SmilinKujo
patreon
Marvel MK: CH 136 – A Door to the Mystic Isle
🕑 Added 2025-08-26 13:22:15 +0000 UTCThe main courtyard of the rebuilt Headband Temple hummed with an ancient, unfamiliar energy. In the center, Tenzin sat cross-legged, his small hands clasped together, his eyes closed in deep concentration. He was chanting a sutra none of the elder monks recognized, the words a low, resonant vibration that seemed to pull at the very fabric of reality.
Jack, meanwhile, was too busy admiring his new outfit. He had donned a set of monk's robes, but they were a far cry from the simple saffron cloth of the temple's residents. His were made of a fine, shimmering silk, heavily embroidered with golden thread. He had a massive set of mala beads around his neck and another, mid-sized string wrapped around his wrist. One of the beads on his wrist, a comma-shaped jewel of a deep, luminous green, pulsed with a faint, divine light.
He proudly showed it off to one of the horrified elder monks. "See this?" he said cheerfully. "It's the Yasakani no Magatama. I took it from some jackass who was trying to steal it while I was on holiday. Kekekeke."
The monk's face went pale. "Amitabha," he whispered, his hands trembling. "Benefactor, you should return it."
"Why?" Jack asked with a shrug. "It's payment for me helping them out of an apocalypse. The mirror was pretty good, too. It's a shame that Grass-Cutter sword was already taken, oh well." He then struck a pose. "Anyway, how do I look?"
The monk stared. The grand outfit, the priceless accessories, the sheer, unadulterated audacity of it all… "Do I look the part?" Jack continued, his grin widening. "I'm like the premium, deluxe version of you monks. Kekekeke."
The monk could only sigh, a sound of profound, spiritual exhaustion.
Their conversation was cut short as the air in front of Tenzin began to shimmer and crack. A gleaming, purple fissure, like a tear in the fabric of the world, appeared in the middle of the courtyard.
"Look!" Jack cheered. "It's finally open! Peng Lai, here we come!"
…
Meanwhile, in the sterile, blue-lit command hub of a SHIELD Helicarrier, Nick Fury looked like a man who had wrestled with paranoia and lost. He was disheveled, his usual sharp demeanor replaced by a weary, coffee-fueled exhaustion. He had been awake all night, anticipating another one of Jack Hou's Christmas "judgment trees."
But the only global commotion had been reports of a mysterious, impossibly fast Santa Claus delivering gifts to every corner of the world.
Fury could only sigh. His paranoia, it seemed, was just that. But the agents under his command, their own faces etched with the red-eyed misery of an all-nighter, did not look relieved. They looked like they were about to stage a mutiny.
Fury coughed, clearing his throat. "Good work, everyone," he said, his voice a low grumble. "We can stand down now. Let's start the rotations."
One by one, the agents began to leave their stations, their glares a silent, unified testament to their collective suffering.
Nick Fury walked to his office, the door hissing shut behind him. He slumped onto his office couch. "That tailed motherfucker," he muttered to the empty room. "Should I make a specialized department just to monitor him? It doesn't sound bad…"
His words trailed off as he finally drifted into a deep, exhausted sleep. In his dreams, he saw a world where Jack Hou was his loyal enforcer, a perfect, obedient agent of SHIELD, saving the world on his direct order, a beautiful, impossible fantasy of control in a world of chaos.
…
The pocket dimension of Peng Lai was a realm of misty, emerald-green mountains and fields teeming with life. Its residents were, for the most part, simple pig farmers. But unlike the farmers of the outside world, these were some of the most elite warriors one could ever ask for, their bodies honed by generations of discipline and martial prowess. Yet, there were even more powerful warriors on this island. They were the Cobras.
The strongest among them, the one chosen to participate in the Tournament of the Heavenly Cities, was Zhu Pang She, the Fat Cobra. He had been alive for 107 years, yet he still looked to be in his prime, his skin smooth, his black hair untouched by grey. But just as his name suggested, he was fat, his massive frame like that of a sumo athlete, his body a canvas of ancient sutra tattoos. Contrary to his build, he was a master of Peng Lai's specialized martial art: the art of speed and dodging.
Currently, he was demonstrating his mastery of a different art: devouring an entire roast pig.
"Save some for the rest of us, would you?" a man in the ornate armor of a Cobra commander said, shaking his head. "Do you know the pig population of this island will go extinct if you keep this up?"
Fat Cobra laughed, a deep, joyous, belly-shaking sound. "Hahaha! I promise you, this is my last one."
"And it's also your twelfth," the commander shot back.
Fat Cobra just laughed again, unbothered.
But the scene was cut short by a sound that had not been heard in years. A deep, resonant chime echoed through the mountains. Then another. And another. The seven bells of Peng Lai suddenly rung out across the island.
Fat Cobra panicked, dropping a half-eaten pig leg. "Is it today? Is it the Heart of Heaven day?"
The commander stood, his expression serious. "Stupid. Can't you even recognize the difference between our city's bell and the bell of the Holy Cities?"
A slow, dawning realization spread across Fat Cobra's face, followed by a wide, joyous grin. "Hahahaha! That means one of our brothers has come back home! Let's go! Let's welcome them! We will hold a feast!"
The commander just sighed. "You just want to eat more, don't you?"
As the seven bells of Peng Lai continued to ring, the entire population of the island stopped what they were doing. Farmers left their fields, warriors their training halls. They all began to gather at the grand front gate of the city.
What they saw was a small, lone monk, one they did not recognize, stepping through a shimmering purple portal. Then, more monks began to file in behind him, their saffron robes a stark contrast to the emerald green of Peng Lai.
