Chapter 26

Because he remembered Zhao Yu when he had first arrived.

Back then, Zhao Yu had huddled in a corner, his gaze evasive, his movements as sluggish as a stone.

Everyone had thought he was merely there to make up the numbers.

But later?

Later, that stone had cracked open, and what lay inside had stung Kaecilius's eyes until they ached.

"Was he... pretending from the beginning?"

Kaecilius rested his chin on his folded hands, his gaze falling on the wood grain of the table, its patterns winding like rivers. "After all, I did things for Wong. It makes sense that he'd be wary of me."

But even if it had been an act, that talent was real.

It could not be hidden.

He closed his eyes, and the image of Zhao Yu using the Spatial Blade that day rose before him again.

The shock of it had been even fiercer than when he had first encountered magic itself.

He had seen flames leap from fingertips and wind blades grind stone walls into dust, but even combined, none of them had made his throat tighten like that moment had.

The further things went, the more clearly he could see how terrifying Zhao Yu truly was.

It was not strength, nor methods. It was his mind.

The kind of talent that let him turn another person's skill into his own after a single glance was simply inhuman.

"No."

He clenched his back teeth, forcing the words out through them. "I can't let him walk all over me like this."

He stood, and the chair legs scraped out a short, shrill cry against the floor.

"I have to do something."

Kaecilius clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. "I have to... I need to—prove I haven't lost yet."

He turned to look out the window.

The sunlight was still so bright that he had to narrow his eyes.

"It's time to visit the library."

He spoke to the empty room. "Find something new."

He pushed open the door. The corridor beyond was noticeably darker than the room.

His footsteps fell on the stone floor, one after another, stretching toward the library.

When Zhao Yu pushed open the door, the chill of the doorknob still lingered on his fingertips.

The branches and leaves of the old banyan tree outside shattered the light in the room, casting mottled shadows across the floor.

Before he could adjust to the dimness, he spotted two figures standing beside the door.

One was broad and powerfully built, while the other was somewhat leaner.

They stood with their backs to the window, their facial features blurred by the backlight.

Zhao Yu's breathing stopped for a moment.

"Master Wong, Master Hamir?"

The words slipped out, his voice filled with undisguised confusion.

Why were these two at his quarters together? They rarely met in the first place, much less waited together outside someone's door.

He recalled the corridor just now—empty except for the wind and the distant sound of spells being chanted in some room.

No one had told him there would be visitors.

No one had warned him he was about to face something like this.

"Waiting for you."

Hamir's voice came from the leaner figure, brief as a period.

Zhao Yu stood where he was, unconsciously rubbing his fingers against the seam of his trousers. "Waiting for me?"

He repeated the words, trying to find some hidden meaning in them. "What are you waiting for me for?"

"Waiting for you to return from Kaecilius's place."

There was no inflection in Hamir's tone, as though he were merely stating a weather forecast.

Then the other man spoke.

Wong's voice came from the broad figure, unusually rough, like sandpaper. "We are not on the same path."

He paused, seeming to choose his words carefully. "I need to make sure you're receiving the right guidance."

Only then did Zhao Yu understand.

They were worried Kaecilius would lead him away.

It was like an undercurrent beneath still water—Kamar-Taj looked peaceful on the surface, and the sorcerers smiled sincerely when they called one another "fellow practitioners,"

but the boundaries between factions had always existed.

Kaecilius represented the radical faction.

Wong, meanwhile, stood closer to the conservatives.

The divide between them was not hatred. It was more like two parallel lines—they occasionally looked toward one another, but never intersected.

The Sorcerer Supreme's presence kept them restrained. Their little groups existed only for warmth, and the friction was never severe.

Some sorcerers even drifted between the two factions, privately called "fence-sitters."

But Wong was different.

As someone with considerable influence among the conservatives, he and Kaecilius almost never appeared in the same setting.

Calling their relationship "unfamiliar" would have been polite.

Now, Wong stood here because of Zhao Yu.

