What Was It Like Teaching Dumbledore? Thanks for Asking...

Two days had passed since that conversation. Dumbledore had interacted with He Shenyan almost as an apprentice.

Yet Dumbledore himself saw nothing wrong with it—those who came before were teachers, and on this brand-new path, he truly was an apprentice.

The old man even felt as though his energy had returned to his youth. He no longer concerned himself with political considerations or the intricate calculations filling his mind. Instead, he simply learned, experiencing every pulse of Magic Power.

Just like now, he was learning the most basic form of meditation, as He Shenyan called it.

He sat cross-legged, with a soft blanket serving as a cushion beneath him. A peculiar fragrance gradually sent his thoughts drifting into the clouds. Dumbledore heard He Shenyan's voice, as though it were beside his ear and yet also far away.

"You've always cast spells with a wand before, so this may be somewhat difficult for you. But that's all right. Once you master the free use of Magic Power, you'll have one foot through the door. Now, listen carefully."

"Relax."

Dumbledore did as instructed, completely relaxing his body—more thoroughly, even, than when he slept.

"Very good. You entered the state quickly. But tomorrow, you'll need to try entering a completely empty state without the aid of potions. Now, imagine that you're floating."

He began to imagine himself floating.

The instant that thought arose from the depths of his heart, he felt a strange delight. It was as though he were in a dream; everything around him drifted away, and the sounds surrounding him became increasingly hazy.

The scene gradually filled with fluorescence. To his astonishment, he found himself floating in a white space filled with glowing spheres.

"Very good. Now tell me, what do you see?" He Shenyan asked, his voice equally ethereal.

Then he heard his own voice. The vitality and excitement in it made him wonder: Is that really my voice?

"There's light everywhere. White Light Spots. I'm in a completely white space."

"Try to pull one Light Spot over. But don't use your hands. Use 'thought.'"

Following He Shenyan's instructions, he began to imagine. He imagined the nearest Light Spot being caught in his hand—and a few seconds later, despite never reaching out, the Light Spot flew over by itself.

"I caught it," Dumbledore said, so excited he nearly didn't know what to do with himself.

"Open your eyes."

He Shenyan spoke. Dumbledore opened his eyes, and that hazy yet secure sensation vanished. To his surprise, there was a white point of Magic Power in his palm.

The old man laughed, and even many of his wrinkles seemed to fade. "This? This is Magic Power?"

"Your Magic Power. That space you entered just now—call it whatever you like: Soul Space, Eden, the Tree of Kabbalah, a palace. It doesn't matter. It's where the Magic Power within you is stored."

He Shenyan explained patiently, tapping his own temple. "Normally, Magic Power is stored in the brain. Its amount complements the strength of your soul and your will. As your Magic Power grows, your body will gradually become very closely connected to your soul."

"This is also one of the greatest benefits of persistent meditation. Mages no longer need fear demons, because demons no longer have the ability to take a Mage's soul. Our souls belong only to ourselves. We are utterly free."

At that, he even blinked. "Of course, I don't know whether there are demons here."

Dumbledore looked at the gentle ball of light in his hand. He could feel the connection between that tiny sphere and himself. He asked, "In the world you came from, are all Mages like you?"

"In what sense?"

Dumbledore continued, "No, I mean, are they all as willing as you to teach knowledge? Even knowledge like this? Without asking for anything in return?"

"Of course. Not."

The question energized He Shenyan, and he smiled.

"Actually, before the seventh century AD, Mages guarded what little knowledge they had and refused to let others see it. Spellcasting knowledge was usually passed down within families, but if a son or daughter lacked talent, they would write it all into a book and take it to the grave."

"If someone capable of bypassing the protective spells dug it out, and happened to possess the talent, then they could learn it. But after the seventeenth century, things became different."

"My teacher became the Sorcerer Supreme—a position somewhat like the guardian of the world. She traveled across nations and united the scattered Mages. After that, we shared knowledge and helped one another. Of course, that's just what we say. You understand."

With a smile, He Shenyan waved his hand. A thick tome appeared in the air. He showed Dumbledore its cover—Foundations and Advanced Applications of Soul Experiments—then dismissed it.

"In any case, if it weren't for her, I wouldn't have seen these precious antiques. And magic wouldn't have progressed, either. No matter how gifted one person is, if they work in isolation, they will eventually lose to a group of people. Isn't that right?"

