Chapter 16

The shadow spoke, its voice dry and hoarse. "I've been knocking forever. Are you deaf?"

It was an old man with a scraggly gray-white goatee hanging from his chin.

He walked in without waiting, his robe hem brushing the floor, then sat down in the old wooden chair and naturally reached for the ceramic cup on the table with his right hand.

If one looked closely, his left sleeve hung empty at his side. The wound at the cuff had long since healed, leaving only a smooth ring of skin.

"Hello?"

The old man called again, the cup paused at his lips. "Where has your soul wandered off to today?"

He had always been quiet, but never like this—like his very core had been pulled out, leaving nothing but an empty shell sitting there.

The old man could not help leaning closer, his beard trembling slightly.

Only then did Wong slowly turn his gaze toward the visitor's face.

"Master Hamir."

He forced out the words, his voice a little rough. "Why are you here?"

Hamir was also a master of Kamar-Taj.

But he preferred burying himself in piles of books.

Day after day, he either pored over ancient texts or deduced spell structures, occasionally picking up a pen to write a few notes.

Nearly every parchment scroll on the library's high shelves bore the marks of his fingers.

They had been apprentices in the same generation. Though their paths had diverged over the years, they had always maintained a quiet, steady friendship.

"What else could it be?"

Hamir set down his cup, his severed left wrist tapping unconsciously against his knee. "I've worked out a new spell structure and wanted you to test it."

Wong listened, merely lifting his eyelids before lowering them again.

He had no interest at all.

Hamir noticed something was wrong.

Wong's breathing was slightly faster than usual, and his fingers were unconsciously rubbing the folds of his robe—far too subtle a motion for anyone but Hamir, who had known him for over a decade, to notice.

"You look awful."

Hamir tilted his head, letting his voice drift into the wind blowing through the corridor. "Don't tell me Master Sallywen chewed you out?"

"Nothing of the sort."

Wong answered too quickly, as if he had prepared the line beforehand.

He turned around, his gaze falling on the cedar tree in the courtyard, half of it withered away.

Its shadow slanted across the stone steps, slicing the light into fragments.

"Then why are your hands shaking?"

"You're seeing things."

Silence crept through the cracks in the bricks between them like moss.

Wong suddenly spoke, his tone so level it seemed measured with a ruler. "How long did it take you to master the Ring of Raggadorr?"

"Let me think..."

Hamir narrowed his eyes.

His memories were filled with the mildew scent of parchment and oil lamp smoke blackening the ceiling. "About thirteen months.

Other than Kaecilius, no one was faster than me."

As he said the last sentence, his chin rose unconsciously by half an inch.

Wong let out a short snort through his nose.

"What do you mean?"

Hamir caught that faint sound. "Could there be someone in Kamar-Taj now who is better than me at analyzing runes? Let me be clear—don't use the Sorcerer Supreme as an example."

The wind suddenly changed direction, sweeping dead leaves to their feet.

Wong remembered yesterday evening, when the young man named Zhao Yu stood at the edge of the training ground and, on his first attempt, made orange-gold sparks blossom into a complete ring in his palm.

The sparks crackled, reflecting in his pupils like a burning sunset.

And Hamir was still waiting for an answer.

Wong finally turned his head. His eyes swept over the other man's slightly stooped shoulders from years spent reading ancient texts, then over the faded embroidered patterns on his cuffs.

This man known as a master could deconstruct the oldest energy matrices in three days, yet in practical lessons, he could not maintain even the simplest Mirror Dimension for ten seconds.

"Nothing."

Wong finally said, "I just remembered some old matters."

An unusual expression, one not seen on Wong's face for a long time, emerged.

"Only better than you?"

He shook his head, his voice carrying an unfathomable undertone. "I'm afraid you aren't even qualified to arrange his shoes."

Hamir raised an eyebrow. "When did Kamar-Taj produce such a person?"

He leaned forward. "I'd like to hear just how far that young man has come."

"How far?"

