Chapter 8

Zhao Yu answered, "Yes."

He raised his right hand, the Sling Ring gleaming with a cold metallic sheen in the faint light filtering through the window.

His fingers traced a circle through the air—steady, fluid, without the slightest hesitation of a beginner.

A golden portal bloomed at once, tiny sparks dancing along its rim. The scene within was clearly visible: a messy bed, books spread across a table—a corner of his quarters.

The portal continued to spin without the slightest tremor.

Kamidar watched until the portal was dismissed with a wave.

He nodded slowly, as if confirming something he had long expected.

"Don't let its ease of use make you careless."

He looked at Zhao Yu again, enunciating every word clearly. "This is different from those little tricks before.

When you pass through that doorway, if your attention drifts for even an instant, or if the flow of magic becomes unstable—"

He paused, letting his next words sink into the air. "Part of your body may remain on the other side forever."

Under normal circumstances, such accidents were exceedingly rare.

But he still said it. Perhaps because this young man before him always made "normal"

lose all meaning.

This was an entry-level spell.

Kamidar's fingers hovered in midair, faint ripples spreading around his fingertips like reflections on water disturbed by the wind.

He paused for a moment, his gaze turning to the young man standing beside him.

Battles never unfolded according to the expected script—he had to make Zhao Yu remember that.

"I understand, Master."

As Zhao Yu replied, his gaze remained fixed on the lingering streams of light.

It was more than a door. He knew that.

At certain times, it could also become a blade.

Experienced spellcasters knew how to use it to cut through an enemy's defenses, even their limbs.

Space itself could become sharp enough to sever anything. With even the slightest carelessness, what one lost might be more than just an arm.

Naturally, he would not make such a mistake.

Even if Kamidar had said nothing, he had already tensed every nerve.

Only after the glow of the portal had completely faded did Kamidar allow himself to release the breath he had been holding for so long.

Teaching a genius was practically a constant drain.

He did not know that many spells himself, yet he had to keep pulling things out to deal with a student who learned at terrifying speed.

If not for his age and broad store of miscellaneous knowledge, he would probably have been drained dry long ago.

"How much longer can I keep this up..."

He muttered under his breath, pushing open the door and walking into the corridor.

Kamar-Taj was nearly the size of a small town.

Amid the buildings with blue-tiled roofs and wooden eaves lay countless traces of modern life—even the sign of an internet café glowed at the turn of an alley.

Restaurants and dining halls always carried delicious aromas, but today he only wanted a drink.

The sorcerers received generous stipends. After all, those who wielded extraordinary power rarely had to worry about money.

He walked down the stone steps, his sleeve brushing against half-withered vines along the wall.

A small tavern not far away glowed with warm yellow light, like a sleepy eye in the night.

When the tavern's wooden door was pushed open, the bronze bell beneath the eaves chimed softly.

Kamidar turned sideways and squeezed into the warm, noisy interior. The edge of his sheepskin cloak scraped the doorframe, knocking off a few grains of snow left from the night before.

Several familiar faces emerged through the smoke.

"You're late."

A hoarse voice came from the corner.

Agrippa tapped the oak tabletop with his knuckles, mead rippling in deep golden rings inside his clay cup. "The sun's already leaning west."

Kamidar did not reply.

He passed two crowded benches, his boots stepping over old pine resin stains on the floor, and stopped before an empty seat against the wall.

As he removed his cloak, he caught sight of several apprentice-looking youths at the next table arguing in hushed voices over spell gestures—the corner where the scholarly faction often gathered.

The air was filled with the scorched fragrance of baked wheat cakes, mixed with the sour, aged scent unique to old parchment.

"Did a student tie you up?"

Someone sitting diagonally across from him sneered.

It was a thin-cheeked sorcerer with unwashed indigo ink stains on his cuffs.

Kamidar finally sat down.

The bench let out an overloaded creak. "My apprentice,"

he said, accepting the clay cup pushed toward him, its warm surface immediately heating his palm, "formed a complete set of Bands of Cyttorak in just three attempts this morning."

The smoke seemed to fall silent for a moment.

Agrippa's raised cup paused in midair.

The flecks of light trembling on the surface of the mead froze at the rim like solidified amber. "Three attempts?"

His Adam's apple bobbed. "How long have you been teaching him?"

"Seven days."

Kamidar let the liquor slide slowly across his tongue.

After the cloying sweetness of honey came a bitter aftertaste like plant ash—the drink had been watered down, and not skillfully.

Several muffled mutters came from the other end of the table.

The ink-stained sorcerer turned away and stared blankly at the firewood crackling in the hearth.

The firelight illuminated the fine lines at the corners of his eyes, and those lines twisted slightly with the flickering shadows.

"Who doesn't have a few promising students?"

The man who had sneered earlier spoke again, though his voice had lowered, as if he were trying to convince himself.

He rubbed the rough outer wall of his clay cup hard, his fingertips making a faint rasping sound.

Kamidar did not argue further.

His gaze swept across the tavern. Wong's usual seat by the window was empty, several thick tomes still stacked at the corner of the table beneath faded blue cloth. Farther away, Kaecilius's faction gathered in the darkest booth, with occasional excited whispers leaking out before being quickly swallowed by the noise.

Oil lamps hanging from the ceiling beams cast dim yellow halos, stretching and breaking apart the figures of people until they merged into a swaying dark river across the floor.

He withdrew his gaze and felt the temperature of the clay cup gradually cool.

Outside the tavern came the crisp sound of wind and snow snapping dead branches, once, then again, like some slow count.

Gry's voice rose from the crowd.

He mentioned a name—Agul—saying he was his student.

Half a year. In merely half a year, the young man had mastered the use of Magic Shield and worked through two difficult theoretical tomes.

