Chapter Thirty-Five: Loki, Do You Remember That Leg Technique That Descends From the Heavens

Yang Xin harbored a curious doubt.

Whenever he encountered these superheroes—whether they were protagonists or supporting characters from the Marvel universe—the troublesome Treasure Distribution System would always generate some kind of artifact. Yet, when he met Thor, the God of Thunder, the system remained completely inert. Not only did it fail to produce any item suited to Thor, it didn’t so much as conjure a single hair.

Yang Xin had two theories.

First: perhaps only Earthlings could receive the system’s designated treasures. After all, the system itself had stated, “Only those fated may obtain my treasures.” Could it be that Thor, not being of Earth, was simply unrelated by fate?

Second: strength. Thor’s power and luck were simply too overwhelming; the system was unable to tap into a greater fortune at his side, and so, no treasures appeared.

Yang Xin leaned toward the second explanation—that it was a matter of power. He figured he’d have a better idea tomorrow after meeting Dr. Bruce Banner. After all, when Banner transformed into the Hulk, he was the only original Avenger who could go toe-to-toe with Thor, even if his consciousness was muddled in that state.

After a night of intimacy, Yang Xin boarded the S.H.I.E.L.D. Helicarrier the next morning, feeling refreshed and invigorated.

“Hello, Dr. Banner. I’ve heard so much about you.” Yang Xin shook hands with Bruce Banner, and his suspicion was confirmed—the system remained dormant, producing no treasures at all.

“Hello. Honestly, I’d rather call you Mister Marvelous than Special Consultant.” Banner had a look of world-weary understanding on his face—a look Yang Xin preferred to call composure.

“I’m sorry, Dr. Banner, but I can’t help you. There’s no great treasure suited for you, because you’re already too strong,” Yang Xin said apologetically, rubbing his nose.

“You mean the Hulk, right? He is strong, indeed.” Bruce Banner forced a wry smile, the bitterness tinged with a trace of helplessness that made one’s heart ache for him.

“No, he’s not ‘it’—he’s ‘he.’ The Hulk is another you, a person, not a monster. You ought to try accepting him rather than running away. I may not have a great gift for you, but I do have some words that might help…”

“When Heaven is about to place a great responsibility upon a person, it first tests their resolve, wearies their body and limbs, starves them, impoverishes them, and frustrates their plans, so as to strengthen their spirit and temper their will, increasing their abilities in ways they never imagined.”

Yang Xin spoke these words in precise Mandarin, and who knew how they sounded in Banner’s ears. But seeing Banner’s astonished and contemplative expression, Yang Xin sighed inwardly—his system might be unreliable, but in some ways, it was still formidable.

Translating these words into English was simple enough, but conveying the full resonance of their meaning was nearly impossible. After all, America’s history was but a few centuries deep, lacking the profound cultural heritage behind such lines. That’s why Yang Xin avoided quoting the Tao Te Ching or Analects, instead choosing a more widely known line from Mencius: “Born in adversity, die in comfort.”

“I could be a teacher,” Yang Xin thought with gratification as he watched Banner absorb the lesson. After all, Bruce Banner was a world-famous physicist with seven doctorate degrees to his name.

When Bruce Banner’s expression relaxed and his demeanor steadied, those nearby were amazed as well. Nick Fury let out a quiet sigh of relief: Mister Marvelous truly lived up to his name—one sentence was enough to put Banner at ease.

“Director! We’ve located Loki, the evil god! Target locked!” reported an agent.

“Move out. We can’t let Loki slip away again,” Fury ordered coldly.

Hill and Coulson remained on the Helicarrier while the team boarded a Quinjet, heading straight for Loki’s location. When they arrived, Loki was in the midst of displaying his medieval arrogance, demanding to be crowned king, insisting all present bow before him.

“Wow, a relic from the Middle Ages—older than your World War II antiques,” Tony Stark snarked, suiting up in his Iron Man armor and itching for action.

“Tony, let Cap handle this. Loki’s nothing—save your energy for a tougher opponent,” Yang Xin suddenly interjected.

“A tougher opponent?” Tony looked intrigued.

“Yes. Every time lightning flashes across the sky, an arrogant man in a red cape appears.”

“You mean—?” Tony’s eyes gleamed with a feverish light—the kind scientists reserved for lab mice.

“You’re saying Thor is coming?” Fury broke in.

“Of course. You have no idea how much Thor loves his brother.”

“I’m about to find out,” Fury replied.

“Alright then, leave Loki to me,” Captain America said calmly, unruffled.

“Go ahead, Cap,” Yang Xin encouraged, clapping him on the shoulder.

Captain America took the cue, opened the Quinjet hatch, and leaped out.

“He jumped? We’re nearly thirty thousand feet up!” Natasha exclaimed in shock.

“Don’t worry. Cap can fly,” Yang Xin reassured her, slipping an arm around her waist.

Strictly speaking, it wasn’t Captain America himself who could fly, but rather his transformed self as Ultraman Tiga, which remedied his one shortcoming.

On the ground, Loki was in the midst of another grandiose speech, only to be abruptly interrupted by a massive foot descending from the sky, knocking him face-first into the dirt.

“This is a god?” Captain America, now transformed into a life-sized Ultraman Tiga, looked down at Loki with disdain.

“Damn it! I’ve been looked down on by a mortal! I’m the one who usually looks down on others!” Enraged, Loki lunged with his scepter.

But in close combat, Loki was no match for Captain America—especially not after his transformation, and with the added advantage of flight.

Perhaps Cap didn’t want to bully Loki, or perhaps he couldn’t resist; either way, once he landed, he delivered a brutal kick, his right leg swinging like a giant axe and knocking Loki out cold.

Maybe it was the rage, but Loki was actually rendered unconscious by that kick.

“Not much of a fight. I could do this all day,” Captain America muttered, hoisting Loki’s limp form and soaring back to the Quinjet.

“Our hero returns,” Yang Xin clapped in welcome.

“That was too easy,” Captain America said, reverting to his normal form and tossing Loki to the floor.

“Indeed, too easy. It reeks of conspiracy, as if Loki wanted to be caught. And he’s not carrying the Tesseract,” Nick Fury said, frowning.

“There is a plot, but schemes only work when strength is evenly matched or close. When the gap is too great, a plot is just a joke,” Yang Xin thought, though he kept his knowledge to himself—it was sometimes a virtue not to speak the truth aloud.

“Shackle Loki,” Fury ordered coldly.

“I doubt any handcuffs on Earth can hold him. Let me handle it,” Yang Xin said. Under the group’s curious gaze, he reached into his four-dimensional pocket and pulled out a Mark VII Iron Man suit.

“You’re putting him in the Iron Man armor?” The group was astonished.