Chapter 66: Alexandra

Early the next morning.

Ten sets of field agent gear were nothing special; S.H.I.E.L.D. had plenty in stock. They arrived that afternoon, personally escorted by Black Widow.

Such standard-issue equipment, although superior to the gear used by Navy SEALs, hardly warranted a legendary agent to deliver them herself.

She wouldn’t have come without a purpose; Black Widow clearly had an agenda.

"Master Wang, do you still have that essence wine? This time, I'm hoping to get the kind that doesn't need refining," she emphasized certain words, then softened her tone, her eyes seductive as she fluttered her lashes. "Considering I helped you and Iron Fist fend off the Triad, could you give me a discount—say, fifty percent off?"

...

...

An hour later.

Black Widow left with a bottle of Bamboo Leaf Green, into which two drops of essence wine from the Eternal Flask had been added.

Two hours after that, Wang's account had increased by ten million dollars.

All told, Wang sold for a bit less this time—couldn’t gouge too much, after all. Small profits, quick turnover, steady streams. The profit margin dropped from the usual hundredfold to about fiftyfold—a substantial discount.

Wang considered himself a conscientious merchant, earning honest money. Exchanging the essence of Eternal Spring water required opening a time-space portal, risking discovery by the sorcerers of Kamar-Taj or the myriad cosmic powers of the multiverse!

And since it was a monopoly, earning less would be an insult to the term, making him the laughingstock of his peers.

He really was being generous, not wanting S.H.I.E.L.D. to buy too much and waste funds, as they’d never be able to crack its secrets.

The essence from the Eternal Spring—he’d obtained some back when he was in Azeroth, and had his goblin and gnome engineers research it for a whole year, with no results. The challenge was simply too great.

He held no hope for S.H.I.E.L.D.'s science division.

They’d been studying the Cosmic Cube (Space Stone) for decades, and the only achievement was Howard Stark's theoretical “Cosmic Cube energy isotope.”

Better to pin hopes on Tony and Dr. Banner.

"Skye, take the ten million dollars and buy Stark Industries shares—all of it," Wang tapped the armrest.

"Not saving any?"

"Not a single cent!"

For now, there was nothing else to spend money on: the ‘Dark Grimoire Laboratory’ had everything it needed, and was in the research phase. Once results came in and mass production began, there’d be many more expenses.

A hundred million, a hundred billion—it might not be enough.

Wang’s ambitions were vast.

After eighteen years since crossing over, he had many plans to realize.

Stark Industries’ stock price had stabilized, barely fluctuating, so there was little profit; Wang was waiting for Tony’s return to sell, knowing buyers would flock at that time.

Then, when the price crashed again, he’d buy back in.

He was hoarding cash, hoping to become the major shareholder of Stark Industries one day.

Future Iron Man, please don’t die because of the butterfly effect, or I’ll lose everything...

Really, if he could find Tony, Wang would have gone to Afghanistan himself, played the lone hero, and ensured Tony’s safety.

Eighteen years away from Azeroth—the days of wandering were long gone, but the spirit of adventure, inherited from the Pandaren, remained.

Wang had once researched his ancestry and discovered that his forefather was the Pandaren traveler Liu Lang. His blood carried Liu Lang's “wanderer” gene. Shen Zhenzi was the family’s ancestral mount and pet—no one knew what it ate to grow into an island, highly unscientific.

The demigod turtle Tortolla next door had lived untold millennia, many times older than Shen Zhenzi, yet never achieved such size.

Perhaps a mutation?

He always suspected the demigod turtle had done something unspeakable back then—its head wasn’t even green!

Come to think of it, was the demigod turtle male or female?

"Skye," Wang mused, then continued, "These field agent kits: keep one for yourself, give one to Gab, leave three in the shop, and somehow get the other five to Puerto Rico for Eli and Lucy, for protection."

"You're not keeping one?" Skye asked casually, then, without waiting for an answer, replied herself, "Right, you don’t need it."

Wang smiled.

A grandmaster had no need for ordinary gear.

S.H.I.E.L.D.’s tech was impressive, their field agent equipment world-class, but hardly better than the ‘Gnome Mechanized Infantry’ in Azeroth—wearing it might even be cumbersome.

For a monk grandmaster, only gear of epic quality was barely useful—like the “Crimson Crane Set” or “Jade Dragon Set,” named after the four supreme celestial gods.

Beyond that, a pair of gloves and an iron staff sufficed.

"Alright, got it," Skye replied, fingers flying as she summoned her friends.

She was a member of the Tide Organization.

This group gathered the world’s top hackers; Skye was already first-rate, but not even in the top ten—there were at least a dozen stronger than her.

Every hacker knew too many secrets and had countless reliable channels.

For them, smuggling or illegal immigration was hardly a challenge.

"The news of Madame Gao’s death has spread. The other four fingers of the Hand should be surfacing soon, right?"

Wang rocked gently in his chair, his thoughts soaring far beyond.

...

...

New York, Manhattan, the top floor of a certain skyscraper.

Before the floor-to-ceiling windows, a world-class symphony orchestra performed.

The vast audience chamber held only one person.

This was a concert for a single soul.

After the soothing piano sonata “Moonlight,” came Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony, “Fate.”

Alexandra, who had once witnessed Beethoven composing, remembered that young man who refused to bow to fate—stubborn, sensitive, easily excited, passionate, and brimming with talent, yet unable to escape destiny’s onslaught.

He died at fifty-seven.

She, meanwhile, had lived through dozens of fifty-seven-year spans, yet now faced the same threat:

The threat of death.

“My time... is running out,” she murmured.

Two hours ago, she underwent an examination. The doctor told her plainly that her body was suffering natural aging, and no modern medical treatment could help.

Before that, she had traveled to Egypt, India, Japan, China, all over the world.

She had tried everything.

Those mysterious and arcane medical methods others spoke of—she had studied them all during her long life.

None worked.

The dragon bone fossil brought from Kunlun had dwindled to a tiny fragment. It was shared by five people; she had no right to use it alone, and with five, it clearly wasn’t enough.

The other four...

The eldest, Madame Gao, was dead. The other three still retained their vigor, able to live for decades more, while she had less than five years left—she was the most desperate.

Suddenly, a cold, severe Japanese man entered.