Chapter 14

"Not bad."

Wong walked over, his footsteps especially distinct in the silence.

He stopped in front of Zhao Yu, his gaze sweeping over the young man's still slightly trembling fingers. "But remember—if someone building a house only covets more floors and forgets to lay a solid foundation, then when the wind comes, the highest floor is often the first to collapse."

Zhao Yu nodded. His Adam's apple bobbed, but he made no sound.

"Same time tomorrow."

Wong had already turned away. Sparks from a portal burst through the air again. "Keep practicing the basics."

Before the arc of light swallowed his broad back, Zhao Yu heard the final words drift over:

"Steady is more important than fast."

Kamidar's teachings had lost their usefulness to him.

Those instructions could no longer advance his magical training in the slightest.

Thus, when Wong offered to guide him, he agreed almost immediately.

Zhao Yu lowered his gaze with a respectful posture, then began displaying the spells he had mastered.

The first spell he cast was Magic Shield—the first defensive spell he had encountered.

After years of repeated refinement, this shield stood on the verge of breaking through to Level Four, making it the spell he had mastered most deeply.

A low hum rippled through the air.

A radiant shield condensed before his palm.

The runes across its surface were as dense as woven threads, its structure rigorous and balanced, carrying an indescribably profound rhythm in the silence.

Wong stared at the shield, and the corner of his mouth twitched involuntarily.

The completion of this Magic Shield was already separated from his own mastery by only the tiniest margin.

As Kamar-Taj's most basic defensive spell, Magic Shield was a skill every sorcerer knew well. Yet most people could only remain at a rudimentary stage throughout their lives, relying on time alone to slowly polish and improve it.

In Wong's view, even veteran sorcerers would likely struggle to surpass the young man before him in their control of this spell.

What kind of freak was this?

"It's constructed reasonably well."

Wong kept his tone steady. "But there are still minor flaws in the rune arrangement."

He briefly pointed out several key issues, and Zhao Yu listened intently.

The instant Wong finished speaking, the Magic Shield before Zhao Yu's palm suddenly changed.

The light flowing over its surface accelerated. Countless runes that had once been hidden emerged from within the light, weaving themselves into a more intricate formation.

The shield's structure visibly grew more precise, while the energy fluctuations it emitted surged sharply.

Wong froze.

He instinctively drew in a deep breath, cool air flooding his chest.

This comprehension... was far too terrifying.

He had offered only a few pointers, yet the other party had understood everything in an instant?

Stay calm.

Wong repeated the words inwardly.

As a master, he had to remain composed.

Wong suppressed the storm in his heart, unconsciously rubbing the edge of his robe sleeve with his fingers.

When he spoke, there was little emotion in his voice.

"Your comprehension... is indeed not bad."

After a pause, he added, "Let me see what else you can do."

Zhao Yu moved as instructed.

Energy flowed and shifted through his palms, tracing rune paths of different forms. As he stepped and pivoted, the air gave off brief hissing cries.

Whether it was elemental spells or close-quarters techniques, he demonstrated them with polished ease, as though he had practiced them thousands of times.

The corner of Wong's mouth twitched slightly.

He had calculated it clearly. From the time this child had first encountered a spell to now, it had only been seven full days.

Yet this level of control...

Many people who had studied in the Sanctum for ten or twenty years might not reach such a level.

No.

It was not that they might fail to match him.

They truly fell short.

Those experienced casters often specialized in one path. They might surpass him in a single spell, but in terms of breadth and fluency of application, there were only a few in all of Kamar-Taj who could link so many kinds of magic together as smoothly as he could.

Perhaps only those gifted seedlings privately favored by the Masters possessed such comprehensive talent.

And such seedlings could be counted on one hand.

The endpoint some pursued for an entire lifetime was merely the starting point of this youth's seven days.

Wong suddenly felt the body beneath his robes grow heavy, as though time itself had quietly added weight to it.

The figure in the training ground had already withdrawn his stance.

The remaining motes of energy drifted away slowly, like dying embers.

Silence spread over the stone-brick floor of the training ground.

