Chapter 27

He heard footsteps and looked up, his face devoid of any unnecessary expression, as though he had long known Zhao Yu would appear at this hour.

"You're here."

His voice was neither loud nor soft, like he was stating something that had already been destined.

Zhao Yu lowered his head slightly, his hands folded before him. "I have answered Master Kaecilius's summons."

Kaecilius tapped the armrest twice with his fingers and nodded.

His gaze swept over Zhao Yu's shoulders and wrists before finally settling on his fingertips. "Very good."

"I called you here to confirm how far your magic has progressed."

He paused, his voice carrying an unhurried pressure. "How far have you gotten with Spatial Blade? Show me."

Zhao Yu did not hesitate. "Yes."

Then he abruptly pulled both hands apart.

The air seemed to tear open.

An almost transparent blade condensed between his palms.

The thing looked ordinary, its outline no different from the blades sold in an ordinary blacksmith's shop. Yet if one stared at it for more than two seconds, one could feel a sharp aura seeping from its edge—as though something invisible were slicing at the skin.

Kaecilius's pupils suddenly contracted.

He knew Zhao Yu was not someone who followed convention, but the sight before him still exceeded his expectations.

Only one day had passed.

It had been no more than twenty-four hours since he had taught him this spell, yet this young man had already stabilized Spatial Blade to such a degree.

The blade's transparency, the sharpness of its edge, the consistency of its energy fluctuations—none of it was something a beginner should have been capable of.

Monster.

The word surfaced in his mind, only to be forcibly suppressed.

Kaecilius bit the soft flesh inside his lower lip, keeping his facial muscles relaxed.

He should have expected this long ago.

From the beginning, he had vaguely sensed that there was something different about Zhao Yu.

Today's test had merely been meant to verify that suspicion.

He had summoned Zhao Yu not to examine his progress—he wanted to see for himself whether this man's potential had any limits.

The logs in the fireplace crackled, and the firelight illuminated the blade in Zhao Yu's hand, revealing the glint that flashed through Kaecilius's eyes.

# He—Kaecilius—was the true genius.

Zhao Yu? Just an apprentice.

A child trying to run before he had learned to walk.

How could a beginner like this so easily scale the peaks of the magical world? The corners of Kaecilius's lips rose slightly as he suppressed the contempt churning within him.

"Not bad."

He spat out those two words and paused. "You have indeed grasped a few fundamentals of using Spatial Blade."

"But this is only the beginning."

"Keep practicing. Do not slacken. Only then will you have a chance to truly master this spell."

Zhao Yu lowered his head. "I will."

"Good."

"Today, I'll teach you one more move."

Kaecilius's gaze fell upon his face.

"Thank you, Master!"

There was unmistakable delight in Zhao Yu's voice.

"Tell me, where does Kamar-Taj's magic come from?"

"All white magic originates from Vishanti—the triune god."

Zhao Yu answered without hesitation.

"Mm."

"Then do you understand what Vishanti represents?"

Zhao Yu listened attentively, his gaze focused.

Kaecilius said slowly, "The triune god is, in essence, an alliance of three ancient Earth deities."

"Agamotto, Oshtur, and Hoggoth."

"And the spell I taught you originates from—"

He lowered his voice.

"—the Eye of Agamotto."

Zhao Yu's breathing visibly caught.

Of course he knew the weight that name carried—an ancient deity, the first Sorcerer Supreme, one of the Avengers' ancient members.

Those eyes, capable of seeing through all things, were said never to have missed a single secret.

Zhao Yu remained still, but his fingers quietly curled into his palms.

Kaecilius raised one hand, and a sound like tearing fabric echoed through the air.

A white longsword was drawn from the void, its blade flowing with nearly blinding light, as though it had been tempered by the sun countless times.

When that aura pressed down on him, Zhao Yu felt every hair on his body stand on end, as though someone had shoved a block of ice against the back of his neck.

"This is Vishanti's Sacred Sword."

