Chapter 10

His voice dropped, becoming a warning almost whispered. "If you're scared, turn around now. The door is behind you.

Go back and dutifully teach those beginners how to chant spells and draw circles. Spend your whole life never getting blood on your hands."

His eyes remained unblinking as he waited for an answer.

"I understand, Master."

Zhao Yu nodded again.

A faint crack came from his neck bones.

The images flashing through his mind held not the slightest hesitation: dig traps when needed, use poison when needed, chant spells when needed.

Conscience? In a world like this, that was nothing but unnecessary baggage.

Spend his entire life standing behind a lectern, facing parchment scrolls and ignorant young faces? When that purple-skinned giant came crushing through with his army, such days would become nothing more than a slow-motion wait for death.

"Fine."

Wong spat out the word, his shoulders relaxing almost imperceptibly.

He had seen that flame in Zhao Yu's eyes, the one that had not been extinguished.

This was not the same as Kamidar.

He was a battle mage who had crawled out of blood and shattered bone fragments, the calluses on his knuckles tougher than book covers.

Even if Zhao Yu was a talent seen only once in a century, if he lacked that ruthlessness in his bones, that resolve to stake his life on it, Wong would not teach him another word.

"Follow me."

Wong rose to his feet.

The breeze stirred by his robes carried the scent of old leather and dust.

He raised both hands, his fingers tracing smooth arcs through the air, the motions as practiced as breathing.

The air before them began to twist and crack, giving off faint sounds like ice breaking beneath someone's feet.

Transparent fractures spread outward, revealing completely unfamiliar, shifting lights and shadows beyond them.

Zhao Yu's pupils abruptly contracted, and his breath caught in his throat.

The moment he stepped into the space known as the Mirror Dimension, the silence around him seemed to gain weight.

An indescribable fluctuation drifted through the air, spreading continuously like ripples across water.

Zhao Yu raised a hand. As his fingertips passed through the air, he could sense a faint tremor—the space itself was breathing.

"This is the mirror."

The man called Wong stood some distance away, his voice as steady as if he were discussing the weather. "It is generally used to test spells unsuitable for casting in the outside world, or... to observe."

He paused, his gaze settling on the Sling Ring around the young man's finger. "Portals are the only entrance and exit.

I heard you've already mastered the method. Try it now."

No emotion showed on Wong's face.

Only he knew that every rule within this realm obeyed his will.

Opening a door here was far more difficult than doing so outside—even if he imposed no interference, the nature of the space itself created invisible resistance.

To this day, no apprentice had ever successfully formed a passage within a Mirror Dimension controlled by someone else.

Perhaps this would make the young man before him rein in that unconscious sharpness of his a little.

Zhao Yu did not notice those hidden thoughts.

He obediently raised the hand wearing the ring and slowly traced through the air.

At first, there were only a few golden sparks, flickering unsteadily as though they might go out at any moment.

The process of forming it was indeed more sluggish than usual, every inch of progress like moving through glue.

He did not allow himself to be distracted, focusing only on the restructuring and arrangement of the runes.

Those points of light gradually stretched and connected, finally weaving into a stable ring of light, sparks crackling softly along its edge.

The Portal took shape.

Wong's expression remained unchanged.

But in a corner beyond Zhao Yu's sight, the entire Mirror Dimension was undergoing a silent upheaval—the ground tilted almost imperceptibly, while distant scenery swayed and reassembled like reflections on water.

The violent changes within this realm mirrored the ripples that had swept through Wong's heart.

Wong had never expected Zhao Yu to display such astonishing talent.

History had been

In just one day, he had opened a passage within the Mirror Dimension?

Even the Sorcerer Supreme of old would likely have struggled to accomplish that.

Enormous waves surged through Wong's heart.

The Mirror Dimension behind him churned violently, sky and earth twisting and warping without end.

Fortunately, this space was entirely under his control.

As long as he did not wish it, Zhao Yu would never see the turmoil behind him.

Otherwise, the image that **Master had maintained for so long would likely collapse.

