It's Him, It's Him!

The dagger was easily blocked.

The tactical dagger produced by S.H.I.E.L.D.'s Technology Division was made of exceptionally tough materials, but Hydra's mechanical arm was no slouch either. Not only did it look high-tech, it was hard enough that the tactical dagger left only a tiny scratch when it struck it.

That was nothing.

The arm could also enhance strength. It was practically Marvel's version of the Qilin Arm.

It was ridiculously powerful.

It sent the tactical dagger flying with a single blow.

Natasha felt an enormous force travel through her arm, leaving it numb. While still in midair, she performed an entire series of intricate, graceful movements, landed on the ground, and kicked off with both legs.

She leaped up!

Spread her legs!

Clamped them shut!

Twisted her hips!

Threw back her head, bent backward, and used the motion for leverage!

Natasha landed sitting on the Winter Soldier's shoulders, locking him in a standard Black Widow scissor hold.

Natasha's legs might not have looked particularly thick, but they were incredibly strong. They could snap a man's waist or break his neck. Anyone who had experienced it knew, and more than half of Marvel's Super Heroes had a say in the matter.

Those legs—those signature opening-and-closing scissors—had snapped who knew how many necks.

Yet it was useless.

The Winter Soldier was unaffected.

Even using her waist for leverage to try and topple him did nothing. She simply could not move him.

His feet seemed rooted to the ground.

The Winter Soldier remained expressionless.

Suddenly, he grabbed Black Widow with both hands.

A headbutt!

Bang!

Two heads collided.

Natasha was instantly dazed, nearly blacking out.

She twisted her waist, turning Black Widow into a slippery little loach and breaking free of the Winter Soldier's grip, only for him to fling her hard to the ground.

His mechanical arm rose.

It fired a miniature missile.

Natasha turned and ran.

Boom!

The missile exploded, sending out a shockwave and showering the area with rubble. Natasha dove to the ground and avoided most of it, but she was still struck several times. Her back hurt, and her waist hurt even worse.

The Winter Soldier charged over in long strides.

Natasha scrambled up and ran.

There was no way to fight him!

The Winter Soldier was not only a skilled fighter with exceptional physical abilities and a willingness to kill without blinking—he was also a weapon fanatic. He would never fight barehanded if he could use a weapon. His combat power was terrifying.

More importantly, he was not going to duel her one-on-one.

More than a dozen Hydra agents rushed over!

Bang! Bang! Bang!

A rapid series of gunshots rang out.

Natasha hurried toward the corner, hoping to take cover.

Unfortunately, she was not fast enough. No matter how fast she was, she could not outrun bullets—a dense hail of them.

One bullet struck her, nearly breaking her waist.

Then her leg was hit too.

Her leg buckled, and she dropped to one knee. Getting back up would not be easy now.

The gunfire suddenly stopped. All she could hear were heavy footsteps—the Winter Soldier, heavier than he looked.

What were they going to do?

Natasha knew all too well!

Capture her alive, interrogate her, subject her to all kinds of brutal torture—even the things women feared most...

It did not matter.

She had been through it hundreds of times already!

If they truly could not pry anything out of her, they would use her as bait. S.H.I.E.L.D. would take risks for the famous "Black Widow." She was too important.

Natasha decided not to resist.

If she was captured, she was captured. Maybe she could use the opportunity to learn Hydra's secrets and find a way to escape afterward. She had done this sort of thing so often that it had become second nature.

As she was thinking, Natasha saw a foot.

A foot wearing a sneaker.

Then a leg.

A leg in sweatpants.

Not short, but not long either.

Not thick, but not thin either.

Then came a second foot and a second leg.

Someone emerged from around the corner and charged this way.

Suddenly.

In the blink of an eye, the person vanished.

Natasha instinctively turned her head and saw an almost imperceptible afterimage roll past her and straight toward the Winter Soldier.

Yes, roll—not walk, not run, but roll.

Curled into a ball and rolling like one!

What kind of special forces or assassin school taught that? How could rolling possibly be faster than running?

It was not even downhill.

The key was that he really was fast—far faster than an Olympic champion sprinting a hundred meters.

That violated the laws of physics, didn't it?

The human ball suddenly burst apart, becoming a person.

