Jack sat at the wooden dining table, his expression unnaturally calm, his movements precise as he pced his chopsticks down.

  For the first time in seven years, the table wasn't covered in sad piles of boiled weeds.

  No.

  It was glorious.

  Meats of all kinds—roasted duck, braised pork belly, grilled mb skewers, crispy chi thighs—each dish steaming with rich, intoxig fvors.

  And alcohol. Actual alcohol. A cy jug of aged wi beside the ptes, the st alone enough to make a man weep.

  Jack blinked slowly, his heart heavy with emotion.

  A siear fell down his cheek.

  "I see… so this is it."

  He inhaled deeply, voice soft with reverence. "I have finally reached the brink of madness. I am halluati and alcohol oable."

  His master whacked him on the head. "Eat, you fool."

  A chi thigh was shoved into his mouth.

  Jack's eyes widehe moment the fvor hit his tongue, his entire existence shifted. He grabbed the chi with both hands, tearing into it like a man starved. Which, teically, he was.

  "I—" bite "—AM—" chew "—ALIVE AGAIN!"

  His master watched, unbothered, sipping his wine.

  Jack devoured everything, alternatiween shoveli into his mouth and chugging wiraight from the jug.

  For the first time in years, he wasn't ranting like a madman. Instead—his usual nonsense had evolved into something else.

  He pced his cup down, exhaling slowly. "A warrireatest battle is not with his enemies, but with ay stomach."

  His master ignored him.

  Jack wiped his mouth with his sleeve. "A man's strength is not measured by his fists, but by how much meat he e iting."

  His master rubbed his temples.

  Jack poured himself another drink. "A wise man once said—"

  His master grabbed a spoon and threw it at his forehead.

  THUNK.

  Jack's head snapped back, his wine spilling. "Ow, you old bastard!"

  His master took another sip. "Your enlighte is getting annoying."

  Jack grinned, unfazed. "Sounds like a you problem."

  His master raised his spoon threateningly.

  Jack quickly went back to eating.

  …

  The day, Jack stood before the mirror in his room.

  For the first time in years, he truly looked at himself.

  A young man stared back.

  Sharp golden eyes, deep and knowing.Lea powerful physique, each muscle perfectly sculpted from years of training.Long dark hair, tied ly behind him.His posture—upright, steady, like a man who feared nothing.

  He wore traditional martial arts robes, bd gold, draped elegantly over his form.

  Jack tilted his head, admiring himself.

  "Huh. Now that I actually see myself… I'm way more handsome than before."

  He smirked, running a hand down the fabric. "And this outfit? Yeah, this is it. I look like a Murim young master. A refined gentleman. A noble cultivator."

  He struck a dramatic pose. "The dies will be powerless before me."

  He turo leave—then quickly turned back, struother cool pose, and himself.

  "Perfect."

  Jack stepped into the courtyard. His master was already there, waiting. For the first time in seven years, Jack did something he had never done before.

  He bowed.

  Low and deep, like a disciple showing true respect to his master.

  His master raised an eyebrow. "Hmph. Now you act like a disciple?"

  Jack grinned but didn't rise. "A proper farewell deserves a proper bow."

  His master exhaled. Then, finally, he said—"Go, you monkey."

  Jack lifted his head, smiling. His master tinued, his voice calm. "After you leave, you will never see me again anyway."

  Jack paused.

  Something about those words felt heavier than they should have. But instead of questioning it—he simply nodded.

  "Thank you. For everything. The wisdom you gave me is invaluable."

  Jack straighteurning away.

  He approached the massive front gate, the entrao the realm he had been trapped in for seven years.

  He lifted his hand, fog his energy. Thetered, "Lock-Breaking Spell." The gate shuddered.

  Then—BOOM.

  It swung open, revealing the blinding light of the outside world. Jack took a deep breath. Then, just before stepping through—He turned back, grinning. "Bye, you geriatrian."

