Hong Fei had a simple plan: swipe his card and give Peter a glimpse of the world beyond his everyday life. If pressed to call it teaching, he'd boiled it down to three lessons. The first two were titled "Understanding the Visual Oppression of Superpowered Individuals" and "The Dialectical Relationship Between Ends and Means."
In simpler terms, the first was about scaring the kid, and the second was teaching Peter that if you're determined to get something from a stranger, the most efficient method is to eliminate them. Unfortunately, Peter didn't seem frightened—if anything, he looked excited. Since Ghost Rider was cooperating so readily, Hong Fei had to pivot his approach.
The final lesson was called "The Art of Dealing with Devils." Translation? If you meet a devil, fight him. End of story. Sadly, Mephisto didn't show up. But the shift worked in Hong Fei's favor—his Dragon King persona regained its grand, righteous aura.
"Uncle, that Grandpa earlier was incredible!" Peter exclaimed.
Frank's mouth twitched as he glanced at Hong Fei. Grandpa? Hong Fei shook his head.
"He's not old, and his heart isn't old either. His body may appear aged, but he can restore his youth instantly. However, it comes at a steep cost—one that would plunge his battle against the devil into utter failure."
"Another devil? Are they scary?" Peter asked.
"Not scary, but cunning."
"So, was Grandpa tricked?"
"Yes, and badly. While he gained power, his heart suffers agonizing torment every moment."
Peter frowned, deep in thought, but it was clear he still didn't fully grasp it. Finally, he apologized with a dejected look.
"I'm sorry, Uncle. I still don't understand why you brought me here."
"It's simple," Hong Fei replied. "I want you to know that not all superpowered individuals live glamorous lives. The power they wield often comes at a terrible price. And when they grow old, their situation might be far worse than the man you just saw. You can aspire to be a hero, but understand that no one becomes one without sacrifice."
Heroes aren't allowed to grow old gracefully. Their twilight years are often marked by hardship.
"Oh..." Peter murmured, lost in thought. Then, suddenly, he jolted.
"Wait, Uncle, what did you just say? Can you repeat that?"
Hong Fei patted his head.
"Don't play dumb. You know exactly what I mean."
Peter nearly jumped out of his skin, his mouth trembling as if he were about to burst into speech. Hong Fei cut him off.
"As a hero, it's best to talk less."
Peter immediately clamped both hands over his mouth.
Frank had been listening intently. Once he confirmed Hong Fei's meaning, he asked directly, "Are you suggesting he become a superhero?"
His tone carried a hint of disapproval. It wasn't surprising—he thought of his own child and the dangers heroes faced, even if he was more of an anti-hero himself.
"He's still too young!" Frank emphasized.
Peter looked unconvinced, but Frank ignored his expression entirely. Hong Fei clarified, "Not now."
Peter's enthusiasm deflated instantly. Seeing Hong Fei's resolve, Frank didn't press further.
"You still have time to consider," he said. Hong Fei repeated the words to Peter.
"You still have time to consider."
Peter instinctively opened his mouth to speak, but Hong Fei's sharp glance silenced him mid-breath. He snapped his jaw shut, pressing a hand over his lips. The three of them waited in tense silence inside the crumbling safehouse until the growl of an approaching motorcycle shattered the quiet. They moved outside just as Frank's voice cut through the smoke-choked air, "The hell is that?"
"Yours."
Ghost Rider skidded to a halt inches from them, flames licking the rusted chassis. The skull twisted toward Frank with a grinding of bone.
"You."
Frank's gaze flicked to Hong Fei, who nodded confirmation. The Rider's jaw creaked into something resembling a grin.
"Your stench of blood excites me more than his."
Hong Fei chuckled.
"He says you're a bigger mass murderer than me."
"Flattered," Frank deadpanned.
The skull lost interest, bending to stroke the motorcycle's tank. At its touch, the infernal flames guttered out, leaving only corroded metal. Frank arched an eyebrow as the Rider straightened and strode toward Hong Fei.
"I'll consent to the transfer," it rasped, "but the vessel may not survive the possession. And the sulfur-breathing bastard won't let this slide."
"Worry about your own hide," Hong Fei countered.
"I've got contingencies. Need time to tie up loose ends? Final words?"
"No."
With a fluid motion, Hong Fei traced a fiery circle in the air. The Portal yawned open, revealing Kamar-Taj's torchlit corridors.
"The Ancient One will oversee the bonding. The Rider's power isn't like other enhancements—it's a weapon fused to the soul. No need for mystical duct tape when we can transplant the damn thing wholesale."
Having Kamar-Taj's Sorcerer Supreme running interference meant Mephisto would need a death wish to intervene.
"You'll have backup on the other side," Hong Fei added before Frank could question him. A sweep of his arm hurled them through the dimensional gateway.
The sudden quiet rang louder than gunfire. Hong Fei turned on Peter.
"Question time. No evasions, even if it stings."
