The mask was in Tony Stark's hand; with just a little force, Hong Fei's face would be clearly exposed. At this moment, not only Tony Stark, but also Matt, and even Luke Cage, who was lying on the ground recovering slightly, cast their attentive gazes. However, right in the midst of their expectant gazes, Tony Stark's movements suddenly paused. It was as if Ancient One had activated the Time Stone. Tony Stark held the mask, motionless; Matt tilted his head with a frown; Luke Cage stared at Tony Stark without blinking.
In Hong Fei's two slots, "Hidden Identity" and "Telepathy" had already been activated. Under the sudden burst of telepathic power, he successfully disintegrated Tony Stark's will and temporarily controlled his body. Tony Stark's willpower was indeed commendable in some respects, but at this stage, he also had obvious weaknesses, such as arrogance, pride, and narcissism. Using telepathic power to suddenly amplify these emotions, Tony Stark's mind instantly sank into them, and his mental defenses immediately fell. Hong Fei breathed a sigh of relief.
Soon, the strange impulse in his body faded rapidly, and the energy from breaking through the first stage churned ceaselessly, its total volume having doubled compared to before. In front of the two slots, a third slot quickly took shape. Taking a look at Tony Stark, under the influence of Telepathy, he was currently immersed in the pride of his countless past research successes and the overwhelming praise from all sorts of people; he firmly believed that he could accomplish anything and believed that everyone's praise was heartfelt.
As the thought arose, Tony Stark retracted his arm, then opened his faceplate. Jarvis was calling out anxiously, and a clear alarm sound emanated from the Iron Man Armor. "Sir, I have detected that your neural activity is in an abnormally active state. Do you require my assistance?" "Sir, I do not recommend you do this. You are putting yourself in mortal danger." "Sir..." Tony Stark, under telepathic control, showed no abnormalities on the outside; his gaze was equally sharp, though his face looked slightly serious because it lacked expression.
Hong Fei slowly moved his body and said: "Jarvis, stop calling." Jarvis paused, and then the alarm sounds became even more urgent. Hong Fei: "Jarvis, turn off the alarm." Jarvis: "You do not have the authorization..." Tony Stark: "Jarvis, turn off the alarm." Jarvis: "Very well, sir." The alley quieted down; the moonlight was dim, and the lights inside the Iron Man Armor were exceptionally bright, illuminating Tony Stark's face with distinct clarity. Matt quietly walked over and helped Luke Cage up; both of them felt shocked by the sudden turn of events.
A moment later, Hong Fei exhaled a long breath, twisted his neck, and stepped toward Tony Stark. "Wait, what are you doing?" Matt asked. Hong Fei ignored him and continued approaching Tony Stark. Matt was about to step forward to stop him, but Luke Cage grabbed his wrist and whispered: "Don't be reckless; you are no match for him." Arriving in front of Tony Stark, Hong Fei first examined his Iron Man Armor carefully; it had to be said that apart from the first-generation tin can, every subsequent suit of Iron Man Armor was very much in line with the aesthetic preferences of most humans.
In the eyes of the vast majority of men, this was also a pure form of romance. Jarvis: "Sir, you are in danger now. Should I..." Hong Fei: "Shut up!" Jarvis: "You do not have..." Tony Stark: "Shut up." Jarvis: "Very well, sir." Looking at Tony Stark's face, Hong Fei really wanted to lock him up and beat him once every day. "Jarvis, you should have emergency avoidance authorization, right?" Hong Fei suddenly asked. Jarvis: "I cannot disclose that." Hong Fei smiled, stepped on the ground and flicked his foot; the Cross-blade was in his hand.
Here's the polished version with improved flow, natural dialogue, and stronger prose while preserving all original content:
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The Iron Man armor's energy core flared to life, humming with lethal intent. "Tell him if we meet like this again," Hong Fei said, twisting his wrist in a fluid motion, "I'll stab him in the kidney, neck, or even the head." The blade flashed, piercing through the open faceplate into Tony Stark's shoulder. Halfway in, Stark's expression contorted—pain cutting through whatever haze had clouded his mind.
JARVIS reacted instantly. The faceplate slammed shut as the armor jerked backward. Hong Fei yanked the blade free, dodging the retaliatory pulse cannons with a nimble leap. Inside the suit, Stark grimaced while life support systems pumped him full of coagulants and painkillers. "Sir, you're losing blood rapidly," JARVIS warned. Stark blinked, disoriented. "What just—? I had him under control!"
The AI swiftly recounted events. Stark's shock mirrored his confusion. Below, Hong Fei gave a mocking wave. "That bastard actually stabbed me again!" Stark snarled, thrusters flaring—until JARVIS interjected, "Sir, the opponent may possess mental influence capabilities. Retreat is advisable until countermeasures are developed." The armor hesitated mid-dive, then ascended.
Stark's voice crackled over external speakers, tight with pain. "Hiss… Just wait. I'll remember this." Hong Fei flipped him off. "Spare the theatrics. You've got enough to remember already—go patch yourself up!" A metallic snort echoed as the armor banked sharply, streaking toward the horizon. Hong Fei turned to Matt and Luke Cage. Both men tensed, bracing for another fight.
He dismissed them with a flick of his wrist. "We're done here." Matt stayed rooted, suspicion etched across his face, while Luke Cage edged backward. Hong Fei tilted his blade, sunlight glinting off steel. "What, you want a taste?" The threat hung in the air. Matt opened his mouth—only for Luke to clamp a hand over it, hauling him away. "Nope! We're leaving. Goodbye!" They vanished around the corner before Hong Fei could blink.
Pocketing the skill card, Hong Fei melted into the shadows. Stark's warning about hidden cameras in Hell's Kitchen kept him wary; he zigzagged through the city for hours before finally heading home. Back at the manor, he peeled off the mask, wiped sweat from his brow, and strode toward the bathroom, grinning.
Meanwhile, at the Long Island villa, Stark stumbled out of his armor, clutching a blood-soaked sleeve. Pepper gasped, hands flying to her mouth. Immediately after, she hurriedly stepped forward to help Tony onto the couch, summoning a robotic arm to stitch and bandage the wound. Her relief lasted all of two seconds before she fixed him with a glare. "Tony Stark, we are going to the hospital."
"Hospital? No way. This is nothing—you did great. It'll heal in no time." He waved her off, wincing. Pepper crossed her arms. "You're impossible." Stark flashed a pained smirk. "And yet you love me."
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He absolutely couldn't risk going to the hospital—tomorrow's headlines would scream about Tony Stark, the invincible Iron Man, getting stabbed by some random assailant and rushed to the ER. The humiliation alone made his skin crawl. Better to bleed out in private than endure the endless jokes and sideways glances. Let the wound fester, let the fever burn; anything was preferable to becoming tabloid fodder.
Polished version:
He couldn't possibly go to the hospital—tomorrow's tabloids would have a field day. "Iron Man Tony Stark Stabbed by Mystery Attacker!" splashed across every front page. The thought made him nauseous. He'd never live it down. Years from now, people would still bring it up at parties just to watch him squirm.
He could not possibly go to the hospital; otherwise, he believed the shame alone might kill him faster than any infection. Let the wound rot. Let the fever take him. Anything was better than becoming a punchline.