The truth was undeniable—Kaecilius wasn't merely a penny-pinching miser. He was a full-fledged stainless-steel miser, the kind who wouldn't let a single speck of rust escape his grasp!
An hour later, Hong Fei seized Kaecilius by the scruff of his collar and hauled him toward the door. It wasn't for lack of strength—if he'd kept going, Kaecilius might have been tortured to death before they even got there.
The door swung open to reveal Wong frantically stuffing his headphones and phone into his pocket before spinning around in alarm. His eyes widened at the sight of Kaecilius slumped on the threshold like a sack of wet flour, then flicked up to Hong Fei in disbelief.
"The Ancient One sent him to instruct me," Hong Fei said dryly. "Turns out his level's still a bit lacking."
Wong gaped.
"This—"
"Spare me the stammering. Haul him off for treatment—use the good stuff. I need him functional by tomorrow."
Still dazed, Wong mechanically bent to hoist Kaecilius up—only for Hong Fei to add, "Wong, it's broad daylight. Maybe skip the studying, yeah?"
"Even if you can't resist the urge, at least find somewhere private. Getting caught isn't just bad for your reputation—it's terrible for your health."
Wong blinked, only half-processing the words, when Kaecilius abruptly coughed up a mouthful of blood in his unconscious state.
With his charge in such a state, Wong swallowed his questions. He muttered an acknowledgment, scooped Kaecilius into a bridal carry, and bolted.
Hong Fei watched him go, shaking his head.
"Kid's got stamina..."
Moments later, Hong Fei sat across from the Ancient One, tapping an empty teacup against the bamboo table.
"Something troubling you?" she asked softly, pouring hot water into the teapot.
Hong Fei exhaled heavily but stayed silent.
The Ancient One's gaze drifted to the cup in his hand.
"Don't like my tea set?"
He shook his head.
"It's about to crack."
Finally glancing down, Hong Fei set the cup aside with another sigh.
The Ancient One sighed too. "Fine. I'll have Mordo and Wong spar with you later."
"Perfect!"
Hong Fei brightened instantly.
She rolled her eyes.
"Try holding back this time."
"I did hold back. Otherwise, he'd be a smear on the landscape."
"Hold back more."
"I want to, but he begged me to go all out. What was I supposed to do?"
The Ancient One pinched the bridge of her nose. Some problems were self-inflicted.
When the tea's aroma bloomed, Hong Fei poured her a cup.
"Sorcerer, I'd like to—"
"No."
His expression darkened.
"Let me finish."
"I'd rather not hear it."
"It's a constructive proposal."
"Unnecessary."
"This benefits all Kamar-Taj's mages."
"Pass."
"I just want to temper their willpower! Strengthen their resolve!"
The Ancient One chuckled.
Hong Fei set the teapot down with a thud.
"Name your price. What'll make you agree?"
She lifted her cup, blew gently on the steam, and took a slow sip.
"One condition."
"Name it."
"Stay away from him. Don't interfere with his future."
No need to ask which "him."
Hong Fei's eyes narrowed.
"How far into the future?"
"Before he comes to Kamar-Taj himself."
"Deal!"
Up until now, Hong Fei hadn't actually needed to seek him out. At worst, he could've just found a car to run him over.
"You'll need a suitable identity so they'll cooperate better."
Hong Fei nodded.
"Makes sense. Let's say I'm here to teach martial arts for physical conditioning."
"That works."
Hong Fei stood, then paused.
"They don't know me, though."
"I'll handle it."
"Appreciate the trouble."
"Small thing. Your videos are everywhere online."
"You use the internet?"
Hong Fei turned with a silent chuckle.
"Of course."
Using "teaching mages martial arts" as an excuse would sound absurd in most worlds—but Kamar-Taj wasn't most worlds. From day one, every initiate here drilled physical fitness alongside spells, mastering every combat technique they could. By morning, Hong Fei's new title was official.
Though everyone knew him as the Dragon King, the Ancient One stamped his fresh credentials: Kamar-Taj Martial Arts Head Coach.
Hong Fei wrinkled his nose at the bland title. With a wave, he amended it: Head Instructor of Kamar-Taj Mages.
He'd considered adding a number—Eight Hundred Thousand Mage Instructor had a nice ring—but Kamar-Taj's actual roster couldn't crack eighty thousand, let alone eight hundred. Eight thousand might be optimistic. How this ragtag bunch held off interdimensional invasions was beyond him. Movie logic, probably.
