Chapter 45

"Mordo and the others keep mentioning you to me,"

Ancient One's finger slowly traced circles along the rim of her teacup. "They say Kamar-Taj has gained a talent not seen in a hundred years."

"The seniors have merely been generous."

Zhao Yu rested both hands flat on his knees, his knuckles faintly white.

Ancient One smiled.

The laugh was soft, yet every candle flame in the room flickered at once.

The muscles in Zhao Yu's shoulders loosened.

The questions and answers that followed flowed like a stream over pebbles.

Ancient One asked casually, from redundant rune configurations to compressed nodes in spiritual-energy circuits, her questions tucked into the folds of idle conversation.

Every one of Zhao Yu's answers landed exactly where it should, neither too much nor too little.

"Your foundation is solid."

Ancient One set down her teacup, the porcelain striking the wooden table with a crisp, brief sound. "At your age, to be able to master the Book of the Vishanti..."

As she said this, her gaze swept over the young man's lowered lashes.

Solid was an understatement—those connections between principles that should have taken ten years of immersion to fully grasp came from his mouth as naturally as breathing.

Just last week, several old mages had argued themselves red in the face over the very same problem.

"I simply sleep less."

Zhao Yu still kept his eyes lowered.

Ancient One shook her head, so slightly it was almost imperceptible.

"Let me see your hand."

She said.

Zhao Yu raised his right hand.

There was no chant, no gesture. Suddenly, a hum like bees beating their wings sounded in the air.

Light seeped through his fingers, first as threads, then gathering, taking shape, and solidifying—a platinum-white longsword hovered above his palm, the runes on its blade slowly flowing like living things.

Ancient One leaned forward slightly.

She saw the runes interlock with flawless precision, every ripple of spiritual energy spreading along the most efficient path.

The breath of the laws coiled around the blade's edge. It was not the scattered halo of a beginner, but something heavy and tangible, as though it might drip to the floor.

This was not something that should have been held in a young man's hand.

In the dust-covered notes hidden in the deepest part of the library, this was the level of control old mages had pursued all their lives.

Her slightly narrowed eyes reflected on the surface of the tea.

She was completely unaware of it.

When had Kamar-Taj gained such an uncut jade? Her fingertips unconsciously brushed the Eye of Agamotto hanging before her chest, its metal casing cool to the touch.

Even—this thought made her breath catch slightly—compared to the fated person she had glimpsed in fragments of the river of time, the brilliance this young man displayed on the path of magic seemed even more dazzling.

A few months? No, impossible.

Strange could never, in such a short time, manipulate such a complex spell structure as naturally as breathing.

Those scattered accounts from the battlefield offered further proof: swift casting reactions, almost instinctive energy shaping... every sign pointed to one fact—this child's talent likely exceeded even her original expectations.

Where exactly had he come from? The question was like a stone dropped into still water, sending faint ripples through her heart.

But soon, she shook her head, the corner of her lips lifting into an almost invisible curve.

The threads of fate had always been intricate. Even with the Time Stone in hand, all she could glimpse was a faint gleam among endless possibilities.

An unexpected variable appearing was hardly anything strange.

It was simply that this variable was a little too... dazzling.

So be it.

Ancient One turned her gaze back toward the entrance of the training ground, the last trace of doubt in her eyes dispersing like morning mist.

No matter what, this was ultimately a welcome development.

She watched the young figure approach from afar, and the expression between her brows softened without her noticing.

"Zhao Yu."

Once he came to a stop, she spoke, her voice steady yet warmer than usual. "Your understanding of magic is impressive.

"From here on, I will personally guide your studies."

"Thank you for your guidance, Sorcerer Supreme."

The young man lowered his head respectfully.

***

Before the morning light had fully soaked into the cracks between the courtyard stones of Kamar-Taj, Zhao Yu had already finished dressing.

Today was his first day studying under the Sorcerer Supreme. The swelling emotion in his chest had made him rise earlier than usual.