He wore a cheap tracksuit, the kind that cost less than twenty dollars at a roadside shop. No matter how she looked at it, it seemed like a knockoff.

The man stood up straight. He was about as tall as the Winter Soldier and slightly chubby, but he looked nowhere near as burly.

Standing together, they looked like an office worker facing a bodybuilding coach.

His face was covered, so she could not make out his appearance or age.

But he felt like a middle-aged man. He was too calm and steady for a young person.

Suddenly, he raised a hand.

It did not look especially fast, but it actually was.

Natasha could read the tiny print below the final line on an eye chart. She had also undergone specialized training and possessed powerful motion-tracking abilities. She could see every detail of the man's movement clearly.

It was not a fist, but a palm with all five fingers together.

It struck the Winter Soldier's chest.

The Winter Soldier flew backward, while the man did not move an inch.

Natasha suddenly felt her entire worldview collapse.

That really did not conform to the laws of physics, did it?

Action and reaction—she had learned that in middle school physics.

When one person hit another, the force was mutual. If both were standing firm, the lighter one should be the one knocked backward, right?

Even with the added momentum from speed, it should not have been like this.

You did not budge, yet the Winter Soldier, who clearly weighed much more than you, went flying? Was this a movie?

And that was only the beginning.

The scenes that followed left Natasha's eyes wide and her little mouth hanging open in spite of herself.

Gunfire erupted.

The Hydra agents were well-trained, and they all opened fire.

Yet not a single bullet hit him.

The man charged into the crowd.

Fists!

Palms!

Legs!

Headbutts!

Throat locks!

Rolls!

A relentless chain of attacks.

Every movement was elegant and beautiful.

At times he was domineering as a tiger, at times steady as a mountain, at times swift as a leopard.

It took only nine seconds.

The Hydra agents were completely wiped out.

Only the Winter Soldier in the distance climbed back to his feet, seemingly unharmed.

Natasha suddenly recalled Agent Ward's earlier report.

The man who had taken all of them down in just seven seconds—could it be that he had not been the Winter Soldier?

But this man in the cheap tracksuit?

No wonder he had not killed Agent Ward and the others.

He was not Hydra. He was Hydra's enemy!

Old Wang did not have so many inner thoughts, forcing drama onto himself.

True Qi Burst, Tiger Palm, Crane Neck Kick, Phantom Kick, Fists of Fury—and more than just those.

There were also all the martial arts he had learned through countless "friendly sparring matches" with the masters of thirteen martial arts schools, large and small, in Chinatown:

Baji, Taiji, Bagua, Xingyi, Hung Gar, Wing Chun, Jeet Kune Do, Praying Mantis...

He had mastered and integrated them all.

He used them as he pleased.

They came to him effortlessly.

A Grandmaster.

He easily defeated these Hydra soldiers who relied heavily on high-tech equipment.

The only exception was the Winter Soldier.

He had taken a full-force Tiger Palm and flown more than ten meters, even collapsing a wall, yet he was somehow fine?

Was the Super Soldier Serum really that powerful?

Old Wang casually brushed nonexistent dust from his clothes, placed his right hand behind his back, extended his left hand before him, and looked at the Winter Soldier, who had just climbed to his feet, with a faint smile.

"Should I call you Sergeant Barnes, or the Winter Soldier?"

"Do you still remember Captain America from Brooklyn? Steve Rogers?"

Elsewhere.

Coulson, who was exchanging fire with other Hydra agents, froze when he heard the calm voice through his earpiece.

The Winter Soldier was Sergeant Barnes?

Hadn't he fallen off a cliff? He had not died?

How was that possible!

S.H.I.E.L.D. Triskelion Headquarters.

The Director's office.

Egghead's black hand tapped the air, and the holographic projection pulled up the complete file on "James Buchanan Barnes."

Several entries caught his attention.

"1943: Sergeant Barnes was captured by Hydra. Dr. Zola conducted experiments on him similar to the Super Soldier Program."

"He was subsequently rescued by Captain America, Howard Stark, and Peggy Carter."

"His physical capabilities improved compared to before, and his combat performance surpassed everyone else's, second only to Captain America."

"1944: He fell from a cliff during a mission."

"Captain America once attempted to locate his body, but failed."