Inside the Triskelion, the air in the Director's office was still vibrating from the sheer pressure of Huang Wen's departure. Nick Fury stood behind his desk, his chest heaving as he stared at the spot where the golden light had faded.
"Shit! Fuck! Bitch!"
The strings of expletives erupted from Fury's mouth with a raw, uncharacteristic venom. For the first time in his career as a spymaster, he felt a crushing, suffocating sense of helplessness. When dealing with Charles Xavier, Fury at least had leverage. He knew Charles cared about his "kind," and that compassion was a leash Fury could pull.
But Huang Wen? Huang Wen was an anomaly. He didn't seem to want a throne, he didn't care about politics, and he had just demonstrated that he could turn the world's most secure facility into his personal walk-in closet. Worse, the intelligence reports indicated that Huang Wen possessed the ability to hide or relocate an entire city block at will.
"Phew!" After several minutes of pacing, Fury exhaled a long, shaky breath. He smoothed his coat, regaining a sliver of his composure. He looked at the surveillance monitor, knowing his tech team was listening.
"Cancel everything," Fury commanded, his voice cold and flat. "Scrub the Spatial Exile project. Wipe every active surveillance tap on Chinatown. Designate Huang Wen and any confirmed associates as Level 10 'Do Not Disturb.' No one—and I mean no one—approaches that district without my personal, written authorization."
He paused, a dark glint in his eye. "And let's make one thing clear to the rank and file: anyone caught unauthorized in Chinatown will be charged with treason. S.H.I.E.L.D. will not negotiate for your release, and we certainly won't avenge you if you end up as a stain on the sidewalk. You're on your own."
Fury had no intention of warning the CIA or the FBI. If those "rats" wanted to go poke the dragon, let them. Maybe the sight of a few federal agents disappearing would give the rest of the world the hint they needed.
While Fury was having a minor existential crisis in D.C., the Wing Chun Martial Arts Academy in New York was coming alive. The "Closed" sign had been flipped, and the neighborhood already knew the "Master" was back.
The lobby was filled with the familiar sounds of shuffling feet and excited murmurs. Most of the regular students had arrived within hours of the announcement. The only notable absence was Max.
Ever since Jack's high-profile interview had catapulted Max into the spotlight as the "Hero of the Electrical Grid," Max's life had taken a strange turn. The initial fame had been intense, but Max's natural social anxiety and lack of charisma had caused the public's interest to fade. Now, he was back in his "invisible" routine at the power plant, being buried under mountains of paperwork by a supervisor who was clearly jealous of his fifteen minutes of fame.
"Hello, Teacher!"
The students shouted in unison as Huang Wen walked into the second-floor training hall. They looked around at the renovated space with wide eyes. Everything was pristine—the floors were polished to a mirror sheen, and the high-tech registration system handled by "Dumb Girl" made them feel like they were part of something elite.
"Three months is a long time," Huang Wen said, walking through their ranks with a faint smile. "Tell me, did you spend it eating burgers, or did you actually practice?"
"We practiced!" they roared.
"Prove it. Siu Nim Tau form. Go."
The hall was suddenly filled with the rhythmic snapping of fabric and the synchronized movements of dozens of bodies. They moved with a surprising amount of coordination, their stances firm and their strikes sharp.
"Not bad," Huang Wen noted, his hands tucked behind his back. "You haven't regressed, which is more than I expected from some of you. But standing still isn't the same as moving forward."
The students watched him intently, sensing a shift in the air.
"Starting today," Huang Wen announced, his voice carrying to every corner of the room, "the first student to master the Biu Jee form—and I mean true proficiency—will receive a special reward from me. This isn't just a trophy. It's a physical transformation."
The room erupted in whispers. They knew what that meant. In the martial arts world, a "special reward" from a master like Huang Wen was better than winning the lottery.
Huang Wen wasn't going to give out character packs yet—those were reserved for his inner circle—but he had developed a simplified version of "marrow cleansing." Since he had consumed the Blood Bodhi, he understood the flow of life energy that could rejuvenate a human body. A small burst of his Qi, properly channeled, could clear a student's meridians and push their physical limits far beyond what a normal human could achieve. It was the "adrenaline" of the gods.
"Before we begin," Huang Wen gestured toward Ying Faming, who had been standing quietly to the side. "Meet Ying Faming. He is a master of Tai Chi. Don't let the name fool you into thinking it's just for old people in the park. Tai Chi is the 'soft' to Wing Chun's 'hard.' If you want to reach the next level, you need to learn how to yield. From now on, he is Teacher Ying."
The students looked at Ying Faming. Compared to the young, vibrant, and terrifyingly powerful Huang Wen, Ying Faming looked... old. He looked like the kind of guy who would struggle with a heavy grocery bag. A few of the younger, more hot-headed students shared skeptical glances.
Huang Wen saw it and chuckled to himself. Kids. They never learn.
"Brother Ying," Huang Wen turned to him. "They're all yours. If their form is sloppy, don't be polite. Give them a taste of what 'Internal Power' actually looks like."
"I'll do my best, Master Huang," Ying Faming said with a humble bow. He stepped forward, his movements fluid and deceptively slow, yet there was a weight to his presence that began to make the students feel uneasy.
"Jack, Reese, follow me," Huang Wen signaled.
He didn't want to wait. He had decided to integrate the Ip Man character packs into his two new disciples. With those, combined with their custom tuxedos and the "Gun-Fu" logic he had decoded from his own system, they would be more than capable of handling any street-level threat—even someone as skilled as Hawkeye would find them a handful.
"Master! Master! Wait for me!"
An energetic voice echoed from the stairwell. Huang Liang came bursting into the hall, his backpack bouncing against his shoulders, his face flushed from running.
"Liang? Why aren't you in school?" Huang Wen asked, raising an eyebrow. "I thought you had a big lecture this afternoon."
"Hehe, I did," Huang Liang rubbed the back of his neck, grinning sheepishly. "But I didn't want to miss the reopening. Don't worry, I had a friend sign me in. I won't get caught."
"A friend?" Huang Wen asked, mostly out of habit.
"Yeah, Peter. Peter Parker. He's a bit of a nerd, but he's a good guy. Real quiet, stays in the back of the class, so the professor never notices when he's answering for two people."
Huang Wen froze. The name hit him like a physical strike.
"Wait," Huang Wen squinted, his mind racing. "Who did you say? Peter Parker?"
"Yeah? Is something wrong?" Huang Liang blinked, confused by his cousin's sudden intensity. "Do you know him? I doubt it, he's pretty introverted. Lives with his aunt in Queens."
Huang Wen took a breath, his mind running through the timelines. If Peter is in high school with Liang, then this isn't the MCU timeline where he's a kid right now. This is a blended world. An older version of Peter. The 'Amazing' or the 'Classic' one.
"Nothing," Huang Wen said, quickly regaining his mask. "The name just sounded familiar. Like a character from a book I read once."
He shook his head with a small smile. Spider-Man. Of course he's here. I should have expected the neighborhood to get even more crowded.
"Since you're here and skipping class anyway," Huang Wen said, gesturing toward the stairs, "get your butt up to the fourth floor. I'm giving out the 'good stuff' today, and I'm only saying it once."
Huang Liang's eyes turned into saucers. "The good stuff? As in... the 'punch-through-walls' stuff?"
"Get moving," Huang Wen laughed, nudging him toward the stairs.