Zhao Yu closed the entrance to the passage and turned to look at Wong beside him, whose expression remained calm.

There was not the slightest ripple on that face, its sternness enough to make one's heart tighten.

Zhao Yu could not help feeling a little uneasy.

"**Master, was that... acceptable? Could there be a problem?"

He had never truly entered the Mirror Dimension before, so he could not help worrying whether the passage he had formed was stable.

It would not matter much if other spells failed; at worst, they simply would not take effect.

But with something like a Portal, one small mistake might cost him his life.

At that question, the space behind Wong fluctuated even more violently.

That furious barrier seemed capable of tearing apart any **Master who dared enter it.

"It was passable."

Wong's voice remained steady, and his face showed no change.

He finally understood.

That old man Kamidar, who always loved giving others advice, truly did not want to continue teaching this time.

Such talent was so dazzling that it nearly robbed one of the courage to measure it.

At that moment, he could not help doubting himself—had something gone wrong with the six months he had spent learning to open that door? And how many years had he spent afterward before he could barely tear open a crack in a Mirror Dimension created by someone else? Could there truly be such an immense distance between people?

Zhao Yu did not notice the turmoil in the other man's heart.

Seeing that Wong had not rejected his spell, he felt reassured.

All those repeated practices with the Sling Ring had not been in vain after all.

Wong's gaze settled on the young man.

The Portal still floating in the air had stable, even energy flowing along its edges, without the slightest sign of trembling or collapse.

This had gone beyond merely mastering it. One could even say that Zhao Yu had accumulated a considerable depth of understanding in this spell.

At the very least, this was absolutely not the work of a beginner.

—It was practically inhuman.

The more Wong thought about it, the more he felt as though the years he had spent before had been wasted.

Though his heart was shaken, not a trace of abnormality showed on his face. "That's enough,"

he said, interrupting him. "Close the door."

Zhao Yu waved his hand as instructed, and the halo dispersed.

Wong gave a slight nod, his tone calm. "It seems you truly put effort into practicing Portals."

Zhao Yu inclined his head slightly, his voice carrying just the right degree of humility. "The mages taught me well."

Wong raised a hand and lightly waved it through the air, cutting off the words that followed. "There is no need to be so modest."

His tone was steady, yet carried an unquestionable weight. "Besides talent, hard work is equally important."

After a brief pause, his gaze fell on the young man. "Since you have already mastered those basics, you are qualified to step across the next threshold."

A flicker of barely concealed delight passed through Zhao Yu's eyes.

This was precisely the moment he had been waiting for.

Merely understanding spells and gestures was far from enough. Unless he could wield vast power with every lift of his hand like the legendary Sorcerer Supreme,

in this perilous world, only by turning power into genuine combat instinct could he truly grasp the blade that would protect his life.

The air was filled with the peculiar scent of old paper and sandalwood from the library, while faint shouts from practitioners in the distant courtyard drifted in from outside the windows.

"What I will teach you next,"

Wong's voice pulled him back to reality, "concerns life and death.

The practitioners of Kamar-Taj have never been scholars burying their heads in old texts.

We are guardians. We are warriors."

He stepped forward half a pace, his boots scraping softly over the stone floor. "Therefore, combat is a required lesson for everyone.

Now, I will show you what combat truly is."

Wong watched the young face before him, his expression solemn and grave.

Yet a different line of thought lingered in his heart.

This young man had indeed displayed astonishing talent in comprehending spells, like a dry sponge capable of absorbing an entire flood of knowledge in an instant.

But what about combat? That was a completely different field.

Magic was patterns and resonance, while combat was instinct and intuition that changed in an instant, reactions tempered through countless struggles on the edge of life and death.

No matter how exquisite a diagram of techniques might be, it could not compare to the evasive movements a body remembered after a blade had truly been held to its throat.

He silently wondered, surely no one could master an art that had to be engraved into flesh and blood so effortlessly as well?

Sensing the weight in Wong's tone, Zhao Yu unconsciously straightened his back and cast aside every distracting thought.

Only the occasional crackle of an oil lamp wick bursting remained in the room.

