Chapter 13

This blow was heavier than any before it.

Kamidar's footing slipped, and he actually staggered half a step back.

He looked up and met Zhao Yu's astonishingly bright eyes.

The Mirror Dimension fell silent for a moment.

Only their interwoven breaths remained, along with the lingering resonance still trembling in the air.

Kamidar's breathing gradually grew heavier. Every block sent numb, aching tremors through his arms.

The shriek of the blade splitting the air brushed past his ear, and he could hear the dull thud of his heartbeat pounding against his ribs.

Meanwhile, the young apprentice seemed like a tireless machine.

No emotion reflected in Zhao Yu's pupils. Only arc after arc of blade-light flashed within them.

Something scorching surged through his body—something that was not magic, or at least not entirely magic.

Some hormone raced through his blood, drawing his muscles taut as bowstrings and driving each step deeper into the floor.

What the constriction of his blood vessels brought was not dizziness, but a strange clarity. The world shed its noise, leaving only the crisp crack of his opponent's joints as he blocked and the salty, pungent scent of sweat evaporating as it fell.

Kamar-Taj's training had remade his bones and muscles, while the energy surging through him now was like a second heart.

He did not need to think. His limbs had already memorized every trajectory of attack and defense.

He swung his blade, then swung again. The sensation of the blade cutting through the air traveled from the web of his thumb to his shoulder blade, as seamless as breathing.

A trace of disbelief finally cracked across the veteran sorcerer's face. "How is this possible?"

Kamidar ground his teeth and forced out the words.

He felt like a fallen leaf caught in a whirlpool. Every rhythm an apprentice ought to possess had been shattered beneath his opponent's savage offensive.

Merely maintaining his defense had already exhausted his concentration, let alone searching for an opening to counterattack—there were no openings at all. The cold gleam of the blade had woven an impenetrable net.

Had there been an observer, they might have recalled another scene: even the library guardian known for his steadiness had secretly been forced to use more power than agreed upon when sparring with this young apprentice, just to barely keep that training saber under control.

Of course, the thought merely drifted through the void. No one spoke of it.

"Your fighting skills..."

Kamidar spoke between breaths after being driven back once again, every word carrying the bitterness of sweat. "You have indeed trained them solidly."

When the chains tightened, the chill of metal pierced through Zhao Yu's clothes and into his skin.

Zhao Yu tried to move his wrists, only to earn tighter restraints—the two golden chains that had suddenly shot out of the Light Shield grew faintly hot as he struggled.

Kamidar did not release the spell.

The old man stood at the far end of the training ground, his sleeves hanging loose as his gaze rested on the bound young man. Only after a long while did he look away.

"Still far from enough."

His voice was low, as if he were speaking to himself.

Zhao Yu lay flat on his back, his chest rising and falling as he drew in air.

Sweat slid from his temple into his hair. He turned his head toward his mentor. "That technique of yours... I've never seen it in any of the texts."

The old man's lips moved, but he did not answer.

He raised a hand and dismissed the chains. The golden light shattered into points and vanished in the afternoon sunlight.

The shadow cast by the ancient tree at the edge of the grounds slanted across the floor, dividing the distance between them into two sharply contrasting stretches of light and dark.

The silence lasted for several breaths.

"That is not a technique meant for apprentices."

Kamidar finally spoke, though he turned elsewhere—his gaze rested on the outline of distant mountains beyond the window, his voice mixed with an emotion difficult to discern. "It took me thirty-seven years to make a Light Shield grow chains."

Zhao Yu pushed himself up and brushed the dust from his robe.

He noticed his mentor's hand hanging by his side, its knuckles slightly curled as though clutching something invisible.

"I lost."

The young man stood and bowed. "Thank you for your guidance."

"Lost?"

The old man suddenly laughed, short and dry. "Forced by a child who has studied magic for less than half a year to use the trick I keep hidden away—whose victory is that supposed to be?"

Wind slipped through the open window lattice, turning the parchment scrolls spread across the table.

The still-wet runes wrinkled faintly in the breeze.

Kamidar turned around.

