Chapter 106: The Deal Between Old Wang and Tony

“So, you’re here to help me?” Tony Stark, dressed in casual clothes, ascended from the basement with a cocky indifference on his face. “Or are you here to scam me, magician?”

“I think you’ve got it wrong. I’m not a magician who deceives the senses with sleight of hand or high-tech tricks.”

Old Wang shrugged, and another banana automatically peeled itself and flew over to Tony. “Bananas fight cancer; eat more... Actually, I think Miss Potts should buy more chives—they suit you better.”

Tony remained unmoved, uninterested in the banana.

He was still young and didn’t need chives.

The door opened, and Happy, the driver and bodyguard, walked in, holding a steaming burger with two slices of meat and a hot dog inside.

Old Wang snapped his fingers.

The burger flew from Happy’s hand, shed its wrapper, and floated in front of Tony. “Or would you prefer this?”

Happy froze for a moment and hurriedly said, “Sir, I’m not Tony!”

Tony took a bite, inspected it carefully several times, and found no trick or mechanism. Feeling his intelligence insulted, he scoffed, “Not a magician, then a sorcerer?”

Of course, he didn’t believe in supernatural powers. Most likely, it was some kind of misdirection or new technology from S.H.I.E.L.D.

But Mr. Wang’s identity was genuine. S.H.I.E.L.D. wasn’t secretive to the point that even he was unaware of it. In fact, Stark Industries worked not only with the military but also with many government departments.

Numerous agencies had purchased weapons from Stark Industries—CIA, FBI, General Ross’s Air Force units, and even S.H.I.E.L.D.

However, the S.H.I.E.L.D. he knew was just a CIA-like agency. He had no idea about S.H.I.E.L.D.’s true nature or its connections with Stark Industries.

If that weren’t the case, and with Pepper’s constant nagging, why would he abandon his ongoing research on the Mark II and come upstairs to meet a young man whose status wasn’t that significant?

“Tony, he’s really, really impressive. I think you should give it a try,” Pepper urged, then called out, “J.A.R.V.I.S.!”

“Data collection complete. Now playing,” came J.A.R.V.I.S.’s voice.

Instantly, multiple screens appeared on the LCD wall opposite Tony, showing photos, videos, and major media reports—all related to Old Wang.

There were battle videos of the “Immortal Iron Fist” and “Madam Gao” (Matt’s secret recordings);

Footage and photos from Columbia University’s playground battles (student/teacher secret recordings);

Combat scenes from Hell’s Kitchen (various secret recordings);

And numerous other chaotic speculations, some very close to the truth.

Finally, beams of light scanned Old Wang from different angles, and J.A.R.V.I.S.’s voice sounded once again:

“Mr. Wang is extraordinarily strong, with bone density and muscle strength far exceeding human records.”

“Mr. Wang possesses a unique energy field unlike any in the database; his biomagnetic field is also very special.”

“Comprehensive data analysis concludes that Mr. Wang is the legendary ‘Immortal Iron Fist,’ with 99% accuracy!”

Old Wang shifted his stance, condensed true energy into a giant hand, and pulled the main power switch of the villa. “Scanning me without permission is rude.”

“Apologies, Mr. Wang. This matter has nothing to do with Tony. I apologize on his behalf,” Pepper quickly responded.

Tony raised an eyebrow. “Immortal Iron Fist? What’s that?”

Locked away in a cave, disconnected from the world for over two months, Tony felt abandoned by society.

Hydra?

The Hand?

Immortal Iron Fist?

Ghost Rider, Daredevil, Moon Knight, Stick, Punisher?

Vigilantes? Superheroes?

What a mess!

Though he firmly believed everything in the world could be explained by science, before technology advanced to a certain level, some things remained inexplicable.

Tony rubbed his nose bridge. “Actually, I’m feeling fine now. My device—you must have heard about it from Coulson and May—can attract shrapnel. I think I can live another hundred years without your help.”

So proud... Old Wang glanced at the water cup.

The cup obediently flew over. Old Wang took a small sip and stared at Tony’s chest. “A battery that powers an iron can for 15 minutes? Let me guess the material... uranium? plutonium? or... palladium?”

Pepper instantly tensed. “What? Tony, you have to take it off!”

Though not a scientist, she had studied physics and chemistry, knew what primary materials were used in atomic bombs, and understood nuclear contamination.

These were radioactive materials; prolonged exposure could be dangerous!

This guy even knew that... Tony reluctantly conceded, “Alright, if you really can help me, I’ll pay you a fortune.”

He didn’t want to die.

There was too much shrapnel, too close to his heart. Surgery was risky; even the best surgeons couldn’t guarantee success. Using magnets to attract the shrapnel was currently the best method, but no one could ensure no complications.

He couldn’t even indulge in his favorite bedroom activities—intense exercise increased blood flow and strong muscle contractions could press the shrapnel, causing pain, bleeding, or even pushing the fragments closer to his heart.

As for the arc reactor in his chest?

Its main component was palladium—radioactive and toxic.

Though he was confident he could find a substitute, time was running short—maybe just a year or two left.

If he could solve it earlier, all the better. Money was no object.

“Talking about money spoils the mood.”

Old Wang shrugged. “We can talk about something else.”

Stark Industries was currently valued at less than two hundred billion dollars. Tony only owned part of it; if calculated precisely, his personal wealth might not even compare to Old Wang’s. A single dragon bone could crush him outright.

If that wasn’t enough, add in the “Darkhold.”

“I think talking money is better,” Tony wasn’t fooled.

Old Wang smiled, stood up, and headed for the door. Pepper quickly stopped him. “Mr. Wang, Tony was just joking...”

“Alright, what do you want?” Tony sighed.

Now was a seller’s market. His life was in someone else’s hands. Even a proud rooster sometimes had to bow. No choice.

“Just want to make some deals with Stark Industries. Don’t worry, the price is fair,” Old Wang said.

“Stark Industries has shut down its weapons division and no longer produces arms,” Tony said warily.

Actually, they’d been producing all along; you’re just naïve enough not to know... Old Wang thought silently, then pulled out a crumpled A4 sheet from his pocket and handed it to Tony. “Don’t worry, I’m not interested in weapons.”

Tony reluctantly took it and glanced at it. The cocky indifference vanished, replaced by a mixture of seriousness and surprise.

Though the orders were numerous, diverse, and high-end, his professional insight told him this was to build a laboratory, likely related to cutting-edge technologies such as quantum mechanics and virtual tech.

Had S.H.I.E.L.D.’s research reached this level? Government agencies weren’t supposed to be just dead weight?

Old Wang smiled without a word.

I said nothing. I didn’t even say I represented S.H.I.E.L.D. Guess as you like. No prizes for guessing right.

“Fine, I agree. Also, I’ll cover the medical expenses—ten million,” Tony decided. Another order wouldn’t hurt, but he preferred to pay upfront to avoid owing favors; that would put him at a disadvantage.

Old Wang smiled. A bottle of red wine worth a hundred thousand dollars flew from the cabinet. With a “pop,” the cork was removed, and two glasses were poured.

One flew to Tony, the other to himself. “To your health.”

Tony swirled the glass in his hand. There was truly no device hidden inside. His interest in Mr. Wang deepened.

He raised his glass in return, meaningfully saying, “To your experiment.”