Back at the Wing Chun martial arts school, the silence that followed the sonic boom of Huang Wen's departure was deafening. The students stood frozen, looking at the jagged marble spikes protruding from the floorboards and the shattered front window. The air still smelled of ozone and pulverized stone.
"Damn... that was close," Risfisk breathed out, his legs feeling a bit like jelly now that the adrenaline was receding. He looked over at Max, who was still in a defensive crouch. "Max, man... I owe you one. A big one. If you hadn't moved me, I'd be a human kebab right now."
Max stood up, dusting off his pants, his face pale but determined. "Don't mention it, Risfisk. I just had a bad feeling about that old guy the moment he walked in. It wasn't logic; it was just... survival instinct. I didn't do anything special. I just didn't want to see my sparring partner get ventilated."
"Whatever you call it, it was a life-saver," Risfisk said, clapping Max on the shoulder with a heavy hand. He looked around at the rest of the class. The newer students were trembling, their eyes darting toward the door. They had come here to learn how to throw a punch, not to watch the floor turn into a murder weapon.
Risfisk knew he had to take charge. With Huang Wen gone and Zhong Qiang buried in the basement, the hierarchy of the gym fell onto his shoulders. "Listen up!" he barked, his voice echoing through the damaged hall. "The Master is dealing with that freak. Right now, this school is a target. If you're here for a hobby or just to look cool in a uniform, leave. Now. No hard feelings, but this just got real, and 'real' might get you killed."
A few students didn't even wait for him to finish. They grabbed their bags and bolted through the shattered front entrance without a word.
"Is that it? Just like that?" the student who had stayed through the first night of the 'renovation' asked, looking disappointed. He stepped forward, a grim smile on his face. "I'm staying. If the Master is a legend, I want to be part of the story. Besides, where else am I going to see a guy turn into a rock?"
Jack walked down the stairs, his face a mask of cold professionalism. His phone was still pressed to his ear. "It's worse than you think, Risfisk. I caught a name before the Master took off. General Ross. If that name means what I think it means, we aren't just dealing with one crazy old man. We're dealing with the Pentagon."
"The military?" The word rippled through the remaining students like a cold wind. A few more faces paled, and two more students quietly slipped out the door. The idea of fighting a street gang was one thing; facing the US Army was a fast track to a federal prison or a shallow grave.
"If you're staying, start moving," Jack commanded, ignoring the defectors. "The Master said we're renovating. That means everything—mats, wooden dummies, the fridge—everything goes into storage. We clear this place out so there's nothing left for the feds to seize if they show up with a warrant."
"You heard the man! Move!" Risfisk roared. The remaining core of students, strengthened by months of grueling drills, began to tear the gym apart with efficient, practiced movements.
Meanwhile, in a desolate, rocky expanse in the New York suburbs, David Banner was spinning in circles. His tar-black skin was already beginning to fade back into a sickly human flesh tone. He looked at his hands, confused and frustrated.
"Where are you?!" he screamed at the empty air. One moment he was in a warm, crowded building, ready to feast on the energy of the world, and the next, he was in the middle of nowhere. There was no marble here to mimic, no electricity to drain, just dirt and scrub brush.
Huang Wen watched him from a distance, standing atop a weathered boulder. He wasn't hiding; he was simply moving so efficiently that David's dull senses couldn't track him. Huang Wen was contemplating a difficult problem. He knew David was Bruce's father—a man whose DNA was essentially the blueprint for the Hulk's nightmare. Killing him would be easy, but explaining the corpse to the giant green guy in his basement would be a headache.
I could probably just shatter his molecular structure, Huang Wen thought, his eyes tracking the way David tried to 'sink' into the dirt to absorb the mineral content of the soil. But this guy is a sponge. If I hit him with internal force, he might just eat it.
In the Marvel movies, David Banner was a tragic figure who wanted to 'free' his son by taking the burden of the Hulk upon himself. But this version? This version felt like a rabid animal sent by Ross to see if Huang Wen would bleed.
Let's see if your 'absorbing' has a limit, Huang Wen decided. He didn't use a physical strike this time. He activated the Vajra Indestructible Divine Skill. His skin took on a subtle, golden sheen, and his presence became "leakless." To an energy-absorber like David, Huang Wen suddenly disappeared from the 'energy spectrum' entirely, appearing as a solid, impenetrable void.
"Sir! We've lost him again!" the analyst yelled back at the command center.
General Ross leaned over the monitor, his veins bulging in his neck. "What do you mean 'lost him'? He's in a flat field! There's nowhere to hide!"
"The satellite is tracking David Banner, but the other target... it's like he's not there anymore. Thermal is cold. Motion sensors are flatlining. The only thing we're picking up is David shouting at a rock."
"Zoom in! Enhance the resolution!" Ross ordered.
The screen flickered, showing David Banner lunging at shadows. Every time David swung a stone-encrusted fist, the space where Huang Wen should have been was empty. It was like watching a man fight a ghost.
"Is he teleporting?" Ross whispered, his voice trembling with a mix of fear and greed. "If he can move like that... if he can bypass satellite tracking... we need that power."
"Sir, report from the Chinatown scouts," a voice came over the comms. "The Wing Chun school is being stripped bare. They're evacuating. No sign of the target returning there either."
Ross ground his teeth. "He's playing with us. He's leading David away to keep the fight out of the public eye, and now he's vanished. He's a ghost with the strength of a tank."
Back in the quiet, sterile safety of the underground base, the world felt very different.
Zhong Qiang was hunched over a desk, his eyes bloodshot as he stared at a diagram of human meridians. "Small Intestine Meridian... Heart Meridian... why are there so many? Can't I just hit people really hard?" he muttered, rubbing his temples. Huang Wen's requirements for learning high-level internal arts were brutal—you couldn't just have the power; you had to have the map.
In the training ring, Logan was a blur of motion. His claws were retracted, but his sweat was flying as he pushed his body to the absolute limit. He was no longer just a brawler; he was trying to refine his 'Animal Instinct' into a structured combat flow. He had managed to stay in a state of 'perfect focus' for thirty seconds—a massive leap from his initial three-second bursts.
Nearby, John was playing with a small sphere of flickering blue and orange energy. Since learning the Ice and Fire Palm, his control over his mutant heat and the new cold energy had reached a point of terrifying harmony. He wasn't just throwing fireballs anymore; he was sculpting thermal vacuums. But every time he felt a surge of ego, he remembered Huang Wen's casual flick of a finger that had sent him flying across the room. He stayed humble. He stayed focused.
And then there was the Hulk.
The giant green behemoth was standing in the corner, his massive legs locked into a perfect horse stance. His breaths were deep, rhythmic, and heavy, sounding like a bellows in a forge. He wasn't smashing things. He wasn't roaring. He was punching.
One. Two. One. Two.
The punches weren't fast, but they were precise. The air in front of his fists cracked with every extension. The Hulk was learning that he didn't need to be angry to be strong; he just needed to be consistent. He looked calmer than he had ever been in his life, his eyes focused on a single point on the wall.
Suddenly, the air in the center of the room rippled. Huang Wen stepped out of a blur of light, looking completely unruffled.