Sunlight shone from behind him, leaving his face in shadow. Only his eyes remained bright—something was settling within them, like fine sand at the bottom of an hourglass, grain by grain accumulating into a silent weight.

"When I was your age..."

He spoke slowly, each word seeming to be dredged from a deep well. "It took me three days to condense a shield that could block rain."

Zhao Yu stood where he was and did not dare respond.

He saw the old man raise his hand and trace vaguely through the air. A few points of light flickered, then went out.

"Go rest."

Kamidar lowered his hand, his voice returning to its usual steadiness. "Starting tomorrow, I'll teach you how to make light grow teeth."

The young man bowed once more and gently closed the door behind him as he left the training ground.

The instant the heavy wooden door shut, Kamidar's shoulders sagged slightly.

He walked to the window and pressed his palm against the cold sill.

On the distant training ground, several young apprentices were practicing the most basic elemental summons. Their immature chanting drifted over in broken fragments.

He closed his eyes.

The sensation of the chains tightening still faintly burned in his palm—not the lingering heat of magic, but something else.

It was like holding a handful of flowing sand. The tighter he gripped it, the faster it slipped away.

A bird chirped outside the window, a crisp sound cutting through the afternoon silence.

The old man opened his eyes and drew an old copper coin from his robe.

Its edges had been worn smooth, and the inscription on its face had faded into little more than shallow traces.

He rubbed the coin with his thumb for a long, long time, until his body heat warmed the copper.

Then he released it.

The coin fell back into the depths of his pocket with a dull, soft clink.

Kamidar had not finished speaking.

He stared at the young man before him, his fingers unconsciously tightening.

What Zhao Yu displayed was not merely speed—it was practically a replication of another Sorcerer Supreme's path.

Only the Sorcerer Supreme himself understood how to awaken the dormant strength within an apprentice and impose such nearly suffocating pressure.

His memories were suddenly dragged back many years.

Back then, he had been fortunate enough to stand before the Sorcerer Supreme and receive guidance. He had felt that exact same oppressive force: an unending offensive, power surging like a tide, even the gaps to catch one's breath becoming a luxury, much less launching a counterattack.

Kamidar was certain that if Zhao Yu continued growing like this, it would not be long before his strength reached that realm.

A certain premonition quietly crept into his heart.

Kamar-Taj's skies might be about to change.

For centuries, no apprentice had ever possessed the talent to glimpse the Sorcerer Supreme's shadow.

But now, such a person had appeared.

He even vaguely gave the impression that his aptitude might surpass that leader's.

The expression on Kamidar's face became difficult to read.

Anticipation, shock, and doubt intertwined, while his earlier composure had vanished who knew where.

"Having you study under Wong..."

He paused for a long time before his voice sounded again. "It seems that was the right choice.

Your fighting skills will soon no longer need teaching.

When the Sorcerer Supreme returns, as long as you pass the trial..."

He swallowed the rest of the sentence.

At Kamar-Taj, there were no rigid ranks among sorcerers.

Once someone earned an official title, they would be respected by all.

Even the Sorcerer Supreme had never looked down on any fellow practitioner.

If Zhao Yu truly passed that trial, he would become the youngest apprentice sorcerer here—standing in the same position as Kamidar.

"Master."

Zhao Yu's voice interrupted his thoughts. "You will always be my teacher."

Zhao Yu bowed slightly, respect in his voice.

His mentor had treated him exceedingly well.

In the education he had received since childhood, respecting one's teachers and elders had been the most fundamental principle.

"As long as you remember this old man in the future, I'll be satisfied."

The other man smiled and waved his hand.

"I think that someday, I'll be proud to have taught a student like you."

"Come, let's go for a walk."

Kamidar's steps were light, and a smile remained on his lips.

What could bring greater comfort to someone who had dedicated his life to teaching than finding a truly promising student?

The ancient Sling Ring on his knuckle seemed to sense its owner's diligence and grew faintly warm.

Each time he raised his hand, the golden sparks torn through the air became steadier and swifter than before.

Sweat ran down Zhao Yu's temple and dripped onto the worn floor of the training ground, but he was completely unaware of it.

