small village in France. She doesn't have any American identification documents, and I want her to have a completely legal, ironclad identity," Huang Wen explained.
Technically, Silly Girl could have hacked into the federal databases and manufactured a digital trail in seconds, but Huang Wen knew that having a physical paper trail through the NYPD's official channels was safer in the long run. It was better to have the system acknowledge her existence naturally rather than just forcing a digital ghost into the machine.
"Okay, no problem. Teacher, just send me Madam's information—photos, fingerprints, whatever you want the name to be—and I'll have the full package ready by tomorrow," Jack promised with a confident smile. "Social security, driver's license, passport... I guarantee it'll be more real than the real thing."
"Good. I'll leave it in your hands." Huang Wen nodded.
With a flick of his wrist, the spatial energy wrapped around them again. In a flash of light, they were standing in the heart of Chinatown. Huang Wen looked up at the brand-new Wing Chun Martial Arts School, and for the first time that night, a look of genuine satisfaction crossed his face.
The renovation was massive. The school now occupied twice its original footprint and rose a full five stories high. The first floor was a state-of-the-art fitness center; the second floor was a sprawling hall for traditional training; the third floor housed dormitories and a private courtyard for core disciples. The fourth floor was reserved for family and friends—Logan, Huang Liang, and the others would have permanent residence there.
The fifth floor was the crown jewel—an expanded version of the original living quarters, designed with meticulous detail by Reese Fisk. Each floor was gated by automatic security doors programmed by Silly Girl, ensuring that casual students wouldn't wander into the private residential areas.
"It's almost time to come home," Huang Wen thought. "I've seen enough of the world's edges for one trip."
Transforming back into specks of light, he returned to the Siberian base.
Siberia - The Underground Base
"You're back?"
Belle was sitting on a stone bench, her breathing deep and rhythmic. She had completely absorbed the energy of the Blood Bodhi, her skin glowing with a faint, healthy luminescence. She had been worried when she found Huang Wen gone, but Silly Girl had kept her updated on the New York situation.
"Belle," Huang Wen said, walking over and taking her hands in his. "The school in New York is ready. We could spend a few more weeks touring the rest of North America, or... we could just go home."
"Home..." Belle's face flushed a soft pink. She looked at the man who had changed her life, then nodded firmly. "Then let's go home!"
"Great! I'll pack everything up. These tapestries and the furniture we found—they'll look perfect in our room," Huang Wen said, his voice full of excitement.
"What do you mean 'our room'?" Belle mumbled, her face turning a deeper shade of red as she looked away. "We don't even sleep in the same room yet, you blockhead..."
The Next Morning - New York City
The sun was just beginning to peek over the Manhattan skyline when Huang Wen and Belle arrived at the entrance of the Chinatown hot pot restaurant.
"Uncle Zhong! I'm back!" Huang Wen shouted, his voice echoing through the quiet street. "Is there any breakfast left for a hungry traveler?"
The door flew open, and Uncle Zhong hurried out, his eyes wide with surprise. "Xiao Wen? You're really back?" He stopped mid-sentence as his eyes landed on Belle. A massive grin spread across his face. "And this must be Belle! Please, come in, come in! Don't stand out in the cold. Yesterday, Xiao Qiang told me about you, and I honestly didn't believe that blockhead of a nephew could find such a beautiful girlfriend. It's a miracle, truly!"
"Ahem... Uncle Zhong..." Huang Wen coughed awkwardly, signaling the old man to keep the 'blockhead' comments to a minimum.
"Actually, he is a bit of a blockhead, isn't he?" Belle said, glancing at Huang Wen with a playful, grumpy spark in her eyes. She remembered his stiff, awkward reactions back in the village and how long it had taken him to even hold her hand. "Uncle, you have no idea how difficult he can be."
"I knew it!" Uncle Zhong laughed, leading them toward the kitchen. "Belle, if he makes you angry, you just tell me. I've known him since he was in diapers; I know exactly how to straighten him out!"
"Hello, Sister-in-law!" "Welcome home, Madam!"
Zhong Qiang and Reese Fisk came clattering down the stairs, greeting Belle with wide grins, while Uncle Zhong bustled off to prepare a homecoming feast.
While the martial arts school family was celebrating, a different kind of storm was brewing at Stark Industries. A massive press conference had been called. Despite S.H.I.E.L.D.'s best efforts to contain the narrative, too many people had seen the 'metal giants' brawling in the streets.
Tony Stark sat backstage, staring at a newspaper headline. IRON MAN SAVES NEW YORK.
"Iron Man... has a nice ring to it," Tony mused, tapping the paper. "Though the technical specs are off. The Mark III is a gold-titanium alloy, not iron. Still, I suppose 'Gold-Titanium-Alloy Man' doesn't roll off the tongue quite as well."
"Here's your script. We've lined up all the witnesses to back the 'mechanical failure' story," Phil Coulson said, handing Tony a set of note cards. "Just stick to the talking points. People have short memories, Tony. Give them a boring explanation, and they'll forget this ever happened by next Tuesday."
"What about him?" Tony asked, looking at Coulson. "The guy who tore the suit apart with his hands?"
"No one saw him," Coulson lied smoothly. "And those who did are being... discouraged from talking. As far as the public is concerned, it was just you and Stane."
Tony looked at the cards, then at the podium where a hundred reporters were waiting. He looked at Colonel Rhodes, who was standing in the wings. "Will you still have my back?"
"Always," Rhodes nodded. "No matter what."
Tony took a deep breath. He stepped out onto the stage, the flashes of cameras blinding him for a moment. He looked at the script, then tossed it onto the lectern. He didn't want to lie anymore. Not after seeing what "Uncle" Obadiah's secrets had done. Not after seeing a man who didn't need a suit to be a god.
"Some of you are asking if I'm a superhero," Tony began, his voice steady. "The truth is, I'm not. I'm a man with a lot of flaws. I've made a lot of mistakes, and I've spent most of my life building things that caused more harm than good. But I'm trying to change that. And the truth is..."
He paused, a slight, defiant smile touching his lips.
"I am Iron Man."