Wong paused, his fingers unconsciously rubbing the edge of his teacup. "He mastered the Ring of Raggadorr in just half an hour."

The teacup lightly struck the wooden table with a sharp clink.

Hamir shot to his feet. "Impossible!"

His voice sounded abrupt in the room. "Such speed has never been recorded in history. No human could do that."

"What if it were true?"

Silence covered the room for several seconds.

Hamir slowly sat back down, his eyes turning toward the endless snow-covered mountains beyond the window. "If it is true..."

He finally spoke, each word slow and clear. "Then he will become an unprecedented genius in Kamar-Taj.

Even the Sorcerer Supreme, or the masters whose names are passed down in legend, may not be able to compare to him."

He turned toward Wong, his expression solemn. "The undisputed first."

Wong did not respond. He only stared at the tea gradually cooling in his cup, its surface reflecting the flickering candlelight.

The greatest genius? He repeated the phrase in his heart.

Perhaps the title truly suited him.

Morning light filtered through the lattice of the paper window, cutting alternating bands of brightness and shadow across the floor.

Zhao Yu sat cross-legged in the middle of the room, his eyes closed.

The air was filled with the mingled scents of old books and sandalwood, while the chanting of monks at morning prayers faintly carried from afar.

He summoned the panel only he could see.

Several lines of faintly glowing text appeared in his field of vision.

[Magic Shield] had stopped at the fourth level, marked at forty-two percent.

[Basic Rune Arrangement] followed closely behind, with a value of thirty-one.

His gaze moved downward and settled on the latest ability he had mastered—the [Ring of Raggadorr] had risen to level two, its progress bar nearly halfway full.

These past days, he had devoted nearly every waking moment to practice.

Wong's guidance was always concise and precise. Whenever Zhao Yu was about to reach a bottleneck, one or two words from him would push open that invisible door.

Every breath was accompanied by the circulation of energy, and every meditation made the ancient symbols deep in his consciousness grow clearer.

The chanting outside the window gradually faded.

Zhao Yu opened his eyes and took a practice copper ring from the wooden box beside him.

The metal surface was covered in intricate patterns, gleaming with a dark golden luster in the morning light.

When a knock sounded at the door, Zhao Yu was feeling that force flow through every limb and bone.

It did not resemble water. It was more like some warm metal, heavy and full as it coursed through every channel in his body.

He withdrew the faint glow from his fingertips and went to open the door.

Two figures stood outside.

One was Wong, whose round face had long become familiar to him.

The other had a neatly trimmed goatee, and the gaze behind his lenses was calm, like that of an old scholar buried among ancient papers in the library.

"Zhao Yu, this is Master Hamir."

Wong shifted slightly to the side.

Zhao Yu lowered his eyes and greeted him according to custom.

He had heard the name before—a reclusive researcher who, it was said, often discussed obscure runes and ancient laws of energy even with the Sorcerer Supreme herself.

Combat was not his field, but that was precisely why his importance elsewhere could not be replaced.

"Just come with us."

Hamir's voice was gentle, carrying a trace of hoarseness, like the sound of old pages turning.

They walked forward along the stone corridor.

The cultivation methods here really were different, Zhao Yu thought as he walked.

Magic did not come from solitary meditation. Instead, with every gesture traced and every incantation chanted, it seeped in from countless unseen dimensions, quietly reshaping flesh and bone.

He clenched his fist and could feel the toughness surging beneath his skin, strength no less solid than that of any seasoned spellcaster.

The light at the end of the corridor dimmed somewhat.

Wong pushed open a heavy wooden door ahead of them, its hinges giving a long creak.

Hamir stepped inside, then looked back at Zhao Yu.

"The Sorcerer Supreme has not been at the Sanctum recently."

The old man spoke slowly, as if stating a fact that had long been set aside. "But she left behind some guidance.

Regarding the energy growing within you... we need to discuss where it is headed."

The room smelled of aged parchment and dried herbs.

