"I... I don't even know how to thank you. You didn't just save my life; you saved a piece of my soul," Maurice stammered, his eyes watery as he looked at Huang Wen. The old man was still visibly trembling, the adrenaline of the wolf attack fading into a bone-deep exhaustion. He began to frantically brush the freezing slush and mud from his coat, trying to regain some semblance of dignity.
[Ding! Mission: Save Maurice's life completed.][Reward: One Mortal-tier Item Draw has been issued!]
The crisp mechanical voice in Huang Wen's head was the ultimate confirmation. Maurice was officially in the "safe" zone.
Suddenly, a series of panicked whinnies broke the silence of the woods. Philip, the white horse who had bolted earlier, came trotting back through the mist, stopping right next to his master with a guilty toss of his mane.
"Oh, so now you show up?" Maurice sighed, patting the horse's damp neck with a mixture of exasperation and affection. "You left me to the wolves, you coward! But... I suppose I can't blame you. It wasn't exactly a fair fight."
He turned back to Huang Wen, his expression shifting to one of profound respect. "Mr. Savior... I realize I am a stranger to you, and I have nothing of value on me in this wreckage. But please, I live just beyond the treeline in the village of Villeneuve. Would you allow me to host you as a guest? At least let me offer you a warm meal and a dry place to rest. My name is Maurice... and I still haven't properly caught yours."
Huang Wen tilted his head, a faint smirk playing on his lips. He could see right through the old man. Maurice wasn't just being hospitable; he was terrified that those wolves—or something worse—were still lurking in the shadows. He wanted a human tank to walk him home.
"Well, I was heading that way anyway. And considering the weather here changes faster than a mood ring, I could use a break from the wind," Huang Wen replied, nodding. "The name is Huang Wen. And trust me, Maurice, we should probably take the main road. This 'shortcut' of yours has a bit of a pest problem."
"Huang... Wen? An exotic name. Truly, you must be from far across the seas," Maurice said, struggling slightly with the pronunciation. He knelt into the snow, digging through the debris of his shattered carriage until his fingers closed around a delicate, hand-crafted metal pinwheel. It was an intricate piece of clockwork, gleaming even in the dim light.
"Mr. Huang Wen, please, take the horse," Maurice offered, holding the reins toward him. "After what you did, I couldn't possibly ask you to walk while I ride."
Huang Wen chuckled, waving him off. "Keep the horse, Maurice. Believe me, my legs move a lot faster than Philip's ever will. Just lead the way."
As the duo began their trek back toward the village, the blizzard seemed to retreat as quickly as it had arrived. But before they left the clearing, Huang Wen paused. He turned his head slightly, his gaze piercing through a dense thicket of frozen thorns a hundred yards away.
In that darkness, a massive, hulking silhouette stood perfectly still. It was a shape that rivaled the Hulk in sheer mass, with eyes that caught the first rays of the rising sun like burning embers. Huang Wen didn't move; he just let a tiny sliver of his killing intent leak out—a silent warning. The shadow flickered and retreated into the depths of the magical fog.
"Interesting," Huang Wen whispered to himself. "A Beast in the garden."
On the walk back, Maurice grew more talkative, his curiosity finally overriding his fear. "So, Huang Wen, where exactly is your home? You don't dress like a merchant, and you certainly don't fight like one."
"I'm Chinese by birth, but I've spent my recent years in the United States. New York, specifically," Huang Wen answered, keeping it simple.
"The United States?" Maurice blinked, his brow furrowing in confusion. "I've heard stories of the colonies... they say it is a land of great industry and progress. Tell me, do the people there still favor the four-wheeled carriage, or have they moved on to something more... grand?"
Huang Wen smiled, thinking of the sleek Audis and the roaring engines of Stark's car collection. "You could say they've moved on. Most people there travel in 'carriages' that move without horses, powered by explosions of liquid fire."
Maurice laughed nervously, clearly thinking Huang Wen was spinning a traveler's tall tale. "Liquid fire! You have quite the imagination. But tell me, do you not find our village... isolated? We don't get many visitors from the 'outside.'"
"I noticed. It's like this place is tucked away in a pocket of time," Huang Wen mused.
"Isolated? Well, perhaps to a world-traveler like you," Maurice said, though a look of sudden panic crossed his face. He checked his pockets, then looked at the sun. "Oh, heavens! The sun is up! I've been gone too long. And the market... I didn't get any of the supplies. Everything I bought is smashed in the woods! But wait... no, no, no! The roses! I promised Belle I would bring her a rose!"
He looked back toward the path they had just left—the path leading to that dark, brooding castle.
"Mr. Huang Wen, I am a terrible father," Maurice groaned. "Look, the village is right there. The first cottage on the outskirts is mine. I have to go back—just for a moment. I can't return empty-handed."
Before Huang Wen could point out how suicidal that was, Maurice shoved the exquisite metal pinwheel into his hands. "Please! Go to my house. My daughter, Belle, will be worried sick. Show her this pinwheel—it's the only one of its kind. She'll know you're a friend. Tell her I'll be home for breakfast!"
