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For the next half-month, New York headlines were plastered with news of United Company. Every newspaper scrambled for the latest scoop. The infamous ruler of Hell's Kitchen—the legendary Kingpin, Wilson Fisk—was finally behind bars.
Even if he hired the best lawyers in New York, he was looking at a century of prison time. For many, it felt surreal, a harsh wake-up call for the city's ordinary citizens. The peace they thought they enjoyed was built upon countless hidden crimes.
The Russians had voluntarily become cooperating witnesses. At first, John suspected his uncle's hand in it, but after a call from an unknown number, he realized it was the Ten Rings.
"How is Shang-Chi doing?" Wenwu's voice came through the phone.
Wenwu was the very picture of a strict father. On the surface, he feigned indifference toward Shang-Chi, but deep down, he was consumed with concern. Pride kept him from having the Ten Rings watch over his son directly; instead, he reached out to John.
"Very well," John replied, a mental image of Shang-Chi buried in homework flashing in his mind. "He's living a fulfilling life, and his grades are excellent."
"That's good," Wenwu said, relief palpable in his tone. "I worried he wouldn't adjust to the environment in New York."
"He has friends," John chuckled. "Friends are the quickest way to feel at home in a new world."
"I've already warned the Ten Rings," Wenwu stated. "In the long history of our organization, it's inevitable that some rot will appear."
"Is the Mandarin yours too?" John asked, recalling the televised terrorist attack.
Wenwu's face practically twisted in disgust through the phone line. "A clown—someone who doesn't even know the true Ten Rings. Even their symbol is wrong."
"So, someone is impersonating you?" John couldn't help but laugh. "Your reputation is truly formidable."
"When I find that person, I will deal with him myself," Wenwu promised, his voice tight with annoyance. To have lived for so long, only to be impersonated by some amateur staging attacks on television—it was an insult. Worse, John was laughing at him. Wenwu considered John a friend, so the mockery stung. After a moment to compose himself, he resolved to make an example of the imposter.
Wenwu then shifted the conversation back to Shang-Chi. "He inherited the talents of both myself and his mother," he mused. "You possess an energy similar to hers. Perhaps you could teach him how to use it."
John was taken aback. "You want me to be his teacher?"
"He is the strongest warrior," Wenwu said, his voice swelling with pride. "He could be your most outstanding disciple."
John considered this. Shang-Chi's mother likely had magical abilities, and Shang-Chi had clearly inherited them. He might even be a wizard.
"But you want him to be both a warrior and learn magic?" John paused. "Are you also a melee mage, Wenwu?"
Wenwu was silent for a moment. He had experienced John's elusive powers firsthand and couldn't deny a sliver of envy. If he couldn't defeat John, then letting his son learn from him was the next best thing. Wenwu was nothing if not shrewd.
John smirked. "I'm not keen on babysitting and teaching him magic simultaneously."
"I understand," Wenwu said. "But I can promise you this—as long as you need it, the Ten Rings will follow your command. Everything we possess can be yours to use."
Wenwu was willing to sacrifice anything for his son's future. Having the King of Wizards as a teacher was an honor few in the magical world—or any world—could claim.
Peter's duo soon became a trio. Shang-Chi, the newest and oldest of the group, gradually found the warmth of a surrogate family in this foreign land.
The doorbell rang.
"Coming!" May called out, expertly flipping a pancake as she hurried to the door.
"Hi, Sean," she greeted Shang-Chi with a radiant smile, ushering him in.
"Peter, Sean is here!" she called into the apartment.
She was about to say more, but the distinct smell of burning food sent her shrieking back into the kitchen.
Peter bounded out of his room and led Shang-Chi to their secret base—otherwise known as his bedroom. Ned was already there, meticulously assembling the piers of their half-finished Lego London Bridge.
"Hey, Ned."
"Hi, Sean."
The three boys exchanged greetings and settled into their daily ritual of building Lego and chatting.
"How was school?" Shang-Chi asked.
"Not great," Ned grumbled. "Jim shoved Peter into a locker after school."
