Chapter 43

From the Portal overhead, a black mass poured out—the Chitauri soldiers swarmed forth like ants from a disturbed nest, squeezing out layer upon layer. Their aircraft buzzed through the air, while more than a dozen battleships as large as whales hung overhead, sealing off the entire sky.

Those things were clearly there to hold the Portal.

They were only a story above the Portal in a straight line, but the metal hulls and gun barrels between them formed a wall as solid as iron.

"Captain, what do we do now?"

Someone asked, unable to hide the exhaustion in their voice.

No matter how strong their resolve was, this group was nearing its limit.

With that formation across from them—metal and flesh filling the sky—what could they use to stop it? If everyone had been at their peak, perhaps they could have fought their way through.

But now—they had just finished a brutal battle, their minds stretched nearly to breaking, their limbs heavy and sluggish.

Tony Stark could not even be bothered to count the ** reserves in his armor. The alarms alone told him there was not much left.

How were they supposed to fight this?

Captain America looked around at the people beside him. His expression did not change, and his voice remained steady. "I know it's hard.

I know it's dangerous."

He paused.

"But we have to go.

This is our fight."

Tony Stark shrugged, his tone light. "Fine, Captain. Then let's do it."

None of the others showed any sign of backing down. Their gazes hardened.

Even Thor returned to the group, gripping his hammer as he prepared to charge in.

Then, the scene in the sky suddenly changed.

The sky split open, and a golden ring, like a red-hot iron hoop, slowly spun as it expanded.

Its radiance dyed the entire street amber, making even the dust floating in the air clearly visible.

The metallic monsters that had covered the entire block vanished by half the instant that ring lit up.

They had not been knocked down, nor had they retreated. They were simply erased cleanly, like chalk writing wiped from a blackboard.

Hawkeye's bowstring was still taut, but his gaze froze in midair.

His knuckles turned white, and the corner of his mouth twitched. After a long moment, he finally forced out, "What... was that?"

Natasha crouched behind an overturned taxi, smoke still curling from the barrel of her gun.

She looked up at that golden light, her voice carrying a reverence even she had not noticed. "Who did that?"

"It wasn't done by someone, Natasha."

The voice came from within the golden light, gentle as a spring afternoon breeze blowing through a window.

A gap split open in the center of the golden radiance, as though an invisible door had been pulled apart, and Zhao Yu stepped through.

Several figures in dark yellow robes followed behind him, their hems billowing in the wind.

"This is magic."

Captain America still held his shield in front of him. Seeing that familiar figure, his shoulders visibly relaxed, and his lips moved. "It's you."

Zhao Yu nodded to him. His gaze swept across the ruins, and though his smile did not change, he spoke a little faster. "Captain, save whatever you want to say until this battle is over.

Now—Natasha, you and Clint get to the rooftop and shut down that Portal.

The one overhead.

Leave these metal lumps to us."

Natasha barely had to think.

She did not even have time to consider who had given the order or whether it was reasonable. Her body had already turned, and she began sprinting toward the building.

Behind her came Hawkeye's footsteps as he followed.

She could not explain why herself.

That man was clearly not her superior, nor did he belong to any organization she knew, but his words simply made people willing to obey.

Zhao Yu did not look back again.

He and the other mages rose into the air at the same time, stepping on nothing, as if invisible ropes were pulling them skyward.

When the mages of Kamar-Taj stayed in the Sanctum, they always seemed like nothing more than monks in strange robes, utterly insignificant compared to the Sorcerer Supreme.

But that was only because the Sorcerer Supreme was too powerful, making everyone else seem like shadows.

Taken alone, every mage was someone an opponent had to take seriously.

At that moment, they flicked their hands. Golden circular shields sprang from their left hands, light flowing around their edges, while their right hands grasped the air and drew forth different weapons—blades, hammers, long whips, and even a translucent silver spear.

The spells that came from their mouths sounded less like chants and more like casual speech. With a lift of their hands, arcs of light cleaved downward, slicing several Chitauri infantrymen in two. There was no flesh at the breaks, only sparks and thick smoke.

Like hot knives through butter, they carved into the heart of the monster horde.

The Avengers began moving again as well.

Captain America's shield sent an oncoming aircraft flying. Iron Man's repulsors lit up once more, and Hulk's fist struck the ground, shattering a ring of metal wreckage.

Every face showed exhaustion. Sweat and dust had mixed together, forming gray smears on their skin.

But not one of them stopped.

The battlefield was once more filled with the clang of metal, exploding gunfire, and the roars of humans and monsters.

The ground trembled, and the air was thick with the mixed stench of scorched metal and ozone.

Another flash of golden sparks appeared. Several mages struck again, flattening an entire line of enemy soldiers.

The battlefield had become a complete mess.

The Chitauri ** fell from the sky one after another like punctured sandbags.

The crack of shattered metal and the dull thuds of flesh mixed together like some unbalanced metronome.

These alien soldiers were indeed vicious, their bones steeped in savage brutality.

Unfortunately, compared with Zhao Yu, the difference was like comparing a slingshot to a railgun.

Zhao Yu walked through the air, his gait as leisurely as if he were strolling through his own backyard.

Sunlight pierced the clouds behind him, scattering a golden halo around him—but it was not sunlight. It was several golden chains gliding around his body.

The chains moved like living things, like snakes, and even more like tentacles possessed of will, spiraling and dancing around him.

Every path swept by a chain trailed a mist of blood.

Their sharp edges cut through Chitauri armor more cleanly than hot knives through butter.

Some were sliced in half at the waist, while others were cut diagonally into three pieces, their wounds so neat they looked measured with a ruler.

A true rain of blood fell from the sky.

