The two rolled apart. The masked man wasted no time—he drew two daggers from his waist. Their cold gleam reflected Shangqi's face.
Shangqi steadied himself, not daring to relax for even a moment. The man before him was his master—the one who had taught him everything. If he wanted any chance of winning, he had to go all out.
They circled each other, neither making the first move, both searching for an opening. Fine beads of sweat formed on Shangqi's forehead. He knew all too well—everything he had learned was insignificant in his master's eyes.
Suddenly, Shangqi lunged forward.
At the same time, the masked man charged as well.
The instant they met, a dagger flashed before Shangqi's eyes.
He ducked low to evade it—but the second dagger had already sealed off his retreat. With no way out, Shangqi used a deft motion, deflecting the blade with a technique of redirecting force.
Short weapons were dangerous not only to the opponent—but to the wielder as well. The moment Shangqi knocked the dagger aside, the masked man's guard opened ever so slightly.
That tiny flaw was enough.
Shangqi stepped in with a powerful straight punch, his whole body moving as one.
The blow sent the masked man staggering back six or seven steps—but he showed no sign of injury. At most, there was only a faint mark on his chest.
The masked man glanced down, then looked back at Shangqi. There was… a hint of approval in his eyes.
Of course he knew the weakness he had shown—he had done it deliberately, just to test how far his student had come.
In the next instant, his aura shifted.
He attacked again—this time flawless.
Shangqi quickly fell on the defensive, eventually knocked to the ground by a sharp elbow strike.
Clang!
The masked man tossed one of the daggers at Shangqi's feet.
The meaning was clear: if fists weren't enough—use a blade.
Shangqi picked it up, spun it smoothly, and charged again. This time, he abandoned defense and went on the offensive, matching his master with equally dangerous, unpredictable attacks.
Their movements grew faster and faster.
Knife combat thrived on speed, risk, and surprise—so their strikes became increasingly ruthless.
Then—
Shangqi deliberately exposed an opening.
It worked.
He knocked the dagger from the masked man's hand, followed with a back throw, slamming him to the ground—and in one motion, drove his blade toward the man's throat.
But at the last moment—
He stopped.
The tip of the dagger hovered less than an inch away.
Memories flooded his mind—training as a child under this man. Though strict and merciless, his master had shown care in his own way—treating Shangqi's wounds, teaching him without holding anything back.
Shangqi couldn't do it.
Suddenly—
A whip formed of several rings lashed out, binding his wrist. A massive force yanked him off his feet and hurled him away.
An Asian man approached slowly, surrounded by black-clad subordinates.
Behind him, they held Xialing captive.
It was their father—
Wenwu, the true leader of the Ten Rings.
The rings recoiled back onto his arms as he walked up to Shangqi. The masked man rose and handed over Xialing's necklace.
"I told them," Wenwu said calmly, helping Shangqi to his feet, "if you fought seriously, no one here could beat you. They didn't believe me."
Now, his tone was gentle—almost like a kind father.
"You didn't disappoint me."
"I've missed you, son. Let's go home."
But Shangqi knew better.
This "father" was a ruthless warlord.
With Xialing in his hands, Shangqi had no choice but to comply. Surrounded by armed men, they boarded the helicopter.
Unnoticed—
Xialing pressed a small black device in her hand. It instantly shrank to the size of a grain of rice and slipped into her sleeve like a tiny insect.
---
At the same time, hidden inside the building, Natasha and Barton stared at a phone.
The moment Xialing activated the device, a red dot appeared on the screen.
"The signal's live. Looks like Xu Xialing has been taken by Wenwu."
Natasha frowned.
Moments earlier, while they were fighting, Sam had warned them: a large group had arrived with a man descending from a helicopter.
Facial recognition confirmed it—
Wenwu.
Natasha had made a quick decision and found Xialing.
"Your father's on the roof. He's coming this way."
Xialing froze instinctively, but Barton covered them, holding off the attackers.
"I need your help."
Natasha pressed a small black device into her hand.
"It's a tracker. Wenwu came for you and Shangqi—he won't kill you easily. I need you to activate this when you're taken."
Xialing understood immediately.
They wanted to use her… to find Wenwu's base.
"Why should I trust you?"
No matter what, Wenwu was still her father.
Natasha met her gaze. "You don't have to trust me. Next time, Captain America will lead the team. You can trust him."
Xialing fell silent.
Captain America's name carried weight. Others might fall—but he wouldn't. He stood for something unshakable.
"Then I have one condition," she said at last. "Capture him—but don't kill him."
Natasha nodded. "We have facilities for detaining super-criminals. He won't be executed. I promise."
Xialing waved her off. "I don't trust you. I'll hear it from Captain America himself. If he refuses… I'll side with my father and destroy you."
Harsh—but honest.
Still, she agreed. Because she knew what Wenwu was.
Maybe prison… was the best outcome.
"Thirty seconds," Sam's voice came through. "Wenwu's almost there."
"Time to go."
Natasha and Barton exchanged one last look with Xialing.
Then—
They leapt out through the shattered window—
Just as Wenwu entered.
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