068. The Great Victim of Asgard

Regardless of whether Qiong’s reaction was a test from Mai Shiranui or not, Su Ye maintained an unruffled composure—an essential professional quality for a man with ambitions for the world... cough, that is, for someone with a heart for all under heaven. Besides, opening a bar was indeed a great idea: not only was it right in Qiong’s line of expertise, but it also provided idlers like Dong Zhang with a place to have some fun.

That night, Su Ye stayed at the dojo. Hanzo Shiranui hadn’t returned; rumor had it he was over at the Bajiquan school, having it out with Master Zhen Yuanzhai. Zhen Yuanzhai had brought the Hammer of Thunder to New York merely to tease Tang Fulu. Both men were grandmasters of their generation, and there was naturally a bit of rivalry between them. As the saying goes: “There is no first in literature, but no second in martial arts.”

To Zhen Yuanzhai’s surprise, however, no matter how much he hinted or provoked, Tang Fulu simply refused to take the bait—he didn’t even spare a glance at the hammer. According to Tang Fulu, he was just a man who practiced boxing and had no interest in hammers or such things.

Half the fun was gone for Zhen Yuanzhai, but fortunately, Hanzo Shiranui was there. The old Hanzo, upon seeing the finely crafted hammer and knowing it had been personally brought by Zhen Yuanzhai, couldn’t resist picking it up. But that only led to embarrassment. In Zhen Yuanzhai’s hands, the hammer seemed as light as foam, but in Hanzo’s, it was heavier than a mountain—he couldn’t move it an inch, no matter how hard he tried.

After sweating buckets in vain, Hanzo looked up to see Zhen Yuanzhai’s smug face and Tang Fulu’s bemused smile. Instantly, he was furious. The two old rogues—one had brought the hammer specifically to humiliate him, the other just watched him make a fool of himself. If he didn’t show them a thing or two, they’d forget his name was Shiranui.

In a fit of anger, Hanzo challenged Zhen Yuanzhai to a drinking contest, only to end up passed out cold. Trying to outdrink a lifelong tippler like Zhen Yuanzhai was simply asking for trouble.

With Hanzo Shiranui absent from the dojo, Su Ye naturally decided to stay overnight. The only downside was for Qiong and Yuri Sakazaki, as the dojo’s soundproofing left much to be desired.

Late that night, a plane landed at New York International Airport. Phil Coulson, travel-worn and weary, emerged from the terminal and joined up with the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents waiting for him.

By the time Zhen Yuanzhai took the hammer away, Coulson was already on the plane. He’d just landed in New Mexico and hadn’t even had a chance to use the restroom before he got a call—someone had taken the hammer, and it was headed to New York.

Coulson nearly cursed aloud. If only he’d known sooner, he wouldn’t have flown all the way out here—now he had to take another flight back. What a waste of time! Worse, he’d been on a domestic flight—small plane, no fresh-faced young stewardess, and a cramped restroom—so all the fun was gone. Zero stars.

While Coulson was only tempted to swear, Thor, on the other hand, did so outright. “Damn it! Where’s my hammer?!”

With the help of the inquisitive and brawny scientist Jane Foster, who had a soft spot for strong men, Thor escaped from the hospital and made his way to the site where the hammer had landed. He was confident that as soon as he saw Mjolnir and held it again, he’d become the invincible Asgardian god of war once more. Reality, however, dealt him a harsh blow—not only was the hammer gone, he didn’t even see its handle.

Standing beside the empty crater in the wilderness, Thor let out a wail of frustration to the heavens. “Who could take my hammer? Who but me could lift it? Impossible! No!”

If Su Ye had witnessed the scene, he’d probably have dedicated a heartfelt ballad to Thor.

Jane Foster stood nearby, unsure what expression to wear. On the way, Thor had told her a great deal about himself—how he claimed to be a god, now fallen to mortal status, peppered with boasts of his past glory and complaints about his current predicament. Every word radiated pride, and indeed, Thor’s actions set him apart from any normal earthling.

Thor had sworn that the hammer was the Thunder God’s Hammer, able to summon lightning, impossibly heavy, and that no one but he could lift it. Jane, swayed by his looks and impressive physique, said nothing and even drove him out to see for himself.

But the hammer was gone.

So, the hammer was heavy? No one else could lift it? You used to be a god?

Was it all a lie? Was this handsome, tall, and—most importantly—athletically built man, with his impossibly defined chest, abs, and obliques, and his penchant for wearing his pants a little too low, nothing more than a braggart and a liar?

Driving Thor, whose eyes now looked utterly hollow, back to Old Bridge Town, Jane had originally planned to try him out once and then leave to continue her experiments. But during dinner, the table next to them began talking about the hammer.

The hammer hadn’t been on the ground for long, but with so many loafers around, a crowd had gathered, and the topic was still hotly discussed. Hearing the gossip, Jane began to believe that the hammer was real after all and not something Thor had invented just to charm her.

But Thor caught the real point: a drunk had carried off the hammer.

“Who was it? Why could he lift the hammer? Where is he now?”

Seeing his arrogant demeanor, the local layabouts were in no mood to answer honestly. It took a scuffle—several of them ganged up on him, only to be beaten down—before they finally shared what little they knew.

“Word is, the drunk left with someone else for Los Angeles...”

Someone had overheard Zhen Yuanzhai’s conversation with Su Ye, but only part of it, so there were conflicting stories about where the hammer had gone. The wildest rumor was that the drunk had flown straight to the moon with it…

Leaving the battered men behind, Thor grabbed Jane’s hand. “Which way is Los Angeles?”

Soon after, Jane and Thor were on a plane bound for the West Coast, heading to Los Angeles, while on the East Coast, Su Ye was busy scouting locations for his new bar. As for Mjolnir, it was still resting in the Bajiquan dojo, where Zhen Yuanzhai was snoring away contentedly.

Zhen Yuanzhai had brought the hammer to New York just to amuse his old friends. Now that the fun was over, he was satisfied. Before drifting off to sleep, Zhen Yuanzhai reflected and decided to discuss with Su Ye whether it might be best to return the hammer to its owner—after all, the poor guy must be worried sick by now.