"What I am going to teach you,"

Wong slowly assumed an opening stance, his sleeves stirring a faint current of air with the movement, "is the fighting art passed down at Kamar-Taj.

The energy flowing throughout the multiverse grants us far more than the ability to cast spells."

He turned his wrist, his fingers curling as though grasping something invisible in the air. "It can also reshape our bodies, allowing every punch and every step to resonate with it."

It could also make our bodies tougher.

But the human body had its limits in the end.

So they sealed that power within enchanted tools.

Wong opened a Portal and reached inside.

When he withdrew his hand, two short staffs lay in his palm.

"This is the Living Tribunal Staff."

He gave his wrist a light flick.

The staff split into several segments like an unfastened chain.

The instant it lashed out, sparks burst forth with a crackle.

The tip of the staff slammed into the floor, leaving behind a scorched groove.

"This is the Watoo Wand."

He tapped the pair of boots beside him with the tip of his foot.

Runes flowed across their surface, and a faint glimmer flashed and vanished.

Zhao Yu stared at Wong, his eyes wide.

These weapons certainly looked extraordinary.

"By the rules, apprentices are not allowed to touch magical artifacts."

"If you cannot control them properly, there will be trouble."

"But you are different."

Wong lifted his eyelids and glanced at Zhao Yu.

This kid truly was special.

Not only had he learned the spells.

He used them quite steadily too.

In terms of controlling magical power, he had already reached the threshold of an Official Mage.

Naturally, he could learn to use magical artifacts as well.

"Come."

"Follow my movements and pour magical power into it."

Wong gripped the wand in his hand.

The heat within him flowed through his palm and into the staff.

The Watoo Wand gradually began to glow gold, as though bound tightly by chains forged from light.

Zhao Yu copied his movements.

He slowly poured all the energy he could mobilize into the staff.

The short staff in his hand began to deform, twisting into a flexible long whip.

"Not bad."

Wong nodded. "You can consider yourself able to use the Watoo Wand now."

Before his words had even faded, that burly figure had already pounced before him on a gust of wind.

The sharp whistle of the staff cutting through the air pierced Zhao Yu's eardrums.

Zhao Yu staggered backward, hurriedly raising his arm. The tremor of wood striking metal shot from his wrist straight to his shoulder blade.

He barely blocked the blow, his soles scraping out a short hiss across the stone floor.

Too agile.

It was as though another body were hidden inside that burly frame.

The second strike followed immediately, its angle as vicious as a venomous snake.

Zhao Yu twisted aside, and the wind from the staff grazed his cheekbone, bringing a ** sting.

The third strike, then the fourth—he could only block them clumsily, his footing scattered, his breath shattering against his chest.

Then, in a certain instant, something cold seeped into the depths of his consciousness.

It was not a sound, but more like countless tiny wedges hammering into his mind all at once.

Fragments of knowledge about angles, force, and shifting one's center of gravity emerged from nowhere, while muscle memory awakened like a thawing river.

The fingers gripping the staff automatically adjusted their position, his elbow found the most effortless arc, and the slight bend in his knees was just enough to deflect the impact.

He blocked the next diagonal slash.

His movements were still awkward, but he was no longer flustered.

The staff spun half a turn in his palm, shifting from a block into a thrust and forcing his opponent to step back and defend.

His other empty hand instinctively clenched at the air. Where his fingertips swept, thin golden motes formed the outline of a short blade. Though it dispersed in an instant, it was enough to disrupt the rhythm of the attack.

The burly figure's assault visibly stalled for a moment.

Zhao Yu caught that fleeting opening.

He stepped half a pace forward, tapped the butt of his staff toward the other man's ribs, then, after it was knocked aside, smoothly changed moves into a horizontal sweep. The staff drew a wailing arc through the air.

Fragments of two fighting arts were wildly interweaving and reforming in his mind—one treated the staff as an extension of the body, emphasizing tapping, thrusting, entangling, and twisting; the other was the art of the body, focusing on footwork, grappling, and shaping energy.