Then, one monk in particular caught their attention.
He had a tail.
He wore a fancy, silk monk's outfit, far too ornate for a simple pilgrim. Massive mala beads hung around his neck, and on his arm, he carried a golden staff, its ends capped with ornate, golden tips. In the middle of the staff, ancient words were carved into the metal: Ruyi Jingu Bang.
But the elders of the Cobras, their senses honed by a century of discipline, felt something more. As they focused on this strange, new monk, as they felt the chaotic, ancient, and utterly divine power that radiated from him, their faces went pale. Their eyes widened with a mixture of shock, awe, and a profound, instinctual fear.
One of the elders, his voice a trembling, reverent whisper, muttered the word that sent a shockwave through the assembled masters.
"A… a Sage."
Jack placed his palms together in a gesture of serene piety, his golden headband gleaming in the misty Peng Lai sunlight. "Amitabha," he said, his voice a perfect imitation of a humble monk. "I am just a simple pilgrim on a long journey."
His serene act lasted for approximately two seconds. His gaze then landed on the vast, open plains beyond the city gate, where giant, black-bristled pigs, the size of small cars, were grazing peacefully. His eyes lit up with a pure, unholy glee.
"Oh, look! A pig!" he cheered, his monkly facade vanishing completely. "Do you guys have a Pig Sage? I would love to spar with them!"
Just then, the crowd parted, and Zhu Pang She, the Fat Cobra, came forward, his massive frame a silent, imposing presence. He looked at the strange, tailed monk, his gaze sharp and analytical. "Who are you?" he asked, his voice a low, powerful rumble. "How do you know the sutra to open our realm?"
Jack, completely ignoring the question, walked right up to him and poked him directly in his large, sutra-tattooed belly. "Are you the Pig Sage?" he asked, his head tilted in genuine curiosity. "I don't feel any sagely energy around you, though. Just a lot of… bacon potential."
Before Fat Cobra could react, the abbot of the Headband Temple hurried forward, bowing low. "Amitabha," he said, his voice full of a deep, respectful apology. "We are sorry for our unannounced arrival. We are just following our late abbot's will, who was also my master, to come here and attend the Tournament of the Heavenly Cities."
One of the Cobra elders stepped forward, his expression softening slightly. "Welcome to our realm," he said. "But there is a specific criteria for opening the way. If I may ask, did the Sage open the portal?"
"No," the abbot replied. "It was my youngest brother, Tenzin, who opened it. The late abbot gave the will to him directly. It seems the sutra itself is the key."
The elder nodded, a thoughtful look on his ancient face. "Can you come with us? There is much to process with your arrival. As for your intention to participate in the Tournament of the Heavenly Cities, we cannot let you take the spot of the main tournament. But when the time comes, you are welcome to participate in the open tournament."
"Amitabha," the abbot said with a grateful bow. "The benefactor is generous."
Jack, who had been impatiently poking Fat Cobra's stomach this whole time, laughed. "Kekekeke, now then, Pig Sage, about my offer. Will you have a spar with me?"
Fat Cobra, his patience finally snapping, slapped Jack's hand away. But Jack's hand didn't budge at all. "I am Zhu Pang She," he growled, his voice a low, dangerous thing. "And I am not a Pig Sage. As for your challenge… let's do it there." He pointed to the open plains where the giant pigs were grazing.
Jack's grin widened. "Alrighty!" He then turned and began skipping his way toward the plains, his tail swaying with a joyful, chaotic energy.
The Cobra commander grabbed Fat Cobra's arm. "You do know that is a Sage, right?" he hissed.
"No Sage acts like that," Fat Cobra shot back, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Just you watch. I will expose this fake Sage."
He began to walk steadily toward the plains, his massive frame a promise of impending violence. The residents of Peng Lai began to disperse, some guiding the visiting monks into the city. The Cobra commander, however, chose to follow, a worried expression on his face. If this Sage was fake, at least he could prevent Fat Cobra from accidentally killing him.
…
In a different corner of the world, nestled in the shadows beneath the earth, lay another of the Seven Capital Cities of Heaven: the Under-City. It was not a place of misty mountains or sun-drenched fields. It was a sprawling, subterranean metropolis of stone and shadow, a sanctuary for all who were truly lost, a final refuge for those the outside world had broken and forgotten.
At its heart stood its leader, Dog Brother #1, Sihing.
He stood on a raised dais, his gaze sweeping over a line of newcomers, the lost souls his agents had rescued from the far corners of the Earth. His expression was a mask of cold, pragmatic assessment. He was not judging their pasts or their sins, but their will to survive, their potential to contribute to the strength of his city.
He pointed a single, decisive finger at a man whose eyes still held the flicker of a spy's deceit. "Unworthy."
One of his subordinates, a silent figure in a dog-faced mask, stepped forward. A single, swift motion, a blade that was a whisper of steel, and the unworthy man fell, his life extinguished before he could even register the judgment.
Sihing's finger moved again, landing on a woman whose spirit was so thoroughly broken she had become a hollow vessel of despair. "Unworthy."
Another flash of steel. Another body fell.
After the grim inspection was done, the remaining newcomers were led away to be integrated into the city. Sihing turned to his subordinate, who was already overseeing the cleanup.
"From now on," Sihing said, his voice a low, gravelly thing that held the weight of absolute authority, "clean up anyone that comes here. I am going into seclusion."
He looked toward the massive, sealed gate of his personal training hall. "The tournament is about to begin. With less than a year, I need one last boost to make our city the proud winner."
His subordinate bowed low, his loyalty unquestioning. "As you command."
