At the bottom of the lake, Hong Fei sat cross-legged. Fish swam lazily beside him, undisturbed by his presence. The magic circle beneath him pulsed with a soft glow, as if breathing, drawing curious aquatic creatures to linger nearby. After some time, Hong Fei's eyes snapped open. He shot upward with startling speed, the sudden undercurrent scattering the fish in all directions.
The lake's surface erupted with a loud boom as he broke free. Suspended in the air, he cloaked himself in Dragon Power, the moisture on his skin and clothes evaporating instantly. Returning to the castle, he found it adorned with lanterns and colorful streamers, festive red accents everywhere, signaling the arrival of the Spring Festival.
Ancient One, the Sorcerer Supreme, lived up to her reputation as a master of the arcane. She was a true riddler, always speaking in half-truths, leaving her listeners puzzled and grasping at shadows. It was both fascinating and infuriating.
Hong Fei, however, was not one to dwell on such frustrations. Broad-minded and pragmatic, he refused to let her cryptic ways unsettle him. Still, he couldn't help but think she really shouldn't have come. Her presence only complicated matters.
Originally, Hong Fei had planned to visit Kamar-Taj early to investigate further. But with the Spring Festival approaching and a growing list of tasks, he had to set that idea aside for now. Time moved swiftly, and before he knew it, February arrived, bringing an unexpected snowfall.
The light snow that had dusted the ground in previous days did little to clear the overcast sky. Instead, the clouds seemed to thicken, and by New Year's Eve, the snow had piled up nearly knee-deep. A timely snow promised a good harvest, as the saying went. Though Hong Fei was no farmer, he hoped this heavy snow would bring him a bountiful year ahead.
Early last month, there had been a banquet for New Year's Day, but the Spring Festival celebration was even grander. In the castle's dining hall, the long table was packed with people, while outside the main hall, additional tables had been set up. Over a hundred guests gathered together, creating a lively and bustling atmosphere. This wasn't a Western-style banquet but an authentic Oriental New Year's Eve dinner.
The chefs had been specially hired from Hong Fei's hometown at considerable expense. After all, it was their New Year's Eve too. Many of the guests were experiencing authentic Chinese cuisine for the first time, some tasting it, others even seeing it. Reactions varied—some enjoyed it, others might not—but at the moment, everyone was on their best behavior. Master Hong's presence ensured that.
For those who lacked manners, Big Head was there to teach them a lesson. Hong Fei had no ill intentions, of course. Most of the dishes were tailored to suit both Eastern and Western palates. For the occasional dish that might be too bold for some, warnings were provided—especially for the particularly spicy ones.
There were no long speeches or formalities. Once Hong Fei and his companions took their seats, the feast began in earnest. Everyone ate and drank to their heart's content. The bustling waiters, after serving the dishes, found their own seats, and the atmosphere grew increasingly lively as the evening progressed. Inside the main hall, Hong Fei and his inner circle were no exception.
Frank clutched a bottle of Moutai, tipping it directly into his mouth. Big Head held a celadon bowl in one hand, slowly savoring the Buddha Jumps Over the Wall with a spoon in the other. Each mouthful made his eyes narrow slightly, and his large green forehead swayed gently. Abomination, in human form, slapped Big Head hard on the back.
Big Head almost spat out what was in his mouth, so he turned around furiously, only to be met with a full glass of wine handed over by Bronski. Big Head accepted it indignantly, preparing to fight him to the end. Ivan lounged in his chair, a lit cigar in one hand and a wine glass in the other, eyes closed, clearly savoring the moment.
The next instant, both items vanished from his grasp. Jessica crushed his barely-smoked cigar under her boot, grinding it into the floorboards with deliberate malice. Yelena upended his wineglass out the window, then refilled it to the brim with vodka. They raised their own glasses in unison, eyes locked on his with open challenge.
Ivan stared at the vodka bottle, then tapped his chest with exaggerated disbelief. His expression said it all: You're picking this fight with a Russian? Jessica and Yelena exchanged a glance, then doubled down, their gazes unwavering. A slow grin spread across Ivan's face. He loosened his collar, rolled up his sleeves, and the drinking contest began in earnest.
Natasha and Antonia whooped from the sidelines, taking turns jumping into the fray—clearly determined to see Ivan flat on his back. Nearby, Dr. Helen Cho sat beside Hong Fei, sipping demurely while her cheeks burned crimson. She kept pressing cool palms to her face, fanning herself. Hong Fei, meanwhile, stayed quiet.
He picked at his food, watching the chaos unfold with faint amusement. But the revelers soon noticed his detachment. One by one, they turned toward him—even Helen—their eyes gleaming with sudden, predatory interest.
Hong Fei paused mid-bite, a bone suspended between his fingers. He lifted his head slowly to meet their stares.
"Rebellious subjects," he drawled, "daring to plot against your Emperor?"
The table erupted in nods. Setting down his chopsticks, Hong Fei wiped his mouth with deliberate slowness, then brought his hands together in a sharp clap.
The doors burst open. A dozen attendants filed in, each balancing two clinking crates that made everyone's pulse skip. The table transformed—plates whisked away, replaced by an arsenal of drinking snacks. Bottle after bottle appeared until not an inch of table remained uncovered. Legs bumped against glass at every chair.
Hong Fei swept a hand across the battlefield.
"None of you leave until this is gone."
What followed was pure madness. Dawn came late the next day, the castle steeped in hungover silence.
