"Father, please," Xialing said, stepping between her father and the door. "There's no need for conflict."
Wenwu stopped, his hand already on the door handle. He looked back at his daughter, one eyebrow raised in silent question.
Xialing pressed on. "Based on everything I've learned and observed, the Dragon Balls reappear exactly one year after a wish is granted. They scatter randomly across the world, giving new people the chance to find them."
She pulled out her tablet again, swiping through files. "And Smith Doyle always hosts another Dragon Ball tournament. He creates opportunities for everyone, not just the powerful. Our wish—bringing Mom back—falls well within the range of acceptable requests."
Her fingers moved quickly across the screen, pulling up videos she'd collected from the dark web. "Look at this. These are recordings of Smith Doyle in action."
The first video showed a massive armored figure—Iron Monger—firing missiles and gatling gun rounds at a smaller figure who moved with impossible grace. Then golden energy exploded from the smaller figure's hands, and Iron Monger simply ceased to exist, vaporized in an instant.
The second video captured a green giant smashing through buildings on a New York street. Smith Doyle dropped from the sky like a meteor, meeting the Hulk's charge with a casual punch that sent the creature flying backward through a skyscraper.
A third showed Smith facing both the Hulk and another monster—the Abomination—simultaneously. He moved between them like water, every strike precise and devastating, never once looking concerned.
"There's no footage from the battle in New Mexico," Xialing continued, "but I found photos of the aftermath."
She pulled up images of a massive crater, melted sand turned to glass, and the shattered remains of what looked like a giant metal warrior. The destruction stretched for blocks in every direction.
Shang-Chi leaned forward. "During the Dragon Ball tournament, Smith demonstrated he could stop any contestant whenever he wanted. Selene, the vampire who won, had enhanced speed and strength beyond anything we'd seen. He casually kept pace with her without breaking a sweat."
Wenwu studied the videos, his expression unreadable. The tactical part of his mind, honed over a thousand years of warfare, analyzed every movement, every display of power. Finally, he looked at his children.
"What do you suggest we do, then?"
Relief washed over Xialing's features. She exchanged a quick glance with Shang-Chi before answering. "We wait. We prepare. We let the Dragon Balls reappear naturally."
She set the tablet down and began outlining her strategy. "Your Ten Rings network spans the globe. My Golden Dagger Club has contacts throughout Asia. We can start collecting round stones from every corner of the world."
Wenwu's brow furrowed. "Stones?"
"The Dragon Ball my brother found started as an ordinary stone," Xialing explained. "It only transformed into a Dragon Ball after a certain period. If we collect stones preemptively, before the Dragon Balls reveal themselves, we'll have a head start."
Her voice grew more animated as she warmed to the plan. "Once the Dragon Balls activate and their true appearance becomes known, we immediately deploy massive resources to acquire them. We offer money, favors, protection—whatever it takes."
Shang-Chi nodded. "There will always be people who find a Dragon Ball but don't have the capabilities to use it. Those people will sell."
"If we can collect all seven Dragon Balls before the tournament tickets are even distributed," Xialing continued, "we approach Smith Doyle directly with the complete set and request to make our wish. No competition necessary."
She held up a hand before her father could interrupt. "And if we can't collect them all, if others hold onto them and enter the tournament, then you participate, Father. You win with overwhelming strength and make your wish."
Wenwu considered this, then asked the obvious question. "Why not simply go to Smith Doyle now? Explain our situation, make our request. Wouldn't that be faster?"
Xialing shook her head firmly. "Right now, Smith Doyle willingly offers the Dragon Balls as opportunities to everyone. He's created a system, a framework that he believes is fair."
She met her father's eyes. "But that doesn't mean he'd appreciate someone showing up at his door demanding special treatment. And Father, consider this—Shenron can grant any wish. If someone annoyed Smith Doyle enough, angered him, made themselves a genuine problem... who's to say he wouldn't simply wish them out of existence?"
The room fell silent as that implication sank in.
Wenwu watched the videos play again, studying the effortless way Smith Doyle moved. The casual application of devastating force. Everything the man did in these recordings looked easy, almost bored. Wenwu could replicate most of those feats—the raw destruction, the speed, the precision.
But watching someone perform and fighting them were two different things. He couldn't tell who would win in a direct confrontation. The only way to know for certain would be to test it with violence.
The thought gnawed at him.
Seeing her father's hesitation, Xialing suddenly remembered something. She reached into her backpack and pulled out two sleek cases. "Father, I almost forgot. These might help you decide."
She opened the cases to reveal two devices that looked like modified glasses with a single eyepiece. "These are Scouters, produced by Universal Capsule Company—that's Smith Doyle's company. They measure bio-energy, the life force within living beings. The readout gives you a person's combat power as a numerical value."
Xialing lifted one of the devices. "The second-generation model has an upper limit of 500 points. The fact that Smith Doyle's company released scouters with that maximum strongly suggests his own power level exceeds 500. This is a perfect opportunity to test your strength, Father."
