Chapter 24

"The flaw is obvious."

The person opposite him said.

Wong merely shook his head.

The bottom of the porcelain cup struck the wooden table with a dull thud.

The chessboard had long since been set. From the moment the first piece fell, the ending had already been written into the air.

That man, Kaecilius—his name always carried a cold, metallic hardness on the tongue. He had never learned to bow his head.

All you had to do was let a sliver of light show, and he would pounce, using every ounce of strength to prove that shadow belonged to him.

Especially when it came to "teaching."

This matter.

Proving who was better at guiding another soul had become the only path.

Then Zhao Yu being drawn into it was simply the inevitable course of things.

This was also a rope cast outward, silent and unseen, waiting for that hand to grasp it.

Wong had long seen every strand of its weave.

He watched the two figures disappear around the corridor's corner, the stone walls swallowing the last flutter of their robes.

Light slanted in through the window, dust slowly rising and falling within its beam.

There was nothing on his face, like a mountain rock worn smooth by wind and rain. Only deep in his eyes did an exceedingly faint trace flicker past, almost impossible to catch.

Hamir's gaze fell on his profile. "Wong."

His voice carried a newly discovered scrutiny. "That face of yours has fooled quite a few people."

He paused, as though weighing his words. "Beneath that honest man's appearance, you hide so many twists and turns."

This scheme was practically **, laid bare in the open.

Even if Kaecilius saw through it, his steps would not stop.

He would only push harder, turning out even the heaviest things hidden at the bottom of the chest and throwing them onto the table.

If Wong had gone knocking himself, the door probably would not even have opened a crack. At most, someone would have sent out an apprentice to dismiss him with airtight platitudes.

A fighter's mind truly could not bear close inspection.

Hamir looked away and stared at his clasped hands.

He needed to be careful, he silently reminded himself, and stay farther away from these whirlpools.

The door closed behind them with a heavy sigh.

Kaecilius's room was thick with the scent of old parchment and dried herbs, along with something deeper, as cold and vast as a wilderness beneath a starry night.

He did not speak. He merely stood there, his gaze almost tangible as it swept from Zhao Yu's fringe down to the tips of his shoes, then slowly climbed back up.

That gaze was not fierce, but it carried the patience of disassembly, as though it wished to see through skin and flesh to the arrangement of bones beneath and the flow of blood.

The silence swelled.

Zhao Yu became acutely aware of his breathing, striking against his chest and rebounding back.

He was not afraid—at least, not of this man's intentions at the moment.

Before the bells of betrayal rang, this was still a safe corridor.

He simply was not sure whether he was being treated as a weight for a trial, or as something else.

He posed no real threat.

On the contrary, this man was regarded as a model member of Kamar-Taj.

Day after day, he led teams into desperate battles against invaders from beyond their world.

If not for that obsession buried in his heart.

Kaecilius might truly have become the finest sorcerer after the Sorcerer Supreme.

He was also a pitiable man.

His wife and children had all died.

When he first arrived at Kamar-Taj, he had been like a body emptied of its soul.

If not for his lingering hope of using magic to revive his family.

He likely would not have endured until today.

Unfortunately.

There were no ifs in this world.

His obsession had yet to fade when he encountered the shock of Ancient One drawing upon dark energy.

Being lured by Dormammu had become only natural.

He understood all these things perfectly well.

Yet under the gaze of those eyes, a faint chill still crept along his spine.

"You seem to be trembling."

Kaecilius's voice tore through the silence.

"Meeting a master inevitably stirs the heart."

Zhao Yu heard himself answer.

Once the other man actually spoke, the tension instead faded.

Naturally, Kaecilius could not read his thoughts, nor did he particularly care to.

"There is no need to worry."

"Though you train under Wong, I will not make things difficult for you."

As though he had misunderstood the reason for Zhao Yu's silence, the sorcerer's tone held an unusual degree of reassurance.

Zhao Yu did not correct that mistaken assumption.

"Thank you for your understanding, Master."

