Chapter 44

But he would rather not have this attention.

He missed the old days, the peaceful times when he could immerse himself in the study of magic without anyone disturbing him.

"So having too much fame really is a burden."

He murmured softly and shook his head.

All he wanted was a little peace. Why was that so difficult?

His gaze swept ahead, where several more smiling faces turned toward him, ready to greet him.

He hesitated no longer.

His finger traced a simple arc through the air. Golden sparks burst forth at once, spinning into a doorway.

He stepped through, and both he and the Portal vanished from the air of reality, leaving only the soft echoes of whispered conversation behind.

In the Mirror Dimension, even the air stood still.

Zhao Yu stood there as the inexplicable irritation in his chest slowly settled, like a pebble sinking into a deep pool.

"Ding."

The sound arose from the depths of his consciousness, faint but too clear to ignore.

Within the sacred realm of Vishanti, something seemed to grow slightly warm because of those gathered, warm gazes.

It was exhilarated—this emotion was conveyed directly to Zhao Yu.

Immediately afterward, the sword connected to it seemed to have been infused with some sort of vitality. The flow of its cultivation channels quietly accelerated.

It too had sensed the sincere admiration contained in the many gazes from outside.

As a result, the light flowing over the blade seemed to become a little more substantial.

But almost at the same moment, an entirely opposite sensation wrapped around him.

It was the chain, the manifestation of the Scarlet Contract.

Touched by too many gazes, it felt an embarrassment and discomfort akin to being stripped bare.

The chain grew slightly cold, and its once-smooth rhythm of drawing in power became sluggish and slow.

Zhao Yu closed his eyes for a moment and silently let out a breath.

This was another kind of trouble brought by fame.

There was no way to predict when these beneficial or detrimental states would descend, or what imperceptible obstacles they might plant along his path of cultivation.

He did not linger. Raising a hand, he drew a gesture through the air.

Golden sparks burst and spun, opening a circular doorway.

Beyond the door lay a familiar corridor and a dark wooden door.

He walked over and rapped his knuckles against it.

"Creak—"

The sound of the door hinges turning dragged out dryly.

Mordo's face appeared behind the door.

He froze for a moment, his brows rising. "Zhao Yu? Why are you..."

"Master,"

Zhao Yu inclined his head slightly, his manner respectful. "I came to ask for guidance in magic."

"Learn magic?"

The welcoming curve at the corner of Mordo's mouth froze at once.

It was as though he had suddenly remembered something—right, the person before him had always been nearly greedy for knowledge.

But...

The heart-pounding scenes from the recent battlefield rose uncontrollably in his mind.

That power summoned with every gesture, that almost crushing sense of control... Mordo compared them in silence, and his heart sank.

He feared he had long since had nothing left to teach him.

He stepped aside to make way, his movements slightly delayed. "Come in."

The light inside the room was gentle, and floating dust slowly drifted through the beams.

Zhao Yu entered and spoke again, his tone earnest. "Mage Mordo, I truly need to learn more.

What I have mastered is still far too little."

He recalled the scenes from battle.

Again and again, he seemed to rely only on those few limited methods.

Weaving illusions, infiltrating and defending on the spiritual level, as well as those more obscure secret arts requiring specific mediums or rituals... he had never touched any of them.

This world never lacked sudden danger. His current methods were far from enough.

Mordo studied Zhao Yu's expression, and an indescribable emptiness rose in his heart.

Of course he knew that the young man before him was asking sincerely.

The problem was—

He truly had nothing left to teach.

The spell systems he knew had almost all been absorbed by the other party.

The many cultivators of Kamar-Taj

often did not need to master too many spells.

Usually, it was enough to hone a few basic techniques to proficiency.

By ordinary standards, Mordo could be considered a mage of broad learning.

But compared to Zhao Yu—

What did that little accumulation amount to?

The muscles in his cheeks tightened slightly. In the end, he spoke in an exceptionally solemn tone:

"Zhao Yu."

"It is not that I am holding anything back."