His gaze settled on Zhao Yu, carrying the weight of scrutiny.

In the shadows of the corridor, the two figures had stood there for an entire afternoon.

Wong's fingers repeatedly rubbed the edge of his Sling Ring, while Hamir's eyes remained fixed on the closed door at the end of the corridor—Zhao Yu had been inside for three hours already.

Kaecilius's room was in the eastern wing of the sanctuary. From the corridor, they could hear sparks crackling and bursting.

When that scorching aura seeped through the gap beneath the door, a thin layer of sweat appeared on the back of Wong's neck.

He remembered something the Sorcerer Supreme had once said: "Kaecilius understands the art of tearing space apart better than anyone, but he will also be torn apart by that power."

Now, they had no choice but to send Zhao Yu into that madman's hands.

But some bottom lines had to be upheld.

Wong turned slightly and lowered his voice to Hamir. "If that child gets led down the wrong path..."

He did not finish, but Hamir had already read the concern in his eyes.

The Sorcerer Supreme's position in Kamar-Taj was unshakable—there was not a third person in the entire sanctuary who could make two guardian masters wait together outside a door.

But today, that rule had been broken.

The moment Zhao Yu pushed open the door, Wong saw faint blue spatial ripples still lingering on his fingertips.

Inside the room, Zhao Yu invited the two men to sit.

"Masters,"

His voice was steady when he spoke. "You needn't worry about me."

He said there was no way he would follow Kaecilius's path.

That man carried the seeds of betrayal within him. Sooner or later, they would pierce the Sorcerer Supreme's trust.

As Zhao Yu spoke, he looked directly at the two men across from him without the slightest hint of evasion.

Wong let out a breath.

Hamir patted his companion's shoulder, and the tension at the corner of his mouth finally eased. "I told you this kid has a good head on his shoulders,"

He turned to Zhao Yu. "But to be clear, we're not trying to stop you from learning from him—"

"I understand, Master."

Zhao Yu interrupted his explanation. "He's just... moving too fast."

Hamir nodded, his gaze sweeping over Zhao Yu's palm. "Now, let's see how much real stuff that obsessive maniac stuffed into you.

He must have dug out all his best tricks, right?"

Zhao Yu spread his palm, and a translucent blade slowly condensed from the void.

At the edge of the blade, the air silently tore apart and reassembled.

"If you mean this—"

he said.

A gust of wind swept through the room as the wooden door was pushed open, gently stirring the hem of Zhao Yu's robe.

"Then yes, it's the Spatial Blade."

His voice was low, as if he were casually mentioning something ordinary.

Hamir's fingers stopped at the edge of an ancient book.

He lifted his eyes, a complicated emotion mingling in his gaze—that was Kaecilius's signature spell, something even the Sorcerer Supreme had failed to master.

At Kamar-Taj, that woman knew the pattern of every spell and every secret written on every page of parchment.

Yet Kaecilius had walked a path she had never set foot on and created a magic she could not use.

"There's no use being jealous."

Hamir muttered under his breath, tapping the tabletop with his fingers. "That sort of thing isn't something just anyone can touch."

Wong stood by the window, sunlight stretching his shadow long behind him.

He nodded, his voice heavy. "Kaecilius's spell has an extremely high threshold. Even after seeing it hundreds or thousands of times, you may never find the way in."

Zhao Yu froze for a moment.

This was the first time he had heard both masters agree that something was difficult to learn.

He scratched the back of his head, the fabric rustling softly.

"But... I've already learned it."

The air fell silent for a beat.

Hamir and Wong turned at the same time, their gazes colliding in midair.

Their expressions were like someone had thrown a basin of cold water in their faces, and like they had watched a kitten tear open an iron cage.

"You only went for one morning!"

Wong's voice rose slightly, his fingers unconsciously tightening around the windowsill.

His chest heaved, his Adam's apple bobbing. "You learned it in one morning?"

That was impossible.

Hamir had tried it, and Wong had tried it too.

