"Thirty days?" Li Feng muttered, staring at the digital clock beside his bed. The USB drive he'd smuggled back was still slick with protective wards when he spat it into his palm. "We were in that Demon Slayer world half a month at most. Same alley, same spellwork—and I land here a month later? Doesn't add up."
Mordo rubbed his stomach, still sore from dimensional compression, and caught the look on Li Feng's face. "Worlds don't run on synchronized clocks," he said, voice tinged with envy. "You didn't notice the shift? Your mana hasn't grown in volume, but the purity has doubled. That kind of refinement scrambles flow. Expecting timelines to match would've been the miracle."
Li Feng laughed under his breath, easing out Leonore's wooden gift box. "Point taken. Now—show me yours."
Mordo produced a flask, its liquid shimmering faintly. "Holy water. Want it? I don't need it. Against demons, I trust relics more than experimental chemistry from another universe."
Li Feng's mind flicked to the sealed demon bound in his scroll. He pulled his own flask from his coat. "Top me off. Just in case."
As Mordo poured, his gaze drifted to the wooden box. "Odd, isn't it? I slay a handful of demons and Leonore hands me precious water. You gave her the Key of Solomon. What did you get in return?"
Before Li Feng could answer, a knock came. A calm voice: "Li Feng. Mordo. Welcome home."
Mordo hurried to open the door. "Master."
The Ancient One stepped in, eyes sharp, weighing them both. "Your progress surprises even me, Li Feng. Your mana… it's far beyond what I anticipated."
He scratched at his temple, sheepish. "Honestly, it's not my doing. We were just about to check a gift from a queen of that world. Care to supervise?"
"Different worlds, different rules." With a sweep of her hand, the Mirror Dimension folded open around them. "Best to be cautious."
Inside the sealed space, Li Feng opened the box. His breath caught. A single white feather lay within, radiant even at rest. For a second, his thoughts ran sarcastic: A feather? What is this, a symbolic keepsake?
His hand reached for it—but the Ancient One's warning cut sharp. "Don't. That feather is saturated with power. It's already bleeding energy into the air. Close the box before you lose what's left. The seal contains it."
Her gaze lingered on the container, thoughtful. "Tell me—what kind of world was this? No ordinary creature produces feathers like that."
Mordo launched into their account of demons and battles, careful to skirt his internal struggles about justice and balance. Li Feng noticed the omissions but kept quiet. Pride wouldn't let Mordo confess doubts in front of him.
So Li Feng bowed out. "Master, I'm starving. I'll raid the kitchen."
Before he could step through, Mordo stopped him. "Wait. I have something for you. A gift. Don't leave Kamar-Taj yet."
Li Feng blinked. "Another one? You already paid for my interdimensional ticket."
"This isn't about that," Mordo said. "When you agreed to let Master teach me time magic, I owed you. Consider this repayment."
Li Feng smirked. "Save it for when you actually master the spell. That'll be worth celebrating." He slipped out, box in hand. A holy feather, plucked from Leonore's wing, most likely. Forget torturing that demon for answers—this feather alone could pry its secrets wide open.
Morning light. A pounding knock rattled his door.
Li Feng groaned, dragging himself upright. "All right, I'm coming! You break the door, you're paying for it."
He opened it to find Mordo shoving a stack of books into his arms. "Notes from my astral projection training. They'll help."
Then, lowering his voice, Mordo pressed a smaller tome into his hand. "And this. The dark spell you asked Master to adjust."
Li Feng's grin stretched ear to ear. He hugged the book like treasure. "Appreciate it. After breakfast, I'm hitting the road."
Mordo leaned on the frame. "Destination?"
Li Feng shrugged. "No family, no roots. Sometimes I cross worlds. I'll go where I go." He tapped his chest, flashing a sly look.
Mordo understood instantly: dark magic, safer anywhere but within Kamar-Taj's walls. "Then at least let me drop you in New York. I still owe you that gift."
Li Feng eyed the stack of astral notes. "Bigger than this haul?"
"You'll see." Mordo's smirk gave nothing away.
Later, a portal flared open in the New York Sanctum. Daniel Drumm stood waiting. "Mordo. Good to see you. And Li Feng—enjoy your trip to the other side?"
Li Feng stiffened. Why does it feel like everyone's in on my secret?
Mordo cut in, easy. "Only three know: Master, me, and Daniel. And trust me, traveling worlds… it wrecks the way you think reality works."
Daniel chuckled, then nodded toward Li Feng's bags. "Heading out again? Ah—I see. The RV. That's for him, isn't it?"
Li Feng's head snapped up. "Wait. RV?"
Mordo glared. "So much for the surprise."
Daniel spread his hands. "My mistake. Hope you enjoy it."
In a nearby lot, keys jingled in Mordo's hand. He pointed to a gleaming compact luxury RV. "I heard you dreamed of having one. Surprise spoiled or not, it's yours."
