So, Danny became the Iron Fist.
It wasn't a huge surprise, given his blatant protagonist luck. The process was, of course, a little bumpy.
He had to face his own internal demons and battle a fearsome dragon, a narrative beat that felt less like a genuine struggle and more like a necessary rite of passage for a chosen one but a few plot holes and some unknown help from a great secret mystery about his life that's still unsolved, got him there.
He emerged from his final trial a new man.
It took him two full months to gain a semblance of control over his new abilities.
During that time, his body transformed, his strength and stamina increasing drastically. His speed, agility, and endurance were all boosted to near-superhuman levels.
Watching the old man, Lei Kung, easily beat him was deeply satisfying. Lei Kung didn't just beat him; he taught him humility and control.
Unfortunately for me, sparring with Danny became a much more difficult and painful experience. Because when it was my turn, I became a frequent victim.
He simply couldn't fully control his new strength, and my higher pain tolerance was pushed to its absolute limit as I absorbed his accidental blows. Each session left me bruised and battered, a living testament to his "learning curve."
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Three months passed..... Danny finally had a solid grasp of his abilities.
And just as the calendar flipped to the beginning of June, the gates connecting Kunlun to the rest of the world finally opened.
It was time for us to leave. As productive as my time here had been, it was also boring as hell. I had my own agenda, after all.
I wanted to search for my maternal grandparents, but aside from their names—Lei Wuhan and Lei Xueli—I had no leads. I decided to leave the search to my own grandfather and his resources.
Due to Danny's request, our first stop was New York. He wanted to take a look at Rand Industries, the global shipping company his father had left to him. I knew of them; they were one of the largest in the world.
I also just found out that my "poor martial artist" friend was, in fact, incredibly rich—even richer than me.
When we visited the company, the scene was exactly what you would expect from a hero's return face-slapping plot. We were unceremoniously refused entry.
The receptionist took one look at Danny's robes and scraggly beard and dismissed him as an imposter. And honestly, I didn't blame her.
He'd been missing for ten years, presumed dead, and his current getup made him look more like a poor sod than the owner of a multinational corporation.
Of course, the guy had to make a scene. He started a fight with security, leaping around the lobby like a hyperactive circus monkey until the police arrived. I, of course, had gotten away from him as soon as the first punch was thrown.
There was no way I was getting involved in such "barbarian and uncivilized behavior."
My self-preservation instinct was far stronger than my sense of loyalty to a friend who was actively trying to get himself arrested.
It was only after a man who looked like he owned the place said something that Danny was finally let go. When he finally found me, I was sitting on a bench on the side of the lobby, watching the whole thing unfold.
"Dude, where were you the whole time?" he asked, a mix of anger and bewilderment in his voice.
"Right there," I said, pointing to my spot.
"So you were just sitting there watching this whole time?"
"Yes?"
"You could've helped me!" he shot back.
"Helped you how?" I retorted. "By joining you and acting like an accomplice to a thug who started a brawl in a corporate lobby? No thank you." I wasn't about to get a criminal record for his sake.
"Ugh, fair point," he sighed. "But you could testify to my identity."
"Nah, won't help."
"Why not?"
"One, you look like a street hobo, not 'Daniel Thomas Rand.' Two, the identity documents I got from Kunlun have zero credibility. And three, watching you jump around was amusing. Don't worry, I even got a video," I finished with a smirk.
"That's harsh."
"You're used to it," I said, getting up. "Let's go."
After that fiasco, we went and bought cell phones. Danny set off to find a place to stay, while I went to dig up whatever information I could.
I considered going to my own company's New York branch but realized I'd probably get the same treatment. I decided to save that option for later, a decision I was glad for, as the mess that cropped up proved to be a lot more troublesome than expected.
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I met up with Danny three hours later at a place he'd found. It was a dojo owned by a beautiful woman named Colleen Wing.
Protagonist's beauty radar, I thought cynically. How else would he find a hidden dojo with a beautiful owner in the alleys of New York?
The place was small, but it had a sense of calm about it. Colleen, a fiery, no-nonsense martial artist, decided to hire us after a quick test, and just like that, we had a place to stay.
And the very next thing we know, just as it always happens when the hero meets the heroine, shit hits the fan.
Three hours after Danny met Colleen, killers came after us—mostly Danny, I believed. I had a feeling this was going to be a long couple of weeks.
I kind of expected it. That's how origin stories unfold: with a complicated past, a troublesome family history, and villains in the story with a dash of unexpected betrayal.
My plan was simple: stay alive, watch the drama, and pitch in just enough to speed up the plot so I could go home fast. I mean, I love the guy like a brother, but this whole movie-style plot was starting to get on my nerves.
Over the next two weeks, we had multiple run-ins with hitmen and did some digging. Danny eventually met with his father's lawyer, who accompanied him to the company with some evidence. But then, to my eternal frustration, Danny disappeared for four days.
I was about to infiltrate Rand Industries myself when he showed up with a wounded woman in tow. Fuck you, Danny, I thought. Just... fuck you.
I'd had enough. I asked Colleen for help, and with that, I tied him up and demanded he spill everything. And boy, was I surprised by the sheer stupidity of his plan.
Apparently, the second-largest shareholder, Harold Meachum, was alive and had told Danny he was being controlled by The Hand, an ancient group of chi masters and enemies of several generations of the Iron Fist.
His plan? To fight the Hand alone to free the Meachum scum.
Tied up in the dojo, I beat him up—partly to vent my frustration at his foolish plan, and partly for the grudge I held for always losing and getting beaten up in our spars.
After that, I told him what I believed to be the truth and had him dump his plan to follow mine. His hero complex was out of control, and it was my job as his "brother" to bring him back to reality.