📢 Power Stone Goal + Translator's Note
🔹 Power Stone Goal: 50 = 10 Bonus Chapters!If this fanfic reaches 50 Power Stones, I'll drop 10 extra chapters as a thank-you!Your support helps me prioritize and keep the chapters flowing smoothly. Let's make it happen!
💬 Question for You:If you were dropped into the Marvel Universe 100 years early… with Xianxia-style cultivation, chakra from Naruto, and a pearl that lets you draw powers from other worlds—how would YOU use that power? And do you know something about 1919 U.S.A that you can use to your advantage quickly?
👇 Drop your answers in the comments — I'll be reading them all!
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Chapter 4: Threads of Power
George woke early, as always. The scent of soy-glazed pork still lingered on his clothes from the night before, and his arms carried the ache of relentless practice in sword art, cooking, and focus. He liked it. The ache made him feel alive.
The city outside his window never truly slept. Somewhere beyond the bakery walls, factory whistles screamed, car horns barked, and the morning chaos of Manhattan resumed its noisy rhythm. George dressed quickly, tied back his hair, and checked the knife hidden beneath his coat.
Another day. Another step forward.
The restaurant was already half-awake by the time he arrived. Elly's apprentice—a shy, quick-handed girl named Lin—was prepping vegetables. The regulars outside shuffled in place, drawn by the scent that now seemed to pour from the very walls.
"Morning, Chef Long," Lin said, not looking up as she peeled ginger.
"Morning, Lin. Boil the pork bones early today. We'll run congee specials at noon."
She nodded.
Zhang stepped out from the back office, squinting through gold-rimmed spectacles.
"You're here early."
"Opportunities don't sleep," George replied, already tying his apron.
Zhang chuckled. "You sound more like a general than a chef."
George smiled faintly. "Maybe I'm both."
By midday, the restaurant was full, as usual. George moved like a phantom between boiling pots and sizzling pans, every motion graceful and exact. Each dish that left his hands was a performance.
What the customers didn't see was the steady trickle of energy flowing through his veins. The Qi. The strength. The way his senses extended just a little farther every day.
The Heavenly Sword Body was adapting, growing. The Super Soldier Serum enhancements had already stabilized his cellular structure. George felt faster, more precise. Stronger.
But strength alone wasn't enough.
He needed information.
That evening, after locking up, George slipped into a darker part of Chinatown. He moved like smoke through alleys until he reached a quiet mahjong parlor tucked behind a red-lanterned doorway.
Inside, men in suits and worn jackets murmured over tiles. Cigarette smoke curled beneath the low ceiling. A few heads turned as he entered, recognizing him.
The kitchen ghost. The prodigy.
He walked to the back table, where a well-dressed Chinese man in his forties played silently. His name was Li Tao, an influential fixer who worked between local gangs and foreign interests. Smart. Dangerous. Curious.
"Chef Long," Li Tao said without looking up. "Care to play?"
"Not today," George said. "I came to trade."
Li finally glanced up, his eyes sharp. "Information?"
"In exchange for recipes," George said. "Real ones. Not street food. Dynasty dishes. Things no one's seen in a hundred years."
Li considered him for a long moment. "What do you want to know?"
"Who's moving in the shadows of this city? The real players. Government, gangs, scientists... outsiders."
Li leaned back in his chair. "You ask dangerous questions."
"Only because I plan to survive them."
Li smiled.
"Sit."
Over the next hour, names surfaced. German scientists brought over after the war. Secret experiments in Brooklyn. A masked man who stole tech from military trains. Rumors of strange creatures near the harbor at night. Even whispers of a man who claimed to be a magician.
George absorbed it all.
By the time he left the parlor, his mind spun with possibilities. The pieces were scattered, but the pattern was forming.
He had to move faster.
That night, he made another draw from the Chaos Pearl.
He felt ready.
[Drawing from World: Naruto]
A glowing orb, bright orange with a spiral pattern, floated into his hand.
He crushed it.
Pain and clarity surged through him.
He received the foundational chakra system of a Genin-level shinobi.
A basic Wind Release affinity.
A scroll of beginner taijutsu techniques.
George gasped as his chakra coils bloomed into being, winding through his meridians like vines under moonlight.
He dropped to one knee, breathing hard.
Another system. Another step forward.
Now, he had sword Qi, cultivation, serum-enhanced physique, and chakra.
He chuckled to himself, still winded.
"One more layer to the storm."
The city wouldn't know what hit it.
George Orwell was building something not even the future could contain.
—End of Chapter 4—
📝 Translator's Note:I'm a fan like you, working to bring awesome stories into English as naturally and clearly as possible. This project is close to my heart — feel free to share feedback or cool ideas. Thanks for reading!