"As far as I know, no one has ever truly been able to escape the dark world. Once you step into that shadow, you're marked for life, and it drags you down eventually,"
Logan said, his voice dropping low, rich with the weary wisdom of two centuries. He was leaning against the splintered doorframe, watching the dust motes dance in the late afternoon sun that streamed through the hole where the window used to be.
"His birth wasn't something he could decide, and his future isn't fixed yet," Huang Wen countered calmly, a slight smile playing on his lips. "He had very little contact with the Kingpin's real business before he came here. Besides, vigilantes like the Punisher, who will stop at absolutely nothing, are a true minority, aren't they?"
"That's true enough. Most of them—Daredevil, Spider-Man, even the guys up in the Avengers—they all follow a certain code," Logan conceded, nodding slowly. "Even Frank, in his own twisted way, is no exception. It's just that his 'principles' allow for, shall we say, a significant disregard for the means."
Logan pushed off the doorframe. "Since this is your decision, I'll help you if any problems arise that you can't handle yourself. But if you can't handle them… well, then you learn the hard way." He offered a small, sincere salute and headed down to the training room, needing to work off the deep, primal energy he'd felt watching Huang Wen dominate a legendary assassin.
"Brother Wen! Brother Wen!" Zhong Qiang burst back into the room, his eyes shining with unadulterated excitement. "What martial art did you use just now to fly down from the window like a falling feather? Was that the legendary lightness skill (Qinggong)? That was seriously incredible!"
He rushed forward, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "Tell me, lightness skill doesn't require the foundations of Wing Chun, right? I can learn it now, right?"
"Who said it's unnecessary?" Huang Wen glared at Zhong Qiang, feigning annoyance at the youth's impatience. "The lightness skill, the Treading Snow Without a Trace, requires more than just footwork. It demands a truly solid lower body, perfect balance, and the control of every sinew in your legs for that kind of explosive yet gentle movement!"
Huang Wen smiled internally. This was the perfect angle. Rather than simply teaching Zhong Qiang combative martial arts, it was far more crucial to teach him how to escape, how to survive.
"Since you want to learn lightness skill, I can teach you the basics. However, this means your training volume—your core, your stances, your leg strength—will have to increase by at least fifty percent starting tomorrow morning. No more excuses about homework."
"I'm ready! I'll do it! I'll double it if I have to!" Zhong Qiang declared, snapping to attention.
"Oh right, Bullseye's mission reward…" Huang Wen turned, dismissing the immediate conversation. With a thought, his perception entered the system interface, the clean, illuminated text waiting for him.
"Mission Complete: Teach Bullseye a Lesson. Reward: One draw for a Super Item. Claim now?"
"Claim!" Since it was an item lottery, there was no complex preparation needed, unlike the Character Lottery which often triggered immediate, dramatic physical and energetic changes. Huang Wen wasn't worried about an inconvenient power surge this time.
With a familiar WHOOSH!, a blinding white light flashed. The intensity was low—a giveaway, in Huang Wen's experienced estimation, that he had probably obtained the lowest-tier reward possible within the "Super Item" category.
"Congratulations! You have obtained an Extraordinary Item: Battle Qi Wings (Derived from a certain Battle Through the Heavens TV series where Battle Qi turned into a horse; the system has optimized it into a stable item, with no restrictions on the use of cultivation level or strength)."
A physical object, shimmering with faint silver light, materialized in Huang Wen's hand. It was an aesthetically pleasing, albeit slightly ridiculous, pair of silvery, feather-like wings, currently compacted to the size of a glove.
"Special Note 1: The Qi-transformed Wings can reach a maximum flight speed of Mach 2 without producing sonic booms or other disruptive noises. Furthermore, the body will be protected by the Wings' energy field during flight, ensuring the user is safe from atmospheric friction or G-force injury."
"Special Note 2: It is recommended not to equip the Aura Wings and the Tuxedo simultaneously. System conflict may result in unforeseen, probably embarrassing, fashion failures."
Huang Wen stared, utterly dumbfounded. He held the wings, which resembled a rejected accessory from a high-end lingerie show—Victoria's Secret wings, but made of polished silver Qi—and was speechless for a full minute.
Mach 2 flight. That's incredible. Faster than most fighter jets.
But… Victoria's Secret.
Huang Wen mentally groaned. He had to consider the setting. This was the Marvel Universe. Mutants like Logan were real, which meant Angel, the X-Man who possessed a beautiful, legitimate set of feathered wings, also existed. That angel mutant, though not the strongest, had wings that were genuinely magnificent, allowing him to easily pass for a mythological being.
Huang Wen's Battle Qi Transformation Wings were, quite literally, a pair of shiny, silver boots.
"It's alright… at least it's not the bright orange one," Huang Wen muttered, inspecting the shimmering silver color. He felt a tiny bit better, but only a tiny bit. He tucked the shimmering item away with a dismissive mental nudge. Flying is now solved. But I will only use these in absolute emergencies, or when fully cloaked by the Tuxedo's non-invisibility mode.
