Bruce didn't slow down once he left the mansion gates, his footsteps quick and purposeful. The night air was cool, but his pulse was still pounding, carrying him down the dimly lit road toward the bus stop—he had to catch the last bus. Yet, no matter how fast his feet moved, his mind was stuck on a loop, replaying the final few seconds of the fight over and over again.
Bruce reached the bus stop and finally slowed, drawing in a deep breath to steady the rush in his chest. The pounding in his ears began to fade, replaced by a strange, bubbling excitement. For the first time since stepping into that fight, a small smile tugged at his lips.
Throughout the match, he had been frustrated by his own clumsy attack delivery—his defense was rock-solid, but every strike lacked the weight to do any real damage. Yet what happened in those final seconds… he hadn't expected it.
His chi had moved.
Not by force, not by conscious control, but as if it had heard him—responding instinctively to the thought of this is the moment. At the exact instant his fist connected with Feng Jinhai's body, that faint, elusive current surged down his arm, gathering in his hand. It wasn't a flood; just a wisp, a flicker. But it had been enough.
Enough to drop Feng Jinhai—someone with a solid physique and respectable martial skill—like his legs had been cut out from under him.
Bruce's pulse quickened again, not from exertion this time, but from exhilaration. He could still remember the sensation clearly—the subtle warmth, the sharp snap at the point of contact, and the satisfying way it resonated through his bones.
If that was the result of a mere hint of chi… what would happen when he learned to control it?
The final bus screeched to a stop, its doors hissing open. Bruce boarded quickly, slid into a seat near the back, and leaned his head against the window. The city lights blurred past as the bus rolled away from the mansion district, heading toward the heart of the city.
It would be about a forty–minute ride. Plenty of time for his thoughts to keep replaying the fight in his mind, but he forced himself to breathe and settle.
When the bus neared a familiar street, Bruce got off one stop earlier than usual. He crossed the quiet road and stepped into a dimly lit public phone booth, the glass walls fogged from the night air. Dropping a coin into the slot, he dialed Tao's number from memory.
The line clicked.
"Hello? Who is this?" Tao's voice came through, slightly muffled.
"It's me," Bruce replied simply.
There was a short pause before Tao's tone sharpened with concern.
"Are you alright?"
"Yeah, I'm fine," Bruce said, trying to sound casual. "Just calling to let you know I'll be home in a few minutes."
Tao didn't sound convinced.
"…Wait. Did you skip the fight? The party started at nine, and you're already almost home at—what—ten-thirty?"
Bruce smirked to himself and added a light, teasing tone.
"What, you didn't have any confidence in me?"
"That's not what I—!" Tao's voice rose quickly, sounding almost panicked.
Bruce chuckled and cut in before the worry turned into a lecture.
"Kidding. Relax. I won the fight."
There was dead air for half a second, and then Tao's voice practically jumped through the receiver.
"You WHAT?!"
"I'll tell you tomorrow," Bruce said, faking a yawn. "Too tired right now."
"You can't just drop that and hang up—" Tao started, but Bruce was already easing the conversation toward an end.
"Tomorrow. Café. My treat."
"…Fine," Tao said reluctantly. "Tomorrow, then."
"Goodnight, Tao."
"Yeah. Goodnight."
The call clicked off. Bruce stepped out of the booth, the cool night air brushing against his face. He slipped his hands into his pockets and began the short walk toward Uncle's shop, the streetlamps casting long shadows across the quiet road.
The image of Feng crumpling to the ground replayed in his mind again and again as his fist connected.
A grin tugged at the corner of his lips as he walked beneath the dim glow of the streetlamps. His heart raced with the memory, excitement bubbling in his chest.
Even if his technique had been clumsy, even if his body couldn't generate proper force yet, his Chi had stepped in to cover for him. Voluntarily. 'It listened to me and answered'
The thought was intoxicating. All those nights of meditation, Uncle's warnings, Jackie's lessons—they weren't for nothing. He was finally beginning to touch that world.
By the time the familiar sign of the antique shop came into view, Bruce's face was flushed with suppressed excitement. He slowed his steps, forcing his expression back into calm before pushing open the side door quietly
the shop's door as quietly as he could, but the soft creak of the hinges betrayed him. Inside, the warm lamplight spilled across the counter where Jackie sat hunched over a book. His brow furrowed in concentration, but the moment he noticed Bruce, his eyes lifted.
"You're back," Jackie said casually, though his gaze lingered a little too long, as if checking Bruce's condition. "How was the movie?"