Wong said nothing for a long while, only looking at that still-youthful face.

A premonition quietly crept into his heart: perhaps before long, that still-immature figure would surpass him and walk toward a farther, deeper place.

Zhao Yu did not notice Wong's complicated thoughts.

He was immersed in a satisfying joy.

That master truly lived up to his reputation. A few words of guidance often struck directly at the heart of the matter, making many of his previously vague thoughts suddenly clear.

"Your Kamar-Taj Martial Arts has gained new insight through Wong's guidance."

Inside the Mirror Dimension, the system notifications sounded one after another, like raindrops striking sheets of metal.

Zhao Yu felt his palm grow faintly hot.

He lowered his head and glanced at his hand. Pale golden patterns faintly surfaced around his knuckles before quickly sinking beneath his skin again.

Across from him, Wong raised an arm. Orange-red sparks condensed in the air, scattering fine motes of light that carried the mingled scent of sulfur and old parchment.

"You're improving quickly."

Wong's voice came from behind the sparks, somewhat blurred. "But magic is not about memorizing incantations."

Zhao Yu did not answer.

He was recalling the information from earlier—the Kamar-Taj Martial Arts and the fourth level of the Weapon Construction Method.

In his memory, Wong's finger had paused for an instant three inches above his wrist. That spot still felt slightly numb.

Sure enough, practicing alone for three months was not as useful as standing here for ten minutes.

He raised his eyes.

Wong suddenly shifted to the side, his wide robe sleeve sweeping across the floor and stirring up a small cloud of dust.

The movement was somewhat abrupt, as though he were avoiding something invisible.

There should not have been wind in the Mirror Dimension, yet a chill had indeed brushed across the back of Wong's neck, like someone breathing against his skin.

"Let's continue."

Wong said, his tone heavier than before. "Do you know where power comes from?"

"The multiverse."

Zhao Yu answered quickly.

He saw Wong nod, though his brow remained furrowed.

The sparks wove themselves into a complex geometric pattern in the air, rotating slowly.

Zhao Yu stared at the points where those lines met and noticed that they always split open again just as they were about to close—like the rhythm of breathing.

He tried to imitate that rhythm and adjust his breathing. A faint resonance rose in his chest.

Wong noticed it.

"Don't imitate that."

He suddenly said, waving the pattern apart. "That's enough for today."

"Why?"

There was no answer.

Wong had already turned away, the hem of his robe drawing an arc through the dim light.

Zhao Yu stood where he was, hearing his heartbeat strike three clear beats against his eardrums.

He recalled the system's final notification just now: exhilarated.

So Wong could sense it too.

The Mirror Dimension began to fade, its walls blurring like an oil painting soaked in water.

Zhao Yu took one last look in the direction where Wong had disappeared. Only a ring of sparks remained, not yet fully extinguished, searing black marks into the ground.

He crouched and touched them with his finger—they were still warm.

By the time he returned to his room, the sky outside had already darkened.

Zhao Yu sat on the edge of the bed and spread open his palm.

Those pale golden patterns surfaced again, clearer this time, winding like rivers on a map.

He tried to recall every gesture Wong had taught him, from the most basic summoning to the fourth variation of Weapon Construction.

One detail surfaced in his memory: when Wong demonstrated the third construction, the little finger of his left hand had curled unnaturally.

He had thought it was a mistake at the time, but now that he considered it, it might have been some kind of restraint—meant to stop him from learning too quickly.

Zhao Yu lay down and stared at the wood grain on the ceiling.

In the darkness, the system notification sounded once more, very softly, as though it came from somewhere far away.

He closed his eyes and saw those orange-red sparks rearrange themselves behind his eyelids, forming an entirely new pattern.

This time, they did not split open.

Wong sneezed in his own room.

He walked to the copper basin, where the water reflected a weary face.

Several dried herbs rested at the bottom of the basin. He had placed them there that morning for purification.

Now they slowly rotated, forming a counterclockwise whirlpool.

An ominous sign.

He scooped up a handful of water and splashed it over his face. The cold sensation cleared his mind somewhat.