Before Wenwu could respond, Xialing fitted the Scouter over her left eye. The device hummed to life, a green lens glowing softly.
Xialing turned to face her father. The Scouter's lens focused on Xu Wenwu, and numbers began scrolling across its display.
"Fifty... one hundred... one hundred fifty..."
Wenwu stood perfectly still, making no move to hide or suppress whatever the device was measuring.
"Two hundred... three hundred... four hundred..."
Xialing's voice grew strained. The Scouter was vibrating now, a high-pitched whine building in its mechanisms.
"Five hundred..."
The numbers didn't stop.
"Five hundred ten... five hundred twenty... five hundred—"
CRACK.
The Scouter exploded. Sparks shot from the eyepiece, and Xialing yelped, tearing the device away from her face. Smoke curled from the broken mechanism in her hand. The lens had shattered completely, circuit boards visible through the cracked casing.
Both Xialing and Shang-Chi stared at their father in stunned silence.
Wenwu looked at the destroyed device with mild confusion. "Is it malfunctioning? Did I break it somehow?"
Xialing's hand trembled slightly as she set down the ruined Scouter. "No, Father. It's not malfunctioning. Your combat power exceeded 500 points. The Scouter couldn't handle readings beyond its maximum threshold, so it overloaded and burned out."
She laughed shakily. "For reference, Shang-Chi and I both measure around 10 points. You're literally off the scale."
The implications settled over the room. Wenwu was powerful, perhaps more powerful than even he'd fully realized. But Smith Doyle had designed and released Scouters with a 500-point maximum, which meant he expected people to encounter beings at or near that level.
Which meant Smith himself was likely far beyond it.
Wenwu processed this new information, his tactical mind recalculating. The man could fly—true flight, not just jumping enhanced by the Ten Rings' power. That alone created a significant disadvantage in any potential confrontation. And if Smith's combat power exceeded Wenwu's by a substantial margin...
Too many variables. Too much uncertainty. And most critically, his wife's resurrection was too important to risk on pride.
"Xialing," Wenwu said finally, "I'll follow your plan. We'll be cautious. We'll collect stones and prepare for the Dragon Balls' return."
Relief flooded Xialing's expression.
"However," Wenwu continued, picking up the undamaged Scouter from the second case, "you're going to teach me how to use this device. If we're going to be measuring threats, I need to understand the system."
He turned to look at both his children, and his expression shifted to something between disappointment and confusion. "Also, why are you both so weak? You carry my blood and your mother's. She was descended from the dragon protectors of Ta Lo, blessed with their strength. You should be far more powerful than this."
Xialing and Shang-Chi exchanged uncomfortable glances. That was a conversation for another day.
Fraternity Headquarters—Reception Room
Coulson sat in the comfortable leather chair, but his attention wasn't on the tasteful décor or the refreshments that had been provided. His gaze kept drifting to the window, to the impossible structure rising in the distance.
The stone tower dominated the skyline of the Fraternity compound. It was ancient in aesthetic—rough-hewn blocks fitted together with mathematical precision—but clearly new construction. Work crews moved around its base like ants, and Coulson could see the tower already stretched well over a thousand meters into the sky.
And it wasn't finished.
What purpose could such a structure serve? Why build something so monumental, so visible? The Fraternity had always operated with careful secrecy, yet here they were constructing a landmark that could probably be seen from space.
The door opened, pulling Coulson from his thoughts.
Smith Doyle walked in, looking exactly as casual and unconcerned as he had during their previous meetings. He wore simple clothes, moved with relaxed confidence, and showed no sign of being the man who'd casually dominated the Hulk on international television.
Coulson stood immediately, offering a respectful nod. "Mr. Doyle. Thank you for seeing me."
Smith smiled slightly, gesturing for Coulson to sit back down. "Coulson. Always a pleasure. What brings you by today? Here to deliver my credentials?"
Coulson settled back into his chair. "Actually, your credentials and Consultant Stark's are ready, but I'm not authorized to deliver them. Director Fury wants you and Mr. Stark to come to S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters to collect them in person."
He pulled a formal letter from his jacket. "With these credentials, you'll have access to headquarters and certain classified facilities. Consider it official recognition of your consultant status."
Smith took the letter, scanning it briefly. Surprise flickered across his features—genuine surprise, which Coulson noted carefully. "I expected Fury to drag this out for months. Didn't think we'd see actual credentials until the Avengers were already assembled."
"Thor's arrival accelerated certain timelines," Coulson said diplomatically.
"I suppose it would." Smith set the letter aside. "I'll coordinate with Tony. We'll make time to visit headquarters soon."
Coulson nodded. "I appreciate that. Though I'll be honest, delivering that letter wasn't the only reason I came."
"I didn't think so," Smith said, his tone friendly but his eyes sharp. "What does S.H.I.E.L.D. need?"
Coulson took a breath. This was the delicate part. "We'd like to request some of the fragments from the Iron Giant that you collected in New Mexico"
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