Benson, broken and terrified, continued to confess, revealing the full extent of the Goren Gang's calculated cruelty. It was a cold, efficient plan born of sheer corporate criminality.
"My boss, the Goren leader, he set up the whole fight with your father," Benson whimpered, clutching his shattered hand. "We were in the middle of a delicate negotiation with the Gabu Gang—our competitors in the... the supplement business."
He explained that the Goren boss, wanting to demonstrate dominance without starting a massive street war, decided to trick Huang Hong.
"We sent me to provoke him, to get him angry enough to sign the death waiver. We wanted him to hurt me badly in the ring—a clear, public statement that we wouldn't tolerate threats, even from a martial arts master. It was supposed to be a piece of theater to intimidate the Gabu Gang."
The twist, however, was that the Goren Gang had never anticipated Huang Hong's true skill.
"The old man was too good! He almost killed me! And there were too many witnesses to take action right there."
Since they couldn't risk the optics of murdering a local legend inside the dojo, they waited. As soon as Huang Hong left the facility, the Goren Gang's designated killer executed the Sifu with a sniper shot—a cold, professional cleanup that also prevented the assassin from blackmailing them.
"But the shooting caused a huge mess. Too many people saw, too many people in Chinatown started screaming at the cops," Benson continued, shaking violently. "So the police had to look busy. They sent a Sheriff to handle the 'high-profile' case."
Benson nodded toward the road. "The fat guy I escorted out earlier? That was the Sheriff in charge of the case. We paid him off. A lot. Now, he's ready to close the file."
Huang Wen's jaw clenched. Police corruption. Of course. In this world, the system wasn't just broken, it was for sale.
"And the killer? The Goren Gang?" Huang Wen's voice was a low growl.
"They just needed a scapegoat. We already had the plan," Benson confessed, tears and snot mixing on his face. "We were going to find you, the son, kill you quietly, rough up the body, and make it look like you were the random thug shot by the police after a chase. That way, the case is closed, the Goren Gang is clean, and the Sheriff gets his easy promotion."
They were planning to silence me and frame me for my own murder.
Benson's final, pathetic confession was the last piece of the puzzle. The karmic debt was now quantified, the perpetrators identified, and the plot fully revealed.
As Benson finished his last word, the System's silent notification finally chimed.
BEEP!
Task 1: Investigate the Cause of Death. Status: Complete.
Reward: One Extraordinary Item Draw.
Huang Wen mentally summoned the System screen.
Current Tasks: 0/2 (Not Completed)
Vengeance: Avenging the original host and receiving a chance to draw a supernatural skill.
Promote the Hall: Attract an Extraordinary Person for one draw.
Task 1/1 Complete (Reward: One chance to draw a Super Item. Draw now?)
"Extract," Huang Wen commanded without hesitation, shifting his focus entirely away from the sniveling pile of Benson.
WHOOSH!
A column of white light flared. When it dissipated, a sleek, digital image of a suit and accessories hovered in the air.
"Ding! Congratulations, you have obtained an Extraordinary Item: Tuxedo (an optimized version of the tuxedo from the movie The Magical Tuxedo)."
Huang Wen froze, momentarily bewildered. "Wait, wait, wait a minute! System! Hold up! The Magical Tuxedo? Isn't that an American blockbuster starring an American martial arts action star? How is that a 'Domestic Film and Television' draw? You've definitely violated my intellectual property rights, man!"
The System offered its standard, non-committal silence.
Huang Wen sighed, staring at the item—a complete set of clothes: coat, trousers, shoes, bow tie, and a watch. He couldn't argue with an all-powerful holographic lottery. He made a quick, vague assumption: Sino-American co-production loophole? Maybe it just needs a Chinese actor in a supporting role? If so, I might get a lot of Jackie Chan movies in the future!
He focused on the item's primary function, which was listed first. He knew the source material. He knew what mattered.
Bulletproofing.
That single word was the most beautiful thing Huang Wen had ever seen. His greatest vulnerability—gunfire—was instantly neutralized, at least for small-arms fire.
