Mordo's unconscious body rocketed across New York's skyline at terminal velocity, blood streaming from his shattered mouth, trajectory as precise as an artillery shell.
He didn't hit the ground.
Golden light bloomed in the air three miles from the Fraternity headquarters. A portal materialized directly in Mordo's flight path, and the Ancient One stepped through with the casual grace of someone who'd been expecting this exact outcome.
She caught her student with a gesture, telekinetic magic cushioning his momentum and bringing him to a gentle stop. Mordo floated beside her, unconscious, face swollen and discolored, teeth missing, robes torn and bloodstained.
The Ancient One sighed, the sound carrying millennia of disappointed patience.
She'd given Mordo the Dragon Ball for three specific reasons.
First: to show him that Kamar-Taj wasn't the only source of power on Earth. That mystic arts, while formidable, were one tool among many. That humility came from recognizing strength in others, not assuming superiority because of one's training.
Second: to challenge his rigid adherence to natural law and cosmic balance. Mordo saw the universe in absolutes—light and dark, natural and unnatural, permitted and forbidden. The Dragon Balls existed outside those categories, granting wishes without regard for cosmic equilibrium. She'd hoped exposure to that reality would soften his dogmatism.
Third—and perhaps most importantly—to establish a relationship with Smith Doyle.
Mordo was one of her most talented students, second only to the future arrival of Stephen Strange. When she passed the mantle of Sorcerer Supreme to Strange, she'd envisioned Mordo serving as a bridge between Kamar-Taj and the Fraternity. Two protectors of Earth working in coordination, each respecting the other's domain.
The Ancient One had foreseen many timelines. In most of them, Mordo's rigidity would lead him down dark paths—hunting sorcerers who bent rules he considered sacred, enforcing his vision of natural law through violence and zealotry.
She'd hoped the Dragon Ball tournament would change that trajectory. Show him a world more complex than his philosophy allowed. Help him grow.
Instead, he'd attacked Smith Doyle in the man's own headquarters.
The Ancient One closed her eyes briefly. The Time Stone, resting against her chest beneath her robes, pulsed with potential. She could restore Mordo's body instantly—rewind his personal timeline to before the injuries, erase the physical consequences of his hubris.
She chose not to.
Some lessons required pain. Required consequence. If she simply healed him and sent him back unchanged, he'd learn nothing except that the Ancient One would always clean up his mistakes.
Better to let the broken teeth and shattered pride remind him that actions had weight. That crossing boundaries carried costs.
The Ancient One opened a portal directly to Kamar-Taj's medical wing and guided Mordo's floating body through. Healers would tend to him—the conventional way, slowly, giving him time to reflect on how spectacularly his self-righteousness had failed.
As the portal closed, she allowed herself a moment of bitter humor.
How did my careful planning turn out like this?
Wenwu's family quarters in the Fraternity headquarters were spacious and comfortable—a full apartment with traditional Chinese furnishings mixed with modern amenities. Ying Li had spent the last hour arranging flowers in a ceramic vase, finding comfort in the familiar ritual.
The alarm had disrupted that peace, sending her heart racing with remembered fear.
Now, with Wenwu returned and the facility calm again, she needed to understand what had happened.
"Wenwu," she said softly, setting down her gardening shears. "I heard the alarm earlier. What happened?"
Shang-Chi and Xialing looked up from their positions on the sofa, curiosity evident. They'd been reviewing Fraternity organizational charts—learning the structure of the organization their father had joined.
Wenwu settled into his favorite chair, the Ten Rings gleaming on his forearms. "A sorcerer from Kamar-Taj named Karl Mordo visited Smith. I don't know the specifics of their conversation, but Mordo said something that provoked violence."
His expression turned grim. "Smith beat him severely. Then threw him back toward the Himalayas at supersonic speed."
Xialing's eyebrows rose. "He attacked a sorcerer? Aren't they supposed to be incredibly powerful?"
"This one wasn't powerful enough," Wenwu replied dryly. "Mordo challenged Smith in Smith's own headquarters. The outcome was... predictable."
"He came for the Dragon Balls," Shang-Chi observed, his analytical mind piecing together the pattern. "That's the only thing that would bring a Kamar-Taj mystic here. He must have thought he could pressure or intimidate Smith into granting a wish outside the tournament."
Xialing snorted. "Arrogant fool. The Dragon Balls are sacred artifacts. Smith's been incredibly generous just allowing people to compete for wishes. This mystic clearly didn't understand the gift he was being offered."
Shang-Chi nodded agreement. "Objects of that power will attract attention from powerful beings across Earth and beyond. The fact that Smith can protect the Dragon Balls from all those threats while still offering fair competition is remarkable."
Wenwu felt a surge of paternal pride. His children understood. They'd grasped what it took him a thousand years to learn—that true power came with responsibility, and that generosity from the strong should be recognized, not exploited.
"The leader's strength is..." Wenwu paused, choosing words carefully. "When he manifested his full power during the fight, I felt death standing beside me. The aura alone was overwhelming. I don't know how Mordo survived the encounter—Smith must have shown considerable restraint."
Ying Li released a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. "So the danger is past? The facility is secure?"
"Yes." Wenwu reached over and squeezed her hand. "You're safe here. We all are."