Li Feng circled the vehicle, running a hand along polished metal. Inside, the compact space held a kitchenette, a bed, even a bathroom. For a wanderer like him, it was freedom on wheels. And once I master space-folding magic… this thing will be bigger inside than outside.
He slid into the driver's seat, cradling the keys. "I love it. Thanks."
Mordo stood outside, smiling faintly. "Kamar-Taj's doors are always open."
Li Feng revved the engine, waved a lazy hand out the window, and rolled into traffic. "Message received."
But before leaving New York behind, there was one last thing he needed to take care of.
Chinatown, New York.
Li Feng stocked up on bottled water and dry goods, parked his RV, and wandered toward the busiest restaurant he could find. Rule of thumb: a packed house usually meant the kitchen actually knew what it was doing.
He stepped inside, the retro décor clean and sharp. Before he could choose a seat, a Chinese woman in a black leather jacket approached.
"Table for one?" she asked in Mandarin.
The familiar cadence of his native tongue hit him like warm soup on a winter day. For half a second, he considered blowing his entire savings just to bask in the comfort of it.
He eyed her outfit—leather, not uniform—but nodded. "Yeah. Just me."
"Ground floor's full," she said easily. "Upstairs."
Fine by him. After weeks of plague-haunted monasteries, then straight into the demon-infested nightmare of another world, he hadn't had a real meal in ages. Gargoyles didn't cook. Bread and water had been survival rations, nothing more. Tonight, he wanted food that deserved the word.
As they passed the kitchen, a Chinese chef spotted her. His brows shot up. "Mei? What are you doing here?"
Mei gave a rueful smile. "Mom's in town. I wanted to bring her something decent, but you know my cooking. Came here to grab a few dishes to reheat."
The chef chuckled. "You should practice more. A girl should—"
"—know how to keep a man by cooking. Yeah, you've said it a hundred times." Mei pouted, waved him off, and kept moving. "I'm helping a customer upstairs."
Li Feng's brow twitched. Not even staff. Perfect. Watch her take his order for Peking duck only to find out it wasn't on the menu.
The chef muttered about lazy relatives, but Mei guided Li Feng to a window table.
"I'll have braised pork belly, mushrooms with greens, egg-drop soup, and rice. Pack sweet-and-sour ribs, fried peanuts, and white-cut chicken to go," Li Feng rattled off.
She nodded briskly—no notes, no menu check—and turned to leave.
Then the scream tore through the upstairs hall.
Mei's head snapped toward the restrooms. "Xiaohui!" She sprinted for the sound.
Li Feng sniffed the air—blood. Curiosity sparked, he followed.
The men's room door. He hesitated. Female scream. Wrong bathroom. Unless Xiaohui was—well, parents made strange choices.
He shoved the door open.
Chaos. A young man—Xiaohui—crumpled on the tiles. A hulking brute in a black suit slammed another man into the wall, metallic bone spurs jutting from his back. Mei stood between them, pistol steady in her grip.
"Freeze!" she barked.
Li Feng glanced down at the groaning Xiaohui. "Uh… brother? Sister? Which one are you?"
Xiaohui just moaned.
Mei snapped, "Call an ambulance!"
Instead, she holstered her gun and drove a fist into the brute's jaw. He hit the tiles like a wrecking ball.
Li Feng raised a brow. That's it? One punch? For a guy with spikes out of his spine? Mei was the one who looked like Wolverine here.
He whispered a detection charm. The brute's soul glowed warped and unstable. "Inhuman," Li Feng muttered. "Figures. Soul twists when the body does."
Mei cuffed the unconscious man, eyes blazing. "I told you—ambulance!"
Li Feng glanced at the other suited man, his soul already dissolving into nothing. Dead. "Yeah… wrong vehicle. Morgue'll do fine." He raised his hands. "No phone. Pat me down if you don't believe me."
Mei scowled but turned away, calling quickly: "Chief, Chinatown. Now. Subject with bone spurs. Get here fast."
By the time she guided Xiaohui out and scanned for Li Feng, the seat upstairs was empty.
Her jaw clenched. The bastard slipped out the second her back turned.
Smart move. Where blood spilled and mutants surfaced, S.H.I.E.L.D. wasn't far behind.
Sure enough, by the time Li Feng's RV rolled down the block, the street was locked tight with black SUVs, tac teams, and hazmat-suited scientists.
And at the center of it all—an eyepatch gleaming under streetlights.
Nick Fury. Finally.
Li Feng smirked, gunned the RV toward the suburbs, and muttered, "Game on, Baldy."
Inside the cordon, Fury stilled, one good eye sweeping the street. He could feel eyes on him, but the source was gone.
Mei, still furious, gave her report. "There was also a man. Chinese. A little heavyset. He didn't look surprised by any of this."
Fury's jaw tightened. His eye narrowed. "Chinese. With a belly?"
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