In the mirror, a glimmer of golden light flashed deep within his pupils, then vanished in an instant.

Was it lingering magic from that young man, or something else?

A bell rang outside. It was time for evening lessons.

Wong did not move.

He was still thinking about that moment in the afternoon—when Zhao Yu adjusted his breathing to resonate with magic, the entire Mirror Dimension had trembled.

Though weak, it had undeniably happened.

He had only ever felt that kind of tremor around The Ancient One.

"The multiverse..."

Wong repeated the word softly, his fingers unconsciously rubbing the pendant on his chest.

The pendant suddenly grew hot, hot enough that he pulled his hand back.

Looking down, he saw a line of tiny runes emerge on the metal surface, runes he had never seen before.

The runes lasted only three seconds before disappearing.

Wong stood where he was, listening to his heartbeat grow louder and louder.

He remembered The Ancient One's final words: once some doors were opened, they could never be closed again.

Now, he seemed to hear the hinges turning.

Wong's palm traced an arc through the air, as though parting an invisible curtain.

A dark-red glow seeped from his fingertips and rapidly condensed into a round shield with sparks flickering along its edge.

The shield hung in midair, releasing a faint hiss like metal expanding under heat.

"It isn't called that."

Wong's voice was calm. "Even the existence that first bestowed this power has vanished from the records."

Zhao Yu stared at the dancing sparks.

He could feel the temperature in the room changing—not rising, but being drawn away somehow, as though even the light around the shield had been stripped of its weight.

This was different from every defensive spell he had seen before.

Kamar-Taj's basic shields were like glass, transparent and fragile. This one, however, was like a living thing, breathing.

"Too many fragments lie buried in the multiverse."

Wong continued, subtly adjusting the angle of his fingers. The patterns across the shield's surface flowed accordingly. "Some powers are too ancient. Their names have long since weathered into ash.

"We can only pick up the pieces that still work and attach a label to them."

The shield suddenly slid to the side, positioning itself before the bookshelf.

A heavy tome moved on its own without wind, falling from the shelf and slamming into the red surface—without a sound. The pages turned to swirling ash the instant they touched it, yet the ash did not scatter. Instead, it slowly slid down the shield's surface, leaving behind charred trails.

Zhao Yu recalled certain legends.

In those stories, gods were not idols seated in temples, but echoes drifting through the gaps between dimensions.

What sorcerers did was merely press their ears to the wall of the universe and listen to those long-vanished roars or whispers.

"What can it block?"

He asked.

Wong did not answer directly.

His other hand rose, its five fingers curling inward.

A mass of distorted air suddenly sprang from the shadows in the corner, like an invisible fist smashing toward the shield.

At the instant of impact, every candle flame in the room tilted to one side, the flames stretched into ghastly white threads.

Ripples spread across the shield's surface. Several blinding white sparks burst from the center, splashing onto the floor and burning tiny pits into it.

"That depends on how much you borrowed."

Wong released his hand, and the shield dissolved into fine red sand in the air.

"Each time the echo left behind by The Nameless One is awakened, it grows a little weaker.

That is why only a few people in Kamar-Taj are permitted to touch it."

He turned, his gaze falling on Zhao Yu's face. "What you want to learn is really how to dig out embers from ruins that can still burn."

Outside the window, the sky had darkened at some point.

The clouds hung low. A muffled rumble rolled in from afar—not thunder, but the sound made when some dimension scraped against reality's barrier **

Zhao Yu suddenly understood. This magic had never been a shield.

It was a wound, a still-bleeding scar torn from the body of a dead god.

Wong began demonstrating the hand gestures.

His movements were slow, every turn carrying a sense of sluggish resistance, as though his fingers were moving through viscous liquid.

Zhao Yu copied him and felt the magic within him tugged by some force. By the time it flowed into his palm, it had become scorching hot.

On his first attempt, he only summoned a blurry mass of red mist. Within it, a shadow shaped like an eye flickered past.

"Don't imagine a shield."

Wong's voice came from beside him. "Imagine a void, a hole that needs to be filled.

Then stuff the fragments you find into it."