Other abilities were listed: Automated Combat Assistance (similar to a low-level A.I. guiding physical reactions), Water Surface Traversal, Wall Scaling, Active Camouflage (Invisibility), and comprehensive Scanning/Blocking of surveillance systems. The suit was a lightweight, versatile battlefield utility kit.
"Do you want to retrieve the tuxedo? Note: When not wearing it, it can be stored in the system."
"Retrieve," Huang Wen accepted.
In a smooth, nearly instantaneous flash of light, his worn clothes dissolved, and he was suddenly standing in a perfectly tailored, handsome, black tailcoat. It was incredibly comfortable, fitting his 34-point physique like a second skin.
"Holy cow, this is fantastic!" Huang Wen felt the rush of information from the watch on his wrist. "A lightweight battle suit! Bulletproof, invisibility, wall climbing, and an integrated scanner. This is better than some of the early Iron Man models!"
He even noticed the bow tie had a voice modulation feature—a literal, high-tech Conan-style voice changer.
"Perfect," he whispered, a genuine smile forming. "This is exactly the defense I needed."
Benson, who had been lying on the ground waiting for his judgment, finally registered the change. His eyes, already dilated with pain, widened further in shock and dawning dread.
"You! You!" Benson stammered, pointing a bloody finger. "You're a... you're a mutant!"
Huang Wen stopped posing. His victorious mood evaporated.
"Mutants?"
He stared at Benson. His mind reeled. Mutants? As in, the X-Men? The MCU was already a chaotic place—introducing the X-Men timeline, with its own history of massive anti-mutant discrimination, apocalyptic futures, and powerful reality-benders, would complicate things exponentially. The Sacred Timeline must be completely broken.
He mentally shrugged. It is what it is. Maybe I'll get Professor X in a future draw.
"Don't come any closer, you monster!" Benson shrieked, pressing himself against the alley wall. "You freaks! Everyone wants you wiped out!"
Huang Wen recognized the fear—the deep-seated, systemic hatred the public in the X-Men universe harbored for mutants. He seized the opportunity for more intel.
"Easy, Benson. Don't rush me. How much do you know about 'mutants'?" Huang Wen asked, his voice low and firm. "Explain yourself clearly, and I might forget about your recent assassination plot."
"I... I don't know anything!" Benson stammered, shaking his head frantically. "Why would I know about you freaks? We're normal!"
"So the general public is genuinely afraid of mutants, then?" Huang Wen rephrased the question, pressing the critical point.
"Terrified! Absolutely terrified! Everyone is! They're monsters, they're unstable, they should all be eliminated!" Benson spat out the ingrained, fearful rhetoric.
Hmm. A strong anti-mutant sentiment. Could this be the early timeline before major events like the first X-Men film?
"So I still can't tell the exact timeline," Huang Wen muttered under his breath. "Well, as long as the Bald Magician is around, things shouldn't get too out of hand. The past can't change the future, right?"
"What are you even talking about?" Benson whimpered, confused by the muttered pop-culture references.
"Nothing important to you."
With Benson's confession and the successful draw, the gangster had served his purpose. He was now a loose end, a dangerous witness, and an immediate threat that needed to be permanently neutralized to secure the next task: Vengeance. Allowing him to live, even after a beating, meant risking a full-scale Goren Gang war on the Wing Chun Hall.
There are no police here, and no witnesses. This is simple, brutal cleanup.
With a sudden, devastating burst of controlled power, Huang Wen stepped forward and delivered a lightning-fast, precise knife-hand strike to Benson's neck, just below the ear.
THWACK.
Benson's eyes rolled back. His body sagged instantly. The man who had orchestrated a murder and plotted a frame-up was dead before he hit the ground.
Huang Wen stared down at the corpse, his expression settling into a cold, practical mask. No remorse. Just necessity.
"Now for the fun part: disposal." He looked around the alley. Leaving the body here would tie the crime directly back to the Wing Chun Hall via Benson's confession.