  His master didn't respond.

  Jack smirked. "Go to a brothel so you don't die a virgin."

  His master picked up a rod hurled it.

  Jack ughed, dodging effortlessly as he disappeared beyond the gate.

  The moment the gate closed behind him, the courtyard fell silent.

  The old master stood still, staring at the spot Jack had left.

  Then—A small, rare smile formed on his lips.

  …

  Jack stepped through the gate, his body moving forward instinctively.

  For a brief moment, his surroundings were shrouded in light—then, just as suddenly, he was somewhere else.

  A bst of city his ears. Car horns bring. People chattering. Music bsting from storefronts.

  Jack blinked rapidly, adjusting to the sheer chaos around him.

  T skyscrapers loomed overhead, covered in fshing billboards and LED ss. A massive crowd of people—tourists, workers, street performers, hustlers—moved in a stant flow.

  And above it all—the massive digital ss of Times Square dispyed the test news, advertisements, and movie trailers.

  Jack stood there, staring bnkly. It had been seven years since he st stepped foot in the modern world. A—nothing had ged.

  A nearby woman in a business suit g him, eyeing his traditional martial arts robes and long, unbound hair.

  Jack ignored her.

  A group of teenagers whispered and poi him, clearly w if he was some kind of cospyer or etric millionaire.

  Jack ighem too.

  A little kid tugged on his mother's sleeve and whispered, "Mom, is that a Kung Fu master?"

  Jack smirked but kept walking.

  He had mastered the art of not giving a fuck long before he was reinated.

  Then it hit him. "Wait… what the hell am I supposed to do now?" Jack paused mid-step, finally realizing that he had no money, no ID, no phohing.

  His fident smirk twitched slightly. "Shit." He gnced around at the crowds of people, wallets and purses hanging loosely, obliviously.

  A grin spread across his face. "Ah… an old cssic."

  Jack had been a pickpocket in his past life—but now? Now he was something far beyond that. His speed, his dexterity, his sehey were on airely different level.

  With a single, fluid movement, Jack vanished into the crowd.

  Step Oarget Sele.Jack's golden eyes sed the people walking past him. He immediately identified the ones with the thickest wallets—the ones who wouldn't even notice if some money went missing.

  Step Two: The Steal.He moved like a shadow, his fingers brushing against pockets and purses with impossible speed.

  His new rule? Only take 50% of the cash. A fair "tax" for their ck of awareness.

  Step Three: The Return.Unlike before—Jack didn't eveo keep the wallets.

  With a single flick of his wrist, he could take the money aurn the wallet before they even noticed. He moved so fast that even the security cameras wouldn't catch him.

  By the time he was done, he had pocketed enough cash to survive for weeks.

  Jack paused, admiring his work.

  He briefly sidered keeping a wallet for himself—but thetered to himself, voipletely serious:

  "A closed fist holds nothing. An open hand receive everything. This is why I don't carry a wallet."

  The passerby near him blinked in fusion.

  Jaodded solemnly to himself a walking. As he wandered, Jaced up at the massive LED ss in Times Square.

  One s showed a news broadcast:

  BREAKING NEWS: IRON MAN TAKES DOWN INDIAN BLOOD DIAMOND OPERATION.

  Jack stopped in his tracks. His brows furrowed. "Wait. What?" He stared at the s, trying to remember. He had seen the Iron Man movie before he was reinated.

  But he retty damn sure there was no part where Tony Stark fought some blood diamond smugglers in India.

  Jack squinted. "Since when did Iron Man do side quests?"

  His brain started rag. Was this a different movie? Did something ge?

  Just as he was about to dive deeper into his thoughts—A loud otioed several kilometers away.

  Jack's sharp hearing immediately picked up the chaos.

  "Iron Man!" someone shouted.

  Jack's head soward the sound. A few seds ter—he saw it. A red-and-gold blur shot across the sky. Jack's eyes widened.

