Swearing? Yeah, right. Especially with magic. That's not an oath, that's signing a cosmic rental contract—and the universe always collects the rent.
Li Feng wasn't about to chain himself with some vow he had no intention of keeping. He'd been expecting this stunt anyway.
He smirked. "You're sure you just want me to swear? Not… take you along to see for yourself?"
Carter Slade blinked, then lit up like a fanboy who'd just spotted his idol. "I can meet the angel too?"
On the outside: trembling with excitement. On the inside: calm as a poker shark. Carter was good at this act—life's a stage, and he'd been performing for over a century.
First problem for him, though: the San Venganza scroll was already tucked neatly inside Li Feng's sling bag, guarded by those Pseudo-angel Feathers that burned like kryptonite to hellspawn. Carter could daydream about reclaiming it all he wanted—reality wasn't buying.
Second problem: Coulson and his merry band. Sure, they looked "ordinary," but so do wolves in sheep's clothing. One glance at their kit and Carter knew none of it came from a weekend shopping spree. Government eyes were locked on him. Even if Li Feng bailed, Carter's future was pre-booked: pick a cemetery to hide in and pray surveillance drones didn't mistake him for a heat lamp.
So when Li Feng offered a trip to Leonor's house, Carter's brain clicked fast. Watch the scroll get purified, maybe shake off the government tail—perfect. Two birds, one halo.
And if Li Feng tried to kill him to tie off loose ends? Carter had gamed that out too. Killing him was simple. Actually erasing him—dragging the Rider inside him straight to Hell without Mephisto noticing? Not so simple. And Mephisto wasn't exactly the type to let theft slide. The image came unbidden: Li Feng on a cheap stool, while Mephisto lounged with red wine in hand, explaining—in exquisite, endless detail—just how badly Li Feng had screwed himself.
So, yeah. Let the sorcerer "ship" him along. Maybe there'd be a shot at freedom. Maybe he could sell his devotion to a fake angel and score a ticket to Heaven. Worth playing the part.
Too bad he was already overthinking things.
Li Feng caught the "rapture" plastered on Carter's face and finally asked, baffled, "Do you actually know what meeting Leonor means for you?"
A demon fanboying over an angel. Fantastic.
Carter chuckled, then nodded solemnly. "Death's guaranteed. Destination's the only surprise." He raised his chin, voice booming with mock-heroic flair. "Hell… or Heaven."
Li Feng pinched the bridge of his nose. People who didn't fear death—or worse, chased it—were always the most annoying to fight. They went all in. No bluff. No self-preservation.
He sighed, then turned to Coulson like a teacher scolding a wayward student. "Don't pick up his habits, Old Coulson. Living's better. Look around—world's gorgeous. Why do you think demons keep sneaking topside? And death's not a guarantee of peace. Best case, you end up a vegetable. Worst case, you're on a spit, demons seasoning you with cumin and chili flakes. Not my idea of retirement."
Coulson stared too long, forgot to blink, and finally managed a dry laugh. "Noted. Living sounds good. Heaven over barbecue."
Good enough. Li Feng waved a hand and split open a portal to scrubland.
Coulson leaned in, trying to memorize every rock and patch of dirt—intel for later.
"Don't even bother," Li Feng coughed. "I'm not dumb enough to open straight into Leonor's living room. I'm not handing her address to S.H.I.E.L.D. Besides—" He rubbed his brow. "Her place isn't exactly a tourist hotspot. You think stone-winged gargoyles would let me waltz in? The second this door opens, they'd dogpile me."
Busted, Coulson flushed. "So… where's this then?"
"A relay point in the wild." Li Feng narrowed his eyes, already calculating how long it would take to finish Carter. "We switch rides near her place, then it's a thirty-minute hike. I'll be gone a while. You all—grab food, nap, whatever."
The agents traded looks like they'd been handed a bad punchline.
Carter stepped to the threshold, then paused. He glanced back at Johnny Blaze, tone shifting to that of a grizzled elder passing down family curses. "Johnny, stay away from your family and friends. Blackheart will use them."
And then he crossed the portal like a pilgrim entering a cathedral.
Li Feng followed—then froze mid-step. He turned, eyebrow raised. "Mr. Blaze. Did you kill Abigor?"
Johnny blinked. "Who?"
"The wind demon," Li Feng clarified. "Turns into wind."
Recognition landed. Johnny shook his head. "Stronger than the stone one. I hurt him bad, but he got away."
Li Feng's grin was quick, sharp. Jackpot. He snapped the portal closed.
Wilderness. Dust. Silence. Perfect.
His mystic sight swept the land. Clear. He flexed a hand—Mirror Dimension folded around them, glassy and sealed.
Carter didn't even blink. "So you lied."
Li Feng shrugged. "Welcome to the real tour." He snapped the wooden box open and slammed a palm into Carter's chest, aiming to rip the spirit free.
No dice. Either he wasn't hitting hard enough, or Ghost Riders were just built to be stubborn. Carter's flesh combusted in a roar of flame, burning him to a skeleton crowned in fire.
Great. No sun in the Mirror Dimension. Which meant the Rider could come out and play.
Seconds later, a flaming skull dropped to one knee.
Li Feng didn't approach. With the Pseudo-angel Feathers draining power and Carter's reserves already thin, the Rider was weak. Still, no reason to tempt a Penance Stare. He circled behind instead.
Carter laughed, teeth clacking like castanets. "I'll be waiting for you in Hell."
"Unlikely," Li Feng said, sliding on a bone-white mask. He drew his scythe and pressed the blade against Carter's neck. "Round trips aren't guaranteed."
Carter's skull tilted, embers sneering. "I see it. There's a beast in that blade that eats souls. Too bad—"
Purification sigils flared across bone before he could finish. Li Feng stroked the scythe's edge, conversational. "Sure, it's under-leveled. Won't swallow you whole. Don't worry—I'm a man of solutions. For example…"
The scythe exhaled. Black vapor oozed out, shapes with hunger for a spine. Soul-devourers slithered into the Mirror Dimension, circling the kneeling Rider. Frost crackled underfoot as more purification bled from Li Feng's hands.
"They can't bite through you in one shot," Li Feng said lightly. "But ants can strip an elephant."
Carter looked at the devourers, then the frost, and his flames spiked in contempt. Fire was his kingdom. Ice was nothing. Let them bite. See who shattered.
Li Feng paced him, artisan's patience hiding predator's focus. Another round of purification dimmed the blaze further. He reached out—two fingers, sharp pull—and hellfire peeled from the Rider's bones like molten silk.
"You think the devourers are useless," he said. "You forgot about me. Extraction's my specialty."
He laughed under the mask, almost giddy now. "Truth is, I know the Ghost Rider better than Johnny. Right now he's got hellfire and the Penance Stare. Rookie tricks. He's new to the saddle. There are more skills to unlock. Like…" He tilted the scythe, forcing the skull forward. "The Rider's portal."
If Carter had pupils, they would've pinpricked. Even without eyes, the snap of his head gave it away—panic, hope, last-ditch gamble.
Li Feng didn't let him move. He pressed the blade closer. "Don't even try. You open a door to Hell the second I drop this mirror, and I'll make sure you regret it."
Verdict delivered.
Carter Slade's flames guttered, frost climbing his bones. The laugh that spilled out was short, broken.
"Do it," he rasped.
Li Feng's grip tightened. The Mirror held.
And Carter Slade's last day came to an end.