Chapter 142: Paying Respect to the Grandmaster

Wang Jin's mind was in chaos as he stared at Chen Mo, who sat leisurely on the sofa, sipping tea. 

This young man—who looked about his own age—was the legendary master his great-grandfather had always spoken of? The hero from seventy years ago? The strongest warrior in human history? 

Looking at Chen Mo now, it all felt surreal. It was too fantastical to believe. After vanishing for seven decades, presumed lost at sea, he had returned—unchanged, without a single trace of aging. This defied all logic. 

*"You brat! Hurry up and kneel! Pay your respects to the Grandmaster!"* 

Chen Mo nearly choked on his tea when Wang Kun said this. Seeing Wang Jin actually step forward, ready to kowtow, Chen Mo set down his cup with a wry smile. 

"Enough, A-Kun. What era do you think this is? We don't do that anymore." 

"But Master, you *are* their elder, the founder of this hall! They *should* kneel to you! I'll call my sons and grandsons—they'll all come and bow!" 

Chen Mo sighed at Wang Kun's stubbornness. Martial artists placed great importance on tradition and etiquette, and after seventy years, it *was* proper for the younger generations to formally greet their grandmaster. 

But Chen Mo hadn't truly lived those seventy years, nor was he as bound to tradition as Wang Kun. In ancient times, as a lord or king, receiving bows from subjects was normal—but in the modern age, the thought of elderly men in their sixties or seventies kneeling before him felt awkward. 

"No need. I'm just here to rest for a few days before leaving again. No need to summon them." 

Chen Mo waved his hand, dismissing the idea. 

Seeing his resolve, Wang Kun had no choice but to nod in agreement. 

That night, Chen Mo stayed at the martial arts hall. His old room had been preserved exactly as it was, untouched by time. Every corner of the hall remained unchanged, down to the smallest detail. 

Of course, many things had been replaced over the decades—seventy years of wear and tear couldn't be stopped. But Wang Kun, ever the sentimentalist, had ensured every replacement was identical to the original. Even if an item was no longer in production, he had it custom-made, keeping the hall frozen in time. To him, this place would always belong to Chen Mo—he was merely its caretaker, steadfast in his belief that Chen Mo would one day return. 

And now, that day had finally come. 

Over the next few days, Chen Mo spent his time leisurely drinking tea, practicing swordsmanship, and sparring with Wang Kun. 

The years of battle in the *Underworld* realm had sharpened Chen Mo's combat skills to an extraordinary degree, especially his swordsmanship, which had been elevated by Alexander Corvinus' teachings. Compared to when he left the *Captain America* era, his mastery of the blade was now on an entirely different level. 

Wang Kun, too, had grown far stronger over the decades. While Chen Mo's progress lay in swordsmanship, Wang Kun had honed his unarmed combat to perfection. In his early years leading the Seven Rings, he had fought countless battles himself, and after seventy years of relentless training, his skill had reached the realm of a true grandmaster. 

Through their exchanges, both men learned from each other, refining their techniques to new heights. 

Wang Jin, watching from the sidelines, gained invaluable insights—especially from Chen Mo's breathtaking swordsmanship, which felt like witnessing an entirely new world. *So this is how a sword can truly be wielded.* 

Chen Mo wasn't in a hurry to visit Tony Stark. He wasn't sure if interfering too early would disrupt the birth of Iron Man—not just the armor, but the transformation within Tony himself. 

The arc reactor, the core of the Iron Man suit, and the Mark I prototype had both been born from Tony's captivity. After a Jericho missile demonstration, his convoy was ambushed, and a blast left shrapnel embedded near his heart. Trapped in a cave with only a car battery keeping him alive, Tony had been forced to create both the miniature reactor and the first suit to escape. 

Chen Mo understood—this crucible was necessary. Not just for the armor, but for the hero Tony would become. Premature interference might unravel destiny itself.

The core power source of the Iron Man armor—the miniature Arc Reactor—was born during Tony Stark's captivity by terrorists, alongside the prototype suit, the Mark I. 

At the time, his convoy had been ambushed on the way back from a Jericho missile demonstration. A missile exploded beside him, embedding shrapnel deep in his chest. Though Dr. Yinsen removed most of the fragments, several remained lodged near Tony's heart, threatening to pierce it at any moment. The only solution was an electromagnet implanted in his body to keep the shrapnel at bay—powered, initially, by nothing more than a car battery. 

The terrorists demanded Tony build them a Jericho missile, but he knew even if he complied, they would never let him live. 

It was in this desperate crucible that Tony Stark's genius erupted. Trapped in a cave with crude tools, he designed and built both the miniature Arc Reactor and the Mark I armor, ultimately breaking free from his captors. 

Before this breakthrough, miniaturizing the Arc Reactor had been impossible. The original reactor at Stark Industries was over twenty meters in diameter—massive compared to the palm-sized version Tony created in that cave. The technological leap was staggering, far beyond what conventional research could achieve in such a short time. 

The armor's design, too, was a stroke of brilliance, incorporating entirely new technologies. Under normal circumstances, even with a clear blueprint, completing such a project quickly would have been unthinkable. 

