Steve didn't question Hong Fei's honesty. He spun around sharply, his gaze fixed on the villa, his eyes reddening rapidly. Bluffing or mere guidance wasn't enough—real alignment required mutual benefits tailored to each party's position. If you wanted a horse to run, you had to ensure it was well-fed.
A starving horse wouldn't run, no matter how hard you pushed. A half-starved one might give up midway. An overfed horse would grow lazy. Only a properly nourished horse would surge with energy, ready to give its all on the racecourse. It was a perfect balance.
In this world, nothing came for free—not lunch, breakfast, or midnight snacks. Even superheroes needed to eat. Most heroes who claimed no interest in material gain still sought psychological fulfillment through their acts of justice. Whether driven by a desire for respect, self-actualization, or the pursuit of transcendent ideals, there was always a goal.
Give them what they needed, or help them achieve their aim. Countless marketing cases proved that needs could be created—and were constantly being created. Take this moment, for instance. Hong Fei asked, "How long do you want her to live?" Steve remained silent, but his thoughts were loud enough for Hong Fei to hear.
"I can extend her life," Hong Fei continued. "Though for now, I can't restore her youth." Steve whirled around, his eyes wide with shock. Hong Fei smiled warmly. "Don't worry. It's a legitimate method—no dark substances or foul means involved. Have you heard of K'un-Lun?"
"It's a secret technique from immortals and gods, proven successful many times with no side effects." Dragon Bone—Hong Fei might well be the individual with the most of it in this universe. It was hard to say how much K'un-Lun possessed.
Shou-Lao the Undying had reincarnated over sixty times, leaving behind a piece of Dragon Bone with each rebirth. While the quantity was substantial, consumption within the K'un-Lun dimension likely reduced the stockpile significantly. Counting on them to practice immortality was less reliable than expecting Tony to pin Master Hong to the ground someday.
Experience taught that being confined to a single dimension was a terrible fate. Look at Mephisto, who spent his days deceiving Earthlings. Look at Asgard and the other realms of the Nine Worlds. Even the Frost Giants and Dark Elves plotted to reclaim their lost glory.
What future awaited a force that had guarded one place since its inception? Without the few exceptional Iron Fists across generations, K'un-Lun might have faded into obscurity. Now, even the Iron Fist, its public face, was pitifully weak, its Dragon Power stolen. Truly, a miserable state.
Steve stared intently at Hong Fei for a long moment before asking, "Why are you doing this?"
"Like I said, I respect true heroes—and you are one. That's why I had people search for you."
"You knew where I was?"
"Not exactly, but I could map a general range. Finding a needle in a haystack is hard, but one must try."
Steve exhaled deeply. "What do you want to do? I'll help you."
"No rush. We'll talk when we get back."
By the time they returned to the castle, it was already close to dusk. Steve, however, was energized. As soon as he sat down, he leaned forward and said, "This must be about HYDRA, right?"
"That's right," Hong Fei confirmed.
Hong Fei nodded. "From what I've uncovered, HYDRA and S.H.I.E.L.D. have become nearly indistinguishable."
Steve's face darkened. He was sharp—the earlier conversation had given him hints—but hearing it confirmed still hit like a punch to the gut. He knew exactly what HYDRA stood for.
"This goes back to 1949," Hong Fei continued, "the fourth year after your crash." That was the year Operation Paperclip officially began, and also the first year of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s predecessor, the Strategic Scientific Reserve.
Hong Fei left unsaid the other significance of that year: it was when James Buchanan Barnes was brainwashed, fitted with a mechanical arm, and transformed into the "Winter Soldier." Dr. Zola, despite his small stature, wielded immense cunning. A die-hard HYDRA loyalist from the start, he became the linchpin for their resurgence.
With Zola at the helm, HYDRA secretly revived within S.H.I.E.L.D.'s ranks. Their resources far exceeded anything S.H.I.E.L.D. could imagine. After all, they carried the weight of millennia of history—knowledge and power S.H.I.E.L.D. couldn't begin to comprehend. From its very inception, S.H.I.E.L.D. was never pure.
Fast forward to 2011. Over the past sixty-plus years, HYDRA had grown alongside S.H.I.E.L.D., shadowing its every move. Whatever S.H.I.E.L.D. experienced, possessed, or learned, HYDRA knew it all. Now, as S.H.I.E.L.D. stood as the World Security Council's primary intelligence agency, HYDRA had comfortably hitched a ride to the top.