"Ned!" Peter's face flushed crimson. "He just wanted to see if I could fit!"
Hearing his friend had been bullied, a dangerous glint flashed in Shang-Chi's eyes. "That's going too far."
Ned shrugged. "He wanted me to try too, but I'm too fat." He pinched his stomach and laughed, though it didn't quite reach his eyes.
In American schools, there was always a pecking order. Unfortunately, the studious types admired in Asia were often targeted as "nerds" in the West. Peter, who didn't play sports and rushed home to build Lego, fit the stereotype perfectly. Jim was the school bully, his older brother a player on the high school football team. Peter knew he couldn't afford to provoke them, so he usually tried to keep his head down.
But Shang-Chi was no ordinary kid. He was the young heir of the Ten Rings, someone who had already witnessed bloodshed. With a weapon in hand, his killing intent was a palpable force. On the surface, Shang-Chi remained calm, but a storm was brewing inside him—he was determined to stand up for his friend.
"Oh no!" May's scream ripped through the apartment again, followed by an even more potent wave of acrid smoke.
A moment later, she reappeared, coughing, her face a mask of culinary defeat. "Kids—I ordered your favorite pizza."
The three boys exchanged a knowing look. It seemed May's attempt at Asian cuisine had ended in another spectacular failure.
The next day, Peter and Ned were walking out of school together.
Predictably, Jim, the school bully, appeared. He grabbed Peter by the collar and slammed him against the wire fence. His two lackeys snickered.
"Peter, my friends want to see you do that locker crawl again," Jim sneered. "You'd better not embarrass me."
Ned stepped forward. "Jim, stop it!"
"Shut up, you fat pig!" Jim snapped.
Peter's temper flared. "You're the fat pig, Jim!"
Jim's fist connected with Peter's stomach, making him double over. Ned tried to intervene but was held back. Jim grabbed Ned's face, his voice a low snarl. "Fat Ned, you'd better take your grandma's burrito and get out of here before you get hurt."
"Hey!" A sharp voice cut through the tension.
Jim whirled around to see Shang-Chi, a few years older, standing nearby with an icy expression. "You'd better let go of my friend."
"It's none of your business!" Jim shouted, puffing out his chest. His big brother was on the football team; he wasn't scared of this newcomer. "Get lost, monkey!"
Monkey.
Shang-Chi's eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. He moved with a speed that belied his calm demeanor, grabbing Jim with one hand and slamming him hard against the fence. His voice was a low, threatening growl. "Don't make me stuff you in that trash can."
Seeing Shang-Chi's undeniable strength and the cold fury in his eyes, Jim's bravado instantly evaporated. "Don't leave if you're so tough!" he squeaked.
"Call your brother, weakling," Shang-Chi replied, releasing Jim, who crumpled to the ground.
Jim scrambled away with his followers. Ned rushed to help Peter up. "Let's get out of here, man."
"No," Shang-Chi said, his voice firm. "If we leave now, you'll just get bullied again tomorrow." He crossed his arms, his stance unyielding, looking every bit the martial arts prodigy his father had trained him to be.
"His brother is on the football team," Peter said anxiously, his voice barely a whisper. "We should really go."
Shang-Chi stood his ground.
Peter and Ned exchanged a look—a silent agreement passed between them. They gritted their teeth and stood beside their new friend.
Soon, Jim returned, not alone. The football players were big, looking more like college linebackers than high school students.
Jim glared at Shang-Chi, malice etched on his face. This time, he was determined to teach them a lesson they wouldn't forget.
Jim's brother, hearing that someone was picking on his little sibling, swaggered over with a few more hulking figures. He didn't bother with words; he was ready to fight.
On one side stood the future friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, the future Master of Kung Fu and Avenger Shang-Chi, and the future sorcerous CEO Ned Leeds. On the other side was a group of local toughs whose courage, it turned out, faded as quickly as their stamina.
Next to a dented trash can, under the pale afternoon sun, the future superheroes fought their first, impromptu battle as a team.
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