The duty of the Sanctum's sorcerers was clear: hold the line, stop breaches, keep creatures of other realms off Earth. If Li Feng ever dragged something back through one of his portals, the wards of Kamar-Taj would blaze immediately. He knew tricks to slip past for a day, maybe two but never forever.
Infinity Stones. That was his goal. Once he had them, he'd open the gate home. Bringing creatures across? Idle fantasies at best. Even if he asked, who said they'd follow?
Registering with the Ancient One wasn't a burden. It was practical. Like international travel, portals need accountability. It is better to write his name in a ledger than fight half of Kamar-Taj every time he returned.
So, when she asked, he nodded. "Should I tell Mordo now? Take a trip on short notice?"
"Not yet," the Ancient One replied, setting her cup aside. "Give him a few days. He still has duties."
She invited him to sit, offering a rare opening. "Ask what you will while he's away. I'll answer."
Li Feng wasted no time. He opened his grimoire, tapping a page. "This one. Reviving constructs—metal bulls, stone rats. I get the surface idea: bind a spirit, animate the husk. But the framework? I can't make sense of it."
The Ancient One's eyes warmed with amusement. She took the book, unraveling the theory piece by piece. Hours bled away in her steady voice, until day sank into night. Even the Eye of Agamotto couldn't stretch time long enough for all his questions.
Later, alone in his quarters, Li Feng eyed his sword. I need a teacher. Someone who actually knows blades. Flailing like a butcher will get me killed the first time someone disarms me.
But who? He couldn't go to S.H.I.E.L.D.—that was the same as handing himself to Fury. If he wanted skill, he'd have to cross to another world. Somewhere Fury's eyes couldn't follow.
He resolved: when Mordo returned, he'd propose a journey. But first he'd warn the Ancient One. Leaving from within Kamar-Taj without notice would be an insult—and returning unannounced could trigger the wards. At best, awkward apologies. At worst? A beating.
—
Days later, Mordo came back haggard and drained.
Li Feng leaned against the doorframe, arms folded. "Rough mission? You look like death warmed over."
Mordo poured himself tea, his expression a little stiff. "Nothing." Then, after a pause: "The Ancient One told you I want to see another world?"
Li Feng nodded, watching him carefully. "You going to tell me what actually happened out there?"
Mordo hesitated. Secrets were his nature. But the Ancient One trusted Li Feng, and by circumstance he was already half within their circle. At length, Mordo spoke.
Three masters. Six disciples. A routine hunt—track a demon, test the students under watchful eyes. Standard. Safe.
Until it wasn't.
The demon concealed its true strength until they closed ranks. Then it erupted. Three disciples dead before anyone could react. By the time the masters moved, only one of the six remained—Kaecilius, spared only because he'd dodged at the last instant.
The masters struck back, crippling the beast. They thought it was finished. Then came the trick: an illusion bolting down the canyon. The masters chased it, leaving Kaecilius alone.
The real body never moved. Bleeding, crouched in shadow, it waited. Kaecilius spotted it, realized instantly he couldn't win. So, he stalled. Words in place of steel.
"Your master's a fool," the demon taunted. "She thought she could resist Dormammu. Why do you think she lives while others die? She drinks from the same well."
Kaecilius snapped, voice trembling but firm. "Lies. Her mastery of time keeps her alive. Nothing more."
The demon's sneer widened as its escape circle lit beneath its claws. "Believe what you like. Immortality always has a price." Then it slipped away, leaving Kaecilius shaking, shadows in his eyes.
Mordo's voice hardened. "I fear the words planted a seed. Demons don't need to win battles—they whisper, and doubt does the rest."
Li Feng listened, then shrugged. "Then mentor him. Keep watch, train him harder. No one faults you for caution."
Mordo weighed it, then gave a short nod. "You're right." His eyes steadied on Li Feng. "And when do we leave?"
Li Feng spread his hands. "Whenever you're ready. But one warning—only enchanted gear crosses with me. You don't want to arrive naked, best dress for the trip."
—
Before setting out, Li Feng raised the most practical concern on his mind: every time he returned through a portal, the Sanctum's wards flared like alarms. The last thing he wanted was to stumble back into the Marvel world and be greeted by half of Kamar-Taj on war footing. Even if they didn't blast him, the shock alone could kill him.
With that squared away, he collected Mordo—who looked almost giddy at the prospect of stepping into another world—and led him back toward his quarters.
