Huang Wen had no idea that back in the village, a bruised ego was currently being polished into a murder plot involving gunpowder and lead. Even if Silly Girl had alerted him to Gaston's muskets, he probably wouldn't have looked up from his water mug. To a man who could trade blows with Abomination and hold his own against the high-tier threats of the Marvel universe, being threatened by a 17th-century flintlock was like being threatened by a particularly aggressive toddler with a wet noodle.
If a piece of scrap metal and some black powder could solve the "Huang Wen problem," then Charles Xavier and Magneto would probably both suffer simultaneous heart attacks from the sheer absurdity of it all.
"I really do envy you," Belle said, her voice snapping him back to the present. She was looking at him with a gaze so full of genuine longing it was almost uncomfortable. "To see the world not as a map in a dusty book, but as a place you can actually touch... I've spent my whole life dreaming of just seeing what's over that next ridge, and here you are, talking about the ends of the earth."
Huang Wen's eyes flickered, studying the girl. She was smart, brave, and clearly suffocating in this tiny provincial bubble. "If you want to see it so badly, why stay? You're young, you're capable. What's stopping you from just... walking out?"
Belle sighed, the sound heavy with a weight she'd carried for years. She looked toward the small workbench where her father's tools lay scattered. "I can't. My father... Maurice has never really known how to live in the 'real' world. He's a dreamer, an artist. He's getting older, and his mind wanders further every day. If I left, who would make sure he ate? Who would protect him from people like Gaston? Sometimes I feel like a bird in a cage, but it's a cage I built myself to keep him safe."
Hiss! Hiss!
The sudden, panicked neighing of a horse cut through the quiet afternoon. The sound of frantic hooves clattering against the dirt sent a jolt through the room.
"Father! He's back!" Belle jumped up, her face lighting up with a brief hope that died the moment she stepped onto the porch.
Outside, Philippe the horse was alone. The animal was lathered in sweat, his chest heaving with exhaustion, his eyes wide and rolling in terror. There was no Maurice in the saddle.
"Philippe? Where is he? Where is my father?" Belle ran to the horse, her hands shaking as she grabbed the reins.
"The forest," Huang Wen said, stepping out behind her. He took one look at the horse's state and knew exactly what had happened. It seemed his earlier intervention had only delayed the inevitable; the narrative of this world was pulling itself back toward the center. "Something went wrong. I'm coming with you."
"No, I can't ask you to—" Belle started, but Huang Wen cut her off with a look.
"Belle, I just folded the village champion into a pretzel without breaking a sweat. I've traveled across continents alone. I think I've got the 'self-preservation' thing figured out." He gave her a reassuring smirk. "Besides, if there's something out there that can scare a horse this badly, you're going to want someone who doesn't scare easily."
Belle hesitated for only a heartbeat before nodding. She hauled herself into the saddle, her movements practiced and fluid. She looked down at Huang Wen and reached out a hand. "Fine. Get on. We have to hurry."
Huang Wen looked at her outstretched hand, then at the limited space on the horse's back, then back at Belle's rather... well-defined silhouette. For the first time since he'd arrived in this world, a flash of genuine embarrassment crossed his face. He was a master martial artist, but his experience with women was, frankly, abysmal. The thought of clinging to her waist for a thirty-minute horse ride made his heart rate spike faster than the Gaston fight ever could.
"Uh... you go ahead," he said, clearing his throat and looking away. "I'll keep up. I'm actually a pretty decent runner."
"Are you... are you shy?" Belle stared at him, a look of pure disbelief on her face before she broke into a delighted, incredulous laugh. "Huang Wen, the man who fears nothing, is afraid of sharing a horse with a girl? Don't be ridiculous! No human can run as fast as Philippe when he's spooked! Just get on!"
"Just watch," Huang Wen muttered.
Before she could protest again, he shifted his weight. To Belle's eyes, he simply blurred. A gust of wind whipped past her, and by the time she blinked, Huang Wen was already standing fifty yards away at the edge of the village, looking back at her with a calm expression.
"Proof enough?" he called out.
"What in the..." Belle whispered, her jaw dropping. She didn't have time to process the physics-defying stunt. She kicked Philippe into a gallop, and to her utter shock, Huang Wen didn't just stay behind—he glided alongside the horse with the grace of a ghost.