Any outsider stepping inside would've choked on the residual alcohol fumes. On the highest balcony, Hong Fei yanked open the curtains. Sunlight flooded the room, illuminating Helen sprawled across the bed, her hair a tangled halo. She flinched at the light, rolled onto her stomach, and the quilt slipped to reveal the elegant curve of her bare back.
Outside, the snow refused to yield despite the sun's glare. Sokovia's distant skyline looked smaller than ever—a shabby cluster against the white expanse.
After the Lantern Festival, Xu Wenwu arrived with his family. Hong Fei appreciated the man's timing. Wasn't it only proper to resume work after the holidays? As for those scheming against him... well. Every era had its deluded upstarts who mistook ambition for entitlement.
Times changed. Or perhaps they never did. The world didn't bend to anyone's whims—not unless they had the strength to enforce them.
"If you insist," Hong Fei murmured to the horizon, "then I'll crush you first. After that, I decide what's reasonable."
A farmhand at dawn, enthroned by dusk; bloodlines meant nothing. True power came to those bold enough to seize it.
Did they have that fire in them? Were they even worthy of the attempt?
Hong Fei's disdain for Western politicians—those who strutted about with an air of superiority—was palpable. He extended that disdain to Tony Stark.
"I can acknowledge you as a hero," he muttered under his breath, "but if you insist on dragging politics into this, don't blame me for stabbing you. Or worse—killing you outright."
Xu Wenwu, sharp as a blade, was destined to carve his way into the hearts of these men—perhaps even dismantle them piece by piece. At the end of February, Hong Fei introduced Xu Wenwu to the group, then gestured toward "Samuel Sterns" as if rewarding merit.
"You haven't forgotten Big Head's name, have you?" he asked, a smirk playing on his lips.
Big Head, the first to follow Hong Fei in learning "Qi," carried himself with pride and arrogance, like a child who had earned the only gold star in class.
"This year's plan is straightforward," Hong Fei began, pacing the room.
"We have three major tasks. First, the Qingming Festival on April 4th—that's just over a month away. Everyone will assemble on April 1st. And no, this isn't an early April Fool's joke."
He paused, letting the words sink in.
"Second, Africa. Negotiations are the priority, but I doubt they'll amount to much. Expect war—ninety percent of it. If I catch even a hint of cowardice or pity, don't think I'll hesitate to enforce wartime discipline. If you're not up for it, withdraw now. I'll allow it. We'll sort this out after the Qingming operation, timing to be determined."
"The third task is toward the end of the year—November or December, exact date unknown. Keep those periods free. The rest of your time is yours to manage based on existing tasks. If you're idle, do as you please. Need funds? Apply through Arthur anytime."
He glanced around the room, his tone shifting.
"One more thing. We're signing a cooperation agreement with the Avengers. The deal involves exchanging team members for training—one person at a time, minimum three months per exchange, at least twice a year. The Avengers drafted the plan. I received it this morning, and Arthur's already sent it to you. Review it carefully."
"If you have objections or suggestions, speak up. If you're interested in going, volunteer now. If no one steps forward, I'll assign someone when the time comes."
The room fell silent as everyone scanned the documents. Heads bowed, but no one spoke. Hong Fei's gaze lingered on Frank and Xu Wenwu, both of whom shook their heads slightly.
"Good," Hong Fei said, clapping his hands. "No objections? Then we'll proceed as planned. The signing's set for March 15th. We'll meet the Avengers formally then."
With that, the meeting adjourned, and everyone dispersed to their tasks.
Hong Fei escorted Xu Wenwu's family out of the castle. They wandered the lakeside villas, taking in the serene surroundings. Xu Wenwu's wife, Yingli, settled on a detached villa by the lake, complete with a ranch. The place was lavishly renovated, fully furnished, and ready for immediate occupancy. If anything didn't suit their taste, replacements were just a call away.
After settling his family, Xu Wenwu joined Hong Fei and Big Head to learn and practice "Qi."
Big Head, sharp and deeply immersed in Eastern culture, grasped the concepts quickly. Yet Xu Wenwu outpaced him, his progress swift and effortless.
Big Head was the sort of student who excelled in class—the kind who could pick up basics with a quick preview, understand standard concepts after one explanation, and tackle tougher material with just a few extra tries and some time to think. He was sharp, reliable, and disciplined. Xu Wenwu, on the other hand, was in a league of his own—a super-genius.
While the rest of their peers were still wrestling with middle school curriculum, Xu Wenwu had already been whisked away into an elite class for advanced, personalized training. He could breeze through college entrance exams with scores over 700. Once in a century, a prodigy like him emerged. Naturally, Xu Wenwu's time practicing with Hong Fei dwindled.
Meanwhile, Big Head, who had once been bursting with enthusiasm, found himself on the receiving end of Hong Fei's scathing critiques. He took it all without protest. How could he argue? Xu Wenwu was a super-genius; he was, at best, an ordinary one. Xu Wenwu was the master's prized disciple; Big Head was just another talented member of the sect. The only thing he could truly compete with, he realized sardonically, was the size of his head.
In early March, Hong Fei received a letter from Tony. The location for signing their cooperation agreement wasn't Sokovia, nor Washington, nor New York. Instead, it was an island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. What Hong Fei had initially dismissed as a trivial matter—or even a game—suddenly took on an air of formality.
You might not believe it, but I'm still in a meeting at the company right now; I typed this secretly under the table. The dull plot is about to end, and it's time to start causing trouble—big trouble!