Kaecilius's voice was not loud, yet it made the entire space hum. "The strike closest to divinity among all of Kamar-Taj's offensive spells."

Zhao Yu's pupils abruptly shrank.

He had seen this before.

In footage from several years ago, Doctor Strange had raised the same sword of light at a purple-skinned figure—only for that light to be crushed barehanded.

But that scene proved nothing.

Zhao Yu knew that someone capable of pushing this sword to its ultimate limit could split a planet in the time it took to breathe.

His chest rose and fell faintly, his gaze nailed to the sword.

Kaecilius noticed the heat in his eyes.

The lines at the corners of his mouth slowly spread outward, as though he had dredged a sense of satisfaction from some hidden corner.

Genius? He repeated the word in his heart, finding it laughable.

This young man called a genius still stood before him in the end, waiting for him to bestow knowledge upon him.

And he, Kaecilius, had long held this spell in his palm as easily as a pebble picked up at random.

"I'll teach you."

He said.

Zhao Yu looked away from the blade and lowered his voice. "Thank you, Master Kaecilius."

"Very good."

Kaecilius was pleased with that form of address.

He turned and began breaking down the structure of that sword-light—from the rhythm of breathing to the flow of energy, from the anchoring of will to the resonance point of the contract with Vishanti.

He spoke very slowly, even deliberately slowing down further, as though he wanted every syllable to fall into Zhao Yu's ears, take root there, and grow into recognition of him.

At that moment, a metallic notification sound exploded in Zhao Yu's mind.

"Ding!"

"You have followed Kaecilius's teachings and gained Vishanti's recognition. You have comprehended Vishanti's Sacred Sword."

Another sound immediately followed.

"You are within the range of Kaecilius's War Aura."

"Your offensive magic cultivation speed has increased."

Zhao Yu's breath paused, but not a single muscle in his face moved.

He could feel something warm rising from deep within his chest and climbing up his spine, as though he had been immersed in a winter hot spring. It was not scalding, but it was enough to make his blood race.

He closed his eyes for an instant and ran through the sword-light's structure in his mind—it was as clear as though he had practiced it himself for ten years.

Kaecilius was still speaking, his voice steady as he occasionally raised a hand to gesture.

Zhao Yu listened, nodding at precisely the right intervals, his gaze resting on the shadow within a crack between the floor tiles.

He did not interrupt or urge him on.

He intended to leave the news brought by that notification alone for now. There was no need to examine it in a hurry.

A stream of information surged through his mind.

The sounds were like dense drumbeats, endlessly hammering at his nerves—

"Your Vishanti's Sacred Sword has responded to Kaecilius's guidance and entered a state of comprehension."

"Your cultivation efficiency for Vishanti's Sacred Sword has increased."

"Your Spatial Blade trembles under Kaecilius's gaze, its emotions stirred."

"Your Spatial Blade cultivation speed has increased."

The system notifications washed over him like a tide.

Zhao Yu was nearly drowned in them.

Instinctively, he blocked out more than ninety percent of the messages, and only then did the noise in his ears finally subside somewhat.

Kaecilius seemed completely immersed in his own explanation.

He explained at an unhurried pace, his tone as gentle as though reciting an ancient scripture.

But when he looked up and saw Zhao Yu still standing there with a dazed expression, a rare curve appeared on that usually cold face.

"Don't rush."

He said.

"Vishanti's Sacred Sword belongs to a high-level magical system."

"Within Kamar-Taj, the number of people qualified to come into contact with it can be counted on one hand."

"To truly form this spell, you must borrow enough power from Vishanti."

"Therefore—"

He paused, his gaze falling on Zhao Yu.

"This spell will not be easy to learn."

"Be patient. Take it one step at a time."

Zhao Yu's heart suddenly jolted when he heard those words.

Something was wrong.

Today's Kaecilius was completely unlike the man he knew.

Yet outwardly, he maintained a respectful posture and lowered his head slightly.