His words left Dumbledore somewhat moved. They reminded him of similar things. Perhaps humanity had a common language in this respect alone. No matter the world, divisions and mutual contempt would always arise.

He sighed.

Over the past two days, he had started with the theoretical structure of Magic Power, then moved on to the union of spirit and will. By today's meditation and use of Magic Power, he had completely mastered precious knowledge from another world that might have taken thousands of years to develop.

A sense of immense weight washed over him.

"All right, break time is about over. If you're interested in the magical history of my world, once this crash course is finished, I can give you a few books to read on your own."

"But for now, get ready, Mr. Dumbledore. I'm going to teach you how to use your will to influence Reality—this might hurt a little."

Hurt?

For a moment, Dumbledore did not understand what he meant, until He Shenyan slapped a palm against his forehead. A massive amount of Magic Power directly knocked his soul out of his body.

With a burst of agonizing pain, he stared in shock at his body, still sitting cross-legged where it had been, still breathing slowly.

"What? Am I dead?"

"How could that be, Mr. Dumbledore? Besides, even if you really were dead, I'd have a way to pull you back."

He Shenyan shook his head.

"I simply wanted you to view this process from the perspective of a soul, so you'd see it more clearly. And while we're at it, here's another little fact: Soul Eyes can usually see more than the naked eye. That's true in every respect."

He held out his right hand. Black Magic Power gathered into a sphere in his palm, and He Shenyan reminded him, "Watch closely!"

As his words fell, the sphere in his palm gradually twisted and changed shape. A minute later, it had become a loaf of bread.

He Shenyan took a bite and nodded in satisfaction.

"Not bad. Tastes all right. This spell is the foundation of a whole series of transformation spells. You can call it the Bread-Making Spell. Sometimes, when I'm bored at Christmas, I dress up as Jesus and hand out bread to homeless people."

His sudden sense of humor left Dumbledore laughing despite himself.

"As for the key points, you need to fully understand how bread is made—its texture, flavor, and smell. Of course, it doesn't matter if you don't know what it tastes like. You only need to think of it as something that can fill your stomach, though the final product may be bland and tasteless."

"You must use your spirit and will to drive your Magic Power, then use your imagination to turn that Magic Power into bread. Once you've mastered it, you can try transforming other things as well. Anything is fine."

"Once you succeed for the first time, the operating principles of the spell and the flow of Magic Power will be etched into your mind. Then you won't need to deliberately imagine it. With a casual wave, you can make bread."

"But more advanced spells require you to specifically memorize spell models and related arrays. All magic that requires no preparation is like this."

After speaking, he swallowed the remaining half-bite of bread, casually sent Dumbledore's soul back into his body, and added, "Now, give it a try. Transform something you like to eat."

Dumbledore did as instructed, almost impatient to try it. He was just like a driving student who had only just gotten behind the wheel.

The gentle white sphere in his hand showed signs of movement only after five minutes, while fine sweat had already appeared on Dumbledore's brow. He Shenyan neither urged him on nor made a sound.

He merely watched patiently as his first formal student made the attempt—who hadn't cast their first spell before? The first time was always difficult. Encouragement and patience were the proper way.

After ten minutes, the sphere became a tiny strip. By fifteen minutes, Dumbledore was sweating profusely. His eyes were wide behind his half-moon spectacles, his teeth clenched. At last, the sphere became a tiny white candy.

"Very good. Try the taste."

A smile blossomed across He Shenyan's face. He suddenly felt a sense of accomplishment. Dumbledore caught his breath and tossed the candy into his mouth. That familiar flavor made him laugh heartily, the old man's smile as innocent and unrestrained as a child's.

"Looks like all the candy I've eaten over the years wasn't for nothing."

He Shenyan pulled him up from the floor and made a gesture. The basement door opened.

"Now go rest for a while. Your spirit needs to recover. Casting for extended periods can lead to some minor problems. Fatigue is one of the most obvious symptoms. Stop when you feel tired. Unless absolutely necessary, don't cast while exhausted. Understand?"

Dumbledore nodded and went upstairs to bask in the sun in the courtyard. Once he had left the basement, He Shenyan snapped his fingers again. He took out a blank book with Compendium of Novice Spells written on the cover and began compiling it with Magic Power.