Countless technical and design hurdles should have stalled development. It couldn't have been as effortless as the movies portrayed—where Tony, in a godlike burst of inspiration, breezed through breakthroughs without a single bottleneck. 

But Tony Stark was under the immense pressure of survival. His environment, his desperation, his mindset, his will—all these factors converged to forge this era-defining invention. Change the time, the place, or the circumstances, and the Iron Man armor might never have existed. Without that crucible, Tony Stark might have remained nothing more than an arrogant playboy.

The most powerful and unique technologies in a movie world are obviously impossible to be easily manufactured, either they are high-level black technologies that have been accumulated over a long period of time, or they are created by accident and accident under incomparable coincidences and various special circumstances.

It's as if the original Edman alloy shield of the American captain, the perfect blood of the night legend, and the steel battle suit of the steel iron, their birth process simply cannot be replicated again.

So Chen Mo doesn't change the plot easily, all he has to do is watch the changes and wait for the birth of steel armor, and a Tony Stark who has really grown up through the transformation and can bravely take on his own responsibilities.

Chen Mo didn't have to wait long, and soon he received information from the Nine Snakes that Tony Stark would be on a private plane to Afghanistan three days later to show off his newly developed Jariak missile to the American Army.

At this time, Tony Stark still regarded weapons as toys, and based on his amazing talent for weapons, he continued to develop and create more advanced and powerful weapons.

He didn't even know who his company, Stark Industries, was selling the weapons to, who was being used by them, and what kind of disaster it had brought to so many people in the world.

But soon, he'll find out.

Chen Mo didn't rush to move, it wasn't time yet, and besides, he was waiting for something.

Three days later, the Chinese Martial Arts Hall.

After lunch, Chen Mo was sitting on the sofa with Wang Kun drinking tea and chatting, and the food he ate these days was all made by Wang Kun's wife.

Although he is in charge of the huge Seven Rings Gang, it can be said that he is rich and can be the enemy, but Wang Kun's life has always been very simple, except for Wang Jin, who moved in after graduation, there are only Wang Kun and his wife.

Originally, there were still some apprentices in the martial arts hall who were practicing martial arts, and later Wang Kun himself was left in the martial arts, and he was still busy with helping all day, after several apprentices came out, Wang Kun arranged them to help the gang take care of the gang, and then never accepted any more apprentices.

There are no nannies and servants in the martial arts, and the two of them take care of their daily life, and Chen Mo's room has always been cleaned by them, when Wang Kun was practicing martial arts, his wife was reading a book on the side, and when he was resting, the two of them sat together to watch TV and chat, and the days passed simply, plain and substantial.

Wang Kun's wife was also injected with improved serum, although she did not practice martial arts, but her physical quality was much stronger than that of ordinary martial arts practitioners, and she looked younger than Wang Kun, and she was in her forties, so she naturally did not care about some household chores.

Seventy years later, if nothing else, the art of cooking is much better than those kitchen and Michelin chefs, and the knife work can make everyone sweat, and the dishes made by Chen Mo, the king who has eaten the "delicacies" of the Middle Ages for several years, are highly praised.

Chen Mo couldn't help but let her do more, put it in the space, and the next time she entered a world like a night legend, she would have to eat those monotonous breads, barbecues, and fragrant belly.

Chen Mo and Wang Kun were chatting casually, and Wang Kun's wife walked out with a plate of pastries.

Knowing that Chen Mo likes the dishes she makes, her heart is also very happy, she is a traditional woman, and she is not willing to meddle in the things in the help, in this long time, in addition to reading books, her biggest hobby is to study cooking, Chinese food, Western food, Japanese food, desserts, she is very good at all of them.

Being able to get Chen Mo's praise is the biggest recognition for her, and Chen Mo doesn't hide much from them, and they have long known that Chen Mo has the ability to save things, since Chen Mo likes it, after every day after cooking, she will do some things for Chen Mo to bring.

Not today, after lunch, she made some Chinese pastries and served them on the tea table.

"Pavilion master, try the crystal osmanthus cake I just made."

Chen Mo looked at the plate, his eyes couldn't help but light up, one by one, the size of a baby's fist, the crystal clear crystal osmanthus cake was neatly placed in the plate, and the surface was dotted with a little osmanthus the size of a yellow rice grain, and the fragrance of osmanthus flowers spread out for a while, which made people feel shocked.

Chen Mo pinched a light bite and took a bite, the soft and glutinous taste, refreshing but not sweet, the rich fragrance spread in the mouth, mellow and sweet, lingering in the teeth for a long time.

Throwing the remaining half of the crystal osmanthus cake into his mouth, Chen Motai waved his hand and directly collected the whole plate of osmanthus cake on the tea table into the space, so that Wang Kungang's hand that had just been stretched out on the opposite side could only be stupidly lifted in the air.

"If you want to eat and let your wife make it for you again, I should leave."

Wang Kun retracted his hand a little helplessly, comparing his hand speed with Chen Mo, he couldn't win at all, but when he heard the words behind him, he looked at Chen Mo with some confusion.

At this moment, the door of the martial arts hall was knocked on from the outside.

I came back in the middle of the night last night, and I got up at four o'clock and added it.