Bruce forced a relaxed smile, keeping his tone steady. "It was good. An action film—lots of fighting."
Jackie gave a small nod
"It's late. Get some rest."
"Yeah," Bruce said, still wearing a faint smile. "Goodnight, Jackie."
"Goodnight, Little Cousin" Jackie replied, already turning back to his book.
Upstairs, Bruce let out a slow breath. He slipped into the bathroom, letting the hot shower wash away the lingering sweat and tension of the fight. The water beat against his skin helped him settle the whirlwind of thoughts and excitement inside.
When he stepped out, dressed in fresh clothes, he felt lighter—both in body and mind.
Finally, he entered his room, closed the door gently behind him, and sat on the edge of his bed. The night outside was quiet, but in his chest, his heart still beat fast with the memory of Chi responding to him.
He sat cross-legged on his bed, back straight, hands resting lightly on his knees. The room was silent safe for the faint hum of the city outside,
but within himself, he sought deeper stillness. Closing his eyes, he slowed his breathing, his consciousness drifting inward until he felt the familiar ebb and flow of his chi. It was calm, like a river at rest, quietly circulating through his body.
He tried to recall that fleeting moment from the fight—the spark, the surge that had answered his thoughts. Focusing, he imagined the same sensation, the flow rushing to his hand as it had before. Yet… nothing happened.
The chi remained undisturbed, moving with its usual rhythm.
He inhaled and exhaled softly and didn't give up.
Again and again, he tried, replaying the memory of his strike against Feng Jinhai. Each attempt ended the same way: stillness, no response.
Then a thought struck him—he had not merely wanted to move his chi back then. He had been intent on landing a decisive blow, his body and mind united in that single determination. Perhaps that was the key.
With renewed focus, he closed his eyes tighter, imagining his right fist driving forward, carrying the weight of his intent.
As the image sharpened, he felt it—the faintest ripple beneath the calm current of his chi, like a small wave disturbing a still pond.
His heart quickened. Bruce leaned into the feeling, repeating the thought, letting his will and chi align. Slowly, with patience and persistence, the ripple grew. After several minutes of concentrated effort, something shifted.
A thin wisp of energy stirred inside him and rushed toward his right hand. Heat gathered at his knuckles, and when Bruce finally opened his eyes, he saw it: a faint, golden mist clinging to the edge of his fist.
It shimmered softly, delicate yet undeniably real, as though his hand was poised to deliver a blow that carried more than just flesh and bone.
Bruce stared in awe, his lips parting in disbelief. For the first time, he had voluntarily called upon his chi with his intent and it had answered.
A grin lingered on Bruce's face as he stared at the faint golden mist dancing over his knuckles.
The glow wavered, flickering like a candle in the wind, before finally dispersing back into the calm current within him. He exhaled slowly, shoulders easing.
Tiredness washed over him all at once—the long day, the fight, the bus ride, and now this small breakthrough had drained him more than he realized. Still, satisfaction filled his chest.
He had touched something that really marked progress.
With that thought, Bruce let himself collapse backward onto the bed. The pillow was cool against his head, and the fatigue pulled him under almost instantly.
A soft smile lingered on his lips as sleep claimed him and he drifted off not just exhausted, but accomplished.
[Next Morning]
The cool dawn air carried the faint scent of tea leaves as Bruce descended the stairs. Uncle sat near the training area, steam curling from his cup, the pot resting neatly on the low table.
Jackie was already limbering up in the center, arms stretching as his joints cracked softly in the quiet morning.
"Good morning, Uncle. Good morning, Jackie," Bruce greeted.
Uncle gave his usual curt nod. "Hmph. Morning."
Jackie smiled warmly. "Morning, cousin. Ready for training?"
Bruce inhaled deeply, steadied his racing heart, and said, "Actually… before that, I have something important to show you."
Both paused, curiosity flickering across their faces. Bruce clenched his right fist and raised it for them to see. A faint golden mist shimmered around his knuckles—subtle, yet undeniable.
Jackie froze mid-stretch, eyes widening. Uncle's cup nearly slipped from his grasp.
"Chi…" Uncle whispered, almost disbelieving.
In the next instant, he was on his feet, stepping quickly to Bruce's side.
He grabbed Bruce's wrist firmly, bringing the fist closer to his eyes. The mist shimmered faintly again, dancing like golden breath clinging to his knuckles.
Jackie came beside him, his mouth half open, words stuck in his throat.
Uncle's usually sharp, critical gaze trembled. His lips parted as he muttered in awe, "A natural… his chi listens already…"
Jackie finally found his voice, though it came out as a whisper. "This… this isn't normal, Uncle."
