The Man With The Iron Fist 2 Novels & Stories

The man subconsciously started to stand up, then stared at the iron bars above him without saying anything. The man's pupils shrank as the special iron was crushed by someone. To avoid the metal shards that were falling into his cell, the man stepped back a little and waited for the explosion to finally stop. The man remained calm when someone suddenly jumped down into his cramped cell. His golden eyes looked so cold, as he stared at another figure who had just entered his realm.

I say, standing in front of him while I heat up an iron rod with a designed piece on the part I'm heating. "Fuck you, man." he says, his face bleeding. I hand the rod to one of my guards and they continue to heat it as I pull up my sleeves. I punch him in the face, landing a hit on his cheek where I'd just cut him, then I uppercut him, making him bite half his tongue off, screaming in pain as he spits it out. He now talks weirdly, kind of like he has a strong lisp or something. "Where the fuck is my money, you son of a bitch."

“No blood on your hands, right? Just a little ‘malfunction.’ Just enough to send her flying.” He drove the iron into the man’s shoulder. The scream that followed wasn’t human. The man thrashed violently, but Xandros held him steady, pressing down, skin burning, sizzling, smoking. “You thought you were clever,” he snarled. “No fingerprints. No trace. Just a cracked bracket. A loose latch. Just enough to take her away from me.” He let go, finally, the iron falling with a clatter. The man's chest was heaving, the stench of scorched flesh thick in the air.

Lionel roared as he assumed his stance, clenching his hand into a fist. His fist was charged with incredible amounts of spiritual energy and the furniture, tiles, and walls in the room exploded from the force of the energy. "Die, punk!" Lionel howled as his fist swung at Sebastian's chest. Chuck sighed from the corner of the room. "The Ironfist technique is truly terrifying." The Ironfist technique was a form of martial arts that utilized raw brute strength. Chuck turned to Lorraine and said, "As you can see, Ms. Carlton. This is Lionel's Ironfist technique. One blow and even a small mountain can be destroyed."

"I don't know what you're talking about! If you don't leave, I'll call the police." The middle-aged man's expression didn't change at all despite the threat. "Hahaha! No matter what, you'll definitely bring me a lot of fun." Just as Kingston Dice, the middle-aged man, thought Felix would actually call the police, Felix sneered. "I do agree with you on one thing— 'you' will definitely be a lot of fun!" There was a flash of light. Kingston reacted quickly. A palm-sized net flew out and attempted to trap Lumen. "The Iron Spirit Realm? You're really not as simple as you look!"

As the voice speaks again and dishes out a command, I’m still festering under this pain as I hear the loud dangles of keys and grimace as my perception only amplifies the noise of the keys, the cell door opening, and feet shuffling in. And the result of this practical test, is harrowingly how truly lethal, Iron is for me. Large strong hands snatch my arms from supporting my weight abruptly, and I grimace in protest, breaking into reckless struggles. Something comes pressing roughly into my side and my body jumps promptly, dancing from the unbearable pain. “She tries to struggle again, suppress her with the iron baton” I glare my tearful eyes in the direction of the stoic man giving commands

Once he was settled into his truck, Tim moved the phone from his hip to the holder on his dashboard and pressed ‘start’ for turn-by-turn navigation. Corpus Christi, Texas, here I come. *** Sarah got back from her class and walked into the apartment complex’s office just in time to see Jodie scowling, her tiny hands holding a claw hammer high in the air above her head as she stalked toward her desktop unit. “What are you doing?” Sarah exclaimed. “This damn thing is the bane of my existence, and it needs to die,” Jodie muttered between clenched teeth. Trying her best not to laugh, Sarah moved swiftly to intercede on the machine’s behalf.

He swung a heavy fist, connecting squarely with the man’s jaw. The man stumbled back, coughing and spitting blood onto the asphalt. "What the fuck are you doing here?!" Fred roared, stepping into the man’s space. He grabbed the front of the man’s shirt and slammed him against the pillar. "I told you to stay away from me while I’m in Silverstone!" Fred didn't wait for an answer. He punched the man again, this time in the stomach. The man doubled over, gasping for air.

Men missing fingers and hands from the brutal, unfeeling stamp presses of the foundries. They stared at Torin. The massive Alpha, standing in the doorway, illuminated by the dim light of the street lamps. "The door is open," Torin said, speaking their language with the rough, halting accent Valerius had taught him during the voyage. "Who is first?" The crowd shifted nervously. No one wanted to be the first to step into the den of the "beasts." Finally, a man shuffled forward. He was stooped, his spine permanently curved from decades of hauling coal. He wore a heavy, rain-soaked canvas coat. In his right hand, he clutched a massive, rusted iron wrench, holding it tight to his chest as if it w

However, the long-haired young man did not give him the chance. His scrawny figure crouched low before lunging forward like a hungry tiger pouncing on its prey, with his left hand locking firmly around the man's neck. With a seemingly soft twist, a loud crack was heard. The ex-Iron Tigers member groaned in pain, as his face turned purple and his bloodshot eyes bulged. Less than two seconds later, signs of life faded from his eyes. “So this is the strength of the Iron Tigers of the Tiger’s Cave?”