His feet barely seemed to touch the grass, his breathing as steady as if he were sitting in a chair. This was Qinggong, the pinnacle of internal martial arts. To Belle, it looked like he was literally flying over the earth.
"How? How is this even possible?" she shouted over the wind.
"It's called Kung Fu," Huang Wen replied, his voice perfectly clear despite the speed. "Think of it as a way to tell gravity to mind its own business for a while."
They reached the depths of the forest in record time. The air grew heavy, thick with a cold mist that seemed to swallow the sunlight. Philippe eventually slowed to a halt in front of a massive, rusted iron gate that led to a sprawling, Baroque-style castle. The place felt dead, yet intensely watchful.
"He's in there," Huang Wen said, his senses expanding. He could feel a life force—shaky and cold—locked in a high tower, and another force... something much larger and filled with a simmering, lonely rage. "Maurice picked a rose, didn't he? People around here are very protective of their gardening."
"Roses?" Belle asked, confused, but she followed him as he pushed open the heavy gates.
As they stepped into the foyer, the castle seemed to breathe.
"Oh my, Lumière, look! A girl! A real, living, breathing girl!" a voice whispered from the shadows.
"I see her, Cogsworth! I may be made of brass, but I haven't lost my sight!" a sharper, more rhythmic voice snapped back.
"Do you think she's the one? The one to break the spell?"
"Don't be a fool! Look at the man with her! He looks like he could snap a candelabra in half just by looking at it!"
Belle spun around, her eyes darting toward a side table. "Who's there? Who's speaking?"
Huang Wen tilted his head. He'd already spotted them—a sentient clock and a golden candelabra hiding behind a curtain. Suddenly, the candelabra—Lumière—decided to take a gamble. He leaped from the table, flames flaring up to create a terrifying silhouette, hoping to scare the 'manly threat' away so they could isolate the girl.
"BEGONE, TRESPASSER!" Lumière shrieked, pouncing through the air.
Huang Wen didn't even turn his head. He just flicked a finger.
PING.
The golden candelabra was sent spinning through the air like a discarded toy, clattering against a suit of armor with a loud, metallic clang.
"It's nothing," Huang Wen said, catching Belle as she stumbled back in fright. "Just a very talkative piece of furniture. Come on, your father is upstairs."
Belle's heart was racing, her fingers instinctively clutching Huang Wen's sleeve. He stiffened for a second—that unfamiliar social anxiety flaring up again—but he didn't pull away. He led her up the winding, lightless stairs until they reached the dungeon level.
"Father!" Belle cried out, rushing to the iron bars of a cell.
Inside, Maurice was huddled on the floor, shivering. His hands were blue with cold. "Belle? No! You shouldn't be here! And Huang Wen? You brought her here? You have to leave! Both of you! This castle... it's not right. The walls have ears, and the master... the master is a monster!"
"Relax, Maurice. We're leaving," Huang Wen said, reaching for the lock.
"YOU ARE GOING NOWHERE!"
A voice like grinding stones boomed from the darkness of the rafters. A massive shape dropped from the shadows, landing with a heavy thud that cracked the stone floor. It was a creature of nightmare—horns, fur, claws, and eyes that burned with a desperate, feral intensity.
The Beast loomed over them, baring his teeth. "The old man is a thief. He took what was mine. He stays here until he rots."
Belle gasped, shrinking back, but Huang Wen stepped forward, placing himself directly between the Beast and the girl. He didn't look scared; he looked bored.
"Alright, let's drop the drama, 'Prince,'" Huang Wen said, his voice flat. "I've seen better costumes at a Halloween party in Queens. You've been watching the gates since we arrived. In fact, you were watching when Maurice picked that rose, weren't you?"
The Beast's snarl faltered for a fraction of a second. "He is a thief!"
"No, he's a pawn," Huang Wen countered, crossing his arms. "You could have stopped him before he touched the flower. You could have scared him off with one roar. But you waited. You let him take it so you'd have a legal 'excuse' to lock him up. You're not looking for a prisoner; you're looking for a bridge to get someone else in here. Am I getting warm?"
"You know nothing!" the Beast bellowed, his voice shaking the very foundations of the tower. "He pays the price! That is the law of this castle!"