Limbs, metal fragments, and shattered energy guns fell one after another like crushed musical notes.

System notifications chimed within his mind, like a stream of coins endlessly dropping into a piggy bank.

The Vishanti Chains have eliminated another batch. Cultivation efficiency is increasing.

The Ring of Raggadorr has withstood massive impacts. Defense is increasing.

Zhao Yu did not take a single word in.

His eyes held only the next target, then the next, then the next.

The mages on the ground had completely stopped fighting.

They lowered their spell formations and weapons, standing beside the Avengers as they raised their heads to watch that figure in the sky mowing through enemies alone.

Their eyes were wide enough to fit fists inside, their open mouths identical as though cast from the same mold.

Gulp.

Tony Stark was the first to swallow.

His faceplate had lifted, and a thin layer of sweat beaded on his forehead.

He turned toward the robed figures beside him, his gaze filled with confusion and a faint sense of offended shock.

"Where exactly did you people come from?"

He pointed at the golden streak still harvesting enemies in the sky. "Are people where you're from all this insane?"

Several mages exchanged glances.

Insane? Were there mages this insane in Kamar-Taj?

What a joke.

Zhao Yu was simply an anomaly.

In all of Kamar-Taj, only the Sorcerer Supreme could contend with him.

Their own jaws were nearly dislocated, and their mouths had gone dry and bitter.

Even though this was the second time they had witnessed Zhao Yu fight with their own eyes, they still found it unreal.

That guy was just too ridiculous.

The battle above New York had not yet ceased. The Portal's halo still pulsed with blue arcs, and the air was laced with the smell of scorched metal and sulfur.

Wong stood where he was, his lips moving slightly, but he said nothing more.

The armored Stark beside him was staring at him, his eyes full of suspicion and resentment.

"By our standards, Zhao Yu,"

Wong spoke in a low voice, as if stating something obvious, "is only an apprentice."

Tony Stark's face was hidden behind his mask, making his expression impossible to read, but his breathing clearly caught.

Several seconds later, his helmet lifted, revealing a tense face and slightly contracted pupils.

"An apprentice?"

He gritted his teeth, forcing each word through the gaps. "You're saying someone at his level is only an apprentice?"

Wong did not answer. He merely nodded slightly.

Stark took a deep breath, his chest heaving like bellows.

His gaze left Wong and settled on the figure rising into the air once more in the distance.

The young man wore dark clothing of an indiscernible material, floating in the air as casually as if he stood on solid ground.

Thor stood a few steps away, Thunder Hammer in hand, his expression far graver than before.

His gaze also followed the young man named Zhao Yu. After a long while, his Adam's apple bobbed. "If that is true, then the foundation of that force..."

He did not finish, but everyone could hear the wariness in his voice.

Several people stood there, exchanging looks. The air was so silent that only the cracking of collapsing buildings in the distance and the wind's moan through the ruins remained.

Then Zhao Yu landed back on the ground, his steps light, not even the hem of his clothes stained with dust.

"It's time to close the Portal."

He said it calmly, as if commenting on the pleasant weather.

"Wait!"

Tony Stark's voice suddenly tore through the silence. The color drained from his face in an instant, as though someone had bled him dry.

Captain America frowned and approached him. "Tony, what is it?"

Stark's lips trembled, and his voice was hoarse. "The military launched **."

Those few words were like a bucket of ice water poured over everyone's heads.

"They're insane!"

Captain America blurted out, his voice full of disbelief. "This is New York! There are still civilians in the city!"

"When have those politicians ever cared about civilians?"

Stark's voice trembled uncontrollably, but his eyes stayed locked on Zhao Yu's face as though waiting for an impossible answer.

Zhao Yu's expression did not ripple in the slightest.

He looked around, then said, "I'll handle it."

"You?"

Stark's eyes widened. "That's a nuclear weapon. You think you can just handle it because you say so?"

"If he says he can handle it, then he can."

Wong added, his tone calm but unquestionable.

Zhao Yu gave everyone one last look, then drew an orange-red circle before him with one hand. Sparks flew everywhere.

He stepped inside. The circle contracted behind him into a thin line and vanished.

His figure disappeared into the depths of the sky, becoming a small dot at the edge of vision within a breath, before finally merging into the blinding sunlight.

He spread his arms, and his senses unfolded like spilled mercury, passing through clouds and air currents as they caught that tiny point of light rapidly approaching.

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Whispers drifted intermittently from a corner, like wind passing through a narrow crack.

"Who's that? Why are so many people gathered around him?"

"You don't even know him? That's Mage Zhao Yu."

A sharp intake of breath sounded. "He's the one... the one rumored to have merely raised his hand on the battlefield, and the Chitauri army fell in waves?"

"That's not all.

Some say he touched spells he should never have touched."

"The version I heard is that the Sorcerer Supreme personally chose him as their successor."

The voices were low, but every word reached his ears.

As a mage, his senses were naturally sharper than an ordinary person's. It was impossible not to hear these fragmented conversations clearly.

Zhao Yu felt the muscles in his cheeks tighten uncontrollably for a moment.

Had the rumors already become this distorted?

If they continued fermenting, they would probably place the title of Sorcerer Supreme on his head as well.

He let out a soft breath, carrying a trace of helplessness.

Normally, even that master mage might not attract such prolonged attention.

Perhaps it was because of his age.

A face too young, no matter how great its power, struggled to inspire instinctive awe.

So many mages around his age always wanted to find an opportunity to approach and chat with him.

Of course, most still kept their distance.

When they met along the way, they would do no more than nod in greeting.

But too many people knew him.

From one end of the corridor to the other, that alone was enough to show exactly what kind of position he held in Kamar-Taj at this moment.