SmilinKujo
patreon
Chapter 92 – Tea with a Statue
🕑 Added 2025-05-18 08:07:37 +0000 UTCMay 29th. The End of Spring.
Under a quiet, silver-lit sky, a circular ripple of golden energy shimmered into being on the front yard of the newly rebuilt X-Mansion. The rebuilt grounds were silent, the grass just beginning to grow back into its former serenity, still recovering from the battle that tore through its soil.
From the portal stepped a familiar figure clad in flowing robes—The Ancient One, or as the few who knew him well still called him, Yao. None of the mansion's state-of-the-art surveillance systems blinked. No alarm tripped. The world didn't so much as sigh at his presence.
Yao had long since mastered the art of coming and going unnoticed by those who weren't meant to see him. He walked without hurry, hands behind his back, toward the marble statue standing solemnly near the reflecting pond—the very center of the courtyard.
The stone figure hadn't changed. Still smiling, still upright, still haloed by thin cracks of gold running across his surface like celestial veins. Jack Hou, the chaos monkey, was still gone. Yao exhaled softly through his nose, then gave a small smile. "I brought you tea."
With a flick of his wrist, a low wooden table materialized in front of the statue. Another gesture brought forth a clay teapot, steam curling out the spout as if in reverence. Yao sat cross-legged before Jack's statue, as if visiting an old friend rather than a divine monument.
He poured two cups—one for himself, the other delicately placed beneath the statue's feet. The steam from the second cup rose upward, wrapping Jack's marble limbs like incense honoring a guardian spirit. "I've good news," Yao said softly, sipping his tea. "You won't be the only god in town anymore."
He let the words hang in the air like the smell of blooming peach blossoms. "I just gave Odin permission to send his eldest son to Earth. That'll be a storm worth watching." A breeze danced through the trees, warm and slow.
Far from the mansion, deep in the alleys of New York's Golden Peach, a woman's muffled cries for help echoed between fire escapes and garbage bins. Two patrol officers passed the alley entrance but didn't stop. The cries were just soft enough—just hidden enough—not to be heard above the hum of streetlights and distant sirens.
Inside the alley, a man in a grimy hoodie grinned, gripping the young woman's wrist tight. "Hehehe," he sneered, his breath foul. "No one can hear you. You should've just said yes in the first place. Might even enjoy it…" The woman sobbed, struggling.
"Your territory's gotten worse since you left, Jack," Yao said. His tea steamed. "Your paper charms still protect the shops and homes... but the streets…"
"The streets are free for all."
Suddenly—whip-crack! A billy club slammed into the side of the thug's temple, knocking him sideways. His body crashed into a stack of discarded boxes. From the shadows stepped a figure in red armor, his face masked, two batons in hand. Daredevil.
He didn't waste words. The thug snarled and tried to rise, but Matt Murdock had already closed the distance. A swift elbow. A strike to the ribs. A takedown. Done in seconds. The woman stared, stunned. Matt helped her up gently. "Are you okay?" She nodded tearfully.
"Just because the prince of crime turned into a statue," Matt muttered, "doesn't mean Golden Peach is open season." He gave a half-smile and handed her a paper talisman from his pocket—one of Jack's. The glowing charm was warm in her hands, already activating to shield her for the rest of the night. "Stick to the main streets. This'll protect you till morning." She nodded again, and he vanished into the alley's shadows.
"Still got blocks to clear," he whispered, leaping onto the nearest fire escape. "Not everyone's gone home yet."
Back at the mansion, Yao poured another cup. The statue remained still—but somehow, something in the air felt less heavy. "See?" Yao smiled faintly. "Even in darkness… the ones you touched still carry the flame." The steam from Jack's untouched cup curled skyward like a prayer.
Yao took another quiet sip of his tea, the steam curling around his fingers. "You left quite a lot for me to handle, you know," he muttered toward the still figure of Jack Hou. "The day you turned into a marble statue… Vishnu—of all beings—suddenly comes."
A rare chuckle escaped his lips. "You would've loved it, Jack. A divine council meeting where everyone actually agreed… and all because of you. They kept looking at me like I was your handler." Yao smiled faintly, eyes distant as memories danced behind his golden irises.
…
The air above Kathmandu was still. The stars gently watched from the heavens. Beneath the ancient Bodhi tree, Yao sat alone, a single clay cup steaming in his palm. Then—A whisper in the web of reality. He felt it. Jack's energy dimmed. Not dead. Not gone. But sealed, drawn deep into the marrow of the earth like a divine seed planted in slumber.
Yao didn't wait. He set down the tea, rose slowly, then in a ripple of wind ascended straight into the stratosphere—beyond the clouds, beyond the air. There, on the edge of atmosphere, space bending in all directions, the cosmic pressure shifted. Time slowed. A radiant construct of light bloomed—a divine meeting circle, invisible to mortals, echoing with aeons of silence.