Peter dropped his defensive posture, eyes alight.
"Bring it!"
"Why do you want to be a superhero?"
"To help people!"
"Even enemies?"
"Of course!"
"Disqualified."
Peter's jaw dropped like a broken elevator.
"Altruism's noble," Hong Fei said, "but saving opponents gets allies killed. You're not ready."
Peter's protest died as Hong Fei raised a hand.
"No debates. Can't stomach that truth? Walk away now."
"I... I can adjust."
"That hesitation proves my point. You'd spare killers yet balk at pragmatic sacrifice?"
Hong Fei's smirk held no warmth.
"Grow up or get out."
A flicker of understanding crossed Peter's face.
"I think I—"
"Not even close. Lesson one: dead enemies stay dead. Next—if the hero gig wears you down, would you quit to play house?"
After all, Peter was much smarter than others, and his understanding of the essence of problems was naturally faster.
"I would," Hong Fei said with detached indifference. "You're unqualified."
Peter's palms went clammy in an instant, but he mustered the courage to ask, "Why this time?"
"Superheroes don't retire. Even if you're tired, you can't just end it."
"Then... I can do it too!"
"Good. Next question."
Hong Fei's tone didn't waver.
"If one day, because of you, a close relative or friend dies—directly or indirectly—would you regret today's decision?"
Peter didn't answer right away. He thought long and hard before finally saying, "I wouldn't regret it."
"You're unqualified."
"Why?"
"You're lying."
Peter froze. He had lied.
"Fine," he admitted quietly. "I would regret it. I'd regret it terribly."
Hong Fei didn't linger on the question. He moved on briskly.
"Next question: Do you think the questions I just asked can serve as a standard for a superhero assessment?"
This time, Peter hesitated. He didn't rush to answer, taking a moment to calm his thoughts. But the more he thought, the more uncertain he became.
Hong Fei smiled faintly. "Why aren't you saying anything?"
Peter scratched his head.
"I feel like no matter what I say, you'll have a reason to think I'm unqualified."
"Very good," Hong Fei said, sounding almost pleased. "That's the point. If you have a choice, don't operate within someone else's rules. If you don't have a choice, create the conditions to break free from them."
Peter stared at him, stunned. But Hong Fei's next words felt like a bucket of cold water dumped over his head.
"Let's go back."
"Huh?"
"What 'huh'? Don't you want to go home?"
"Yeah, I want to go home, but... I mean, I'm not a superhero yet."
"Of course you're not a superhero. You're just an ordinary person."
"But you just asked me all those questions..."
"Yes. What about it?"
"Aren't you trying to train me to be a superhero?"
"Yes."
Peter's face fell. He looked utterly defeated.
"Then when can I become a superhero?"
"Oh, that's still a ways off."
"When, though?"
Hong Fei frowned, thinking for a moment.
"At least wait until you're an adult. Otherwise, it'd be child labor, wouldn't it?"
Peter was speechless. It felt like he'd been yanked from the clouds and dropped into an abyss.
Hong Fei continued, unfazed. "You're only thirteen. That's a good age for school. Stay out of other matters—you can't handle them yet."
"But I still have five years until I'm an adult!"
"So? Can you fly to the sky?"
"No, but—"
"No buts."
Hong Fei cut him off.
"Do you know what the next line of 'with great power' is?"
Peter shook his head, confused.
Hong Fei smiled and ruffled his hair gently. "With great power comes more enemies. You're still young. There's a lot you don't understand yet. Just because you want something now doesn't mean you'll want it in the future."
"If you're truly determined, start training your body and mind now. A strong body will help you handle problems faster, and mental resilience will ensure you don't break down when extreme challenges arise."
"Don't rush to speak. It's still early—you have plenty of time to think. Consider this: when you become powerful and enemies start coming after you, can you guarantee you'll be able to protect your loved ones? Or can you bear the pain of losing them? This isn't fearmongering. It's the harsh reality."
"A superhero isn't just about fighting and killing, and it's certainly not just about helping people. I know your intentions are pure, but this path can't be walked with simplicity alone. If you want to gain something, you have to pay a price. And that price isn't just your own life—it includes your friends, and even your Aunt Mei."
That day, Peter returned home a changed boy. Gone was his usual chatter. For days afterward, he remained silent and withdrawn, lost in thought.
Mei listened as Hong Fei explained his reasoning, but chose not to intervene. She still hoped Peter might abandon his dangerous fantasy—yet seeing him there, so young and defeated, something in her chest tightened with unexpected pity. This had been Master Hong's careful design all along. He'd forced Peter to consciously choose his own path while simultaneously preparing Mei for the inevitable fallout.
Two days later, Frank remained absent from Kamar-Taj as the United Nations assembly loomed. The event would proceed without delay—marking the Superpower Foundation's debut as an officially recognized entity. Cameras rolled even now, broadcasting every moment live to the waiting world.