Chapter 31

After saying that, he raised the light sword in his hand again, its tip aimed downward.

Without hesitation or pause, the blade slashed down.

His wrist remained steady, as though he had already weighed the burden of this outcome.

Buzz—

The expected spray of blood never came.

The instant the blade fell, a pitch-black cover sprang from Kaecilius's body, like a mouth reaching out from the darkness and swallowing that platinum-white light.

The circular shield forcibly withstood the strike. Vishanti's Sacred Sword struck the wall of light, sending out a blinding ripple.

But this blow did not come without a cost.

The shield's surface began to flicker violently, its glow wavering like a guttering candle in the wind.

The shield was pressed downward, its edges embedding themselves in the ground as shattered stones flew.

The next second, a black rift tore open before him without warning, dark currents from another dimension churning along its edges.

A hand reached out from within, grabbed Kaecilius by the shoulder, and tried to drag him into that void.

Zhao Yu clenched his back teeth and forced out two words through the gaps. "Dormammu."

That guy truly could not bear to discard this chess piece.

The ruler of the Dark Dimension had personally stepped in to retrieve him.

"Trying to take him?"

Zhao Yu crossed his arms and brought his palms together. A mass of gray-and-white energy rapidly expanded between his hands.

It grew larger and larger, chaotic patterns of light flowing across its surface like a calamity still waiting to hatch.

"Chaos Orb."

Of all the magical systems he currently commanded, this was his most destructive technique.

The sphere of condensed magic flew from his hands, trailing a distorted tail of light as it crashed straight into the spatial rift that was closing.

The Chaos Orb had only squeezed halfway into the rift before it could advance no farther.

The two forces collided violently within the narrow fissure, devouring and crushing each other.

Then, ** happened.

White light exploded like a miniature sun being crushed in someone's hand, so dazzling that no one could keep their eyes open.

The entire Mirror Dimension was flooded with that light, every corner trembling.

Crack.

Crack.

The sound of shattering glass rose one after another.

Kaecilius, the Mirror Dimension personally created by Kamar-Taj's foremost battle mage—that barrier separating it from the real world—had actually developed cracks under the aftermath of **.

The fractures radiated outward from the ** point, spreading through the entire space like a spiderweb.

The Kamar-Taj within the Mirror Dimension had long since become unrecognizable.

Buildings had collapsed, walls had shattered, and the ground was pockmarked with craters, as though it had just endured carpet bombing.

The air was thick with the scorched smell of burning, while powdery fragments of stone floated in midair.

Worse still, the shockwave from ** pierced the spatial barrier and reached the real world.

The whole of Kamar-Taj was shaking.

The ground swayed violently, the walls let out **, and roof tiles came clattering down.

Quite a few mages thought a major ** had occurred. They rushed out of the buildings in a panic, their faces full of terror.

Someone shouted at the top of his lungs, "** happened! Get outside!"

Others yelled, "The building's going to collapse! Don't stay indoors!"

Chaos spread quickly as screams, footsteps, and shouts tangled together.

Fortunately, several Sorcerer Supremes reacted quickly enough. They stepped forward at once, their hands moving rapidly as runes flashed, and soon stabilized the situation.

The crowd gradually quieted and retreated to open ground.

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Kamidar's palm landed heavily on Zhao Yu's shoulder, and the dull sound of bones knocking together came from his knuckles.

"I absolutely won't blab. Not one word will slip out."

The old man lowered his voice. A burning light flickered in his eyes, as though he had discovered a treasure hidden deep in a cellar. "You don't want people to know what you're capable of, so I'll pretend I saw nothing.

Though I don't understand why you insist on holding all this back."

Zhao Yu's temples began to throb.

Before he could force the words from his throat, the other man had already claimed responsibility for causing the disturbance.

His lips had not even had the chance to move.

But Zhao Yu did not believe a single word of Kamidar's promise.

Among Kamar-Taj's apprentices, the old man had a resounding nickname—the King of Gossip.

News traveled faster than the mages could cast Portals.

