Lady Gao looked at Alexandra and said calmly,
"Do I have any reason to deceive you?"
Everyone nodded. Given their relationship, she truly had no motive to lie. Besides, the matter at hand was indeed serious enough to warrant a Five Leaders meeting.
Lady Gao continued,
"According to the intel I've gathered, the Dragon Balls primarily involve John Wick—the former Continental Hotel assassin known as the Boogeyman—and the new head of the Assassin's League, Smith Doyle."
The mention of a new leader in the League took them by surprise. Over a decade ago, the League had adopted a council-based structure. They assumed the organization was aligning more closely with their own style. Yet here they were, returning to a single leader.
Lady Gao went on,
"Based on what I've learned, John Wick had two Dragon Balls in his possession. He's now under the League's protection, and he's also the spark that ignited their war with the High Table."
As she spoke, she laid a photograph on the table in front of them.
"This is Helen, John Wick's late wife. She's been dead for several months, yet this photo was taken just days ago."
"Oh, and she died of cancer. I have her hospital records and death certificate as well."
Everyone leaned in to inspect the photo. The background showed the front of John Wick's house. Clearly, this had been snapped when he brought his newly resurrected wife home to collect some things.
Sowanda commented,
"To bring someone back from the dead... it has to be the Dragon Balls. The only question is, did they get the Dragonbone as well?"
"And how many were used to bring her back?" someone else added. "If they used up one of the Dragon Balls, that would be a real shame."
The Gambler leaned forward and said,
"Well, if we're sure about this, let's stop wasting time and head to New York to recover the Dragon Balls."
Seeing everyone aligned, Lady Gao nodded.
"This time, we take the League's Dragon Balls and the Dragonbone beneath that building."
"I hope all of you will bring your finest men and cooperate fully. We're going to New York together."
---
Meanwhile…
In Hell's Kitchen, Kingpin sat in his office, his expression grim. Standing silently beside him was his right-hand man, Bullseye.
With the High Table destroyed, all major powers were leaderless. Kingpin had seen this as his moment—to take over New York, then use it as a springboard to rule America's entire underworld. He'd even reached out to The Hand, hoping to leverage their reach and open new markets via their drug operations.
But then news broke: a large number of elite operatives from The Hand had just entered New York.
It was like trading wolves for tigers.
He knew The Hand had been founded in the 16th century—and it was rumored they hadn't changed leaders in over 500 years. But was this just a name passed down through generations, or…
If the same person had truly led them for five centuries—that would be incomprehensible.
After a moment of contemplation, Kingpin made a decision: he would divert disaster.
He'd secretly leak news of The Hand's arrival in New York to the Assassin's League.
If he could get those two forces to clash, he might survive this power struggle. Otherwise, once The Hand's key players arrived, his days would be numbered.
"Bullseye."
"Yes, Boss."
"Leak the intel on The Hand's arrival to the Assassin's League—quietly."
"Don't use any handwriting. Print it from a computer. Deliver it to the castle with one of your throwing knives."
Bullseye gave a nod of understanding.
"Yes, sir."
---
Elsewhere…
Obadiah Stane rushed to the company building the moment he learned Tony Stark was there. After confirming with Happy that Tony was in the adjacent exhibit hall—inspecting the massive Arc Reactor—he swiped his card and walked in.
Cigar in mouth, he looked at the reactor, then at Tony.
"Look what you've done."
Tony, unfazed, replied,
"I'm guessing I'm public enemy number one by now?"
Obadiah pulled out his cigar and approached,
"You're public enemy number one? What about me?"
"You think our stock's gonna take a hit tomorrow?"
"How much of a drop are we looking at?"
Tony took off his suit jacket and draped it over a railing.
"Best case scenario? A 40% drop."
Obadiah stood beside him, scoffing,
"At least."
"Tony, we're weapons manufacturers."
Tony cut him off,
"Obadiah, I just…"
"I don't want to profit off dead bodies anymore."
But Obadiah wasn't having it.
"That's what we do. We're arms dealers."
Tony met his gaze.
"This company is mine. I get to decide."
Obadiah brushed aside the protest.
"Everything we've done has been to preserve peace and order."
Tony pressed on.
"What I saw out there was chaos. We're not doing enough."
"We can do better. We have to do better."
Obadiah raised an eyebrow.
"Better how?"
"You want us to start making baby bottles?"
Tony didn't flinch.
"I think we should pursue Arc Reactor tech."
Obadiah let out a scoffing laugh.
"Arc Reactors? That's just a gimmick."
"Tony, be serious. We built that thing to shut the critics up."
"It was a PR stunt for the IPO."
Tony turned toward the massive reactor.
"It's not a stunt. It has real value."
Obadiah rolled his eyes.
"Sure—if you're doing a science fair project."
"We knew it wouldn't be profitable even before we built it."
"This tech has no future. You know that."
Tony tilted his head, looking defiant.
"That's what you think."
Obadiah pushed back,
"Am I wrong?"
"This tech has been stuck for decades."
"What, thirty years now?"
Tony turned fully to face him, smirking with pride.
"That's what they say. Your poker face is getting worse, by the way."
"Come on, tell me—who told you that?"
Obadiah gave him a look.
"Doesn't matter. Show me this 'breakthrough' of yours."
Tony played along.
"Fine. Let's say it was Rhodey."
Then he undid his shirt, revealing the Arc Reactor embedded in his chest.
"Well? Satisfied?"
Obadiah's eyes lit up with dollar signs. He stepped forward, rebuttoning Tony's shirt like an old friend.
"Impressive."
"Tony, we're a team, remember?"
"As long as we stick together, there's nothing we can't accomplish—just like you and your dad back in the day."
Tony nodded slowly.
"Alright. I'm sorry for not telling you earlier."
"But if I had told you—"
Obadiah wrapped an arm around his shoulder with a grin.
"Tony, no more of this 'act first, explain later' stuff, got it?"
Tony looked back at the reactor.
"That philosophy? It was my father's."
Obadiah clapped his shoulder.
"Let me handle this mess. It's time we made a full pivot."
"We'll be in the spotlight, so promise me—you'll keep a low profile."
Tony just smiled, grabbed his jacket, and walked out of the hall.
---
—End of chapter—
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