The two bodyguards sat quietly on the bench outside the hospital room. If not for the faint traces of blood behind the bench, no one would have guessed they were already dead. The weight of their sins was so heavy that their souls descended to the lower planes the moment they died. Solomon heard the footsteps of the next shift of guards coming from the fire escape. He slowly walked in the opposite direction, planning to take the elevator and leave the hospital without making any connection to Wilson Fisk. Fisk would not die by his hand, nor did he see any reason to involve himself. More importantly, he didn't want anything getting in the way of his next task.
No one besides K'un-Lun knew why the true dragon's remains were buried in Manhattan.
But when you thought about it, it wasn't so strange. Back then, Manhattan had still been a small island surrounded by salmon and bass, full of vegetation. Being far from the Kunlun Mountains and largely ignored except by Native Americans, it made an ideal burial site. The dragon's remains were buried so deep that Solomon had to plan an elaborate strategy involving acquisitions, bribery, and threats to secure the land and begin construction. Before this, K'un-Lun had disclosed to Kamar-Taj the locations of several of its semi-dimensional prison sites, temporarily designating them as Kamar-Taj territory. As a gesture of "exchange," they had also offered a handwritten copy of the ancient Tai Shang Lao Jun's Classic of the Opening of Heaven, over two thousand years old.
On the surface, it was a cultural exchange. In truth, it was payment.
For them to bring out such a Daoist treasure showed just how important the dragon bones were to K'un-Lun. Solomon could even guess at their internal deliberations—how they must have agonized over the decision. In the eyes of K'un-Lun, Kamar-Taj's practitioners were also cultivators, and gifting the Classic of the Opening of Heaven wouldn't be a waste.
When Solomon reported the difficulties of the operation back to K'un-Lun, they didn't hesitate to raise the stakes, offering him the cultivation method for the Supreme Purity Thunder Rites—a move that left the Arcanist somewhat overwhelmed. Kamar-Taj and K'un-Lun shared overlapping Daoist philosophy and teachings; many of K'un-Lun's cultivation methods could be used at Kamar-Taj without modification, and the Supreme Purity Thunder Rites were no exception. Only when K'un-Lun presented these sect-founding classics did Solomon realize he had underestimated their true strength. Their isolated existence had allowed their tradition to be preserved with remarkable integrity. Most Daoist texts in Kamar-Taj's library came from K'un-Lun, and Solomon's own childhood meditation techniques bore clear traces of Daoist cultivation methods. Even Kamar-Taj's techniques for converting life force into magic were modeled after internal alchemy. When Solomon flipped through the texts K'un-Lun had provided, he realized he'd unknowingly practiced inner alchemy all along.
Looking back now, the K'un-Lun-appointed contact in New York—"Iron Fist" Daniel Rand—was frankly terrible at cultivation. He didn't know a single word from The Classic of Supreme Purity, The Supreme Purity Great Cavern Sutra, or The Classic of the Yellow Court. He knew nothing of visualization, breath control, saliva swallowing, incantation chanting, or talisman application. When Solomon tried to discuss the trance-writing spirit-medium rituals of Daoist master Yang Xi of the Eastern Jin dynasty, he got nothing but a blank stare. Solomon couldn't figure out what K'un-Lun had actually taught this guy. Did this foreigner think glowing fists were the peak of cultivation? Was "Iron Fist" just a disposable figurehead thrown out by K'un-Lun to serve as a glorified bouncer?
"If you're trying to buy up that lot in the Clinton District, you're going to run into a lot of trouble," Daniel Rand, now functioning as a real estate agent, became Solomon's assistant in the effort to excavate the dragon bones. "Hell's Kitchen is the worst part of Manhattan. The Irish, Russians, and Japanese all have a foothold here. It's a literal hell. Even if you offer tenants huge sums, they can't sell the property to you."
"Why not?"
"Because the property holders aren't regular people—they're the gangs." Daniel shrugged. He was a young man with tousled brown curls and a scruffy jawline, but he looked sharp and energetic. He had a good impression of the young man carrying K'un-Lun's edict, so he didn't mind sharing more. "This might be the filthiest, lowest place in the whole city. Your money won't reach the average person. The gangs will see value in the land and just keep extorting you. Normal commercial tactics won't work here."
"You mean… I get it. I know your fists glow, but could you tone it down a bit? It's bright enough in here already." The Arcanist clicked his tongue. They were inside Daniel Rand's cramped apartment in Hell's Kitchen, and the place was in poor shape. Cracks lined the plaster walls and ceiling, and the dampness bred alarming amounts of mold. Solomon could smell the must from the couch alone. It was evening, but the lighting in the apartment wasn't enough to reach every corner. Tightly drawn curtains blocked any outside light. Solomon only knew the time by the gunshots and cursing coming from the street. Gunfire was a daily occurrence here, but never made the news—the cops didn't want to come to this part of town.
"You planning to beat the gangs into submission?"
"Yes. And investigate the Hand's activities in Hell's Kitchen. I have to avenge my parents and reclaim Rand Enterprises," Daniel nodded. "Don't try to talk me into returning to K'un-Lun to fulfill my Iron Fist duties. If I can reclaim the company, I can help with the dragon bone excavation. So…"
"I won't help with that," Solomon cut him off. "I'm not from K'un-Lun. I'm only involved because the dragon bones are linked to an extradimensional incursion. The secret arts K'un-Lun provided are valuable enough that I agreed to help—but only for this task."
"You're not from K'un-Lun? Then how do you know all these secret techniques?"
"Because I read books, Mr. Rand." Solomon formed a hand seal. "Summon wind and thunder, exorcise demons, pray for rain, stop floods and droughts. This is the True Art of Five Thunders—an untransmitted secret of K'un-Lun's Supreme Purity lineage. All thunder magic starts with inner cultivation and ends with external use. One who gathers the five elemental energies into five thunders follows the way of the Primordial Dao. The thunder god is the god within oneself. Sincerity within moves the heavens; cultivate the inner to manifest the outer. You inherited the teachings but never entered the gate—obsessed with external techniques. I must say, I'm rather impressed. If you mastered this art, you wouldn't even need fists to solve problems."
Daniel Rand was left speechless by Solomon's rebuke. During his time in K'un-Lun, he had focused solely on physical martial arts. His masters had repeatedly urged him to study internal alchemy, but he had dismissed it as some religious ritual, never taking it seriously.
The Arcanist stood up from the ragged couch.
"I'll handle this myself. If you want to resolve things through legal means, I can give you the number for Officer Carter at NYPD's 8th Precinct. She's an honest cop—you may have seen her in the papers. She took down the entire corruption ring within the force. Just tell her you know Harold Finch. No need to mention my name."
(End of Chapter)
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