108. Flame Surge Fist, The Martial Saint’s Strike

Crack! Boom! Crack! Boom! Blue-white electric currents continuously shot down from the sky, smashing deep craters into the ground. Dirt and gravel scattered wildly like bullets from a pistol.

Amidst the relentless flashes of lightning, Su Ye relied on his exceptionally sharp reflexes to always predict the point of impact before the currents struck, allowing him to dodge each strike just in time.

Only minutes had passed since the masked hero, wearing a Guan Yu mask, appeared. No one knew exactly how strong his attacks were, but his incredible explosive power, core strength, and endurance left everyone in awe.

High above, Max Dillon was equally shocked but mostly furious.

Why couldn’t he hit this bastard? Why wouldn’t he just stay put and get hit? Didn’t he know tonight was Max Dillon’s show, that this stage belonged to no one but him?

Even Max knew that controlling vehicles or concrete blocks below with his magnetic powers wouldn’t work—those were slower and easier to dodge.

So, he had no choice but to go down and fight hand-to-hand?

At first, Max Dillon refused to think that way. Why should the star follow the side character’s rhythm? If he went down, who would be the most dazzling in New York Bay? Who really ruled this place?

But now, it seemed he had no choice. Long-range attacks were ineffective; it had to be close combat.

Then again, if he could defeat this guy, everyone would still see Max Dillon’s heroic figure. He would still be the Electric Man, the Thunder King—the undeniable star of the night.

With his mind made up, Max Dillon transformed into a bolt of lightning and charged down.

At the very moment Max Dillon surged forward, a smile finally crept onto Su Ye’s lips.

“Glad you came down. Now we can have some real fun,” he thought.

Clenching his fist, Su Ye raised his arm high and slammed it fiercely into the ground just before Max reached him.

The crowd was puzzled. Why wasn’t this “Guan Yu” dodging? Why smash the ground? Was he trying to dig a hole to hide? Wasn’t it too late for that?

Boom! Boom! Boom!

Before anyone could comprehend it, a towering pillar of fiery energy erupted from the ground like a volcanic explosion. The thick column of flames shot straight up, colliding violently with the diving Max Dillon.

An energy fountain!

“Yes! That’s it!” Phil Coulson clenched his fist in excitement from afar. The legendary scene of the Martial Saint battling the war demon was about to be recreated. Perfect, well done.

Max Dillon, now a lightning bolt, was blasted backward by the energy fountain. Sparks danced wildly off his burning form as he trembled uncontrollably. The entire world gasped.

“Gosh!”
“Unbelievable!”
“Holy shit!”
“Amazing!”
“Damn!”

The crowd overflowed with exclamations of shock, admiration, disbelief, and awe.

They had seen Iron Man’s armored battles, heard of Spider-Man’s web entanglements, imagined Batman’s iron fists—but witnessing someone deliver such a ferocious blow with sheer physical power was a first.

Their amazement and praise poured out freely.

Yet Su Ye’s assault didn’t stop after the energy fountain sent Max flying. His fist, wrapped in flames, propelled him forward in an instant.

Flaming Punch!

Though a simple straight punch in form, this was actually a movement skill, allowing Su Ye to cover several meters, even tens of meters in a flash, hammering his fiery fist hard against Max Dillon’s cheek.

The satisfaction at the moment fist met face was even more exhilarating than speeding in a fast car.

If only one day he could train this punch to be as perfect as Saitama’s bald head punch—that would be flawless.

Max Dillon, now embodied as electricity, struck or touched anything would conduct the electric current. But Su Ye’s flaming punch, empowered by elemental fire, effectively resisted the electric attack.

Not only did it send Max Dillon flying, it also shielded Su Ye from electrical harm.

With a roar, the flaming punch lit up the night sky, scattering the electric currents on Max Dillon’s body, sending him arcing through the air and crashing far away.

For the first time since entering the scene, Max Dillon suffered a heavy blow. The exact damage was unclear, but just hitting him earned Su Ye universal acclaim.

After all, this was something the military couldn’t achieve even after sacrificing a tank battalion and an armed helicopter squadron.

Yet Su Ye did not press the advantage after sending Max Dillon flying.

In a battle watched by the entire world, showing some fighting skills was acceptable, but unleashing every move recklessly would be unwise.

Landing a successful strike, Su Ye twisted midair, flipped back to his starting position, and bent down to pick up a megaphone, preparing to address the crowd.

Meanwhile, Max Dillon slowly rose from the rubble, his clothes burned and soiled, looking pitiful.

“You bastard, you ruined my performance,” he snarled, blue-white electricity crackling around his hands as his expression twisted with rage.

“I’ll make you pay—”

Suddenly, a fierce blast of high-pressure water struck his back, knocking him from midair to the ground.

The water cannon kept firing relentlessly, carving out a puddle amid the ruins where Max landed.

Drenched and grounded, he tried to rise and unleash his electric power again, but the water conducted the electricity away, short-circuiting him. He lay helpless, unable to move.

At the same time, Su Ye raised the megaphone.

