Chapter 23

"What does this have to do with you?"

Wong had already turned away, the hem of his black robe sweeping across the dust on the floor.

Without looking back, he headed straight toward the crowd gathered deep within the hall, where the long-awaited ceremony was about to begin.

Kaecilius's gaze lingered on Wong for a moment.

He knew that kind of calm too well—unless something significant had happened, that face would never be so utterly unruffled.

But soon, he too put away every trace of expression, as though that fleeting scrutiny had never existed.

After the ceremony ended, he returned to his room.

When the door closed behind him, he summoned a mage.

"Tell me,"

Kaecilius's voice rang out in the dim room. "Has anything noteworthy happened at Kamar-Taj during this time?"

The mage standing before him was named Devon.

At Kamar-Taj, quite a few people followed this mage renowned for his arrogance—they, like him, harbored regrets that could never be filled and longed to touch a deeper power.

"Master,"

Devon lowered his head. "Everything has been peaceful during the days you were away."

"Peaceful?"

Kaecilius repeated the word, lightly tapping the edge of the table with a fingertip.

"Yes, nothing out of the ordinary."

"Think more carefully."

Kaecilius did not look away.

Devon fell silent for a moment, as though searching through his memories.

"If I had to mention something... there was one small matter."

He raised his eyes. "There seems to be a remarkable newcomer among the apprentices."

"Oh?"

"Rumor has it that he is a rare genius. Some have even described him as 'one seen only once in a thousand years.'"

As Devon spoke, a hint of disdain entered his voice. "Of course, I think that claim is far too exaggerated.

After all, even the Sorcerer Supreme once praised your talent."

Kaecilius did not respond.

Light slanted in through the window, casting his profile against the stone wall.

The air carried the mingled scent of old books and sandalwood, while the distant murmur of apprentices practicing incantations drifted faintly through the air.

He suddenly recalled Wong's calm eyes.

So that was it.

Devon lowered his gaze, his voice carrying precisely measured respect. "Such rumors were probably just a misunderstanding, or perhaps someone embellished the story."

Kaecilius did not answer immediately.

His fingers unconsciously tapped the armrest of the wooden chair, once, then again.

After a while, he seemed to pull himself back from some distant thought. His tone was as mild as if discussing the weather. "An apprentice called a genius."

He paused, and the line of his mouth seemed to relax by the slightest degree. "That does not sound boring."

Devon, standing nearby, knew very well what that expression meant.

Whenever this man wore that seemingly careless look, it often meant something had truly piqued his interest, perhaps even brought him... pleasure.

"Devon."

Kaecilius's voice pulled him back to reality.

"Your orders, Master."

"Go find out,"

Kaecilius looked toward the prayer flags fluttering in the courtyard beyond the window. "Which person that celebrated name belongs to.

I would very much like to know whether this place of cultivation truly hides such a special... existence."

His voice was very soft on those final words, almost blending into the wind passing through the hall.

A faint curve, nearly imperceptible, briefly appeared at the corner of his lips.

He felt this might bring him a different kind of amusement.

***

News of Kaecilius's return to Kamar-Taj was like a stone cast into a still lake, its ripples spreading into every corner.

Yet one residence remained tightly shut, as though an invisible barrier had sealed off the noise outside.

Zhao Yu had remained in his room the entire time.

The marks on the meditation mat showed that he had been ** for a long while.

It was not that he knew nothing about the returning mage. On the contrary, fragmented visions of foreknowledge about the future had made him choose to avoid any possible intersection with him.

That man—the figure who would eventually betray this place and throw himself into the Dark Dimension—was practically synonymous with trouble and danger.

He still remembered one scene: swaying shadows in the library, and the keeper of the books hanging in the silence.

Though the Sorcerer Supreme's fury would not show on her face, it was bound to run deep.

Anyone who came into contact with a traitor too early would likely be unable to escape suspicious scrutiny.

He did not want to be caught in such a situation.