  Iron Man.

  In the flesh. Or, well… ial. The armored figure bsted past Times Square, heading toward the otion.

  Jack stared. Then, slowly, he muttered—"The fuck?" This wasn't a movie. This wasn't fi. This was real.

  Jack grinned. "Oh, this is gonna be fun." His body moved like flowing water as he sprinted up the side of a building.

  Each step erfectly pced, his feet barely disturbing the surface, leaving zero damage behind.

  He ran beside the skyscrapers, his arms filing dramatically, as he shouted toward the figure flying ahead of him—

  "METAL MAAL MAN, HEYYYY!"

  The red-and-gold blur soared above Times Square, boosters r as it sped toward the otion in the distance.

  Ihe Iron Man suit, Tony Stark raised an eyebrow.

  "JARVIS, tell me I'm not seeing things. Is that a dude park up the side of a building… while waving at me?"

  JARVIS' calm voice respohrough the helmet.

  "Sir, I am suspeg an uified superhuman pursuing you. His speed and agility are beyond normal human capability."

  Tony groaned. "Great. Another Hulk. Just what I needed."

  "No, sir." JARVIS corrected. "Acc to my ss, he is not listed in any gover database. No military records, no criminal records, no trace of any knowahuman programs. He simply… does ."

  Tony paused mid-flight. "Huh. Now I'm ied."

  As Tony angled downward, he finally got a good look at his pursuer.

  A young man with long bck hair, dressed in traditional martial arts robes, smirking fidently as he ran beside a damn skyscraper like it was normal.

  Tony sighed. "New York really o up its background checks."

  As Tony slowed down, Jached himself off the building, flipping mid-air before nding smoothly on the rooftop of a nearby building.

  Tony hovered a few feet away, aiming his repulsor bsters at Jack.

  "Alright, City Tarzan, hold your feet."

  Jack tilted his head, amused. "You're Tony Stank, right?"

  Tony's eye twitched behind the helmet. "Stark. Tony Stark. Not Stank."

  Jaodded. "Right, right."

  Then he grinned. "Anyway, I know this is sudden, but I have one of your metal fingers?"

  Tony blinked. "...What?"

  Jack csped his hands together, bowing slightly, his expression serious.

  "I require your metal finger."

  Tony lowered his bster slightly.

  JARVIS, equally fused, asked, "Sir, is this some sort of a I am unaware of?"

  Tony rubbed his helmet as if trying to process the stupidity. "Kid, I don't know what you're talking about, but I got actual superhero busio handle, so I'm gonhis slide."

  Tony turned, about to fly away—Then, suddenly—Jack jumped, grabbed Tony's leg, and yanked him downward.

  "WHAT THE HELL—?!"

  Tony crashed onto the rooftop, staggering slightly. "ARE YOU INSANE?!"

  Jack grinned, his grip still firm. "I watched your movie with my first paycheck. And you 't even give me one of your metal fingers?"

  Tony scowled, aiming his bster at Jack's face. "Oh, I am so bsting you."

  Jack casually spped Tony's wrist, redireg the repulsor bst into the sky.

  Tony stared.

  Jack grinned.

  Then, in one swift motion, he reached down and ripped off the middle finger piece from Tony's right gau.

  Tony gasped. "WHAT THE FU—"

  Jack held up the metal finger like a prized trophy, eyes gleaming. "Ahhh, thank you so much! Such a big fan!"

  Then—he vanished.

  Tony staggered back, sing the rooftop. "JARVIS! Where the hell is he?!"

  JARVIS' voice sounded slightly armed. "Sir, I ot detey teological signals around him. No trag devices, no enhas, no cyberipos.

  He is pure physical."

  Tony scowled. "That's impossible. No one moves like that without enhas."

  JARVIS paused. "Shall I run a facial reition search?"

  Tony sighed, rubbing his facepte. "Yeah. Find me everything you on… whatever the hell that was."