The Man With The Iron Fist 2 นิยาย & เรื่องราว

Silent: I watch with crossed arms as the infamous Dr. Kolohe Cho uses her technological power to complete the suit of armor. “The Iron Fist armor is nearly ready,” Dr. Cho says while looking at a metal claw. Her eyes and head glowing a blueish-green color, the claw starts to turn by itself. It grabs a massive iron hand and screws it into the wrist of the armor. Dr. Cho thanks the claw machine while it spins around.

Her phone lay nearby, still recording. Dad Thirty-Two picked it up, glanced at the camera. "You wanted to film?" He tilted it. "Then don't miss this." He walked over and looked down at her. "Vivian Cobbley, right?" He crouched. "You know who I am?" Vivian shook her head hard. "My name's Trent Carter. Codename: Iron Fist. Twenty years ago, I took down seventeen traffickers with my bare hands. Thirty-eight bodies total."

Iron Hand growled, his voice trembling with raw emotion. ​Max and Dario exchanged bewildered glances. ​"How?" Max asked. ​Dario smiled, subtly signaling Max to stay calm. He then shifted his gaze back to Iron Hand and stoked the fire. "Yes, exactly. He has openly challenged you. He clearly isn't afraid of you, acting as if he has nine lives." ​Enraged, Iron Hand hurled the single sofa he had just been sitting on across the room. It smashed brutally against the wall, splintering into pieces. The man's arm strength was truly monstrous. It was no mistake he was dubbed Iron Hand.

Don Valentino huffs, readjusting the knuckle busters on his fingers. “Per favore,” the man cries with his head hanging in shame. The man grunts again, coughing and wheezing as Don Valentino punches him in the gut, once again. “I think you mistook my second chance as a sign of weakness, Mr. Nio Mancini.” “No….” He groans.

"Do you really think that it's okay to hit on someone else's Girl?" "Liam,Please!"I begged,hoping to calm him down."He was just asking me if I owned the purse he found,that's all it was I swear."Liam kept his eyes on the man,not even hearing a word I said. "I'm not dealing with this,this is stupid." The man turned to walk away and that's when Liam grabbed hold of him and threw the first punch. The next 30 seconds were a blur of fists being thrown and the two of them scuffing.

After seeing me today, I knew Vincent wouldn't leave me alone. "Grace, fortunes change fast. Vincent will keep coming after you. Don't give in to him!" one of my friends warned. "You know how the Porters treated you before. I'll lose all respect for you if you ever go back to them," another chimed in. I grinned at their concern. "Don't worry. That part of my life ended long ago. I came back this time to expand my business in Camdonia. If any of you are interested, you're welcome to invest. We can all share in the profits together."

This time, when he threw out his punch, his fist was shrouded with a layer of golden light. "Things are starting to get interesting." The man smiled faintly in return. He did a handstand with his left hand so that his body was propelled in mid-air. Then, he swung his leg at Cassian forcefully. Cassian's fist ended up making contact with the tip of the man's foot. Almost immediately, Cassian staggered another two steps backward. As for the man, he was completely fine. He mustered more force into his left hand before he flipped back onto his feet and straightened up.

Their attention was on the one they called the little m*nster. “Damn, bro. The atmosphere’s so tense,” one whispered, his voice shaking. “Shut up, idiot,” another hissed back, unable to hide his own nerves. After a few minutes of waiting, the restroom door opened again. The little m*nster stepped out, wearing his favorite Iron Man shirt, fixing his messy hair. The camera angle was a bit far, so they couldn’t make out his expression. He walked with his hands in his pockets, and what they saw made them blink in disbelief. The way he moved, the confidence in his steps, it was eerily similar to their boss, Dark. Some of them blinked repeatedly, as if refusing to believe it.

Kiran inquired as he grabbed hold of Ironwood, the last one not yet sent flying. Ironwood, looking at his fist captured in Kiran's hand, felt like a child fighting an adult, his eyes wide with shock and disbelief. "How is this possible?" he thought. Ironwood’s punch was powerful enough to deform steel and yet, Kiran was unscathed. "Is this your idea of not showing mercy?" Kiran's words were followed by the sound of cracking bones from his palm. Ironwood screamed in agony as he watched his fist deform and blood seep through Kiran's fingers. His fist was crushed, and his right hand was rendered useless.

He was in his late twenties, broad-shouldered and muscled from years of hard labor and combat, with tousled dark hair, a stubbled jaw, and stormy blue eyes that defied her even now. His shirt had been torn away during capture, revealing a chiseled chest marked with fresh bruises and old scars. Iron manacles bound his wrists above his head, forcing his arms to stretch, while his ankles were shackled to the floor, leaving him exposed and vulnerable. He glared at her, his jaw clenched, but Elara could see the flicker of heat in his gaze as it roamed over her body.