So the best approach was to be completely absent.

Do not welcome him, do not show himself, and leave behind no trace that could invite speculation.

If anyone asked, it was only natural for an ordinary apprentice absorbed in cultivation and oblivious to the outside world not to know of such a major event.

No one would pay much attention to someone like him.

The footsteps and faint discussions outside the window gradually faded away.

Zhao Yu slowly let out a breath and gathered his attention once more on his breathing and the energy flowing through his body.

The world outside had its own path to follow, while he only needed to ensure that he remained on a safe track.

The instant the door closed, Zhao Yu returned to the worn rug in the ** of his room.

He sat cross-legged without so much as a pause, as though the abrupt knocking just now had been nothing more than a passing gust outside the window.

He adjusted his breathing and let his consciousness sink into those familiar energy pathways.

The scent of leather mingled with old pages drifted slowly through the air, the unchanging scent of his small room.

It was then that knuckles struck wood again.

Not the wind.

The sound was stubborn and distinct, carrying an impossible-to-ignore rhythm as it forcefully wedged itself into the concentration he had just gathered.

Zhao Yu's eyelids twitched, and he silently breathed out a foul breath from his chest.

He stood up, and the floor gave a faint ** beneath his feet.

As he walked to the door, the icy feel of the brass doorknob beneath his hand stirred a faint irritation in his heart.

The face of the person outside was entirely unfamiliar.

The robes of Kamar-Taj hung around that person, yet carried an air of tension.

The corridor lamp cast its light across his jaw, throwing a small, harsh shadow.

"You may address me as Mage Devon."

The other man spoke first, his voice seeming to fall from a lofty place, every word carrying carefully polished edges. "I serve Master Kaecilius.

The master wishes to meet with you."

Zhao Yu's gaze traveled from the man's slightly raised chin to those eyes devoid of warmth.

He recalled the lowered voices of mages speaking of that name on the training grounds, and the obscure warnings in ancient texts about the wrong paths of power.

For a moment, even the scent of old wood and the faint incense drifting from afar seemed to stagnate in the air.

"Now is not convenient."

Zhao Yu spoke.

His voice was not loud, and did not even rise or fall much. He was merely stating a fact.

As his words fell, he took half a step back.

The wooden door swung inward, shutting out that suddenly tightened face, along with the muffled rebuke tinged with shock and anger that had not fully burst from his mouth, behind the thin wooden panel.

The hinges gave a brief creak, followed by the crisp click of the latch sliding into place.

The room fell quiet again.

There was only the sound of his own breathing, and the indistinct clamor of the marketplace that seemed to eternally exist far beyond the window, faintly lapping at the edges of the silence like waves.

He stood there for a while, his gaze settling on a tiny age-worn crack in the door panel. Then he turned and walked back toward the patch of light in the ** of the room, illuminated by daylight from the window.

The rug's fibers brushed against the soles of his feet, rough and real.

He sat down again, closed his eyes, and shut out the syllables of Kaecilius's name, along with any lingering anger beyond the door, from the inner order he was rebuilding.

The shouting beyond the door suddenly stopped.

Knuckles struck the wood, once, then again, with great patience.

Zhao Yu swallowed back the curse that had risen to his lips—when he pulled the door open, he had not even had time to smooth away the dark anger on his face.

The person standing outside made his breath catch.

It was not the noisy Devon from before.

It was Kaecilius.

The mage known for his cold severity now stood in the corridor outside Zhao Yu's room, his shadow cast long and slightly wavering by the torches along the walls.

"No need to bow."

Kaecilius spoke first, his voice much calmer than Zhao Yu had expected.

He even dipped his head slightly. "I came to apologize for what happened just now."

Zhao Yu froze, forgetting for a moment how to respond.

He watched the other man bend at the waist, an unmistakable gesture of apology.

"Devon grew up here,"

Kaecilius straightened and swept his gaze over Zhao Yu's not-yet-hidden astonishment. "He is young, and recklessness is inevitable.