"After more than half a century of infiltration," Hong Fei said, his tone heavy, "no one at S.H.I.E.L.D. knows who's HYDRA anymore. We have no way to tell. From top to bottom, how many have joined them—or were HYDRA from the start—it's impossible to know."
Steve felt a chill spread through his limbs, his mind reeling. Hong Fei went on, "At first, I doubted myself. It seemed too outrageous. But when I met two agents who infiltrated a HYDRA research base, I knew my suspicions were correct."
Steve looked up sharply. Hong Fei gave a command, and Alexei and Melina entered the room.
"Steve Rogers," Alexei barked the moment he stepped in, "do you remember me?"
Melina quickly pulled him back. Steve studied his face, then the red-and-white uniform, and shook his head. "I'm sorry, sir. I don't recall us meeting."
Alexei's mouth twitched. He opened his mouth to press further, but a sharp look from Hong Fei silenced him.
"Melina," Hong Fei said, "tell us about HYDRA."
"Yes, boss." She launched into a detailed account of their infiltration of the Ohio research base, exposing the scientists who masqueraded as S.H.I.E.L.D. but were secretly HYDRA.
By the time she finished, Steve had no choice but to accept the truth. Hong Fei gestured, and Melina dragged a reluctant Alexei out of the room. As they left, Alexei's voice echoed faintly, demanding a one-on-one fight with Steve.
Steve sank into thought, and Hong Fei waited in silence.
After a long time, Steve suddenly spoke. "Coulson invited me to join S.H.I.E.L.D."
Hong Fei said nothing.
"I believe what you've told me," Steve continued. "So I think I should join S.H.I.E.L.D. as an undercover agent. I'm well-suited for the job."
"It's not the same," Hong Fei replied, shaking his head.
The air in the room grew heavy as Steve leaned forward, his blue eyes intense. "At S.H.I.E.L.D., you might face good people or bad people. Maybe they're all good, maybe they're all bad. Can you tell them apart?"
"I don't bother with distinctions," Steve replied evenly. "I just do what needs doing. You'll figure out the rest."
Hong Fei's lips twisted into a bitter smile. "Figure it out? Looking at this mess, I'm half tempted to walk away."
"Don't!" Steve surged to his feet, crossing the room in two strides. His voice dropped to an urgent whisper. "You've already made your move—Coulson told me. You were obvious enough to draw attention but careful enough to leave room for doubt. Now everyone thinks you've gone rogue, even HYDRA." He paused, studying Hong Fei's face. "You're trying to lure them out, aren't you?"
Hong Fei blinked. Had he been that transparent?
Steve continued, "I won't pretend your methods don't make me uneasy, but I can't dismiss them outright. War demands hard choices. Sometimes victory requires sacrifice—whether it's a foot soldier or..." He touched his chest lightly.
"Or a super soldier who should've died decades ago. If I hadn't crashed that plane, Schmidt would've flattened New York and taken out the entire Eastern Seaboard. We might hate admitting it, but that's how wars get won."
He gripped the back of a chair until the wood creaked. "I'll throw myself on any grenade that needs catching. But after the dust settles, someone's got to keep standing. This isn't about heroics—it's about securing victory at the lowest possible cost."
Hong Fei opened his mouth, but Steve cut him off with a sudden question. "You've burned your reputation playing the villain, so why hasn't HYDRA come knocking?"
"Why do you think?" Hong Fei countered.
"Because you're a terrible villain." Steve's mouth quirked. "Schmidt wouldn't have shown his face at Rand Tower—he'd have leveled the whole block without a second thought. And your performance? Full of holes. Sure, you took out some S.H.I.E.L.D. operatives, but I'm guessing they were already compromised. The real power players? All still breathing. Any halfway competent HYDRA agent would smell a rat."
Hong Fei stiffened. Had he really been that sloppy?
When Hong Fei didn't respond, Steve pressed on. "Here's what we do: I go undercover. My reputation gets me access to S.H.I.E.L.D.'s inner circles. You work the outside angles. We coordinate intel, maybe even stage a falling out to draw HYDRA out." He rubbed his chin. "Coulson knowing we're acquainted could complicate things if he's dirty, but we'll manage."
Steve's voice softened. "Listen, your plan's got flaws—every plan does. But the core idea? Brilliant. And you've got the resources to pull it off." He extended his hand. "Together? We'll cut off every last HYDRA head for good."