Chapter 175: Chapter 175: The Dragon’s Heart

That night, Arthur stood alone in his quarters, deep in thought. His mind circled back to the same topic again and again — the Iron Fist.

He opened a small leather notebook and began scribbling down everything he remembered.

The Iron Fist gains its power by defeating Shou-Lao the Undying and plunging a hand into the dragon’s molten heart. The dragon dies, but it’s immortal — reborn in a cycle that has continued for generations.

Arthur tapped his pen against the page.

“But does the dragon really have to die?” he muttered. “Is the act of defeat what matters… or the contact with the heart itself? Could a fragment be enough?”

Unfortunately, the K’un-Lun library had been scrubbed clean of anything remotely related to the Iron Fist. The monks had hidden those records with frustrating precision — even Arthur’s most advanced detection spells couldn’t find them. He had to admire their methods, though it made his research harder.

So he had to work with what little he knew — and what he could experiment with.

If there truly was a way to gain the dragon’s power without killing it, that would be ideal. Perhaps the only way forward.

He took a deep breath and began preparing. It was time to hunt for a dragon.

He cloaked himself in Death’s invisibility, layering on wards that masked even his chi and magical signature. When he was certain no being in K’un-Lun could sense him, he slipped out into the night.

The mountain air was sharp and cold. The faint glow of the temples disappeared behind him as he ascended through winding paths.

From memory, the dragon’s lair was said to lie deep within the mountain — though Arthur wasn’t sure how accurate the shows and legends were. Perhaps it existed in another dimension entirely.

Still, finding the dragon shouldn’t be difficult. A being like Shou-Lao — ancient, powerful, eternal — would radiate chi unlike anything else. Even hidden, that kind of energy couldn’t be fully masked.

He closed his eyes, expanding his awareness until the energy around him shimmered in his mind’s eye.

There — a pulse. Ancient, powerful, unmistakably draconic.

Arthur followed the trail, bypassing hidden guards and patrols with ease. A veil of illusion concealed the cave entrance, but he saw through it immediately. Beyond lay a descending tunnel that glowed faintly with veins of molten gold.

The deeper he went, the warmer it became — until finally, the tunnel opened into a vast cavern.

And there it was.

Shou-Lao the Undying.

Arthur had seen dragons before — Hungarian Horntails, Chinese Fireballs, even a glimpse of the Hebridean Black.

But this was different.

Shou-Lao was serpentine, impossibly long, with scales that shimmered between deep crimson and molten gold. It had no wings, but four powerful legs ending in claws that had carved grooves into the stone. Steam rose from its nostrils with every breath.

And there, visible through the translucent scales in its chest, burned a heart of pure golden fire.

The dragon slept deeply, its breathing creating small windstorms in the cavern. Arthur remained perfectly still, every concealment spell at maximum strength. One mistake and he would have a battle on his hands — one that could jeopardize his standing in K’un-Lun.

He studied the heart from a distance. Its power wasn’t just chi — it was life itself, condensed and burning eternally.

For a moment, Arthur raised his hand, tempted to reach out and take the power for himself. But hesitation struck. If the legends were right, contact might trigger the ritual — killing the dragon and marking him as the next Iron Fist.

There would be no Iron Fist Danny Rand. No Davos. Ariadne would also have no chance.

That wasn’t what he wanted.

So instead, he whispered a silent incantation. The tip of his finger glowed gold, and a delicate beam of magic extended toward the heart. A fragment — no larger than a fingernail — broke free and floated toward him.

Arthur caught it in a crystal vial laced with stasis charms. The tiny piece burned like a captured sun, alive and pulsing.

He exhaled, slowly, in quiet triumph.

But then Shou-Lao shifted.

Arthur’s breath caught. His heart stopped.

One massive eye opened — ancient, knowing, and fixed directly on where Arthur stood, invisible.

For a long, silent moment, neither moved.

Then Shou-Lao’s eye closed again, and the dragon resumed its slumber.

Arthur backed away carefully, every spell still active until he was far from the cavern. Only when he returned to his quarters did he finally release his concealments and exhale the breath he’d been holding.

