Chapter 58: Old Wang Versus Lady Gao

Kunlun? Iron Fist?

Madam Gao was first startled, then overjoyed: After all these years, she could finally see a second Iron Fist? If so, the plan she had been scheming for so long might truly have a chance to succeed!

The Hand was made up of five fingers, all traitors from Kunlun. It was only by harnessing the power of the dragon bones that the five attained immortality and resurrection. The dragon bones stolen from Kunlun all those years ago were nearly depleted; if she couldn't find more, she would truly die.

According to the sparse records, deep beneath Manhattan in New York lay a complete fossil of dragon bones, sealed by the power of an Iron Fist from a previous generation. Only a true Iron Fist, inheriting the legacy, could unlock it.

Madam Gao had already lost hope. Now, a new possibility had emerged.

Strange. The Iron Fist is Kunlun's guardian, meant to remain in Kunlun, never to leave. Why would he come to New York? Was he here to hunt her, the Kunlun traitor? Was capturing her more important than guarding Kunlun? Since when did she become so significant?

Wait—something was wrong!

Madam Gao stared intently at the masked man's hand for a full ten seconds, her aged face twisting into a sneer of suspicion. "You possess only qi, not the power of the Immortal Dragon! You're not Iron Fist. Who are you?"

Madam Gao had once held rank in Kunlun, and had met the Immortal Dragon as well as the Iron Fist of that era. She knew exactly what the Iron Fist's power felt like. That power, while a form of qi, was unique and formidable. The qi of this masked figure was also unusual, and even gave her the impression it was on par with Iron Fist, but it was not the same—unrelated to the Immortal Dragon. Nor was it the force of any of the other six "immortal weapons."

Could he, like Shang-Chi, be a martial arts prodigy not from Kunlun?

"You've seen through me!"

The masked man, Old Wang, sighed and spread his hands, deciding to show final respect to this dying elder by speaking the truth: "Well, actually, I am the Fist of Dusk, disciple of the Panda Brewmaster, pupil of the Four Supreme Gods, last guardian of Pandaria, and the Dragon Hero of Azeroth."

Madam Gao's expression darkened instantly.

Ha. The titles were grand enough, but who would believe such nonsense? "Fist of Dawn," "Fist of Emptiness," "Fist of Dusk"—such names were childish, outdated even for schoolchildren. Panda Brewmaster, Four Supreme Gods—what on earth were those? As for Dragon Hero, was he that panda named Po, now starving to this degree?

Not even the Iron Fists of old dared call themselves such things. He was quite bold.

Madam Gao could not determine Old Wang's true identity. However, since he knew her and could mention the name "Kunlun Iron Fist," he was likely connected to Kunlun. Perhaps he was sent to hunt her and the other four traitors, or maybe he was part of the rival organization, the True Pure Society.

The latter seemed unlikely. The True Pure Society had always been noisy, but was a band of misfits without a single master who could wield qi. Their so-called millennial war was a joke, little more than petty skirmishes for a thousand years, mainly because they feared Kunlun and avoided direct confrontation. Their current leader, "The Staff Sage," was little more than a stray dog—he would be dealt with soon enough.

Since Old Wang was neither Iron Fist nor the wielder of any of the six immortal weapons, Madam Gao had nothing to fear. Kunlun forbade defilement of the dragon bones for immortality; aside from the Immortal Dragon, who was perpetually reborn, no one in Kunlun lived longer than she. Longevity often equated to strength. Only the Iron Fist, or perhaps the Jade Emperor and Thunder Lord, could match her.

Surely Old Wang wasn't the Jade Emperor or Thunder Lord?

"If you won't speak the truth, you're courting death!"

Madam Gao dared not be careless. Though her words were contemptuous, her heart was wary. She did not use her palm technique, but instead wielded her cane. Master of over a hundred martial arts, she was confident that few on Earth surpassed her in this field. Though she usually relied on palm strikes, in critical moments she preferred her swordplay.

"The hearts of people have grown cold, the world decays, and no one believes the truth anymore..."

Old Wang shook his head, already knowing Madam Gao's background, and did not underestimate her. Especially since Zhou Cheng was aiming his gun at him.

He rolled aside to avoid the bullet, and in a flash appeared before Zhou Cheng, striking him with his palm.

Bang!

Zhou Cheng was sent flying, crashing heavily to the ground. A metallic taste rose in his throat, and he spat a mouthful of blood.

Though he was skilled in martial arts and had the physique of an athlete, he could not withstand Old Wang's casual blow. After a few spasms, he breathed his last.

Madam Gao reacted quickly, her cane thrusting at Old Wang.

Though she had lived over a thousand years, it was the dragon bones that kept her alive, and she had died and been resurrected several times. Her mastery of a hundred martial arts was genuine, but her physical prowess was not as formidable as imagined—slightly superior to Black Widow, but far inferior to Winter Soldier.

Moreover, a thousand years of cultivation did not mean a thousand years' worth of skill. The human body is like a water tank, with a limit to how much qi it can hold, not to mention her tank had been cracked and patched many times (death and resurrection). Without improvement in the quality of her qi, Madam Gao's reserves, though thicker than Old Wang's, were inferior in purity. No wonder she was bullied by Daredevil and the weakest Iron Fist in the TV series.

Of course, the TV series lied.

Madam Gao's actual strength was far greater than depicted; a thousand-year-old tortoise becomes a spirit. Though long unused, her experience and skill remained.

In their exchange, Old Wang realized Madam Gao's millennium was not wasted—her experience and technique were his equal.

But she had a fatal weakness: Madam Gao was featherweight; Old Wang was middleweight. They were in different leagues—he had overwhelming weight advantage. If not for qi, he could flatten her with his sheer bulk.

A larger physique, a bigger tank for qi—Old Wang's broad heart and body gave him a higher ceiling than Madam Gao.

With all her subordinates dead, Madam Gao grew anxious.

Where was the promised reinforcements? She had called for help long ago—the Triad had hundreds in New York, and they weren't far away. Yet, after ten minutes, none had arrived.

Old Wang was like a human-shaped sticky candy—a nimble fat man, clinging to her relentlessly. She couldn't land a hit, couldn't escape, and his strength matched hers. Moreover, youth gave him vigor, defying the "iron law" that women outlast men.

Madam Gao felt fatigue, while Old Wang fought with increasing energy, showing no mercy despite her thousand-year age.

Her qi surged, making her appear as a top master from a martial arts novel. Her cane, made of unknown material, was harder and heavier than steel, swung with ferocious power.

Old Wang changed tactics, refusing to yield. Suddenly, he struck the cane with his palm.

In an instant, the cane shattered, revealing a cold, slender longsword.

This was Madam Gao's real killing move.

But Old Wang was prepared. He unleashed a palm strike, forcing Madam Gao back.

Then he extended his hand.

A bolt of jade-colored lightning split the air.

A martial arts master senses danger keenly. Madam Gao, though unsure how Old Wang would attack, felt imminent peril. She gathered her qi, raising her sword overhead to ward off the mysterious assault from above.

The jade lightning descended.

It pierced the qi barrier on the sword.

It struck the alloy blade.

The powerful current, guided by the natural lightning rod, surged into Madam Gao's body.

The well-preserved thousand-year-old Asian woman,

in an instant, found herself transported to an African coal mine,

transformed into a human-shaped lump of charcoal.