Zhao Yu's meddlesome senior brother Xiang Nan had long ago laid out every detail of Kamidar's past, even vividly recounting the year the old man had secretly drunk the Sorcerer Supreme's hidden wine.

Still, Zhao Yu was not particularly worried.

All Kamidar had seen was the lingering image of space shattering. At most, it was merely debris flung up during their clash.

What could anyone uncover from such traces? As long as he denied it to the end, who could forcibly pin the blame on him?

He decided to try once more.

"Master Kamidar, you're mistaken. That really wasn't me—"

"I understand. I understand everything."

Kamidar interrupted him, two flushed patches appearing on his cheeks as though he had drunk aged wine.

This old man, who had immersed himself in ** magic for many years, even had trembling fingers.

Zhao Yu's talent made the blood in his whole body boil. That power was simply too dazzling.

If he did not still need to maintain the bearing of a senior mage, he truly wanted to drop to his knees and call him teacher.

Seeing him like this, Zhao Yu's temples throbbed even harder.

If he ever showed his true abilities in the future, he would probably invite endless trouble.

Fortunately, the land beneath his feet was called Kamar-Taj. Fortunately, that figure—the Sorcerer Supreme—was still seated deep within the sanctuary.

With her there, even if the sky fell, someone would hold it up.

In Kamar-Taj's corridors, the echoes of footsteps on stone slabs drifted through the empty space.

Zhao Yu stared at the floor, his thumb repeatedly rubbing his knuckles—an action that revealed his hesitation.

"What are you worried about?"

Kamidar's voice came from beside him, hoarse with the rasp of tobacco. "I've never seen a mage get ** because his talent was too good."

Zhao Yu did not look up.

His gaze rested on a withered blade of grass lodged in the crack between floor tiles, blown in from some unknown corner by the wind.

A genius? He had heard far too much about what came after that word.

It was not fear. It was trouble.

The feeling of waking every morning already nailed to the center of everyone's gaze.

He did not want that kind of attention.

"Enough, Zhao Yu."

Kamidar stopped walking and turned to block his path. "You look like you're attending a funeral.

If you have ability, you should show it.

Kamar-Taj isn't a gambling table at a marketplace—the brighter you shine, the more chips you'll receive.

The Sorcerer Supreme's personal guidance, the secret scrolls hidden away in the attic—which of them aren't reserved for those with the sharpest edge?"

He paused, then added, "A man who draws no envy is mediocre.

Geniuses should live a little more boldly."

Zhao Yu's mouth twitched.

He understood that principle.

But another saying weighed more heavily in his mind—the tallest tree in the forest is the first to be broken by the wind.

He had seen too many trees snapped by the wind.

Silence was safer than brilliance.

At least for now, he did not need to lay all his cards on the table for everyone to see.

Did he lack top-tier resources right now? Not necessarily.

Every one of Kamar-Taj's most prominent figures was willing to spend time on him.

"Master Kamidar."

Zhao Yu raised his head, his voice low as though he feared someone might intercept it. "Could I ask you not to tell anyone about this?"

Kamidar stared at him for several seconds, then a sigh rolled from his throat.

He reached out and patted Zhao Yu's shoulder, the force heavy enough to make Zhao Yu's shoulder sink.

"Fine, kid.

I'll keep my mouth shut for you."

Zhao Yu remained where he was, watching Kamidar's retreating back.

The light at the end of the corridor stretched his shadow long.

Zhao Yu's thumb was still rubbing his knuckles, but the unease in his heart had not faded—he always felt that Kamidar's promise was like rain striking parched earth. It would not last long.

Outside Kamar-Taj's walls, wind poured in from the valley, carrying several dead leaves with it.

Zhao Yu took a breath. The air was mixed with dust and the scent of some burnt herb.

He did not look back and continued toward his quarters.

He did not want the label of genius stamped across his forehead.

At least not today.

# A knock at the door interrupted Zhao Yu's thoughts.

He looked up to find an unfamiliar mage standing at the entrance.

"Master Mordo requests your presence."

The man said.

"Thank you."

Zhao Yu answered, though doubts churned in his heart.