He planned to go to the training ground ahead of time, if only to familiarize himself with the surroundings.

However, someone had arrived even earlier.

When he stepped into the open space enclosed by high walls, the figure in bright yellow robes was already standing silently there, as if she had become one with the stillness.

The rising sun cut diagonally across her shoulders, casting a long, pale shadow over the ground.

"Sorcerer Supreme."

He quickened his pace and stepped forward, offering a proper greeting.

"No need to stand on ceremony."

Ancient One turned around, the hem of her robes utterly still. "Let us begin."

Ancient One's palm hovered in midair, amber light flowing around her fingertips.

She watched the young man before her in silence for about three breaths.

The air carried the scent of old parchment and something like the lingering smell of burnt sandalwood.

"Your foundation is already solid enough."

Her voice was even, as though stating a fact confirmed long ago. "You have mastered those complicated spell structures faster than I expected."

Zhao Yu felt his back tighten slightly.

He heard the thin, continuous whistle of wind slipping through cracks in the stone high above the hall.

"So today,"

Ancient One continued, withdrawing her hand at the same time, "we will begin with Barrier Art."

"Shield of the Seraphim."

Zhao Yu nearly whispered the name at the same time.

He saw her give an almost imperceptible nod.

So it really was this.

The defensive spell repeatedly mentioned in handwritten scrolls hidden in the deepest levels of Kamar-Taj's archives, something generations of guardians had called the "impassable wall."

Over the past few months, he had pored over those fragile pages alone late at night, his fingertips brushing symbols inked long ago and already faded.

Now, it stood before him.

"Thank you for your instruction."

He lowered his gaze and placed his right hand on his left shoulder—an ancient gesture he had learned from an old monk.

Ancient One did not respond to his thanks.

She had already begun reciting the first passage of the spell.

The syllables were not complicated, but the ending of every word was drawn out, as though carving invisible ravines into the air.

Zhao Yu immediately focused, trying to catch every subtle change in pitch.

Then something rang out deep within his consciousness.

It was not a sound, but more like a vibration that lightly tapped against the inside of his skull.

Immediately afterward, a succession of clear sensations flooded into him—as though someone had instantly poured the contents of an entire book into his mind.

The complete structure of Barrier Art, the seven routes of energy circulation, the thirty-nine key nodes... everything was as clear as if he had practiced it thousands of times before.

He froze.

Every spell he had already learned underwent some sort of transformation at that same moment.

The once-stilted energy circuits became smooth. Spells that had required repeated attempts just to barely take shape now surfaced naturally with a single thought.

And his understanding of Barrier Art deepened layer by layer at an astonishing pace—from its most basic outline, to minute adjustments in energy density, to selecting frequencies that resonated with the environment...

So this was what it felt like to stand beside her?

Zhao Yu finally understood why the monks always lowered their voices whenever they mentioned the "Sorcerer Supreme."

This was not teaching. It was more like some kind of... gift.

No, it was permeation.

Like dropping a bead of ink into clear water, changing the color of the entire vessel.

The hall was quiet.

There was only Ancient One's steady chanting, along with the distant muffled sounds of energy collisions as other monks practiced basic spells.

Filtered through the thick stone walls, those sounds became vague and distant.

Zhao Yu raised his hand and tried to move energy according to the method he had just understood.

Golden lines spread from his fingertips, swiftly interweaving into a translucent curved surface.

It was more stable than he had expected. Its edges even carried a dark-red sheen like cooling metal.

"The fifth layer of the structure."

Ancient One suddenly spoke without looking at him, maintaining the rhythm of her chant. "Concentrate the energy into a cycle between the third and seventh nodes. Do not try to cover the entire surface."

He did as she said.

The glow on the barrier's surface immediately became even.

About ten more minutes passed—or perhaps less; Zhao Yu's sense of time had already grown hazy—and the barrier had become thick enough for the tiny energy vortices within it to be visible.