If he disturbed your cultivation, I apologize on his behalf."

So that was it.

The anger Zhao Yu had been holding inside seemed to be doused by a bucket of icy water, hissing out by more than half.

Kamar-Taj indeed had a group like this. Their parents were both mages; from birth, they had breathed the air here and grown up listening to chants of incantations.

They were collectively called the "New Generation"

, and while their talent was often not lacking, they were also frequently indulged until they lacked a sense of propriety.

Devon was probably one of them.

"You overstate it, Master."

Zhao Yu finally found his voice and stepped aside from the doorway. "Would you like to come in and speak?"

But Kaecilius shook his head. "No need.

My apology has been delivered."

He paused and looked at Zhao Yu again. There was something unreadable in his gaze, like scrutiny, yet also as though he were merely confirming whether Zhao Yu had truly accepted the apology. "Continue with your work."

With that, he turned and left.

The hem of his robe dragged softly across the stone floor, and his footsteps gradually receded before disappearing around the corner of the corridor.

Zhao Yu closed the door and leaned his back against its icy panel.

The room was quiet, filled only with the sound of his own breathing.

He remembered the harsh words that had nearly escaped him, as well as all the thoughts of "teaching him a lesson" that had passed through his mind. Now, they simply seemed rather absurd.

Kaecilius... did not seem quite like the person he had heard about.

He walked back to the ** of the room and sat cross-legged, trying to gather his focus again.

But just as his fingers formed a hand seal, there was another sound outside the door.

Not knocking.

It was footsteps, returning after having gone away, stopping outside his door.

Zhao Yu opened his eyes and stared at the door panel, his brows slowly drawing together.

This was the first time Zhao Yu had encountered such a gaze.

There was an innate detachment in that look, as though he were examining an object.

He recalled rumors he had heard elsewhere: in certain places, those who possessed extraordinary power looked upon ordinary people with just such an expression.

There were not many people like that at Kamar-Taj.

It was said that those whose temperaments were too openly displayed usually could not remain here.

Yet the person before him had stayed—perhaps precisely because Kaecilius had intervened on his behalf.

"There is no need for this, Master Kaecilius."

Zhao Yu reached out to help him up, but the other man had already straightened on his own.

The movement was crisp, and he did not even notice Zhao Yu's extended hand.

"I heard your talent is quite good?"

His voice was flat, without inflection.

"They are only rumors. They cannot be taken seriously."

Zhao Yu lowered his eyes, softening his tone.

Only the breathing of the two men filled the corridor, one light and one heavy.

"Rumors among the mages of Kamar-Taj do not arise from nothing."

Kaecilius turned and walked toward the depths of the corridor, the hem of his robe stirring a faint breeze. "Come with me.

Let me see the newcomers of this generation."

No questions. No waiting.

Zhao Yu followed, his footsteps echoing off the stone slabs.

The two figures vanished around the corner.

On the other side of the Mirror Dimension, two pairs of eyes had been following them.

Wong stood with his arms folded, his face expressionless.

Hamir stood beside him, his brows slightly furrowed.

"Will it really be all right to let Kaecilius take him away like that?"

"This is Kamar-Taj."

Wong's words were brief, like a stone sinking to the bottom of water.

Hamir paused, then shook his head with a smile. "True."

He had been overthinking it.

In this place, no one could cross that boundary.

The air carried the mingled scent of old books and sandalwood, while some invisible rule permeated every inch of shadow.

"That kid's pretty lucky."

Hamir spoke softly.

"It's not luck."

Wong's gaze remained fixed on the empty corridor corner. "Kaecilius would definitely do this."

He paused, lowering his voice even further:

"That man... may be powerful, but he has a fatal weakness."

His fingertip traced the rim of the cup as a brief, low chuckle rose from his throat.

That stone was too hard, its sharp edges digging into the hand.