"Of course," Karl replied calmly. "Thirty jin."
Roughly thirty-three pounds.
Madam Gao's expression remained controlled, but even she could not entirely suppress the flicker in her eyes.
Karl continued:
"In exchange, I want the full list of S.H.I.E.L.D. operatives monitoring my estate. Names. Clearance levels. Command hierarchy."
He leaned back slightly.
"Quietly."
Madam Gao did not hesitate.
"The Hand can provide that within three days."
Offending S.H.I.E.L.D. was irrelevant. The Hand had clashed with intelligence agencies across continents for centuries. They survived because they moved through shadows.
Thirty jin of dragon bone was worth far more than friction with Fury.
Karl added casually:
"This is only a preliminary transaction."
Madam Gao understood immediately.
If he possessed this much dragon bone so casually…
Then he had accessed the primary source.
And that meant the balance of power beneath Manhattan had shifted permanently.
Karl waved his hand.
A massive fragment of dragon bone materialized on the table — golden veins glowing faintly within the fossilized structure.
It was heavy.
Dense.
Ancient.
"Payment clears first," Karl said calmly.
Madam Gao bowed slightly.
"You will have your funds within the hour."
She lifted the dragon bone with surprising steadiness and left without another word.
Karl did not doubt her.
The Hand's wealth was not theoretical — it had compounded over centuries through front corporations, shell funds, black-market trade, and generational investments.
Within forty minutes, ten billion dollars appeared in his account.
Upstairs, May nearly dropped her tablet when the notification arrived.
Karl did not react.
Money was leverage.
Nothing more.
Elsewhere — The Chaste
The Chaste, long-standing enemies of The Hand, had also sensed the surge of dragon bone energy during the exchange.
But by the time any scouts moved toward Karl's estate—
He was gone.
S.H.I.E.L.D. Headquarters
Steve Rogers awoke in a reconstructed 1940s hospital room.
The details were precise.
The radio broadcast.
The wallpaper.
The uniform.
Too precise.
Within minutes, Steve noticed discrepancies in the baseball game being broadcast.
He had attended that game.
The score was wrong.
He broke through the staged environment quickly — efficiently, not violently — neutralizing guards without lethal force.
When he emerged into Times Square, surrounded by modern skyscrapers and traffic noise—
He stopped.
Seventy years had passed.
Nick Fury approached calmly.
"We're not at war anymore," Fury said.
"Then why am I here?" Steve asked quietly.
"You've been asleep. Since 1945."
Steve absorbed it.
His breathing slowed.
"I had a date."
Fury didn't respond to that.
Instead, he handed Steve a tablet.
On it: footage.
Karl fighting the Destroyer.
The energy blasts.
The frozen streets.
The partial destruction.
"This man," Fury said evenly, "operates outside any jurisdiction. He destroyed a fortified installation overseas. Engaged enhanced combat in civilian zones. Thousands died in an incident in Clinton."
He did not explain what Clinton actually was — nor who inhabited it.
Fury omitted context.
Strategically.
"The world has changed," Fury continued. "We're forming a response initiative. The Avengers."
Steve kept watching the footage.
He did not respond emotionally.
He studied.
"He's powerful," Steve said finally.
"Yes."
"And you want me to fight him?"
"I want you to lead a team capable of responding to threats like him."
Important distinction.
Steve looked up.
"Are we sure he's the threat?"
Fury held his gaze.
"He refuses oversight."
That was technically true.
Steve exhaled slowly.
"If the world needs help, I'll help."
Fury allowed himself a nearly imperceptible nod.
"But I need to see Peggy first."
"That can be arranged."
Steve agreed to join — not out of manipulation, but out of responsibility.
That was who he was.
Karl, meanwhile, remained unaware of Fury's framing.
Even if he knew, he would not have cared.
Steve Rogers was exceptional by human standards.
But Karl operated far beyond that tier now.
The vibranium shield would not change that.
Only a handful of beings on Earth posed legitimate danger to him.
And none were currently moving.
Tony Stark's Mansion
Karl appeared inside the underground workshop without warning.
Helen Cho startled slightly — but did not scream.
Tony glanced up.
"Teleportation. Still showing off?"
Karl ignored him and turned to the woman beside him.
She was composed. Intelligent eyes. Professional posture.
Not flustered — merely assessing.
"Dr. Helen Cho," she introduced herself. "Bioengineering and regenerative systems."
"Karl," he replied. "I fund reckless engineering projects."
A faint smile touched her lips.
Tony interjected.
"He's the one who told me to find you. Your regenerative cradle tech? He knew about it."
Helen's eyes shifted slightly toward Karl.
"You have an interest in biomedical nanostructures?"
"Adaptive lattice regeneration," Karl replied calmly. "Your cradle uses vibranium as a cellular matrix stabilizer. That's the bridge toward programmable armor dispersion."
Helen blinked.
He understood the theory.
Interesting.
Tony smirked.
"See? I told you he's useful."
Karl glanced at Helen again — briefly amused.
He did not flirt recklessly.
He evaluated.
She was sharp.
And she knew it.
Tony leaned closer to her and added casually:
"He's not as idle as he looks."
Helen folded her arms thoughtfully.
"Then perhaps you should stop pretending to be a layabout."
Karl smiled faintly.
"Where's the fun in that?"
…
Visit patreon.com/ShiroTL to gain access to 40+ chapters