"I understand, Master Kaecilius."

"I won't be impatient."

"Thank you for your guidance."

His tone was steady, even carrying a trace of deliberate reverence.

"Very good."

Kaecilius nodded. "Maintain that mindset."

"I have a feeling—"

"You will go very far on the path of a sorcerer."

"The future will ultimately belong to young people like you."

His voice was gentle, and there was even an unusual kindness in his eyes and brows.

Yet Zhao Yu felt a chill crawl across his back.

It felt as though something icy were creeping up his spine.

With his fingertips pressed to his temple, Zhao Yu stared at the surging orange-red arc of light before him, his brow tightly furrowed.

The air was filled with the scorched smell of ozone. Sparks crackled, bounced twice across the stone floor, and went out.

His fingers twitched as he tried to guide the energy along some invisible path—but he failed. The arc twisted twice like a snake seized by the throat before scattering into fragments.

The man standing three steps away laughed.

Kaecilius rarely wore such a relaxed expression.

That face, perpetually shrouded in gloom and harshness, now showed a softness that was almost pleased.

He folded his arms across his chest and lifted his chin slightly, watching Zhao Yu fail again and again as the amusement in his eyes gradually deepened.

With his tongue pressed to the roof of his mouth, he took a soft breath—a deep inhale, as though he wanted to draw every trace of victory's sweetness from the air into his lungs.

Young man, still not impressive enough.

Vishanti's Sacred Sword was not something just anyone could touch.

Among all the spells in Kamar-Taj's collection, only a handful ranked near the top in single-target power, and this was one of them.

Because it involved Vishanti's power, the threshold for learning it was absurdly high.

Among so many people in Kamar-Taj, only three, including himself, had truly mastered this spell.

He did not believe Zhao Yu could leap over that threshold through talent alone.

That was impossible.

He lowered his gaze to his right hand. A faint sting from yesterday still lingered at his fingertips.

Yesterday, he had indeed lost his composure. Standing in the corner of the library, he had watched that young man master in less than a day something that had taken him a full week just to barely begin. His fists had clenched until his knuckles turned white, his nails nearly digging into his palms.

It had not felt good, like being slapped across the face in public and still having to smile and say it was fine.

But today was different.

Kaecilius raised his eyes, his gaze settling on the back of Zhao Yu's neck.

That young man was still wrestling with the disobedient arc of light. Fine beads of sweat seeped from his temples, slid along his jawline, and fell onto his collar, spreading into a small dark patch.

The path traced by his fingers through the air began to grow hesitant, as though he were trying to determine which way to take at a fork in the road but could never find the right direction.

All right.

Very good.

The curve of Kaecilius's mouth widened a little more.

That smile looked utterly out of place on his face—someone who had hidden his expressions in the shadows for years suddenly bared his teeth, making it seem as though he would tear that smile apart the next second.

But he did not care.

He stared at Zhao Yu's back, his gaze carrying the tolerance only an elder had when appraising a junior.

That tolerance concealed words he did not say aloud, yet every pore seemed to seep them out:

You really do have talent.

But compared to me, you're still a little lacking.

"Zhao Yu."

He spoke, his voice two degrees softer than usual, as though soothing a cat with its fur standing on end.

He stepped forward half a pace, his boot grinding over the lingering fragments of sparks on the ground with a faint rustling sound.

"You are very—talented."

"Vishanti's Sacred Sword is not a spell just anyone can master."

As Kaecilius spoke, his fingertips unconsciously tapped against the edge of the wooden table.

"Many who study magic never even reach its threshold in their entire lives."

He paused, his gaze settling on Zhao Yu's face.

"So even if you can't learn it right away, there's no need to be discouraged.

Take it slowly. There's still plenty of time."

"With magic, trying to swallow too much will only leave you unable to digest any of it. Being able to master one spell is already remarkable."

"Even someone like the Sorcerer Supreme would not dare claim to know every spell."

Zhao Yu was left completely baffled.