Then, one by one, they arrived. The first to appear, glowing with an azure and gold shimmer, was Vishnu. "Is Zeus already here?" Vishnu asked. The stars rippled again. Another projection entered. This time, an unmistakable aura of thunder and arrogance, Zeus.
Then they came in waves, not their true bodies, but projections of divine essence. Odin, wearing a robe of storm clouds and a single burning eye. Osiris, emerging from shadows, with scales and feathers woven into his light. Izanagi, stoic and still, surrounded by swirls of cherry blossoms and moonlight. The Jade Emperor, silent, a thousand voices whispering beneath his skin. And others. Many others.
Each face bore the mark of ancient rule. These were not simply gods. These were Heads of Pantheon—keepers of balance, authors of divine law. They gathered… because of Jack Hou. The once-fledgling young god, who had dared to burn bright, had finally forced the universe to take notice.
Zeus, arms crossed, was the first to speak. "I think it's time we revisit the Miracle Age," he said, his tone decisive.
"He's just a boy," Odin grunted. "One not even included in the room when the agreement were made."
"Neither was Hades," Izanagi interjected, arms folded, eyes sharp. "And yet you forced his silence. Your family does love its loopholes, Zeus."
Zeus's divine projection flickered briefly in indignation. "He's my brother. His silence was expected."
From the side, Osiris raised his hand gently, commanding the tone of the circle with a single movement. "That does not matter. What matters is this: Jack Hou has now, for all intents and purposes, released divine energy directly into Gaea herself. This is no small act. This is awakening."
Yao remained silent. They turned toward him. He was not a Pantheon Head. He was the Vishanti's chosen, Earth's Sorcerer Supreme, and yet—here—he represented more than most realized. "What are you going to do now?" Yao asked aloud. "He's already paying the price. Sealing down the Phoenix Force is no light task."
Across the projection ring, Zeus sneered. "Shut up, Yao. You weren't even in the room when the original agreement was made. This isn't your jurisdiction."
From the side, a quiet voice cut in—measured, composed, and ancient. "The Vishanti successor should still be heard," said Hwanin, the celestial father of Korean myth. His translucent form glimmered like a silvery dawn. "His predecessor, after all, was in that room."
Silence lingered. And then—Vishnu, calm yet sharp, broke every strand of formality like a blade through silk. "Enough wordplay," he said, eyes boring into the Jade Emperor. "You all know. You've always known. Let's stop pretending." He tilted his head slightly. "Jack Hou... is the Monkey King, isn't he?"
Every projection turned. The stillness hung for just a breath too long.
The Jade Emperor, inscrutable in both posture and expression, slowly exhaled. "Yes," he said. "There is no longer any need to conceal it. The seal…. Somehow the incarnation lives again."
"See that, Yao?" Zeus leapt in triumphantly. "That is the sealed monkey. That was the reason the agreement was written in the first place. And now he's here, mocking us with every breath. And you're the one befriending him!"
But Yao didn't reply with words. Instead, the Sorcerer Supreme simply lifted his right hand, palm facing the air, and swept it left to right—like turning a page in space itself. A portal snapped into existence, shaped like an ancient sigil, glowing red and gold. Before anyone could react, Yao stepped through.
A crack of dimensional light echoed through Mount Olympus as Yao's figure emerged inside the throne hall. The marble floors did not creak under his steps. He did not announce himself. He did not need to.
Zeus, seated upon his storm-forged throne, flinched in real-time. The other gods in Olympus—echoes of lightning and thunder—recoiled in stunned silence. Zeus rose. "Y-Yao, what are you doing here?! You—They can see you!"
Indeed, the projections of the other pantheon heads, still active from the Council meeting, remained linked to Zeus's feed. All of them could see this unfold.
Yao said nothing. He walked. One step. Then another. Each footfall a wordless warning. Zeus panicked, snapping his fingers. Lightning surged, divine and ancient, roaring toward Yao like a thunderous lance.
Yao didn't blink. He raised a hand and flicked the lightning away, sending it spiraling into Olympus's heavens, tearing through the clouds like paper.
Now, face-to-face, he stood before Zeus. The god of thunder—warrior, conqueror, destroyer—did not move. Yao placed a hand gently on Zeus's shoulder. "I may not have been in that room," Yao said softly. "But know this, if you ever wish to return to the 'Miracle Age'—you'll have to pass my corpse first." The words were not loud. They didn't need to be.
Every god in every projection felt it—like a bell tolling through their bones. Then, with a final glance, Yao turned. He opened another portal, his fingers slicing space like silk, and walked through it without another word.
The council remained silent, still watching through the stunned projection feed in Zeus's chamber. Zeus sat down again, this time... slower.
Vishnu broke the silence, voice calm but now bearing the weight of judgment. "So. You need my decision, Odin?"
