Chapter 9: I Love a Firewood
It was another morning. Inside the private gym of his California manor, Lin Hao was undergoing one of his hellish self-imposed training sessions.
He gripped two two-ton demon-forged dumbbells—metal relics refined from Asgardian Uru fragments—each covered with crimson inscriptions that shimmered with the Devil Lord's sigils. His upper body was wrapped in a gravity-augmenting vest woven from Vibranium-thread alloy, the kind of material Tony Stark's R&D team would have killed to reverse-engineer.
Even his thighs and calves were tied with dense magnetic iron bands, and the shoes beneath his feet were custom-weighted to simulate planetary gravity.
As he jogged across the reinforced floor, his hands swung rhythmically with the monstrous weights, the ground trembling under each step. Every movement generated small flashes of red lightning—residual demonic energy flowing through his veins since his fusion with the Infernal Core.
Ever since he came to America and established a "technical consultant" front under the Shenlei Bureau's overseas cover, Lin Hao no longer had to clock in or deal with bureaucratic nonsense. His only responsibility was to supervise Yu Zhen, his assistant in the Technical Development Department back in China, through holographic video calls—solving a few complex research problems that the bureau still couldn't handle without him.
That meant more time for him to train—and to strengthen the Demon King's Vessel that his body had become.
"Lao Lin! Lao Lin!"
A familiar, exaggeratedly accented Mandarin voice echoed from the corridor.
Moments later, a man in his early thirties burst into the gym, grinning ear to ear. "I knew you'd be here! Stop working out, brother, something big is about to happen!"
This man was Bruce Lee—Li Heng in Chinese—a third-generation Chinese-American playboy born and raised in San Francisco. His family had settled in California since the early twentieth century and built a fortune during the post-war economic boom. Now, the Li family's net worth exceeded hundreds of billions.
Bruce's father was Chinese, his mother the daughter of a California industrial consortium—a perfect marriage of East and West. His mother named him "Bruce," inspired by martial film icons, while his grandfather, a traditional scholar, insisted on a Chinese name drawn from the Book of Changes: "Li Heng," from the line 'Yuan Heng Li Zhen' in Qian Gua, meaning great prosperity and endurance.
Indeed, a name fit for an emperor—though Bruce himself was more suited to the role of a hedonistic court jester.
Blessed with wealth and cursed with too much free time, Bruce spent his early adulthood chasing thrills, women, and business ventures that rarely lasted. That changed when he met Lin Hao—a mysterious newcomer whose calm aura and strange, supernatural "qigong" seemed to defy science.
When Bruce learned that Lin Hao could casually toss a man across the room with one palm, he immediately declared him "Master Lin" and never stopped visiting.
"What's up this time? Did you finally hook up with Anne Hathaway?" Lin Hao didn't stop running or lifting.
Bruce had a well-documented weakness for Hollywood actresses. Recently, he'd been bragging about his "serious pursuit" of Anne Hathaway, claiming he was going to win her heart instead of just writing cheques.
When Lin Hao saw the photo, he nearly spat out his tea. "Bruce, you're not that Bruce from the martial-arts multiverse, and you definitely don't have the stamina to handle Catwoman. You can't even handle five minutes of Tai Chi."
Bruce grinned. "Still working on that one. But no, I'm here for something else!"
He dashed forward, trying to snatch a dumbbell from Lin Hao's hand. The massive iron weight didn't move an inch. His arms trembled. His face turned red.
"Oh come on! You've got to be cheating, bro. Nobody's that strong!"
Lin Hao didn't bother responding.
"There's a high-end banquet in Los Angeles tomorrow," Bruce said, catching his breath. "Tony Stark's on the guest list. The California consortium's hosting it—they want to cozy up since Stark Industries' stock price shot through the roof after the last tech demo."
Lin Hao finally slowed to a halt, beads of dark red sweat sliding down his neck. "So… meat or vegetarian?"
Bruce grinned. "First half's vegetarian—official dinner, champagne, boring speeches. But when the reporters leave? They clear the room. Second half's very sexy. To impress Stark, they're flying in the youngest and hottest actresses from Hollywood."
Lin Hao set the dumbbells down with a thunderous boom and offered his hand. "Where's my invitation?"
"Ha! You think I'd forget Master Lin?" Bruce fished an embossed envelope from his jacket pocket, the golden Stark logo gleaming under the lights. "Word of your little 'San Francisco miracle' has spread. The whole California upper circle's curious about the Chinese genius who cracked quantum energy formulas and flattened a wall with a handshake."
Lin Hao smirked. "Perfect timing. I've recently developed something new."
He led Bruce into the study—a vast chamber filled with floating runes, ancient relics, and scientific instruments scavenged from multiple worlds. Opening a reinforced safe, he retrieved a bottle carved from pure jadeite, its surface engraved with flowing cloud patterns that seemed alive under the sunlight.
Uncorking the bottle released a faint, warm fragrance that immediately filled the air.
Bruce inhaled once—and froze. His pupils dilated. A surge of heat rose from his abdomen, spreading rapidly through his body like molten fire. His face flushed scarlet, and his breath came out ragged.
"Oh… my god," he gasped, staggering backward and clutching his chest. "What the hell is that smell? It's like seeing the maid from when I was fifteen—but ten times worse!"
Lin Hao smirked, snatching the bottle back before Bruce could grab it. Inside lay a single dark red pill, smooth and faintly glowing.
"Just a whiff is enough to do that to you," Bruce panted. "If someone actually eats it—wouldn't they explode?"
"I wouldn't recommend swallowing it," Lin Hao said seriously. "The potency's too strong. It's better used through controlled diffusion. One pill like this, in an incense burner, could turn an entire banquet into a festival of madness."
After receiving Stephen Chow's "I Love a Firewood" recipe from a dimensional exchange, Lin Hao had immediately broken down its molecular and metaphysical structure. He reconstructed it using demonic alchemy, fusing it with succubus pheromones and the Blood of Mephisto, giving the pill an aura of irresistible temptation.
As Lin Hao sealed the bottle again, he smiled faintly. "Stephen Chow wasn't exaggerating when he said this little thing could change a man's life. Even the Demon King himself might have trouble resisting it."
Bruce gulped, eyes gleaming with curiosity and fear. "You… you're bringing that to the banquet, aren't you?"
Lin Hao's grin widened. "Of course. I'm a scientist, Bruce. What's research without a human trial?"