Where Are the Promised Reinforcements?

Bang!

Slap! Slap! Slap!

Duang!

Huff, huff!

All sorts of strange sounds filled Elektra’s ears, making her almost want to cover them halfway.

I want to hear, I want to hear.

She stood with her arms folded against the door, watching the two men grapple at close range. It was even more exciting than watching two women have sex in bed.

Matt was one thing. Young and vigorous, he radiated intense masculine energy, overflowing with hormones. His stamina was as enduring as the life he had left—one minute counted as a year. She was probably the only woman in the world who knew that.

But Stick was already so old, and he could still last this long?

Couldn’t tell at all.

It had already been ten minutes!

One was young and strong, while the other was experienced.

At his age, he could no longer rely on physical prowess to show off, so he could only compete through experience and skill.

Master and disciple traded punches and kicks, fighting to their hearts’ content.

Since this was not a fight to the death, neither used the Guiding Cane or long staff they excelled at, which made it even more interesting.

The more Elektra watched, the more surprised she became.

Matt was much stronger than before!

He was somewhat stronger, somewhat faster, and his reactions were quicker too. His endurance was astonishing, but he clearly had not been through many fights and lacked experience. In that regard, he was still a novice.

Despite having the advantage in every aspect, he was still being utterly dominated by Stick.

A young man in his twenties could not even beat an old grandpa of at least seventy. How embarrassing.

Of course, Matt was still very strong.

If it were this kind of "friendly" spar, with her strength and five senses at a disadvantage, she probably would not be a match for Matt—just like in bed.

But in a life-or-death battle?

No, that would never happen.

I will never try to kill Matt. Never!

Bang!

Huff, huff!

Ah!

With a muffled thud, Matt fell to the ground and panted heavily.

"You can’t even beat an old man, Matt. Looks like leaving you was the right choice," Stick snorted, extending his left hand.

Matt extended his left hand as well. They clasped hands, and Matt used Stick’s support to pull himself up. "So you found another disciple? A female disciple, too?"

"Elektra is far stronger than you."

Stick said calmly, "She does not have your weaknesses, nor does she treat me as a father. When it is time to kill, she never hesitates."

"If that’s the case, then you can leave."

Matt breathed heavily, then quickly calmed down. "Keep training her. Don’t come looking for me."

"Because you have too many weaknesses and have done too many foolish things, I came back to correct you properly," Stick said. "Forget the law you studied. Pick up your weapon. Mercy and hesitation toward your enemies will only get more people killed."

Matt recalled the man who had killed his father.

Back then, Elektra had captured the killer and wanted him to avenge his father.

He had not. Instead, he handed the killer over to the police.

Their ideals clashed. Good breakup.

Matt snorted. "Tell me. What exactly happened?"

One was his ex-girlfriend, the other was a master who felt like a father to him. He could not simply ignore them.

Stick and Elektra gave him the same feeling: the feeling of death.

They were both facing a threat of death.

What kind of gang could threaten them?

The daughter of an ambassador and a mysterious old man hiding countless secrets?

"The Hand. An organization that endangers all humanity. A group of shameful thieves and traitors."

Stick’s eyes narrowed slightly. "Now, they have set their sights on me—and on Elektra."

An hour later.

"It sounds like a Hollywood movie, or a Super Hero comic from the early twentieth century," Matt said blandly as he leaned by the window.

"You know I’m telling the truth," Stick said.

A faint sneer tugged at Matt’s lips. "I’m not sure."

Though he said that, he believed it.

Stick had no reason to lie to him.

The problem was that the story was far too cliché.

A mysterious place that did not belong to Earth, existing in some extra dimension—K’un-Lun?

A divine beast guarding K’un-Lun, a strange dragon called Shou-Lao?

The Immortal Iron Fist, inheriting Shou-Lao’s power generation after generation?

Five traitors who had stolen the Dragon Bone Fossil?

Immortality and the power to return from the dead?

The True Pure Ones Society, which had always opposed The Hand?

According to Stick, The Hand seemed incredibly powerful—more powerful than the Italian Mafia.

Madame Gao, who had been killed by the Kunlun Iron Fist, had actually been one of the leaders of such a colossal organization.

More importantly, Master Wang, who looked incredibly lazy and spent all day lying in a chair sunbathing, had such a background?

And someone like that had set his sights on him.

Though he was past the age of indulging in fantasies, Matt could not help feeling a little expectant.

Could Master Wang have taken a liking to me? Does he want to accept me as his disciple and have me inherit the Iron Fist or something?

But Master Wang seems too young. He’s even younger than me…

"The Iron Fist has appeared."

Though Stick was already old, he was as excited as a young man. "The True Pure Ones Society follows the elders of K’un-Lun and the Immortal Iron Fist. But for decades, we have never seen the Iron Fist and lost contact with K’un-Lun. He actually left K’un-Lun and came to New York! He must be here to purge the traitors. I have to find him and lead the True Pure Ones Society in following him!"

So can I take this to mean that you’re just wishfully thinking? Iron Fist might not even know you exist… Matt inwardly grumbled.

Stick’s heartbeat quickened, his breathing grew rapid, and even the blood flowed faster through his face.

Matt had seen this sort of thing plenty of times.

Those little girls chasing idols, or those little boys chasing girls—they were all like this.

If someone under twenty acted like this toward a martial arts master as old as you, it could be taken as admiration for a master.

But you acting this way toward Master Wang? Honestly, it was a little unsettling…

"I’ll help you. Both you and Elektra."

After thinking it over, Matt still decided not to tell Stick that Master Wang was the Immortal Iron Fist.

It was a secret.

Unless he had Master Wang’s permission, he did not intend to reveal it.

But since the True Pure Ones Society belonged to the Iron Fist—to Master Wang—he decided he would find a chance to tell Master Wang.

Like the True Pure Ones Society, Master Wang was also fighting The Hand. He would not refuse an ally like that.

"How many people does your True Pure Ones Society have… Watch out!"

Matt suddenly lowered his voice and pointed outside.

He heard something different.

Extremely faint footsteps, heartbeats, and breathing. Someone was deliberately concealing their tracks, and they had received professional training. They would be difficult to deal with.

"They’re here."

Though Stick did not possess Matt’s extraordinary talent, being blind from birth had made his five senses far sharper than an ordinary person’s. He too sensed danger approaching.

Matt listened carefully. "At least fifty people. Every one of them has a gun and a blade—Japanese swords, it seems. One of them is the strongest. His heartbeat is powerful and steady, stronger even than yours. Just like mine!"

Stick’s expression changed slightly. "Yamaguchi-gumi ninjas, the finest ninjas in the world! It’s Shin—Giyoka Shin, Murakami’s disciple!"

Matt picked up his Guiding Cane. "Notify the people from your True Pure Ones Society. Have them come reinforce us! There are too many of them, and they have guns. We can’t win!"

No matter how skilled you were, you still feared a cleaver.

A martial arts master who had cultivated "qi" probably would not be afraid, but Matt was.

Even the strongest five senses could not stop bullets. His mind might be able to keep up, but his body could not. It was like writing a novel: no matter how many ideas you had, no matter if you could come up with a two-hundred-thousand-word story in a day, it was useless if you typed too slowly. You might only manage two thousand words.

At least fifty of the world’s finest ninjas, armed with swords and guns, and fully prepared—Matt felt immense pressure.

"…There’s no one else."

Stick’s mouth twitched. "The True Pure Ones Society in New York consists of only Elektra and me."

Thanks to Ziyuan882 for the 100 reward.