The Paragons transport leveled off somewhere over the Carolinas, the engine note dropping to a steady cruise.
Shang-Chi had been quiet since the plane left Rose Manor airspace. He made it through boarding, through the initial debrief exchange between T'Challa and Selene, through the first twenty minutes of flight — and then he couldn't sit with it anymore.
"Captain." He looked across the cabin at Selene. "Why did you trade the Dragon Ball to Tony Stark?"
He wasn't being accusatory. He was genuinely trying to understand how something that significant could change hands so cleanly, without apparent hesitation. In Shang-Chi's estimation, a Dragon Ball was a tournament entry — a chance at a wish — and the distance between having one and not having one was everything.
Chen Haoran's hand went up. "Apologies — I keep hearing 'Dragon Ball' like everyone knows what it means, and I clearly don't. Can someone explain?"
Six heads turned toward him. Six people who had each, in different capacities, been shaped by the Dragon Ball tournaments — as competitors, as spectators, as the ones who'd extended invitations. The one thing none of them had thought to do in six months of operating together was brief the newest member.
Selene held their eye contact for a moment and reached a quiet decision. Chen Haoran had proven himself over the past six months. He was steady in the field, reliable under pressure, loyal to the team. The longer she kept him operating without context, the more it looked like deliberate exclusion. That was a crack she didn't need in this unit.
"The Dragon Balls are sacred objects," she said. "Seven of them, scattered across the world. They're under the guardianship of our organization's leader — Mr. Smith Doyle."
She gave it to him plainly, without embellishment. Smith's decision to release the Dragon Balls into the world, the competition that followed, the rules governing collection and tournament qualification. The wish review process. The restrictions on what Shenron would grant.
Chen Haoran listened without interrupting. When she finished, he sat back slowly and stared at the ceiling of the transport.
"And Mr. Smith isn't worried about what people might wish for?"
"That's what the review process is for," Wesley said. "No destruction. No conquest. Nothing that serves evil. The dragon doesn't grant what Smith won't sanction."
"One ball on the open market runs about four million," Alexei offered helpfully.
Chen Haoran's mouth opened, then closed.
Wesley nodded. "That's why Shang-Chi's been wound up since the courtyard."
Shang-Chi didn't deny it. He looked at Selene again, waiting.
"As to why I traded it," Selene said, "because the next tournament field is going to be difficult in ways that are hard to overstate." She said it without self-pity, just as a fact to be worked with. "Even at my current level, I don't see myself past the second round. The gap between where I am and where the top competitors will be is still considerable."
Chen Haoran's expression shifted to open disbelief. "But you just put down five trained operatives in about two seconds."
"The Dragon Ball tournament isn't measured against operatives," Alexei said.
"Wesley can give you the short version of the previous tournament," Michael added. "That'll answer the question better than anything."
So Wesley did. He kept it clean and factual — the roster, the match outcomes, the scale of power on display during the second tournament. He watched Chen Haoran's expression move from skepticism through surprise and into the particular alertness of someone recalibrating everything they'd assumed.
By the end, Chen Haoran was leaning forward with his forearms on his knees. "I want to fight those people someday."
"Most of us do," Wesley said. "That's why we train."
Chen Haoran absorbed this, then turned to Shang-Chi. "If even the captain couldn't reliably advance past round two — what's your plan? You've been chasing this thing like it owes you something."
Shang-Chi was quiet for a moment. He'd spent the flight constructing several answers to this question and kept discarding them. Finally he just said it straight.
"I'm not doing it for myself." He looked at his hands. "After the Battle of New York, I spent time with some of the families. People who lost someone in the attack. I thought — if the Dragon Ball can grant any wish, and Smith is willing to allow resurrections — then maybe the people who died that day could come back. All of them."
The cabin went still.
T'Challa said nothing. Selene's expression stayed neutral, but something moved behind her eyes. Alexei stared at the floor with his arms crossed. It was the kind of silence that forms around a genuinely selfless thing when people aren't quite sure how to receive it.
Michael was the one who broke it, carefully. "One question. Can Shenron resurrect people in large numbers? I've only ever seen it done for one person at a time."
"Both times," Wesley added. "Once for Mr. Wick's wife, once for Wenwu's."
Shang-Chi blinked. The thought hadn't occurred to him, and now that it had, it landed like cold water. "You can only resurrect one person?"
"That's always been the pattern," Michael said. "I don't actually know if there's a hard limit, but..."
Wesley shook his head slowly. "I think about Mr. Wick. He killed half of New York's criminal infrastructure to get that Dragon Ball. If he could have wished for his dog along with his wife, I'm fairly confident he would have."
That drew a short exhale of surprised laughter from the far end of the cabin.
Chen Haoran had been listening, his brow creased. "Who is Mr. Wick? You mentioned a second champion — that wasn't him."
Everyone who knew the full story exchanged a glance. There was something about that particular thread — a man dismantling organized crime for reasons that had nothing to do with power or ambition — that defied a quick summary. Nobody offered one.
Shang-Chi had retreated somewhere inside his own thoughts. His voice came out quiet, without the certainty it usually carried. "I may have been getting ahead of myself. If it can only be one person..."
Selene watched him. She had the information to correct the room but she also didn't have standing to broadcast the full operational mechanics of the dragon's capabilities on a transport with mixed clearances. That was Smith's disclosure to make, or Wenwu's, or perhaps Shang-Chi would ask Smith directly when the time was right.
For now, she let the question stay open.
"We're on approach," she said, straightening. "Chen Haoran, Shang-Chi — go get our passengers ready for disembarkation."
The two of them stood and moved aft toward the detention section. The rest of the cabin listened to the engine tone shift as the transport began its descent toward New York.