Excitement flashed across T'Challa's features as all three green lights confirmed his selection. The unanimous approval validated months of preparation and strategic positioning. He'd successfully secured a place on The Paragons, which meant phase one of his broader strategy was complete.
Next came the harder work—fulfilling superhero duties while building genuine friendships with team members. Those relationships would become crucial if Wakanda's vibranium reserves were ever exposed to the world. Having allies among Earth's most powerful enhanced individuals could mean the difference between invasion and protection.
T'Challa held no illusions about hiding the vibranium forever. Secrets of that magnitude always emerged eventually. Better to have friends in place before the revelation than scramble for allies during crisis.
The venue erupted in sustained applause. Shuri and the Dora Milaje who'd accompanied T'Challa to New York clapped with particular enthusiasm, their pride evident despite their stoic discipline. Across the city and around the world, people of African descent celebrated seeing representation at the highest levels of superhero culture.
As the applause died down, T'Challa exited the stage. The World Martial Arts Tournament Announcer bounded back to center position, his energy somehow increasing rather than flagging.
"The fifth member of The Paragons has been selected!" the Announcer declared, his voice resonating through the venue. "Our Wakandan prince—Black Panther T'Challa!"
He paused for effect, letting the crowd's excitement build. "Now we begin selection for the sixth team member. Please welcome Xu Shang-Chi!"
Music swelled through the sound system—something with Eastern instrumentation mixed with modern electronic beats. Xu Shang-Chi emerged from the entrance wearing a striking red dragon-scale battle suit that seemed to shimmer and flow with his movements.
In the audience section, Wenwu, Ying Li, and Xialing applauded their son and brother. Ying Li's expression carried maternal pride mixed with curiosity about how he'd present the Dragon Heart abilities.
The display screen behind the stage illuminated with Shang-Chi's profile:
Xu Shang-Chi Origin: Ancient Eastern family of enhanced individuals Heritage: Powerful bloodline and martial arts legacy Power Level: 60
Curiosity rippled through the audience. Shang-Chi's rise from registration to top-six ranking had been meteoric—impossible to ignore, sparking speculation about his backing and capabilities. Asian viewers watching broadcasts worldwide felt particular excitement, especially given the reference to ancient Eastern heritage.
The power level reading drew immediate reactions. Sixty points exceeded even T'Challa's impressive fifty, making Shang-Chi the strongest candidate demonstrated so far.
Tony's brow furrowed as he studied the young man on stage. He knew Shang-Chi from the Dragon Ball tournament.
At that time, Shang-Chi's power level had registered around eight or nine points, firmly within baseline enhanced human range.
Now he measured sixty. In less than a year, his capabilities had increased nearly sevenfold.
Tony's mind made the connection immediately. He turned his head toward the audience section, scanning faces until he located Wenwu's family. The woman sitting beside the thousand-year-old warlord drew Tony's particular attention. He'd never met her, but logic suggested this was Ying Li—the wife Wenwu had wished back from death.
Seeing her alive and present created cognitive dissonance. Tony's information gathering had confirmed Ying Li died over years ago. Smith had explicitly told him the Dragon Balls could resurrect people who'd died more than a year old, but success rates declining dramatically for longer periods. Souls reincarnated, moved to other dimensions, or simply ceased to exist in recoverable form.
Yet here sat Ying Li, apparently healthy and whole despite being dead for over a decade.
Had Wenwu just gotten extraordinarily lucky? Or had something changed about the Dragon Balls' capabilities that Tony didn't know about?
Tony glanced at Smith, sitting calmly to his right. Smith noticed the look, understanding its meaning immediately.
The moment triggered memory—Tony asking about resurrecting his parents, Smith explaining the Dragon Balls' limitations, Tony accepting that his parents had been dead too long. That conversation had influenced Tony's entire approach to the tournaments, tempering his urgency because resurrection wasn't an available option.