They rotated slowly, like some living thing breathing.

Ancient One stopped chanting.

"That will do."

For the first time, she turned to face him directly. "Remember how this feels.

"Do not remember the spell. Remember the paths the energy takes as it flows through your body.

"Those paths will grow on their own."

Zhao Yu dismissed the barrier.

Golden motes drifted through the air before quickly vanishing.

He realized his palms were covered in sweat, and the fabric clinging to his skin felt a little cold.

"The other mages..."

He paused, choosing his words again. "I mean, how long does it usually take to reach this level?"

Ancient One was already walking toward the carved wooden door deep within the hall.

The hem of her robes swept across the stone floor without making a sound.

"Time has no meaning."

Her reply drifted back from the shadows. "Some people will never even touch the threshold in their entire lives.

"Some need only an afternoon."

The door closed.

Zhao Yu stood alone in the empty hall.

The setting sun slanted in through the high windows, turning the dust in the air into drifting gold.

He looked down at his hand and tried to summon the barrier again—this time faster, steadier, almost fully formed the instant the thought arose.

A bell sounded in the distance.

It was the signal for evening lessons to begin.

He did not move, continuing to maintain the golden curved surface floating before him.

Light reflected across his face, flickering between brightness and shadow.

Zhao Yu's fingers drew the final arc through the air, and golden radiance flowed from his fingertips, swiftly weaving itself into a transparent cocoon.

The cocoon enveloped his entire body, its surface flowing with the warm luster of honey.

Ancient One's fingers, which had rested at her side, curled slightly.

She had only demonstrated the spell's gestures once—she had not even slowed down, performing them as casually as brushing dust from her sleeve.

Yet this young man had completely reproduced the full form of the Shield of the Seraphim.

No, it was not merely a reproduction.

The subtle tremors along the cocoon's edges differed in some indescribable way from the standard form in her memory, as though the magic itself were breathing.

"Have you encountered this spell before?"

Her voice remained steady, but her gaze had already fallen upon those flowing patterns like a scalpel.

Zhao Yu did not answer.

All his attention was fixed three inches above his palm, where some kind of scorching pulse was spreading.

Two energies that had once been clearly separate collided deep within his consciousness—like two parallel rivers suddenly bursting their banks, their currents madly tangling, tearing at, and consuming one another.

He could hear a hum rising from deep inside his bones, a sound like metal grinding together and like the sigh of some ancient creature.

Ancient One took half a step back.

Cracks began spreading across the surface of the golden cocoon.

It was not breaking apart, but growing—countless dark-red patterns emerged from the fissures, like blood vessels, like the roots of some parasitic vine.

They spread, branched, and intertwined at a visible pace, dyeing the once-pure gold into a dark golden color like molten sunset lava.

The smell of ozone in the air grew stronger, mixed with the scent of rust and old parchment.

"Stop."

For the first time, the Ancient One's voice carried the weight of a command.

But it was already too late.

The red patterns suddenly lit up all at once. The entire cocoon of light collapsed inward for an instant, then erupted in a blinding flash.

When the light faded, what floated around Zhao Yu was no longer a simple protective barrier, but a slowly rotating three-dimensional rune array.

Each rune pulsed like it was breathing, connected by slender threads of light that formed some kind of living geometry.

The ancient tomes that had slept for centuries in the library suddenly began turning their pages without any wind, rustling loudly.

The Ancient One raised her right hand and tapped the air three times with her index finger.

Three silver ripples spread outward from her. Wherever they passed, the agitated magical energy quieted like silk being smoothed flat.

But she did not lower her guard. Instead, she tucked both hands into her wide sleeves—an habitual gesture whenever she faced an unknown threat.

"Two basic protective spells... fused?"

She murmured to herself, more as if confirming an unbelievable fact. "During the very first casting?"

Zhao Yu finally raised his head.

A few strands of hair on his forehead were soaked with sweat, but his eyes were frighteningly bright.