The reassurance settled her nerves, but brought another concern to the surface. Ying Li had been thinking about this for days, ever since the disorientation of resurrection had faded enough to plan for the future.
"Wenwu," she began, voice quiet but determined. "After your formal induction ceremony this Saturday, I'd like you to take me and the children back to Ta Lo."
Wenwu's expression shifted surprise mixed with something darker. Old wounds reopening.
"Now that I've been resurrected," Ying Li continued, "my family there deserves to know I'm alive. They mourned me for years. I can't let them continue grieving when I can bring them peace."
She glanced at Shang-Chi and Xialing, her heart aching for the years she'd missed. "But there's another reason. This world isn't as peaceful as it was when I was last alive. I've seen the news, heard the stories."
Her voice strengthened. "Our children are still relatively weak by the standards of this new world. In Ta Lo, they could learn to master the power of the Great Protector—the dragon force that flows through our people's bloodline."
Shang-Chi and Xialing exchanged glances, excitement and uncertainty warring on their faces.
Wenwu's jaw tightened. Ta Lo. The mystical village that had rejected him, that had forced Ying Li to choose between her heritage and her love. The paradise that had indirectly caused her death.
If Ying Li hadn't abandoned the dragon's power to be with him, she would have survived that attack. Would never have died.
Ta Lo's rejection had set that tragedy in motion.
But looking at his children—Shang-Chi with his mother's eyes and thoughtful nature, Xialing with her fierce independence and sharp mind—Wenwu recognized they needed every advantage this dangerous world could offer.
"The dragon's power," he said slowly. "You believe they can inherit it?"
"They carry my bloodline," Ying Li replied. "If Ta Lo's elders permit it, if the Great Protector accepts them, yes. The power would give them strength beyond normal human limits, protection against supernatural threats, and connection to their heritage."
She moved to kneel beside his chair, taking both his hands. "I know Ta Lo holds painful memories for you. But our children deserve the chance to claim their mother's legacy."
Wenwu was silent for a long moment, the Ten Rings pulsing with ambient energy as his emotions churned. Pride, resentment, love, old anger—all mixing together.
Finally, he nodded. "After the ceremony, we'll speak with Smith about arranging transport. I'll take you and the children to Ta Lo." His voice hardened slightly. "But if the elders try to separate our family again, if they attempt to force any of you to stay—"
"They won't," Ying Li said firmly. "I'm not a naive girl anymore. I'm a mother who's returned from death. They'll respect that, or they'll answer to both of us."
The steel in her voice made Wenwu smile. This was the woman he'd fallen in love with—gentle when appropriate, but immovable when family was at stake.
"Then it's settled," he said. "We'll visit Ta Lo together."
One week later, Airbus One touched down at the Fraternity's private airstrip just after sunset. The aircraft's engines whined down from flight power, ground crews already moving into position for post-flight inspection.
The rear ramp lowered, and Selene emerged first, followed by her strike team. Wesley, John Wick, Eddie Brock—all looking exhausted in ways that went beyond physical fatigue. Behind them came the vampire squad, their enhanced physiology unable to completely mask the mental strain they'd endured.
Fox waited at the bottom of the ramp, tablet in hand. "Welcome back. Mission successful?"
"Completely." Selene's voice carried grim satisfaction. "Every identified cyber-fraud compound has been eliminated. No survivors among willing participants, no chance for the operations to relocate and rebuild."
She walked toward the main building, Fox falling into step beside her. The others followed, forming a loose procession.
"The week was..." Selene paused, searching for words. "Brutal. Not in combat terms—these weren't trained soldiers. But in scope. We hit seven major facilities across Myanmar's northern border region. Each one was a factory of human misery."
Wesley's voice came from behind, uncharacteristically subdued. "Thousands of victims. Some imprisoned for years. The things we found in those compounds—"
He stopped. Didn't finish the sentence. Didn't need to.
Eddie Brock's Venom-enhanced form rippled beneath his skin, the symbiote's presence agitated. "We killed them all. Every trafficker, every guard, every manager who knew what was happening. Venom wanted to make it slow, but we settled for thorough."
John Wick walked in silence, his expression the controlled blankness of someone processing atrocities. The Reaper symbiote had given him enhanced efficiency in executing targets, but even supernatural enhancement couldn't erase the weight of what they'd witnessed.
The vampire squad looked worse. Their ability to read blood memories—to experience victims' suffering firsthand through consumed blood—had left them traumatized in ways physical combat never could.
"The memory extraction nearly broke them," Selene said quietly to Fox. "Each vampire on the team consumed blood from traffickers to gather intelligence. Every memory was worse than the last—the cruelty, the systematic dehumanization, the casual evil."
She glanced back at her people. "They're resilient. They'll recover. But this was harder than any conventional military operation."
Fox made notes on her tablet. "The bounty system performed beyond projections. Over three hundred registered assassins participated across Southeast Asia. Total elimination count exceeds two thousand traffickers, with compound seizures totaling forty-three facilities."
"The wanted order remains active?" Selene asked.
"Permanent standing contract," Fox confirmed. "Any cyber-fraud or organ trafficking operation that re-emerges will be met with immediate Brotherhood response. We're making the entire category of crime financially unviable."
Selene nodded approval. "Good. These organizations survive because they think governments won't act and private forces won't commit the resources. We're teaching them otherwise."
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