He merely repeated the motions—raising his hand, drawing a circle, feeling the path of magic flowing through his veins.

My grasp of portals seems to have deepened another level.

The thought flashed through his mind.

Then his body moved on its own.

It was no longer mechanical spellcasting. Faint gleams of magic began to mingle with the wind kicked up by his fists and feet, and the transitions between his steps and gestures became smooth and flowing.

Some barrier had been broken. His martial skill had leaped to a new level.

The feedback did not come from outside, but from deep within his body, from the muscle memory forged by countless repetitions.

His mastery of most spells had quietly climbed to a height that many sorcerers who had trained for years could only look up to.

An ordinary veteran might spend a lifetime immersed in the craft and still go no further.

Everyone had fields in which they particularly excelled.

Like his mentor: that shield condensed from pure magic was sturdy enough to withstand a violent torrent of energy.

As for opening spatial passages or engaging in close-quarters combat, the old man's current mastery likely no longer matched that of this student who trained day and night.

Over the past few lessons, those explanations of basic magic had no longer brought him any new insight.

That in itself was a clear sign.

Knock, knock, knock.

A steady tapping suddenly came from beyond the wooden door, breaking the stillness and the salty scent of sweat filling the room.

When the door opened, sweat was running down Zhao Yu's neck.

Wong stood outside.

"You're here."

Zhao Yu's breathing had not fully settled, and his words carried a slight trace of breathlessness.

He stepped aside to make way, his sleeve brushing the doorframe and leaving behind a faint damp mark.

Wong's gaze settled on his sweat-soaked shoulders for a moment before shifting into the room.

The air carried the heavy stagnation unique to prolonged concentration, like the oppressive heat before a storm. "I came to see how your training was going."

His voice was steady, revealing no emotion. "You haven't been slacking off."

Zhao Yu wiped his temple with his sleeve and said nothing.

"But strings snap when pulled too tight."

Wong turned, the hem of his robe sweeping across the threshold. "Change into something dry and come with me."

Without asking questions, Zhao Yu grabbed the outer robe draped over the back of a chair.

Amid the rustle of cloth, an arc of golden-red light had already spun open in the room, its edges scattering fine sparks.

As he pulled on his clothes, Wong stepped into that halo.

The air in the Mirror Dimension was always colder.

When Zhao Yu stepped onto that familiar glassy ground, he could not help shivering.

Wong stood several steps away with his back to him, the hem of his robe utterly still, as though he had been standing there for a long time.

"Show me."

Wong did not turn around. His voice echoed through the empty space. "Start with the simplest."

Zhao Yu drew a deep breath, and the cold air stung his throat.

He raised his hand, his fingers somewhat stiff—he had trained for too long just now, and his muscles were still trembling faintly.

When the first thread of orange-gold light rose from his palm, it was as thin as a spider's silk, shakily sketching an incomplete ring in the air.

"Continue."

Wong's voice came from the side.

At some point, he had already turned around. His hands were tucked into his sleeves, and his face revealed neither satisfaction nor disappointment.

The ring gradually became whole, its edges beginning to stabilize.

Zhao Yu adjusted his breathing, allowing the flow of light to rise and fall with its rhythm.

A second and third halo unfolded around the first, nested together while maintaining precise distances from one another.

Sweat seeped from his temple again and ran down along his jawline.

Many talented people made the same mistake—they ran too fast and forgot to watch the road beneath their feet.

New spells were like sweet fruit, tempting them to keep reaching out to pluck them, while their foundations grew loose in the rush.

When the day came that they needed to climb higher, those neglected cracks would suddenly reveal themselves, becoming chasms they could not cross.

Kamar-Taj had many sorcerers, but those who could truly stand firm were always few.

The circles had already increased to seven, slowly rotating in the air with a faint hum.

Zhao Yu's fingertips began to turn white, yet every ring retained its precise shape, and their spacing was not the slightest bit disordered.

"That's enough."

Wong finally spoke.

The halos scattered at his words, like embers blown away by the wind.

Zhao Yu lowered his arms, feeling a deep soreness rise from within his muscles.