"Agul,"

someone nearby echoed, approval in his tone. "That child really has some skill."

Several robed figures around them nodded in agreement.

Magic Shield was practically the introductory lesson for everyone new to this path. Most people needed half a year before they could wield that energy barrier as easily as an arm.

Half a year, while both taming flowing magic and digesting two complex systems of knowledge... Such a promising student was worth a closer look no matter what.

After all, even Master Kaecilius had taken a full three months back then.

That alone showed how difficult it was.

A soft scoff came from the corner.

It was Kaecilius.

Half a year? The curve of his lips was full of undisguised contempt.

Was that level really worth boasting about? These old fools before him had all reached the age when they should set down their staffs and enjoy a quiet life. Their greatest pleasure these days was probably comparing their students.

Seeing Gry draw a chorus of amazed exclamations with just a few words, he found it unbearably dull.

"Kamidar."

Gry noticed that laugh, as well as the expression on the other man's face.

The envious looks around him had pleased him greatly, but now they felt like needles pricking him. "What does that expression of yours mean?"

"It means something simple, Gry."

The named sorcerer raised his eyes. His tone was calm, yet carried a sharpness unlike his usual self. "You're too easily satisfied.

You treat learning a few basics in half a year like a treasure? If I told you about the apprentice under my charge—"

He paused, his gaze sweeping over the crowd that had fallen silent in an instant.

"You'd probably be too shocked to say a word."

The statement was like a pebble dropped into still water.

Kamidar had always been known among them for his good temper. He rarely argued with anyone, and even more rarely displayed such sharpness.

The moment he spoke, he captured everyone's attention.

"Kamidar,"

another booming voice rang out. It was Agrippa, who loved excitement. "You think your apprentice is better? Then tell us and let everyone see!"

"Hmph."

Kamidar gently set the cup he had been holding on the table with a crisp sound. "Then I'll tell you what truly deserves to be called genius."

He looked around and slowly spoke the name.

"My student, Zhao Yu."

"How long did he take to learn Magic Shield?"

As his words fell, the sorcerers around them exchanged glances, whispers rustling between the stone walls.

"Since Kamidar dared to step forward,"

Agrippa's voice overwhelmed the low discussion, "I'd guess four months."

Several heads nodded in agreement.

Since Kamidar had spoken up on his own, his apprentice had to be stronger than Gry's.

Kamidar listened to their guesses, the corners of his lips curling into an almost mocking arc.

He said nothing. He merely slowly raised his right hand and held up three fingers.

The air froze for an instant.

Then sharp inhales and the creak of shifting chairs shattered the silence.

"Three months?"

Someone blurted out, "Th-this is already on par with Master Kaecilius's record back then."

"If it really was three months, then that would indeed be rare talent."

Kamidar's gaze swept over face after face filled with astonishment.

Suddenly, he felt a subtle sense of detachment, as though he stood high above, looking down at frogs at the bottom of a well.

It felt like a noble catching sight of a vulgar village woman who had wandered into a grand feast.

The smile at his lips deepened, carrying some unspoken meaning.

"Who said three months?"

His voice was not loud, but it brought every whisper to an abrupt stop. "It was three days."

The stone chamber erupted.

"Absurd!"

"Absolutely impossible!"

Three months was still within the bounds of comprehension, but three days? That had already surpassed common sense.

Even the legendary Sorcerer Supreme might not have possessed such terrifying speed.

Gry let out a cold snort through his nose. "Kamidar, what's the point of making up such lies?"

He dragged out his words, each one steeped in bitterness. "We're only teaching apprentices. Why insist on competing over who is better?"

A chorus of agreeing mutters rose around them.

"Exactly. Why say something so outrageous?"

"Learn Magic Shield in three days? I'd rather swallow this stone table."

Kamidar watched his old friends' flushed faces and their waving arms, and an icy sense of superiority rose in his chest.

He leaned back slightly against the chair, letting that confident smile remain on his face.

Ignorant mortals.

The cup turned halfway between his fingers, amber liquid scattering fine glimmers of light.

He swallowed a mouthful, his Adam's apple moving, and did not look again at those gaping faces around him.

"I didn't make up a story."

His voice was low, yet it suppressed every whisper. "If you don't believe me, ask Wong yourselves.

He knows."

Several robed figures exchanged glances, their fingers unconsciously rubbing the rims of their cups.

Someone set a cup down on the wooden table with a dull knock.

"Three days... Magic Shield?"

The one sitting in the corner spoke first, his final syllable drifting upward as though he dared not let it land.

The person beside him shook his head, fabric rustling softly. "Human? Impossible."

"Three days."

Someone else repeated it, as if trying to chew the words apart. "That defies reason."

"Could a monster really have come to this place...?"

"Absolutely impossible."

The rebuttal was firm, but it lost steam on the last word. "Three days... That doesn't make sense."

Kamidar listened to the hushed, bewildered murmurs and tugged at the corner of his mouth.

It was not quite a smile, more a weary sort of mockery.

He tipped back his head and drained the last of the wine from his cup.

The icy liquid slid down his throat, but it could not quench the complicated fire in his heart.

If they knew that kid had not only chewed through the Magic Shield, but had also picked apart most of the principles behind the Portal, what expressions would they make? They probably wouldn't even be able to hold their cups steady.

He set down the empty cup. Its ceramic base struck the table with a crisp clink.

The surrounding gazes remained fixed on him, probing and incredulous.

He ignored them, letting his eyes fall upon his open palm. How many apprentices had these hands taught? He could not remember.

But this was the first time he had been hounded and pressed so hard that he had nearly emptied out everything he knew.

Kamar-Taj, the sacred land.

The name sounded imposing, but what truly flowed through the veins of most mages was less the mystery of arcane spells than the instinct for battle.

Energy became shields, whips, and sparks that tore through space.