"I called you here—"

Kaecilius paused, his fingertips unconsciously rubbing the dark patterns on his sleeve. "Merely because I wish to use you to verify a few things."

He suddenly raised his eyes, a burning glint flashing through their depths.

"What I wish to prove is not merely combat skill."

"My ability to teach the younger generation has never fallen behind either."

Kaecilius had not taken Zhao Yu's thoughts to heart at all.

He was only an apprentice.

He had already sent people to investigate his background.

How much was the title of genius, blown out of proportion by those old sorcerers, really worth?

What had they ever seen?

The moment a decent seed appeared, they would make a great fuss.

Had they not praised him as a genius back then as well?

So when he heard Zhao Yu was called the same, Kaecilius found it laughable.

He did not believe this young man could stir up any real trouble.

"Since we have made things clear, learn properly."

"Master what I teach you as soon as possible."

"When the time comes, Wong's expression will surely be interesting."

A twisted curve rose at the corner of Kaecilius's mouth.

Zhao Yu caught sight of that smile and cursed inwardly.

What the hell.

For no reason at all, he had become a chess piece in these two sides' contest.

But on second thought—

Being able to learn this man's hidden magic was not a loss.

Who did not know that Kaecilius ranked among the strongest fighters in Kamar-Taj?

The power of his personal spells could not possibly be lacking.

After all, he was the ruthless figure who alone had escaped the Sorcerer Supreme's grasp and charged into the London Sanctum single-handedly.

Dormammu might have supported him from behind, but how could he have achieved that without genuine skill?

Getting his hands on this man's abilities was worthwhile no matter how he looked at it.

Kaecilius caught the change in Zhao Yu's expression and nodded with satisfaction.

"Very good. A sorcerer should have greed."

"Only deep greed can support ambition."

"Only then will you have the drive to seize even greater power."

If Wong heard that, he would surely scold him for walking the path of evil.

But Zhao Yu did not care.

Those empty labels of good and evil meant nothing.

Only strength held in one's hand was real.

Kaecilius's gaze swept over Zhao Yu.

"Look carefully."

His fingertips reached forward.

Fine cracking sounds rang through the air, like ice on a winter river being pierced by a stone.

Countless facets bloomed in the empty space before them, each reflecting a cold light—not the warmth of a rainbow, but the pale blue-white sparks struck when a blade scraped against a whetstone.

Zhao Yu held his breath.

He had seen many sorcerers construct the Mirror Dimension, but this was different.

The edges of those floating fragments were far too distinct, as though the slightest touch would slice open flesh.

A chill crawled up his spine, and he realized this was not a simple illusion. Every prism held the force to cut through reality itself.

"I can only sense,"

He chose his words carefully, "that there is something else hidden within this magic."

What exactly it was, he could not say.

The way those facets were arranged violated every spatial law he knew, and even the angles of the refracted light felt abnormal.

He lowered his gaze and retreated half a step.

Kaecilius's lips moved slightly.

He said nothing, but the faintest trace of mockery passed through his eyes.

When Ancient One had used this spell back then, he had grasped its core with one glance—space could be folded, and naturally, it could also be sharpened.

Yet this young man called a genius could only offer such an empty assessment.

"At least you have some vigilance."

He finally spoke, his voice as straight and level as a line drawn with a ruler. "I will teach you now.

How much you comprehend depends on yourself."

He raised his hand, the motion as light as plucking a feather suspended in the air.

One prism fell into his palm. Its light quickly contracted and solidified, becoming a transparent short blade.

It had no physical substance, yet it subtly distorted the surrounding air like heat shimmering above a midsummer road.

Zhao Yu felt a faint sting on his skin.

It was not a real touch, but a kind of premonition—this blade formed from fragments of space could easily cut through steel, perhaps even Magic Shields could not stop it.

He stared at that transparent outline, his Adam's apple moving soundlessly.

Kaecilius turned his wrist.

Where the blade's edge passed, it left behind a black line that existed only briefly, like a scar burned into the air.