Zhao Yu took a deep breath and suppressed the restless excitement rising within him.

He had imagined a different scene: that powerful guardian of dimensions personally guiding him, perhaps revealing some fundamental truth of the universe with a few words.

But now, he was facing mountains of scrolls and Hamir's scrutinizing eyes behind his lenses.

That was fine.

He told himself.

Understanding came first.

Wong sat on a low stool by the wall, his hands folded on his knees.

Hamir walked to a broad wooden table, his fingertips brushing over the open diagrams where constellations and energy channels intertwined like spiderwebs.

"You can feel it, can't you?"

The old man did not look up. "That feeling... of fullness.

The gifts of the multiverse do not come without a price. They need a channel."

Zhao Yu nodded.

He remembered the spells that operated on their own, and how magic unknowingly tempered his muscles and bones.

The process was almost soundless, yet undeniably real.

"Many people only seek to draw from it,"

Hamir finally raised his eyes, his gaze piercing through the lenses. "But they forget that the vessel itself must also be forged.

You are standing here today not because of talent, but because your body did not collapse beneath the torrent of energy."

A faint bell sounded outside the window, as though drifting from somewhere very far away.

Wong shifted, adjusting into a more comfortable sitting position.

"So,"

Zhao Yu spoke, his voice particularly clear in the quiet room, "what should I do next?"

A faint smile appeared at the corner of Hamir's mouth.

He drew out a dark red leather scroll and gently pushed it across the table.

"Read it.

Then tell me what you see."

The scroll felt cool to the touch, its surface covered in fine raised patterns.

Zhao Yu untied the cord and slowly unrolled it.

At first glance, it was nothing but countless twisted symbols and lines. But when he looked again, the shapes seemed to come alive, rotating and connecting according to laws he could not understand.

He raised his head and found Hamir watching his every movement.

On the stone wall behind the old man, a long narrow shadow swayed gently with the candlelight.

"Do not rush to understand all of it."

Hamir said, "Just feel its rhythm.

Energy has its own language. You must learn to listen."

Zhao Yu lowered his head again.

The symbols beneath his fingertips seemed to emit a faint tremor, like a distant resonance.

He closed his eyes and allowed those patterns to emerge in the darkness.

This time, he no longer tried to interpret them. He simply let his senses spread outward.

Gradually, some kind of outline became clear—not words, nor an image, but a tendency, a current of attraction.

It pointed toward somewhere deep within him, toward that place not yet fully illuminated.

So that was it.

He suddenly understood why Hamir had brought him here.

The Sorcerer Supreme's personal instruction might have been enticing, but this path before him, covered in dusty scrolls and ancient wisdom, was the foundation he truly needed at this moment.

He opened his eyes and found that Wong had somehow moved to the window, staring at the darkening dusk outside.

Hamir remained seated where he was, his hands clasped together as he waited quietly.

"It was like a river,"

Zhao Yu said, choosing his words carefully. "But it didn't flow across the ground... it ran beneath the bones and blood vessels."

Hamir nodded, revealing an expression close to approval for the first time.

"Then,"

he said as he slowly rose to his feet, the hem of his robe brushing the stone floor, "we shall begin by dredging the riverbed."

Zhao Yu followed the two of them into the Mirror Dimension.

Wong's voice came through the air, his tone carrying an elusive strangeness. "Master Hamir wanted to see your progress for himself."

He paused, as though he had only just broken free from a crushing blow, his breathing still somewhat unsteady. "He heard that you had mastered the Ring of Raggadorr, and he was very interested."

"Show him."

Wong said at last.

Hamir, standing to one side, wore a smile, but there was something else hidden in his eyes. "Yes,"

he continued in an even voice, "I'd like to see just how extraordinary someone called a genius can truly be."

Before seeing it with his own eyes, he simply could not believe the things Wong had said.

Half an hour? Mastering that spell? It sounded far too absurd for him to accept.

Zhao Yu did not notice the thoughts turning in the mind of the kindly-looking old man.