Regardless, from today onward, he'd answer to one title on these grounds: Instructor Hong.
His actual duties had little to do with teaching. Every Kamar-Taj mage was now required to submit—spontaneously, unconditionally—to random martial arts inspections whenever Instructor Hong pleased.
Hong Fei had fully expected the Ancient One to veto the proposal. To his shock, she approved without blinking.
This only confirmed his theory: in her eyes, one Stephen Strange outweighed every other mage combined. Well—heir privileges. Can't blame her.
News of the position sparked instant debate across Kamar-Taj. Why create such a role overnight? Some argued it was to recruit the formidable Dragon King; others insisted the Sorcerer Supreme imported elite talent to strengthen their ranks. Theories multiplied like rabbits.
To their credit, the Ancient One's disciples maintained remarkable composure. They gossiped fiercely but stuck to their routines—except Kaecilius. The man had just regained consciousness under careful nursing when the announcement reached him. He fainted again on the spot.
Wong delivered this report while Hong Fei dug out a long-neglected notebook, scribbling with relish.
"Mr. Hong—no, Instructor Hong—how exactly should I assist you?"
Wong's tentative question carried visible wariness. After yesterday's humiliation of Kaecilius, this morning's Dragon King reveal, and those suspicious "cooperation terms," the pieces were forming an unsettling picture.
Could this guy have come to Kamar-Taj specifically to beat people up?
Wong didn't realize how close he'd come to the truth.
"You seem scared of me."
Hong Fei frowned.
Wong's double chin quivered.
"No."
"Really?"
"...A little."
"Now you've hurt my feelings."
"Huh?"
"I thought after yesterday's heart-to-heart, we were close enough to share anything."
Wong stared at Hong Fei's theatrically mournful expression, completely baffled. When exactly had they shared any heartfelt conversation?
"Forget it." Hong Fei sighed dramatically.
"Maybe this is fate—what I believe isn't what you believe."
The door creaked shut.
Wong stiffened.
"Instructor Hong, why are you locking the door?"
"To better assess your martial foundation."
"Then why are you rolling up your sleeves?"
"Habit."
Hong Fei beckoned.
"Bring your head closer. I want to show you something special."
"Let's... not do that."
Bang. A dull thud, a yelp of pain—like war drums pounding.
The door swung open moments later. Wong staggered out, clutching his face and his side. As he vanished around the corner, Mordo approached from the opposite direction.
"Instructor Hong," he said stiffly, lingering at the threshold, his displeasure plain. Most of Kamar-Taj's combat training fell under his purview.
Hong Fei's arrival hadn't stripped his authority outright, but the Dragon King's role placed him undeniably above Mordo. Reputation or not, respect had to be earned.
From the darkened room, Hong Fei's voice rang out, brisk and impatient: "Good. Come in. Shut the door."
Mordo stepped inside. The moment the latch clicked, shadows swallowed the room. He frowned—then froze as ten glowing rings materialized ahead, their light stretching toward him.
"Ready?"
Before Mordo could react, the rings shot forward. He twisted aside, barely avoiding the first strike. His footwork flared with magic as he kicked off thin air.
"A magical artifact?"
"Not bad."
"Good."
The rings whirled back. Mordo yanked his staff free to meet them.
Metal clattered. Grunts followed.
When the door opened again, Mordo blinked at the sudden daylight like a man starved for it. As he reached back to close the door, Hong Fei's voice curled from the dark:
"Arrange them. Three at a time, rotating shifts."
"Yes."
The word tugged at the fresh bruise on Mordo's lip. He shut the door firmly, then prodded the swelling with careful fingers.
Soon, three mages stood outside Hong Fei's quarters, exchanging puzzled glances. Their confusion lasted precisely until they stepped inside and closed the door.
Then they understood—why Mordo had delivered the summons with his hood pulled low, his face hidden.
Enter this room, and you'll leave clinging to the walls. That was the unspoken rule.
Groups cycled through. None who entered were seen again until the entire roster had met the infamous instructor. When they finally reconvened, no one spoke. Just silent, knowing looks.
In less than a day, Instructor Hong had carved his name deep into Kamar-Taj's collective memory.
In the eyes of the vast majority of mages who had never truly seen Dormammu with their own eyes, the three words "Instructor Hong" now carried more dread than the legendary Dark Lord himself.