"Wait, Maurice—"
But the old man had already spurred Philip into a gallop, disappearing back into the treeline.
Huang Wen stared at the pinwheel in his hand, then at the distant village. "Beauty and the Beast. Seriously? I'm in a world with Captain America and the Hulk, and I'm currently holding a quest item for a Disney princess."
He sighed, but his curiosity won out. "Silly Girl, scan the village. Let's see if our 'Belle' matches the profile."
"Scanning, Boss. I've located a high-density gathering at the village entrance. One female matching your description is currently engaged in a... verbal disagreement."
Huang Wen didn't walk; he blurred. In the span of a few heartbeats, he appeared on the outskirts of Villeneuve, leaning casually against a stone wall just a few dozen yards from a quaint, ivy-covered cottage.
There she was. She looked remarkably like a certain British actress who played a famous witch, though her hair was tied back with a simple blue ribbon. She was currently being cornered by a tall, broad-shouldered man with a jawline made of granite and a brain clearly made of damp hay.
"I was just trying to help the baker's son with his alphabet, Gaston," Belle said, her voice tight with suppressed frustration.
"Books? Reading?" Gaston laughed, a booming, arrogant sound that made Huang Wen's ears itch. "Belle, darling, why fill your head with stories when you could be filling your house with children? Our children! Picture it: six or seven strapping boys, all looking just like me!"
"I'd rather picture a recurring nightmare, Gaston," Belle shot back, trying to sidestep him to get to her gate.
Gaston moved with surprising speed for a man of his bulk, blocking her path again. He puffed out his chest, his red coat straining at the buttons. "You're just playing hard to get. Every girl in this village wants to be the one on my arm. You're just the only one smart enough to realize what a prize I am."
"Gaston, I know every man in this village. Some are kind, some are dull, and some are you," Belle said firmly. "No one changes their spots. I know exactly who you are under all that leather and ego."
Gaston's smile faltered, replaced by a predatory glint. He leaned in closer, his shadow engulfing her. "Belle, look around. You're a beautiful girl, but you're getting older. Without a father to provide, or a husband like me to protect you, what do you think happens to women in places like this? They end up begging for scraps. This is the real world, Belle. Don't throw away the only man who can keep you from the gutter."
He reached out, his hand moving to grab the fabric of her skirt as if to claim her.
"You know, in my neighborhood, we have a very specific way of dealing with people who don't understand the word 'no'," a calm, cold voice drifted through the air.
Gaston froze. Belle's head whipped around.
Huang Wen walked forward, his hands in his pockets, looking like he was taking a Sunday stroll through Central Park. He stopped three feet away, his eyes locked onto Gaston's hand.
"Sir, I'd suggest you move that hand back about six inches," Huang Wen said, his voice deceptively soft. "Because if it moves an inch closer to her, I can't promise it will still be attached to your arm by the time I finish this sentence."
Gaston's head snapped up, his eyes narrowing at the 'stranger' in the odd clothing. "Who the hell are you?"
Belle didn't wait for an answer. Her eyes fell on the gleaming metal pinwheel in Huang Wen's hand. Her breath hitched, and she pushed past Gaston, running to Huang Wen's side. "That's my father's! Where is he? Is he hurt? Did something happen in the woods?"
"He's fine, mostly just embarrassed," Huang Wen said, giving her a reassuring smile. "He realized he forgot your roses and went back to fetch them. He asked me to drop this off so you wouldn't think he'd been eaten by bears."
"Roses? He went back for roses in this weather?" Belle sighed, though the relief on her face was palpable.
"Hey! I asked you a question, boy!" Gaston roared, stepping into Huang Wen's personal space. "This is my village, and that is my woman. Get out of here before I break you in half."
Huang Wen looked up at the man. Gaston was tall—maybe six-four—and packed with muscle from years of hunting. To a normal villager, he was a god. To Huang Wen, he was a target dummy.
"'Your' woman?" Huang Wen chuckled, handing the pinwheel to Belle. "I didn't see a nametag on her. And as for breaking me... you might want to get your eyes checked. You're barking up a very dangerous tree."
"Pfft!" Belle couldn't help it; the sight of the village hero being talked down to by a man half his width was too much. She let out a small, sharp laugh.
That was the breaking point. Gaston's face turned a deep, bruised purple. He took a step forward, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous snarl. "Stranger, you clearly don't know who I am. I've killed beasts twice your size with my bare hands. No one in Villeneuve dares to look me in the eye, let alone mock me. You're going to regret opening your mouth."
Huang Wen stepped in front of Belle, shielding her with a casualness that was more insulting than a slap. He looked Gaston up and down, a bored expression on his face.
"You're right. No one in this village is your match," Huang Wen said, his eyes flashing with a sudden, sharp light. "But I'm not from this village. Do you really want to find out what happens when you pick a fight with someone who doesn't play by your rules?"