Both men stood frozen in disbelief, staring at Bruce's fist as if the boy had just shown them the key to a locked world.
Bruce, seeing their reaction, felt his chest tighten. This was real. What he did last night wasn't just a fluke—it was the beginning.
Uncle's sharp eyes narrowed, not with suspicion, but with deep confusion.
"This…" Uncle muttered, voice low and heavy, "this is control one achieves only after maturing one's Lotus Bud. Only then can chi be controlled to take form outside the body. But you…" His gaze flicked up to Bruce's face, searching for deception. "You have not even formed a Lotus seed yet."
Jackie frowned, lowering his arms. "That doesn't make sense, Uncle. This…" He gestured at the little shimmering mist around Bruce's fist. "This is clearly chi. And Bruce is making it appear."
Both of them looked at Bruce, waiting.
He just shifted awkwardly, lowering his fist slightly. "I… I think you're misunderstanding."
Jackie tilted his head. "Misunderstanding?"
Bruce hesitated, then spoke slowly. "I wasn't controlling it. Not really. All I did was… visualize. I thought of striking with all my strength, and my chi—" He lifted his hand again, watching the faint glow flicker back to life. "—it just answered that thought. Like it had been waiting for me to ask."
Uncle's eyes widened slightly, then his brow furrowed deeper. Jackie glanced at him, concern etched across his face.
"You mean," Jackie said carefully, "you didn't direct it, or push it, or guide it through the meridians? You only thought of an intent, and it… moved on its own?"
Bruce nodded. "Exactly. I don't control it. I think it, I feel it… and my chi responds."
Uncle released Bruce's wrist, taking a step back, his expression unreadable. His silence stretched until the air itself seemed tense. Finally, he exhaled a long breath.
"This is different," he said gravely. "This cannot be measured by our progress, Jackie. You must remember, unlike our chi—disciplined, obedient, cultivated—your chi has a will of its own. It listens… and chooses to answer."
Jackie looked back at Bruce, unsettled. "A chi that moves by intent alone… Uncle, that's—"
"Wild," Uncle interrupted, his tone sharper than usual. His eyes fixed on Bruce like twin needles. "Wild, and dangerous."
____________________________________________________________________________
Hi guys,
Check out my new fanfiction!
The Mortal Multiverse : Liam Raven Harper
Synopsis: In a world where legends and icons coexist, the extraordinary is stripped of superpowers and grounded in human ambition.
Here, Captain America stands as the first and only enhanced soldier, now a seventy-five-year-old leader of S.H.I.E.L.D.
Tony Stark is a genius heir working under his father and runs the R&D department of Stark Industries.
Bruce Wayne has vanished from public life for three years, while figures like Joker, Deadshot, Norman Osborn, and Dr. Octavius manipulate the shadows of crime and power.
On the lighter side, sitcom icons such as Charlie Harper, Sheldon Cooper, Barney Stinson, and Harvey Specter play their roles in this strange but vivid reality.
Into this intricate world awakens Liam Harper, the younger brother of Charlie and Alan Harper, son of the sharp-witted Evelyn Harper. Unlike the others, Liam carries a secret—he has been reborn from another Earth, equipped with a mysterious AI assistant and a unique system granting access to powerful potions.
But Liam's existence is no accident. The God of Entertainment, a capricious deity who thrives on drama, conflict, and spectacle, has placed him here for one purpose: to entertain.
Every relationship Liam forges, every enemy he faces, and every decision he makes is part of a grand performance meant to captivate the god's gaze.
Balancing his career in law with the dangers of enhancement, Liam must navigate a high-stakes landscape of cutthroat corporations, political intrigue, and ruthless villains.
From courtroom battles to boardroom wars, from sitcom hilarity to criminal underworlds, Liam's journey will demand every ounce of wit, courage, and strategy he possesses.
In this world, survival isn't about capes or powers—it's about money, influence, and the razor's edge of human enhancement. And as the God of Entertainment watches, the question remains: will Liam rise as a player in this multiverse of legends, or become just another forgotten act in the show?
Mortal Multiverse
Suits (Primary)
Two and A Half Men
The Big Bang Theory
How I Met Your Mother
Characters from Marvel
Characters from DC
[Dear readers, if you're enjoying this fan fiction, I'd love to hear your thoughts—so don't forget to leave a comment! Your support means the world to me. If you'd like to help the story grow, If you like my work consider dropping power stones and adding it to your collection. Every bit of encouragement keeps me inspired to write more!]