Ancient One's Death

Doctor Strange did not give Ancient One's question much thought. "We're not that close, just acquaintances. Stark is a very proud man."

As an authority in neurosurgery, Doctor Strange had once held a high social status. If his hands had still been intact, he would probably have bragged a little about having friends everywhere. But now, disheartened and stuck at the lowest point of his life, he had no desire to think about Stark. That world was already far too distant from him.

Ancient One nodded lightly. "Yes, a very proud man. There are too many geniuses in this world... Doctor Strange, if you ever lose your way, remember to find your true heart. Sometimes, what we see with our eyes is not the whole truth. The light of wisdom is simply too far beyond humanity."

After saying that, Ancient One walked ahead on his own. The three of them were leaving this place, but he did not say where they were going.

Still preoccupied with his injured hands, Doctor Strange did not glean any profound truth from those words. He merely took them as Ancient One's passing reflection. Having been bombarded by modern counseling, he did not think demonic powers or evil magic were all that serious. As long as they could heal his hands, they were good methods.

The three walked slowly forward. Wong, carrying a mountain of bags and bundles, trailed behind them. Every few steps, he looked back, his eyes filled with attachment to Kamar-Taj.

Seeing that leaving was inevitable, he hurried after Ancient One. "Master, where are we going?"

Ancient One turned back and thought for a moment before saying, "To the New York Sanctum. Your futures are both there. Wong, thank you for your companionship over the years. Doctor Strange will become a good