Had the dragon seen him? Allowed him to leave?

He would never know.

—

For the next two weeks, Arthur trained as usual by day, while by night he devoted himself to studying the fragment in secret. He’d conducted the experiments in his manor to avoid Lei Kung’s attention.

The fragment was mesmerizing — a droplet of molten sunlight, endlessly alive.

More than once, Arthur felt the urge to touch it — to see if even that tiny piece could awaken the Iron Fist’s power. But he held back. He had no interest in claiming a broken or incomplete version of the gift.

Instead, he focused on understanding it. He began testing the fragment’s properties — its energy density, regenerative capacity, and reaction to magical stimuli. If he could find a way to grow the fragment into a complete heart, he might replicate the dragon’s gift without needing to kill it.

Winky assisted when called.

“Master is doing dangerous things again,” she said, balancing a tray of rare ingredients.

“Necessary things,” Arthur corrected, not looking up as he etched a rune into the containment circle.

“Master always says that.”

“Because it’s always true,” he replied absently.

Winky sighed but didn’t argue.

—

Two more months passed.

It had been nearly three and a half months since Arthur and Ariadne had first set foot in K’un-Lun, and much had changed.

Arthur’s martial arts had grown sharper, more fluid. He could now channel chi into his strikes, augmenting his strength far beyond normal limits. Ariadne’s progress was slower, but steady — she too had learned to infuse her blows with energy, and was beginning to explore chi healing.

Arthur had learned what he needed — the principles, the control, the foundation. True mastery of chi would take years, perhaps decades, and he had no intention of devoting that much time to something that would never be his main power.

Chi had its limits. It enhanced the body, sharpened the senses, extended life — but it wasn’t infinite. For Arthur, it would always remain a supporting art, not a defining one.

Still, it had its value. And it would remain part of his daily practice.

But the real reason for his early departure lay elsewhere.

His research into the heart fragment had reached its final stage — the point of no return. He didn’t know what the experiment would do to him, and if the masters sensed the changes that brought with it, there would be questions he couldn’t answer.

So he would leave quietly.

Ariadne was staying behind. She still had much to learn — chi healing, energy projection, and the other techniques Lei Kung had promised to teach. Techniques Arthur had no interest in, since he had far more powerful alternatives.

As Arthur prepared to leave, he made his way to the training courtyard one last time. Lei Kung was waiting there, as if he had known Arthur would come.

The old master held out a scroll wrapped in red silk.

“Advanced chi exercises,” he said. “Continue your studies. Martial arts may not raise your power significantly, but the other benefits are worth more than you think.”

Arthur accepted the scroll with a respectful bow.

“Thank you. For everything. I’ve learned more here than I expected to — not just about chi.”

Lei Kung gave a small nod, a flicker of approval passing through his usually stoic expression. “I look forward to your return. If it comes.”

Arthur allowed a faint smile. “My next visit will surprise you.”

Just then, hurried footsteps echoed down the stone corridor. Davos came into view, his expression unreadable but intense.

“You’re leaving,” he said — not as a question, but a statement.

“I am,” Arthur replied.

Davos narrowed his eyes. “You don’t want to become the Iron Fist?”

“No,” Arthur said plainly. “It’s not mine to take.”

Lei Kung watched the exchange in silence, arms folded, gaze steady.

Davos hesitated, then muttered, “I won’t thank you.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to,” Arthur said, his smile unchanged. “But even without me, you won’t walk in unchallenged. Others will rise — and they won’t be easy to overcome.”

“You think I can’t earn it?” Davos asked, bristling.

“I think you’ll have to fight something much harder than rivals,” Arthur said. His tone was quiet now. “You’ll have to fight fate.”

Davos frowned. “What does that mean?”

“You’ll understand,” Arthur said. “When the time comes.”

He turned to Ariadne, who stood nearby with her pack slung over one shoulder, eyes full of both respect and concern.

“Take care of yourself,” he told her. “And learn everything you can.”

“I will,” she said. “See you soon.”

He gave her a nod — then with a soft pop, he vanished.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep