Chapter 48

And "Will"

.

They were not forces to be controlled, but more like tenants who had temporarily reached an agreement.

When stray thoughts fell silent, and a particular "existence"

was precisely "touched"

and "borrowed"

by his mind, the corresponding phenomenon naturally manifested.

Like breathing.

He did not even need to move; magic flowed on its own.

To him, it was as natural as breathing.

Strange froze, and Mordo stiffened as well.

The way he looked at Zhao Yu was as if he had heard some absurd joke.

But there was not the slightest trace of jest on Zhao Yu's face.

Strange suddenly realized—

Perhaps, in the other man's eyes, this really was effortless.

Simple?

Hearing that word only made him want to laugh bitterly.

How was this simple?

Standing to the side, Mordo nearly roared inwardly.

Were Kamar-Taj's complicated rituals and gestures not meant to help sorcerers focus their minds? It was one thing that Zhao Yu did not need hand signs, but now he did not even need to lift a finger?

This had already surpassed common sense.

Even the Sorcerer Supreme needed the guidance of gestures when casting spells.

Cast aside stray thoughts and focus completely—it sounded easy enough.

But when it came to actually doing it, how could it possibly be easy?

"Strange, you are someone chosen by the Sorcerer Supreme."

"This little matter should be nothing to you, right?"

Zhao Yu's voice was calm.

Before his words had even faded, several crimson shields appeared again. Like a swarm of butterflies drawn by invisible threads, they lightly circled around him.

The corner of Strange's mouth twitched slightly.

Watching Zhao Yu's relaxed manner, as though it took not the slightest effort, Mordo's eyes widened so much they nearly popped from their sockets.

At that moment, his heart was not much calmer than Strange's, who was on the verge of collapse.

How could a basic defensive spell be used to such an extent?

This simply defied reason.

And he expected Strange to do it too, while saying it was easy—

Was that something an ordinary person could do?

No matter what, Strange was still human.

And Zhao Yu... was he really still human?

Could a being of flesh and blood truly achieve that degree of control?

Something close to a roar churned in Mordo's chest.

He stared at that figure, his nails nearly digging into his palms.

Strange turned his gaze toward him then, his voice trembling with uncertainty. "Master... Master Mordo, can you use spells like that too?"

"Zhao Yu was taught by me."

Mordo lifted his chin, keeping his tone as steady as possible. "Since even he can do it so easily, I see no need to demonstrate it again."

He maintained his posture, but it felt as though something had clenched his stomach hard.

Cast spells like that? Even the Sorcerer Supreme himself might not be able to do so so casually.

This had gone beyond what common sense could explain. That young man could not be measured as an ordinary genius—he was practically some inhuman existence.

The last trace of pride faded from Strange.

He had once firmly believed that he possessed an exceptional mind, but during his days at Kamar-Taj, a cold realization had gradually drowned him.

According to those two sorcerers, the principles behind the earliest spells should have been simple and easy to understand. Yet why, after exhausting all his focus, could he not even maintain the most basic construct? Someone could summon a Light Wheel without moving a finger, while he could not even sustain a simple spark.

Could the gap truly be this vast?

Doubt wrapped around his heart like vines.

It was not that he had never questioned whether the words of those two demonstrators were true, but the facts lay before him: magic flowed freely in their hands, while its door remained tightly shut to him.

What exactly was going on?

For several days in a row, Strange could barely sleep.

The face in the mirror grew thinner by the day, dark shadows gathering beneath his eyes.

When the familiar sound of footsteps rang over the training ground's stone slabs, Master Mordo and the young man from the East were already standing there.

Morning light slanted across the courtyard, stretching their shadows long.

"Have you found that feeling?"

Mordo asked, his voice as steady as wind brushing over stone steps.

Strange merely shook his head.

He raised his slightly trembling hands, looked down at them, then quickly looked away. "No."

The word left his mouth dry as gravel scraping together. "Still no."

"You need not apologize."

Mordo stepped closer, the hem of his robe making almost no sound. "The key lies in concentration.

Gather everything rushing through your mind, like drawing scattered sand together, into a single point.

Other than that point, nothing else exists."

Strange had heard those words many times.

The principle sounded as simple as describing how water froze, but actually doing it was like trying to push a boulder with his breath.

Something cold and nearly despairing lay heavy in his chest.

Perhaps he would never touch that threshold in his lifetime.

He turned and walked toward the marked clearing, beginning to repeat the dull movements that had long since been carved into his muscles.

Watching his stiff back, Mordo tilted his head slightly.

An invisible ripple spread from his fingertips, enveloping him and Zhao Yu beside him. The sounds outside immediately became muffled and distant.

"How much longer do you think he needs?"

Mordo's voice sounded especially clear within the barrier.

Zhao Yu's gaze did not leave the figure repeatedly trying in the field. "In his current state? Hard to say.

His mind is full of things he once believed without question, like a wall that is too thick.

And..."

He paused. "Those hands remind him of pain every moment, distracting his mind.

If this continues, even years may be wasted."

"We cannot wait that long."

Mordo's brows drew together almost imperceptibly. "That would be wasteful."

At that moment, the corner of Zhao Yu's mouth curved faintly. "Perhaps..."

He lowered his voice, as if speaking to the shadows at his feet. "We can give him a push."

"Specifically, how?"

Mordo's voice was very low.

Only after tapping his fingertips on the wooden table did Zhao Yu continue. "Send him to the summit of Mount Everest.

When people are about to die, they can learn anything."

"Absurd."

Mordo immediately refuted him. "Kamar-Taj has no such precedent.

Near death will only scatter one's awareness. It is impossible to focus enough to cast a spell."

"How will we know if we do not try?"

Zhao Yu turned his head. "With us watching over him, nothing will happen."

"This is not how teaching should be done."

Mordo stood up, his shadow falling into the corner of the wall.

"Strange is different from other apprentices."

Zhao Yu stood as well, his voice steady. "Wasting his talent would be the greatest irresponsibility."

Silence spread through the room.

Mordo finally relented. "...You must guarantee his absolute safety."

"Of course."

The corner of Zhao Yu's mouth lifted.

He turned and walked toward the courtyard.

Strange was still repeating the hand gestures, sweat covering his forehead.

"Stop."

Zhao Yu patted his shoulder. "I'm taking you somewhere."

"Now? Where?"

Strange panted, his eyes full of confusion.

Zhao Yu did not answer. He merely raised a hand and drew a circle.

Orange sparks burst forth, rapidly spinning into a ring.

A biting wind immediately rushed through from the other side, carrying ice crystals and thin air.

Strange had no choice but to step through after him.

The instant he passed through that halo, bone-piercing cold wrapped around his entire body.

He instinctively tightened his arms around himself. A suffocating pressure rose in his chest, and every breath became short and laborious.

As his vision gradually cleared, the harsh outlines of endless snow-covered peaks emerged in the thin air. "...Mount Everest?"

He heard the question tremble from his own lips.

"Exactly."

Zhao Yu's voice sounded steadily, as though the surrounding cold and thin air had no effect on him at all.

He even smiled faintly.

Looking into the distance, Strange had to admit that the sight before him was breathtaking.

Pure white covered jagged ridges, gleaming with a faint blue beneath the thin daylight. It was so beautiful that it made one forget the difficulty of breathing. "It really is... beautiful."

He murmured.

"Beauty often exists alongside danger."

Zhao Yu continued, his tone devoid of emotion. "Dozens of degrees below zero, thin oxygen—ordinary people cannot last here for more than a few minutes.

Strange, you have one hundred and twenty seconds.

Remember, focus your mind."

As his words fell, that golden ring of light spun open before Zhao Yu once more.

Without looking back, he walked straight through it.

"Wait—"

Strange's cry was left behind as the Portal silently closed, as if it had never existed.

Now, only he and this silent, deadly world of ice and snow remained.

In Kamar-Taj's courtyard, Zhao Yu stepped out from a ring of sparks.

Mordo, who had been waiting there all along, immediately went to meet him, obvious agitation locked between his brows.

"How is it?"

"Master, please be patient."

Zhao Yu's answer was brief.

Mordo took a deep breath and forced himself to stand still.

Time crawled slowly through the silence, each second drawn out.

Several minutes passed, yet the anticipated Portal did not appear.

"Zhao Yu, bring him back!"

Mordo raised his voice. "This is too risky. It cannot possibly succeed!"

He raised his hand, sparks already bursting from his fingertips as he prepared to open a passage himself.

Just then, the air before them trembled.

Fine golden sparks erupted out of nowhere, rapidly spinning into a ring.

A figure stumbled out of the halo and nearly fell to the ground—Strange had returned, looking utterly disheveled.

Mordo's pupils suddenly widened.

The trembling from his fingertips nearly made him lose his grip on his magical artifact.

He had succeeded? He had actually succeeded? This completely contradicted every record in the ancient texts and exceeded everything he had accumulated over thirty years of training.

A dying person's consciousness should have been like a shattered glass cup, fragments scattering everywhere. How could it possibly gather into a sharp needle?

He remembered the moments of death he had witnessed.

In the murky breaths, fragments of memory churned uncontrollably, like a ship tossed about in a storm.

How could anyone precisely find and tighten the valve of the mind amid such chaos?

His gaze swept over the floor.

Strange lay there, the rise and fall of his chest faint but steady.

Zhao Yu stood beside him, without even a ripple of surprise on his face.

These two... Mordo felt that familiar throbbing pain at his temples.

One Strange was already enough to overturn all common sense. Zhao Yu, meanwhile, seemed to stand on the other shore of reason, calmly watching it all unfold.

How had he foreseen it? They had met only a handful of times, and their conversations could be counted on one hand.

How could Zhao Yu be so certain of turning to Strange's page, as though leafing through a book he had read long ago? It made no sense.

Could such a being truly exist in this world—someone who could not only effortlessly seize the flame of knowledge himself, but also precisely pass that flame into another pair of hands? A genius among students was understandable, but a born guide? The thought alone made Mordo feel dizzy.

He drew a deep breath of air thick with the smell of ancient parchment and dust, but it could not dispel that jarring sense of alienation.

He felt like a musician who had always played strictly by the score, suddenly thrown into a duet between two improvisational geniuses, unable even to catch the beat.

The cold had once pierced every inch of Strange's skin like countless steel needles.

At the roof of the world, death's breath had nearly frozen his heartbeat.

Yet it was precisely beneath the crushing pressure of that endless whiteness and deathly silence that something inside him went "click."

It snapped into place.

A ring, trailing tiny sparks, was born with difficulty between his stiff fingers, driving away the lethal cold.

That was a beginning.

From then on, the syllables of spells, the paths of gestures, and the currents of energy were no longer chaotic mysteries to him.

They began to arrange and combine themselves, like the complex surgical procedures he had once mastered with ease.

His progress was dazzlingly fast.

Fortunately, Mordo thought, he had already witnessed Zhao Yu's inhuman speed. Looking at Strange now, amid his shock, he even found himself growing somewhat numb to it.

In the empty stone chamber of the training ground,

the three stood facing one another once more **.

The ever-burning torches on the walls stretched their shadows long, twisting them together.

"Your steps are swift, Strange."

Mordo's voice echoed faintly between the stone walls. He tried to keep his tone steady. "You have already mastered quite a bit of the basic framework."