There was no sound as the blade cut through the air.

The instant Kaecilius released his fingers, that transparent crack vanished from sight.

A hole ** appeared in the ceiling beam, its edges smooth as polished crystal.

Zhao Yu stared at the cut. The grain of the ironwood ended abruptly at the break—he knew this material was harder than forged steel.

"When control reaches a certain level,"

The man's voice came from his left, "space itself can cut through anything."

Zhao Yu said nothing.

He was feeling a faint tremor in his palm, as though ice crystals were slowly growing beneath his skin.

Kamar-Taj's library had never mentioned this technique, at least not in anything he had read.

Those ancient texts always loved to describe spatial laws with obscure metaphors, yet the man before him had turned them into a weapon that could be held in one's hand.

"Watch carefully."

Kaecilius drew out another curved crack, this time moving more slowly.

Light warped along the blade's edge, like it was passing through scorched air.

But Zhao Yu no longer needed to watch.

A sensation was rising from the depths of his marrow, cold and clear.

He raised his right hand. Where his fingertips reached, web-like patterns began to appear in the air.

Those patterns wove themselves together, gathered, and finally condensed into a transparent sheet thirty centimeters long—weightless, yet causing the temperature around it to drop slightly.

Kaecilius's voice paused for half a beat.

"You..."

He narrowed his eyes, and the earlier careless expression faded from his face. "When did you learn that?"

Zhao Yu did not answer.

He was focused on keeping that fragile crack from collapsing.

A faint sting prickled his palm, as if he were gripping shattered glass, but the pain was quickly overwhelmed by another sensation: he "saw"

the grain within the roof beam, the trail of a rat darting behind the wall, and the outlines of every object in the room—the lines all issued a silent invitation, inviting the blade to cut along the smoothest path.

He flicked his wrist.

A second cut appeared on the ironwood beam, forming a cross with the first.

No wood chips flew. The cut surfaces remained smooth as mirrors.

Kaecilius was silent for a long time.

The wind outside the corridor passed through the broken window frame, carrying the chill of the snowy mountains.

Then he suddenly laughed, very softly, almost drowned out by the wind.

"I've changed my mind."

He said, "Starting tomorrow, come to the eastern training ground every day after sunset."

Zhao Yu released his fingers, and the Spatial Blade dissolved into scattered motes of light.

Several faint red pressure marks remained on his palm, rapidly fading.

"Now,"

Kaecilius turned and walked toward the door, the hem of his black robe sweeping across the dusty floor. "Try repairing those two cuts."

By the time the door closed behind him, Zhao Yu had already raised both hands.

In the air, the two intersecting cracks slowly closed, like wounds growing fresh flesh.

He could hear his own breathing with unusual clarity in the empty room, while an unfamiliar heat climbed up his spine—the lingering warmth left behind by magic rushing through his veins.

The sky outside was darkening.

The outline of the snowy mountains gradually blurred, until only a deep blue silhouette remained.

Afternoon light slanted into the room, with fine dust floating in the air.

Kaecilius leaned back in a high-backed chair, his fingertips absently tapping the armrest.

The leather beneath them gave the same dull sensation, once, then again.

He felt a familiar weariness.

The young man of rumor stood just a few steps away.

Kaecilius had felt a brief moment of anticipation before—perhaps this person could bring something different? Even if it was only something brief, something insignificant.

He needed a **, needed something to pierce through the heavy dullness wrapped around his daily life.

Now it seemed he had worried for nothing.

His gaze swept in that direction again.

The young man still stood there in silence, his posture unchanged.

A nearly inaudible sigh escaped Kaecilius's nose.

So-called talent was nothing more than this.

So this was how repetitive and tedious the years of being a mentor were.

He raised his hand, ready to end this meeting that had long since lost all meaning.

His sleeve rustled softly.

At that very moment, his movement froze.

Something unusual entered the corner of his eye.

At some unknown point, something had appeared in the young man's hand.

A transparent outline with a blurred shape and slightly warped edges hovered above his palm.