Chapter 79: Truly, I Am Not a Good Master

Old Wang opened his eyes and saw Erica suddenly sit up, her face filled with confusion.

Her cheeks were flushed, her clothes disheveled; the blanket that had been wrapped around her slipped away, revealing a striking contrast of crimson and pale white—colors that were shockingly vivid in combination…

There was no need to guess: during Erica’s day and night of deep sleep, she had surely experienced a number of dreams unfit for children.

Matt had only mentioned sensing Erica’s fear, terror, and resistance, but in truth, he had also felt her excitement and barely suppressed anticipation in another aspect. Of course, that was not something one could admit to Old Wang, but it would be wrong to assume that Old Wang was unaware.

A monk’s perception was keen—how much more so for a grandmaster with vast experience?

Just one glance at her posture, and Old Wang could tell how many times she had found satisfaction!

The “Beast” symbolized primal desire, and bestiality was not limited to brutality, savagery, or violence—it included that aspect as well.

All primitive worship, regardless of race, was worship of fertility; it was true for humans, and true for beasts.

Westerners were generally open-minded; under the influence of the “Beast,” Erica was even more uninhibited than most. Matt was likely neither her first man nor her last. The desires of a “Black Void” could never be truly satisfied—in simple terms, she was perpetually unfulfilled…

Of course, that had nothing to do with Old Wang.

Perhaps in Matt’s eyes, Erica was quite attractive, but to Old Wang, she was rather ordinary.

She was too thin, her face lacking the softness of flesh, her body too bony to the touch, devoid of that pleasant suppleness.

It was uncomfortable, honestly…

Far inferior to the panda people…

That, truly, was why Old Wang had no fondness for the undead…

"Erica!"

Matt’s voice was brimming with concern. "How are you feeling now?"

He rushed to her side, wrapping her in the blanket.

Though he could not see, the faint rustle of fabric against skin, caused by her slight trembling, allowed him to picture Erica’s familiar body in unfamiliar clothes. He realized her state of undress—how could this be allowed? There were others present!

"What… what happened to me?" Erica was utterly bewildered. In fact, she knew nothing of the "Beast," nor that she was a "Black Void." The Stick Elder had always kept it from her.

But soon, recalling past experiences, she hazarded a guess. "Did I lose control again?"

"It’s all right. Master Wang saved you."

Matt had no wish to discuss, under these circumstances, how many times Erica had moaned or writhed in the last day and night, nor how many times the Stick Elder had chosen to leave the room, nor how he had handled it in the past. He glossed over the subject, changing the topic. "Master Wang is the Immortal Iron Fist—the current Immortal Iron Fist."

The next generation… Old Wang corrected silently in his heart. Meeting Erica’s questioning gaze, he said, "The Beast has been driven away by me."

Seeing Erica’s confusion, Matt hurried to explain. "It’s like this…"

He repeated what he had just learned about the "Beast," clearly still uneasy, and then turned to Old Wang. "Master Wang, you’ve driven the Beast away? Does that mean Erica won’t be possessed again? That she’s no longer a Black Void?"

"No, she’s still a Black Void," Old Wang shook his head. "I destroyed the Beast’s mental projection. It will return."

The Stick Elder added, "The Beast is the embodiment of primal desire; it cannot be destroyed completely. Even if you destroy it, it will resurrect after a time. As long as living beings on Earth still desire, the Beast will appear again."

How much that sounded like the Demon of Hatred… Humanity, at its core, is a record player; creation is but imitation and plagiarism… Old Wang grumbled inwardly.

Matt grew anxious. "Then what should we do?"

The Stick Elder, clearly at a loss, admitted that the Pure Society knew little about the Beast. "If Master Wang can drive it away once, he can do it a second and third time, so…"

His admiration for this "Immortal Iron Fist" before him had grown boundless.

To be able to drive off even the Beast—surely this was the man he ought to follow, the guardian of K’un-Lun!

Matt was momentarily stunned.

This was troublesome.

Erica seemed liable to lose control at any moment; the Beast could descend at any time.

Surely, Erica couldn’t shadow Master Wang around the clock?

Though Erica was not his current girlfriend—merely an ex—it still didn’t seem right…

Old Wang glanced at the Stick Elder and thought the old man had become a hopeless fanboy.

He looked at Matt next, thinking this still immature Daredevil was overthinking things. You want to give me your girl, but I don’t even want her! This isn’t that kind of story…

"External help is unreliable. If you want to resist the Beast, you can only truly rely on your own strength—the power of life itself, that is, ‘Qi.’"

Old Wang revealed the plan he’d prepared long ago. "I will teach Erica martial arts, guide her to channel her life energy, to generate Qi, use Qi, and rely on Qi to fight the Beast. The same applies to all of you."

Qi?

The Stick Elder and Matt exchanged glances; Matt looked at Erica, and Erica looked at the Stick Elder.

They each saw—and sensed—the excitement in the others.

To become a kung fu master, to master Qi, was the ultimate goal of every martial artist.

The Stick Elder had never achieved it in his lifetime.

Matt and Erica had never imagined they could.

But now, did hope truly exist?

"This must be extremely difficult?" the Stick Elder ventured.

He considered himself worldly, but there were only a handful of martial masters who had ever cultivated Qi—he could count them on his fingers.

Old Wang’s thoughts drifted to the years in the World of Warcraft.

Under his guidance, Pandaren martial arts had spread across the world.

Humans, dwarves, gnomes, draenei, night elves…

Blood elves, orcs, tauren, trolls, the undead…

People of every race, under the tutelage of Pandaren monks, had become monks themselves, ushering in a golden age of martial arts for all.

None of them were truly Old Wang’s disciples.

But once Old Wang became a grandmaster, all Pandaren monks, at least in name, were his students.

The great teach all— even the "Coughing Sect Leader," Zhu Talan, would bow to him and seek the path of the grandmaster.

So, it could be said that all monks in the World of Warcraft were his disciples in spirit.

The world of Azeroth teemed with every kind of magical energy, and nourished by such, the vitality of its beings far surpassed that of Earth’s people. Cultivating Qi there was merely the first step—far from becoming a "Monk Master."

Not to exaggerate, but the number of those who could use Qi was surely in the tens of thousands.

But that number would be staggering here—this was the Marvel Cinematic Universe, not some parallel world. In some universes, any lowly Hand minion could use Qi; a single Hand’s strength might rival that of the Shado-Pan Monastery…

"It is very difficult," Old Wang sighed.

The Stick Elder, Matt, and Erica pressed their lips together.

"I am not a good teacher," Old Wang confessed. He believed that Master Shang Xi was the greatest teacher in the world: patient, guiding, and kind. Every living monk on the Wandering Isle was either his disciple or the disciple of his disciples.

The three bit their lips in determination.

"I have little experience—at most I’ve taught for two years, and only occasionally at that." Old Wang was a little ashamed. Though he had popularized Pandaren martial arts, he had rarely taught personally. Most of the time, he was off leading the Alliance and Horde champions in battle.

The three looked dejected.

"I suppose I’ve trained only about 108 kung fu masters," Old Wang said, after thinking about the monks he had personally instructed, settling on a modest figure, accompanied by a sigh of regret.

Two years?

One hundred and eight kung fu masters?

The three martial arts masters exchanged glances once more.

With a thud, the Stick Elder dropped to his knees.

Erica immediately knelt beside him.

Matt pressed his fists together and bowed.

Three pairs of bright—or sightless—eyes gazed at Old Wang,

As if beholding the world’s most lovable man.