"It is that you have truly reached the standard for completing your training. I have nothing new left to teach you."

"You should already understand all the spells of the formal mage rank."

Mordo shook his head lightly.

"But, Mage Mordo—"

The words reached Zhao Yu's lips, then he swallowed them back.

"I understand."

"I understand that you yearn to explore deeper mysteries."

"Therefore, I have found a path for you as well."

"What path?"

Zhao Yu's eyes lit up at once as he stared intently at Mordo.

"It is simple. Go seek an audience with the Sorcerer Supreme."

A smile appeared at the corner of Mordo's mouth.

"The Master has recently finished dealing with the matters at hand."

"She may return as early as tomorrow."

"When that time comes, I will report your situation to her."

"The Sorcerer Supreme... is willing to see me?"

Uncertainty colored Zhao Yu's voice.

"There is no need to worry. The Master will certainly see you."

"When the time comes, she will personally guide your cultivation."

"Just wait with peace of mind."

Mordo offered a few more words of reassurance.

"Thank you, Mage Mordo."

Zhao Yu lowered his head and responded respectfully.

His fingertips drew lightly through the air, and that expression of thanks dissipated.

"It is my duty."

Mordo's voice was steady, but his gaze fell upon the young figure at the edge of the distant practice ground.

That child belonged to Kamar-Taj and should rightfully come into contact with deeper things.

He thought that if that guardian were here now, she would surely guide him personally.

Unfortunately, the timing was never right.

He shook his head and suppressed the thought.

Excessively dazzling talent could sometimes be a burden, both to him and to that child.

He felt that his guidance had reached its limit. If this continued, even his own steady state of mind would likely ripple.

Those dazzlingly rapid breakthroughs in comprehension were truly becoming more than he could bear.

"Thank you for your guidance, Mage Mordo."

The young voice came, earnest and clear.

Zhao Yu was indeed deeply grateful.

Here, knowledge and mysteries were like open doors; no one hid away the keys.

Whether vast tomes or profound incantations, all were presented generously.

Mage Mordo was the same. Whenever he discovered promising talent, he did not hesitate to push it toward a broader sky.

Looking into those eyes devoid of falsehood, Mordo nodded slightly, and the last trace of hesitation in his heart melted away.

***

The passages between the sanctums operated soundlessly.

Three anchor points personally fixed by the guardian into the planet's veins—New York, London, **—each was a gateway to this place.

At this moment, no external energy had triggered them, yet Kamar-Taj's internal teleportation hub rippled on its own, as if awakened by a distant resonance.

The ripples stabilized, and a figure stepped out calmly.

Plain white robes wrapped her slender frame, speckled with fine dust from different dimensions.

Her smooth scalp reflected the eternal firelight within the great hall.

At first glance, she seemed no different from any other ascetic mage. But if anyone dared to look directly into her eyes, they would instantly lose themselves in depths that seemed to contain the birth and death of stars and the whirlpools of time.

She walked along the familiar stone path without haste, carrying only a tranquility that had passed through countless years.

The cultivators she encountered along the way all stopped and bowed in greeting. In the silence flowed an unspoken reverence.

She was the eternal axis of this sacred land, the guardian of the dimensions.

She had begun tracking Kaecilius's trail several months ago, and now she had finally returned to Kamar-Taj.

As she stepped onto this familiar ground, the air carried the mixed scent of incense ash and old books.

From the distant scripture hall came the faint sound of chanting, steady as though it had never been disturbed.

She stood upon the stone steps and looked for a while before continuing inward.

The doors to the great hall stood partly open.

As she pushed them open, light slanted down from the high windows, and dust slowly spun in the beams.

Mordo sat at the edge of that halo of light, head lowered, his fingers unconsciously rubbing the folds of the robe across his knees.

"You have returned."

The voice came from beyond the light.

Mordo lifted his head. His face first showed a flicker of surprise, then relaxed.

He rose to his feet, his robes stirring a faint breeze that disturbed the dust in the air.

She did not respond at once. She merely walked to the long table and brushed her fingertips over its smooth wooden surface.