"Brother Wen, what's wrong? You're staring at your hand like you just saw a ghost," Zhong Qiang asked, completely bewildered by the sudden shift in Huang Wen's expression from grim focus to existential dread.
"It's nothing. It's getting late, go and get some rest," Huang Wen instructed, forcing his expression to return to serious authority. "Starting tomorrow, you will need to increase your training intensity significantly. You should be able to imagine what the Punisher would have done if he had broken into your home while you were alone."
"So, please teach me properly, Brother Wen! I want to be able to protect the Kwoon and Uncle Zhong!" Zhong Qiang took a deep, steady breath, his eyes burning with renewed, focused determination.
Meanwhile, in a heavily armored motorhome moving swiftly out of the Chinatown area, the atmosphere was thick with tension and the smell of stale coffee. The Kingpin's headquarters was located some distance away, in a secluded industrial warehouse, ensuring maximum security and anonymity.
Reece Fisk and Bullseye were seated across from each other. Frank Castle, his massive body still rigid and unmoving, stood upright against the back wall, held in place by specialized clamps and completely oblivious to the outside world.
Bullseye, having quickly composed himself, no longer wore his arrogant smile. He subtly clutched his abdomen beneath his armored suit, the pain from Huang Wen's kick a searing reminder of his humiliation. A cold, venomous light glinted in his eyes, a silent oath of revenge forming in his fractured, narcissistic mind.
"Stop with your petty schemes, Lester," Reece Fisk cut through the quiet, his voice sharp and surprisingly commanding. He glanced icily at Bullseye. "Right now, in terms of sheer destructive power, killing you would be incredibly easy for me. If it weren't for the value you hold to my uncle, what you've done today—breaking into the Wing Chun Kwoon—would have been enough to kill you a hundred times over!"
"Heh, a hundred times, is it? Even if I die a hundred times, haven't I always been living on the razor's edge of life and death, little Fisk?" Bullseye scoffed, though his eyes never left Reece. He was assessing the weight behind the boy's words.
"I'm warning you, Bullseye, pay attention," Reece sneered, leaning forward slightly. "Even my father, the Kingpin, has never disrespected my Teacher in such a blatant way. And what's more, my Teacher's strength is unfathomable, far beyond your comprehension. You should know exactly how much you're worth to us, and how little you mean to him!"
Upon hearing this, Bullseye's gaze sharpened dramatically. He seemed to grasp the full implications of the threat—the boy wasn't just warning him; he was relaying a directive from the Kingpin hierarchy itself, reinforced by the terrifying reality of the martial artist. He suddenly lowered his head, suppressing the plotting, murderous thoughts that had been spiraling in his brain.
"The Teacher's pressure point technique is genuinely amazing," Reece muttered, turning his head to look at Frank Castle, who stood there like a stone statue. A hint of genuine anticipation flickered in Reece's eyes. "I wonder when I'll be able to learn such a powerful, precise skill."
Before long, the RV arrived at the warehouse complex, pulling into a private, sealed bay. James Wesley, Wilson Fisk's right-hand man, personally opened the door for Reece. When he saw Bullseye looking pale and subtly favoring his side, James Wesley's eyes flickered with immediate, cold understanding, but he showed no reaction.
"Young Master, you've lost a little weight," James Wesley said with a polite, professional smile, looking at Reece Fisk.
"It's alright. I feel like I've gained a lot more in terms of discipline and strength during this time," Reece smiled, shaking his head with a confident air. "I may not be a match for Terry yet, but I'm certainly no problem for the average street fighter or boxer now."
"Someone, bring Frank Castle down!" James Wesley immediately ordered his specialized security detail to handle the immobile Punisher. He watched as Reece Fisk and Frank were taken inside, with James Wesley and Bullseye following closely behind.
"Young Master Reece is the only heir and the primary concern of the Kingpin, Bullseye," James Wesley said, his voice low and dangerous, placing a hand lightly on the assassin's uninjured shoulder. "I hope you'll behave yourself. Also, regarding the Wing Chun Kwoon and Mr. Huang, even if the boss doesn't explicitly say it, you should stay far away from that area. Understand?"
Even though James Wesley's strength was purely administrative and intellectual—no match for Bullseye's lethal skills—Bullseye knew better than to underestimate this man who was closest to the Kingpin. His warning carried the weight of Wilson Fisk himself.
Inside the large, minimalist office, Wilson Fisk—the Kingpin—a behemoth of a man in a perfectly tailored white suit, rose from his desk.
"Hmm, you're much more mature than before. Your spirit is clearer, and you carry yourself with more presence. It seems you've really grown a lot, my son!" Kingpin's eyes lit up with genuine pride and approval as he watched Reece walk in.
"It's all thanks to the Teacher," Reece replied with a genuine smile. "Including this Punisher."
"The infamous Punisher, taken down by Mr. Huang just like that. Mr. Huang's strength appears to be constantly increasing at an alarming rate," Kingpin mused, looking at the unconscious Frank Castle.
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Merry Christmas to you all. Hope u all are Healthy and Happy 😊