The All-Father, calm and cold, nodded. "Yes. I vote to maintain the agreement. Zeus wishes to retract. But by the rules of the Council of Godheads, your vote will be the tiebreaker."
Vishnu's gaze turned skyward for a moment. "I choose to retract it," he said. Everyone turned sharply. "However," Vishnu added, "not immediately. Not until the current Vishanti successor completes his cycle. Until Yao transitions his mantle… the agreement must stand. Otherwise, we risk open war."
A long breath escaped from Odin. He closed his one good eye. "...Agreed."
Osiris nodded. "Wise decision."
The Jade Emperor, silent this entire time, said nothing. His face unreadable, his thoughts deep beneath the surface like an untouched well.
Izanagi folded his arms. "Then it is decided."
And like wind dispersing fog, the divine projections faded, one by one.
…
Yao sighed, sipped his tea, and carefully set the cup down. "You missed it," he said softly, gazing at Jack's marble form. "All of them. Agreeing. In the same room. If I hadn't seen it myself, I would've thought it was some celestial fever dream."
He shook his head and smiled. "You always did have a way with chaos." A small gust of wind rustled the newly grown trees surrounding the courtyard. The peach blossoms, they'd begun to bloom again.
He stood slowly, his long sleeves rustling like whispers in the wind. "Talking with you always brings me peace," he said to the motionless form of Jack Hou, the marble gleaming under the soft starlight.
His smile bloomed gently, crinkling the corners of his closed eyes. He leaned forward, lifting the cup of tea resting at the statue's base. The steam had faded—only the silence of the night remained. With a quiet chuckle, Yao turned the cup upside down.
The cold tea poured out, dripping slowly down Jack's stony robe. "If you want hot tea," Yao teased, "you should drink it yourself." He straightened up, tone quieter. "I'll be waiting for your rebirth."
The conjured table and tea set faded like mist in sunlight. Yao drew a circle with his hand, golden sparks forming a swirling portal. Without another word, he stepped through—and disappeared. The yard fell silent again. The wind stirred.
Peach blossom petals from the nearby trees caught the breeze, brushing across Jack's face, cracked marble streaked with veins of gold.
…
Clouds thundered across the golden skies of Asgard, and above the Bifrost gate, the stars churned with stormlight. In the hall, a group gathered—Thor Odinson, standing at the center in full battle regalia, Mjolnir slung across his hips. His eyes gleamed with the pride of a soon-to-be king.
Around him were Baldur, Njord, Ullr, Sif, Volstagg, Fandral, Hogun, and trailing behind with hands in his cloak sleeves—Loki. "Brother," Loki muttered, his tone dry as wind, "what exactly are we doing here again?"
Thor turned, hammering a fist into his open palm with righteous determination. "Today, I remind the realms that I will be king." His words rumbled like distant thunder. "What better way to begin than by asserting dominance over our most ancient adversaries?"
Njord, ever the cautious tactician, rubbed his chin. "So… we're attacking the Jotun?"
Thor nodded. "Specifically. The Frost Jotun, they've remained proud and hostile. The rest of Jotunheim may have distanced themselves—but they still harbor defiance in their frozen hearts."
Sif frowned, her arms crossed. "And you believe bloodshed is the way to your people's trust? The other Jotun races have no love for the frostborn. Stirring their nest might rouse more than defiance."
Thor scoffed. "That's the point, Sif. Let them see the hammer fall, and they'll remember who rules them now."
A silence fell.
Then Loki, lurking near the rear, spoke coldly. "Say what you want… but the Frost Jotun are still Ymir's descendants. Just because you inherited Odin's hatred doesn't mean you should carry it into your crown."
Thor's voice rose. "And OUR father slew Ymir to send a message! That Asgard bows to no primordial beast!" He stepped forward, finger pointing like lightning aimed at his brother. "Don't think I haven't noticed your sympathies, Loki. Just because you've laid with Angrboda doesn't make you one of them."
The room stiffened. Loki didn't blink. Instead, it was Baldur who stepped forward, ever the peacekeeper. "Perhaps," he said gently, "we begin not with a war—but with a hunt. One of the Jotun beasts roaming the north." He smiled, golden and disarming. "Let it serve as your message, brother. And not needlessly escalate the realm."
Thor hesitated. Then… grunted. "Fine. We'll hunt. But the message must still be clear—Asgard is not passive."
At the edge of the rainbow bridge, Heimdall stood watch, sword in hand. He had already seen this conversation—its start, its course, and its conclusion. As the group approached, his eyes locked with Thor's. "You know this path brings risk," Heimdall said. "But the Bifrost opens only when commanded."
Thor raised Mjolnir. The air crackled. "Then open it. Let Jotunheim remember what the storm feels like."
Heimdall hesitated—but obeyed. The sword plunged into the control gate—and the Bifrost tore open, howling through realms like a divine scream. The sons of Asgard stepped forward into Jotunheim.
Comments
Vrael333
Thx for the chapter :)