The tea in the cup on the table was still warm. She lifted it and took a sip before raising her eyes to the man who remained standing.

"Sit."

Mordo sat as instructed, his back straight as a rod.

"Have there been any unusual matters these days?"

"There has been no trouble."

Mordo paused, a rare curve appearing at the corner of his mouth. "But there is one matter that might be considered interesting."

The teacup paused at her lips.

She looked over through the rising steam.

"We have produced a rare talent here."

"Oh?"

"He learns everything astonishingly fast.

He only encountered the Mirror Spell last week, and yesterday he could already maintain it for half an hour."

As Mordo spoke, his fingers tapped lightly against his knee. "And he does not simply imitate it. There are always some... different alterations."

A bell suddenly rang outside the hall, its long reverberations echoing among the beams and pillars.

She set down the teacup, and the porcelain made a faint clink against the wooden table.

"His name?"

"Lin,"

Mordo replied. "That is what he requested, saying that was how he preferred to be addressed."

The light gradually shifted, stretching their shadows across the stone-brick floor.

Footsteps sounded in the distance.

"Would you like to meet him?"

She did not answer immediately, merely turning her gaze toward the high windows.

The sky was a faded blue, with several wisps of cloud suspended there, utterly motionless.

The Ancient One lifted her teacup and took a small sip. The tea was slightly warm.

"Indeed."

As she set the cup down, the porcelain base made the faintest sound against the wooden table.

Mordo stood to one side, unconsciously rubbing the cuff of his sleeve. "That child... perhaps genius wasn't the right word for him."

He paused, as if some memory had snagged his thoughts. "Monster would be more fitting."

The Ancient One raised her eyes to look at him.

Light slanted in through the window lattice, casting the faintest shadow across her smooth forehead.

Mordo's face always gave the impression of solidity and kindness, as though years of wind had worn the sharp edges from a mountain rock.

But she knew what unyielding pride lay beneath that appearance—pride restrained deep within his bones, never easily shown.

What had that young man, whom she had never met, done to make Mordo speak of him in such a tone?

"Would you be willing to meet him?"

A slight, barely perceptible easing entered Mordo's voice.

When he saw the Ancient One's brow lift almost imperceptibly, the taut string in his heart slackened by most of the way.

At last, he would not have to deal with that troublesome existence alone. This sort of trouble ought to be handed to someone more suitable.

"Tomorrow afternoon, in the central courtyard."

As the Ancient One nodded, the silver ornament hanging by her ear swayed gently.

When the sun had dipped slightly westward, Zhao Yu walked through the corridor.

Tender blades of grass pushed up through the cracks between the stone bricks, almost imperceptible beneath his feet.

Mordo's instructions still echoed in his ears, but his thoughts were now wholly fixed on the legendary figure he was about to meet.

Something lightly thudded within his chest, like a caged bird repeatedly beating its wings.

He took a deep breath. The courtyard carried the scent of sun-warmed earth, mixed with a faint trace of sandalwood from afar.

As he stepped over the threshold, the first thing he saw was the hand holding the teapot—long fingers, pouring with such steady movements that time itself seemed to flow differently here.

Only then did he clearly see the person seated beside the stone table.

His first impression was so plain it left him momentarily dazed: a simple-colored robe, a bare head, and not the slightest hint of sharpness in those brows and eyes.

But the next second, some instinct pierced through the surface and struck deep into his consciousness.

It was not ordinariness. Every outward trait had merely been drawn into someplace deeper, like a sword hidden in its sheath until even the sword's shape had vanished.

It took him two whole seconds to react—something almost unimaginable for Zhao Yu as he was now.

He walked forward, the hem of his robe brushing over scattered leaves on the stone steps. "Sorcerer Supreme."

His voice was steadier than he had expected.

Zhao Yu lowered his head in salute, his movements as precise as though they had been measured with a ruler.

"Sit and speak."

The Ancient One's voice came from above, like warmed rice wine.

He sat down as instructed, the hem of his robe making not the slightest sound as it brushed the stone stool.