But Smith's explanation had been accurate at the time. The original Earth Kami version of Shenron had strict requirements: deaths within one year, single resurrection limit per person, natural deaths excluded entirely. Those constraints had been real.
However, as Smith's power increased and he'd evolved the dragon to the Dende configuration, those limitations had disappeared. The upgraded Shenron could resurrect anyone regardless of death duration, could resurrect the same person multiple times, and didn't care about death circumstances.
Smith simply hadn't updated Tony on these changes.
Looking at Tony's expression now, Smith recognized the unintended consequence. His silence about the dragon's evolution might have cost Tony his full commitment during recent tournaments. The guilt wasn't overwhelming—Smith had other priorities—but it registered as something requiring future correction.
The Announcer's voice pulled focus back to the stage. "Inheriting legacy from a distant Eastern land, this extraordinary family's long history makes us eager to see Shang-Chi's demonstration!"
He swept his arm dramatically toward Shang-Chi. "The stage is yours!"
Shang-Chi stepped forward, his movements carrying fluid grace that suggested extensive martial training. Unlike previous candidates who'd engaged in sparring demonstrations, he'd arranged something different.
A member of the Ten Rings organization walked onto stage carrying a pistol—checked and confirmed loaded by venue security staff to prove authenticity. The man took position about fifteen feet from Shang-Chi, raising the weapon with professional shooter's stance.
The crowd murmured with confusion and concern. Was this some kind of suicide demonstration?
Shang-Chi assumed a stance that martial artists worldwide would recognize—feet positioned carefully, arms raised with palms open, weight distributed in perfect balance. Tai Chi's preparatory form.
The gunman fired.
Shang-Chi's hands moved in a blur—not dodging, but intercepting. The bullet's trajectory met his palm, and through some combination of enhanced reflexes and mystical dragon energy, the projectile stopped. Shang-Chi held the bullet between his fingers for the audience to see, then dropped it with a metallic clink onto the stage floor.
The venue exploded in shocked applause.
The gunman fired again. And again. Five shots total, each one intercepted with the same impossible technique. Shang-Chi collected all five bullets, displayed them to the judges and audience, then let them fall like metallic rain.
If T'Challa's earlier demonstration had shown the gap between enhanced and baseline humans, Shang-Chi's performance illustrated something more significant: small-caliber weapons had become ineffective against high-level enhanced individuals. The question of whether larger caliber rounds could be stopped remained, but the implication was clear—conventional firearms were losing relevance as a threat.
The audience's applause carried genuine awe. This wasn't just strength or speed—this was martial technique elevated to supernatural levels.
Ying Li smiled with maternal satisfaction. "I didn't expect Shang-Chi to learn so quickly. He's already achieved preliminary mastery of Ta Lo's inheritance."
Wenwu nodded beside her. "He carries our bloodline. Natural talent was inevitable."
Ivan leaned toward his microphone, his analytical mind processing what he'd witnessed. "Very impressive ability. With a power level of sixty, everyone understands that even without refined technique, you'd be formidable in combat."
He paused, then continued. "I'm curious—the martial art you just demonstrated was Kung Fu, correct?"
Shang-Chi nodded. "Yes, that's correct. Specifically, it's Tai Chi."
"Tai Chi," Ivan repeated thoughtfully. "And how many bullets can this technique allow you to catch simultaneously?"
His question sharpened, becoming more practical. "You understand that when facing real enemies, they won't politely shoot one round at a time. You'll face assault rifles or even machine guns. Possibly multiple shooters firing simultaneously."
The question targeted the technique's practical limitations—whether spectacular demonstrations translated to battlefield effectiveness.
Shang-Chi considered his response carefully. "I haven't tested my absolute limits yet. But I'm confident I can handle several bursts of assault rifle fire."
The answer struck the right balance—acknowledging uncertainty about extremes while projecting confidence about realistic combat scenarios. The audience responded with warm applause, recognizing both his honesty and his capability.