He had never had any dealings with Mordo. As Ancient One's direct ** disciple, this man held an exceptional position in Kamar-Taj—he was both the Sorcerer Supreme's most trusted right hand and the organization's finest teacher after Ancient One herself.

The Doctor Strange who would one day become renowned throughout the world had been trained under Mordo.

Why would someone of such status suddenly summon him?

As Zhao Yu walked toward the main hall, his earlier thoughts continued circling in his mind.

He actually felt rather fond of that old man.

Despite his dignified appearance, he was a chatterbox in private—who was dating whom, who had been dumped, he knew every piece of gossip by heart.

Ask him anything, and he could talk about it in endless detail.

Yet someone like that had actually not leaked Zhao Yu's secret.

Zhao Yu thought the old man was quite reliable.

At least, he understood how to hold the line.

The doors to the main hall stood open.

The moment Zhao Yu stepped inside, he found several people already seated there.

Wong, Kamidar, and Hamir were present, while Mordo sat upright in the seat of honor.

Zhao Yu stepped forward and bowed respectfully.

"Masters, may I ask why you summoned me?"

Mordo raised his eyes and assessed him.

"I heard you're a genius?"

Zhao Yu hurriedly waved his hands.

"You flatter me, Masters."

He lifted his hand from his knee, his fingertips brushing against the cloth with a nearly inaudible rustle. "I've only spent a little more time than they have, that's all."

Mordo stared into Zhao Yu's eyes for three seconds.

There was no flickering or evasiveness in those eyes, only a nearly frank calm.

The line of Mordo's mouth relaxed slightly.

"Not bad."

When he nodded, the angle at which he raised his chin carried the confirmation of an examination concluded. "Humility is not something everyone can manage.

Having that attitude is worth more than learning ten spells."

Zhao Yu's eyelid twitched.

Wait.

Why did that sound so familiar?

His gaze shifted to Wong, standing off to one side.

Wong's palm rested against his sleeve, his thumb repeatedly rubbing along the edge of the fabric. Zhao Yu had seen that gesture before—every time Wong was about to announce ** that would give him a headache, he did this.

"Zhao Yu."

Wong spoke, his voice softer than usual, as if suppressing some emotion. "Your sensitivity in this area has indeed exceeded our expectations.

We cannot let our own limitations slow your progress."

He paused, his Adam's apple bobbing. "From now on, Master Mordo will take over your lessons."

After Wong finished speaking, the corners of his mouth tugged downward, as though he were expressing reluctance.

But the fingers clenched behind his back had already twisted into knots.

Heaven knew how he had endured these past days.

Before every lesson, he had to go over the lesson plan three times, afraid this student would stump him with a question.

While teaching, he was even more nervous than the one listening, the string in his mind pulled so taut it could snap at any moment.

Sometimes, the moment Zhao Yu glanced his way, sweat began to break out across his back.

Being a Kamar-Taj sorcerer was unexpectedly difficult.

Now—

He could finally throw this hot iron out of his hands.

If Zhao Yu had not been there, he probably would have laughed out loud.

Watching the changes in Wong's expression, Zhao Yu more or less understood.

It was indeed a pity to lose this experience package just like that.

But he did not linger over it verbally. He merely lowered his gaze and said evenly, "I'll follow the masters' arrangements."

The moment those words fell, the matter of Zhao Yu transferring under Mordo was settled.

Everyone in the room let out a breath of relief.

Wong's fingers loosened, Mordo's shoulders sank slightly, and Ancient One's shadow flickered by the window before vanishing.

Only Kamidar stood in the corner, his brow knotted tightly.

He stared at Mordo's profile, his gaze piercing the other man's temple like needles, his lips pressed so tightly they had turned pale.

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In the sanctum before dawn, candle flames danced within bronze lamps, stretching the two men's shadows long.

Mordo's fingers lightly tapped the tabletop, every tap accompanied by a reminder.

"This ability,"

he said, "don't let it gather dust."

Zhao Yu stared at the seams between the floor tiles. There was a tiny crack there, like a mark left behind after something had torn it apart with some kind of force, only for it to heal again.

He nodded.

"The path of magic is heavier than you think."