The Ancient One watched them go. If only I could travel freely. But the moment I left Earth, every predator in the multiverse would descend. Mordo… may these journeys teach you that the world isn't just black and white. Sorcerers are not guardians of balance; they are interpreters, manipulators, breakers of rules. If you learn that, perhaps betrayal won't be your fate.
—
In his chamber, Li Feng ran through his checklist like a soldier prepping for deployment: Sling Ring on the left hand, gemstone ring on the right, enchanted tunic and trousers, reforged longsword, grimoire, and a deck of charged playing cards.
That should cover it. Dying because I forgot gear? Not on the menu.
He drew a long breath, summoned the quantum energy, and opened a swirling blue-white gateway. Focusing hard, he traced every twitch of the current. One day, those subtleties might mean the difference between returning on time—or reappearing a century too late.
"Grab my arm," he told Mordo, then smirked. "Had lunch yet?"
Before Mordo could answer, the portal swallowed them whole.
The crossing was as miserable as ever: a thousand unseen hands kneading him into dough and shoving him through a pipe. Li Feng gritted his teeth and endured.
They tumbled out onto brittle weeds beneath a washed-out sky. A medieval town loomed in the distance, its walls rising above the fields.
Li Feng brushed himself off. "Well… not home."
Beside him, Mordo collapsed to his knees and retched violently.
Li Feng folded his arms. "Passengers are kindly asked to vomit a hundred yards from the captain. Thank you."
Mordo gagged harder. "Next time… warn me not to eat."
"Couple more rides and you'll be a pro. See? Not a drop spilled." Li Feng glanced down—bare feet. He swore under his breath. His slippers were still back in the Marvel world.
Mordo wasn't doing much better. His boots and robe had carried over thanks to enchantments, but not the rest. He was, in every sense, going commando.
He pulled his robe tighter, grimacing. "Where are we? Feels like the Middle Ages."
"No one gives me a map," Li Feng muttered.
—
As they drew closer, banners snapped over the walls—crosses embroidered in red. Guards in polished steel stood watch beneath them.
Mordo's face darkened. "The Church. In this world, they rule."
Li Feng didn't need the lecture. He knew enough history. Witches burned. Heretics hung. One whiff of sorcery, and they'd be dead before sunset.
Worse, they were too clean. Mordo's monkish robe might pass for some eccentric order, but spotless cloth in an age where bathing drew suspicion? It would stand out. His own sleeveless tunic was even worse. Two foreigners—one Black, one Asian—marching straight into a Church fortress? They wouldn't reach the square alive.
Mordo sighed. "Even if we passed, walking around without underwear is killing me. And are you planning to buy shoes with what money? Or just steal?"
Li Feng dropped onto the grass, staring at the gates. "Got a better plan? Talk the guards into gifting me a pair? If my silver tongue worked like that, we'd already be inside."
"Then we wait until dark," Mordo decided.
Li Feng stretched, already settling in for a nap. Mordo stayed tense, eyes narrowed at the town. Something was off.
At last, his hand clenched around his staff. "There's a demonic presence above the town."
Li Feng sat up, alert. "You're sure?"
"Faint, but real," Mordo said grimly. "We'll need to confirm."
Li Feng groaned. Fantastic. Right under the Church's nose. If this ends without us being branded as heretics, it'll be a miracle.
Shouts rang from within the walls:
"Kill the demon! Avenge our families!"
"Burn the witch—she brought the plague!"
Li Feng stiffened. "They just say demon and plague?"
Mordo's jaw tightened. "That's what I heard. The aura could be carrying more than corruption—it could be a sickness from Hell."
Li Feng's stomach dropped. A plague? Perfect. Forget shoes, forget food, I should be running the other way.
Before he could speak, Mordo yanked him down into cover. A procession marched from the gates: knights in chain and plate, a priest chanting at their head, a wagon rumbling behind them with prisoners caged inside.
Li Feng squinted. The knight at the front, riding tall on a white horse, looked absurdly familiar. His jaw went slack. Nicolas Cage? In full crusader gear?
He rubbed his temples. "Great. Season of the Witch. Last world taught me magic. Guess this one's here to teach me swordplay."
He patted Mordo's shoulder, eyes gleaming. "We follow the wagon."
Mordo hesitated, gaze fixed on the girl locked in the cage. The villagers had called her witch, demon. Her presence radiated something foul and magnetic all at once. If she carried the taint of Hell, they needed to know.
He nodded, grim. Together, they slipped into the shadows after the wagon.
--
Read extra free chapters on Patreon! at patreon/TheUncrownedKing