They had worn out the pages, stayed awake until their eyes were red, and traced countless arcs through the air with their fingers, yet they had never managed to grasp the edge of that rift.

Kaecilius's magic was like a slick fish, writhing free from their palms.

But Zhao Yu said he had caught it.

Hamir leaned back in his chair, the back of his head thudding against the wall.

He stared at the ceiling, his lips moving. "I said it... this kid's a monster."

There was a note of resignation in his voice, like an old hunter finally admitting he could never catch that deer.

Beneath the library's dome, the rustle of turning parchment sounded like fallen leaves brushing against the ground.

The things called "secret techniques"

were actually lying between the bookshelves, too lazy even to hide beneath dust.

The Sorcerer Supreme's spellbooks lay open across the long tables. Anyone could flip through them. Anyone could read them.

But the symbols on the pages seemed alive. They twisted on their own beneath one's gaze, and to this day, no one had been able to decipher their full meaning.

Kaecilius's manuscripts were much more honest, their words clear and their steps distinct, but when others tried to imitate them, they always fell short by a breath—the angle of a finger was off by half an inch, the rhythm of magical power lagged by half a beat, and the result was a burst of scattered light fragments in the palm.

Hamir stared at the young man before him, his knuckles clenched white.

He had personally watched Zhao Yu open that thin booklet and read from the first page to the last, pausing only once to take a sip of water.

Then Zhao Yu spread his palm, golden patterns spreading across his skin. The blade forming in the air was as sharply defined as if it had been drawn with a ruler—identical to the one Kaecilius had wielded back then.

"How long did it take you?"

Hamir's voice was tight.

Zhao Yu scratched the back of his head. "To be precise... a little over an hour, probably?"

Wong stood beside him, holding a teacup suspended in midair. The tea had tilted slightly, and he had not even noticed.

Hamir closed his eyes and swallowed the words that had nearly slipped from his throat.

Zhao Yu did not think it was anything remarkable.

The way those spells were broken down, the paths magical power took through the veins—after a single look, he could simulate the complete process in his mind.

It was like someone plucked a string before him, and the remaining notes naturally flowed through the air into his fingertips.

He lowered his head and looked at the fading glow still lingering in his palm.

Magic instruction? No, this was clearly experience delivered right to his door.

Life at Kamar-Taj was as tranquil as a pool of deep water.

Every day, Zhao Yu repeated the same routine—opening his eyes, eating breakfast, burrowing into the practice room, and not emerging until the moon climbed to the tip of the tower.

The marks on the floor grew denser and denser, while the lingering concentration of magical power in the air kept even new apprentices from approaching that door.

The progress bar for Spatial Blade was already nearing the edge of Level Two.

He could feel that critical state, like the tremor of a blade just before it left the whetstone.

Just as he was preparing to push through in one burst, someone knocked on the door.

Devon stood outside.

Unlike the last time he had come, the young sorcerer's shoulders were slightly drawn in, his chin no longer raised so high, and even his voice had lowered a few degrees. "Sorcerer Zhao Yu, Master Kaecilius requests your presence."

Zhao Yu leaned against the doorframe, his gaze sweeping over the other man's face from top to bottom.

The defiance that had filled those eyes last time was gone, replaced by a flatness polished by reality.

"Let's go."

Zhao Yu dusted off his hands and didn't ask any questions.

Devon turned and led the way, his steps half a beat quicker than before, as if he were avoiding something.

Zhao Yu's gaze settled on the figure ahead.

That guy Devon had somehow suppressed his presence to this extent—his footsteps made no sound, his breathing had nearly vanished, and even the rustle of his clothes was inaudible.

Kaecilius's methods really weren't empty words.

He followed behind Devon through several narrow stone alleys. Loose gravel beneath his feet occasionally rolled away with faint sounds.

After about seven or eight minutes, Devon stopped before a dusty wooden door.

The door was unlocked. The moment it was pushed open, a dry herbal scent rushed out to meet them.

Kaecilius was sitting in a chair inside.

The flames in the fireplace flickered, stretching his shadow long.