Even with both HYDRA and S.H.I.E.L.D. under his control, Chen Mo knew seventy years was a long time.
No one could predict what might happen in between — history was full of variables, and fate had a way of twisting beyond anyone's plans.
So, he decided to make more than one backup.
Forming the Seven Commandments Gang and taking over Brooklyn's underworld had been a spur-of-the-moment decision — unlike HYDRA or S.H.I.E.L.D., both of which had been carefully calculated steps in a grand design.
One light, one dark.
Behind HYDRA stood the Nazis; behind S.H.I.E.L.D. stood the Allied powers — the two most powerful forces in a world torn apart by the Second World War.
And yet, the Seven Commandments Gang — small, local, insignificant — was still his creation.
Compared to HYDRA and S.H.I.E.L.D., it was like a child standing next to giants.
But who could say what that child might grow into in the future?
All four of his men wanted to keep following him, but someone had to stay behind.
Chen Mo's eyes swept over them one by one before he nodded slightly.
"You've all proven your loyalty, and I won't forget it. But one of you must remain here — to oversee the Seven Commandments Gang's growth. I'll need it someday."
The four exchanged uneasy looks.
Ruling over Brooklyn's vast criminal network might sound like a dream to others, but to them, it meant nothing.
They were warriors, not politicians. What they sought was strength — mastery over their own bodies and spirit — not wealth or power.
Even when they'd first arrived in America and struggled to survive, they'd rather break their backs hauling crates on the docks than use their fists for crime.
They were true martial artists — men with principles, with a moral code.
Now, the chance to hold power meant nothing to them. None volunteered.
Chen Mo had expected that.
His eyes settled on one man.
"Wang Kun."
The named man stiffened, his expression instantly souring.
"Yes, Master!"
"You'll stay behind and take charge of the Seven Commandments Gang," Chen Mo said calmly. "You have a wife and child — you need to think of them. Staying here is best for them."
Wang Kun hesitated, then nodded heavily.
"Yes, Master."
Though reluctant, he couldn't disobey. Chen Mo's reasoning was sound. Staying in Brooklyn meant his family could live safely and well — something following Chen Mo to Europe couldn't guarantee.
And so, the future overlord of Brooklyn's underworld — the man who would one day be known as the King of the Seven Commandments — accepted his role… looking for all the world like a man forced into exile.
Once the arrangements were made, Chen Mo reached into his coat and produced a syringe filled with shimmering blue liquid.
He handed it to Wang Kun.
"Inject it."
Wang Kun didn't hesitate. He took the syringe and plunged it into his arm.
The cool blue serum spread quickly through his veins.
Moments later, the pain hit.
It was as if every cell in his body was being torn apart and rebuilt at the same time — a searing, consuming agony that raced through his muscles and bones.
But Wang Kun was a trained martial artist; his willpower was iron.
Unlike Howard, who had screamed his lungs out, Wang Kun gritted his teeth and endured in silence.
Sweat poured down his face. His muscles trembled violently, veins bulging, but he refused to fall.
He trusted his Master completely.
If Chen Mo told him to endure, he would endure.
The others — Huang Quan, Han Qing, Luo Zhen, and old Albert — watched quietly from the side.
They had long grown used to Chen Mo's mysterious methods and knew he wouldn't harm his own man.
Still, their eyes were full of curiosity.
What exactly was that glowing blue liquid?
After several long minutes, the pain began to fade.
Wang Kun's body relaxed, the trembling stopped.
He flexed his fingers experimentally, looking confused.
Chen Mo's lips curved faintly.
"Try feeling your body — and your mind."
Wang Kun clenched his fist, then widened his eyes in surprise.
He could feel it — power, raw and overwhelming, flooding his body.
He stepped back, exhaled sharply, and began to move.
Each punch was faster, heavier — a blur of wind and motion.
His strikes grew quicker and sharper until the others could barely track his movements.
Every blow cut through the air with a deep whoosh, the floorboards vibrating beneath his feet.
The others exchanged astonished looks.
They'd witnessed the entire process — how his muscles had subtly thickened, his frame slightly broadened, his outline more sharply defined. The transformation wasn't dramatic, but their trained eyes saw it clearly.
And the difference in power and speed was undeniable.
When Wang Kun finally stopped, his chest heaved with exhilaration. He looked at Chen Mo, wide-eyed.
"Master! I feel like my strength has increased several times over! My mind's clearer too — my reactions are faster!"
The others all turned toward Chen Mo, astonished.
They had heard rumors of drugs that could temporarily boost strength — but this was something else entirely.
No stimulant in the world could cause such an extreme, immediate change.
Unaware that they were mistaking his serum for a mere drug, Chen Mo explained evenly,
"That was the Improved Super Soldier Serum. It strengthens every aspect of the human body — power, speed, endurance, cellular vitality, bone density, memory, reaction time — everything.
"For an ordinary person, the enhancement can triple their physical capacity. But you're already trained martial artists — for you, the results should be close to four times your original strength."
Wang Kun froze, stunned.
He had assumed it was some kind of high-grade stimulant — not a permanent enhancement.
But to think… that his body had been permanently strengthened severalfold —
He was at a loss for words.
"Master… something so precious…" he murmured.
He couldn't even begin to fathom its value.
To gain, in moments, what years of brutal training could never achieve — it was beyond priceless.
Feeling the surge of power coursing through him, Wang Kun almost wondered if he was dreaming.