“Attention all units: Fire Department entering for fire suppression and disaster relief. Medical personnel, speed up treatment of the wounded. Other spectators, please head home. New York Plaza is closed indefinitely. Please exit in an orderly fashion!”

His voice drowned out the crowd’s cheers, cooling their enthusiasm. It also revealed a new side of the masked hero—not only a fighter but also a capable organizer commanding firefighters and medics, a leader who cared for the people.

At that moment, even many die-hard Captain America fans couldn’t help but compare their hero to this masked warrior.

In the end, Captain America was a historical figure, his deeds recorded, edited, even fabricated by later generations. Respectable, but not entirely trustworthy.

This masked man, however, was alive and real—single-handedly capturing a supervillain who had humiliated both police and military.

In this land, collective pride was uncertain, but personal hero worship was unmatched worldwide—especially with police and military as backdrop, Su Ye’s performance shone even brighter.

The identity of the Martial Saint Guan Yu in the mask was soon uncovered, and his legend quickly spread across the globe.

You could say that wherever people knew Times Square, they knew the Martial Saint.

Rumors began to grow—first, the Martial Saint knocked Max Dillon away with one punch; then he sent dozens of tanks and a dozen armed helicopters flying with a single blow.

The stories became wildly exaggerated, eventually reaching absurd heights.

“Do you know why there are craters on the moon?”
“That’s because the Martial Saint was training his punch, and a single blow left a huge crater!”

Some actually believed these ridiculous tales.

Many even bought telescopes to gaze at the moon, imagining what technique the Martial Saint used to make that crater—was it the Guanyin Sit or the Old Man’s Push?

Some went so far as to concoct the “Martial Saint’s True Eighteen Techniques,” selling them to gullible young women.

But that was a story for another time.

On the scene, following Su Ye’s announcement, firefighters and medics entered methodically. It truly looked as though he was directing the rescue efforts.

After a night of chaos, Times Square was essentially leveled. The buildings were beyond repair—demolition and rebuilding were the only options.

The economic loss was staggering. Su Ye guessed that even selling the entire Osborn Corporation wouldn’t cover it.

Reportedly, this area generated $100 billion in GDP annually, and the Osborn Corporation was only worth $200 billion.

Market capitalization was often illusory—stock fluctuations could halve it in an instant.

But the compensation wouldn’t fall on Osborn Corporation anyway; this was the damage caused by Max Dillon and the military.

Max Dillon’s life was cheap, but the military had money. The problem was they might not accept responsibility, especially with General Ross lying incapacitated.

Ross was lucky not to have died in the plane crash, but he looked unlikely to walk again.

So, ultimately, insurance companies would have to foot the bill. After all, Americans loved insurance—various commercial policies galore. Now it was time for insurers to step up.

At this moment, insurance companies were probably crying themselves unconscious in their restrooms.

Su Ye would not involve himself in rescue, medical treatment, or property assessment.

He first bid farewell to Gwen, telling her to go home.

Earlier, Gwen disguised as a firefighter had blended into the fire truck crew and used the water cannon to knock Max Dillon from the sky, enabling his easy capture.

Everyone understood water short-circuits electricity, but no one had thought of it until that moment, complicating matters and leading to the destruction of a landmark and the humiliation of an entire military force, yet failing to subdue Max Dillon.

Brains were a good thing, but not everyone had them.

After seeing Gwen off, Su Ye took Sharon Carter to the police vehicle where Max Dillon was detained.

Max had been stripped of his jacket and tightly bound with insulating material. A large tub filled with water was prepared inside the vehicle to submerge him.

Without electricity and soaked in water, all chances of Max’s comeback were eliminated.

Seeing Su Ye approach, the police instinctively saluted. His actions had earned their utmost respect.

“Good evening, sir!”

Su Ye nodded, stepped into the vehicle, and Sharon followed, closing the door behind them.

Only two S.H.I.E.L.D. agents who knew Su Ye were inside, so he removed his mask and greeted them with a smile.

“Thank you for your hard work.”

The two agents were so moved they barely knew where to place their hands, almost blurting out, “Hello, Chief!”

At that moment, Max Dillon—already despondent from defeat—suddenly widened his eyes and shouted in surprise.

“Snake! You’re the one who beat me just now?”

Having been blasted down from the sky by a water cannon, Max was nearly hopeless.

How could he, an electrical engineer, have missed such a huge weakness after transforming? If they’d used water earlier, he would have lost from the start, and none of his tank-smashing or helicopter-bombing feats would have happened.

Now, humiliated and exposed, it would be hard to be the star again.

He cursed the masked man; if not for him, he’d still be the protagonist.

So when the mask came off and he recognized the man, Max’s glare was filled with venom—that was his only way to show hostility.

But upon seeing the familiar face, Max understood the strange sense of recognition from their first meeting.

This was someone he knew—a friend—with whom he had planned to drink that very evening.

Su Ye feigned surprise, looking at Max’s face and voice before pretending uncertainty.

“You’re… Max?”

Max quickly nodded.

“Yes, yes, it’s me!”

“But,” Su Ye feigned puzzlement, “aren’t you… already… dead?”