Chapter 9

They were people who gripped their weapons tight. Their moves were simple, focused on bringing an opponent down in the shortest possible time.

Flourishes? Back and forth, it was nothing more than chopping, slashing, parrying, blocking. No matter how exquisite the variations, they could not escape that framework.

The essence lay in application, in the instinct honed through years upon years.

That required time. Vast amounts of time, settled and accumulated.

But that kid... it was as though he had no concept of "accumulation."

He had leaped straight into the river—not wading through it, but swallowing the current and the stones at the riverbed whole with an almost greedy speed.

Kamidar withdrew his hand, clenched his fist, then slowly released it.

His knuckles felt somewhat stiff.

All of a sudden, he felt that the empty wine cup in his hand was too heavy to hold.

Kamidar tasted the lingering wine on his tongue. At some point, its flavor had turned faintly bitter.

He set down the cup, realizing there was little left for him to teach.

The gathering did not last long.

After talking for a while, the sorcerers rose and left one after another.

Kamidar sat alone, as though an invisible weight rested on his shoulders.

At last, he stood and headed toward the elder's quarters.

Inside, music floated through the air like a thin veil.

Wong sat in a chair by the window, a heavy tome open across his knees, black wires hanging from his ears.

Though he studied ancient arts, he did not reject modern melodies—such as the songs of that powerful-voiced female singer.

Sensing someone approach, he raised a hand and removed one side of his headphones.

"Kamidar?"

Wong's voice was steady, with hardly any rise or fall.

He gestured for the visitor to sit opposite him.

"**Master."

Kamidar paused, as if weighing every word that followed. "I have considered this for a long time... perhaps Zhao Yu should study under you instead."

"And the reason?"

Wong lifted his gaze from the page. "You have always been one of the most respected instructors.

Giving up your own student is uncommon."

At Kamar-Taj, the bond between mentor and apprentice was far closer than usual.

It was not as absolute as the old tradition of "a master is like a father,"

but neither was it a relationship that could be easily cast aside.

Normally, apprentices in the foundational stage rarely changed instructors midway through.

Kamidar shook his head, a trace of helplessness showing on his face. "Precisely because of that, **Master, I am making this request."

He leaned forward slightly. "That child's talent... if he remains with me, I fear it will only limit his future.

My knowledge is enough to teach most people, but for him, perhaps it is no longer enough."

His fingertips unconsciously brushed across the edge of the parchment, producing a faint rustling sound.

He looked at the calm, unreadable face across from him, while the turmoil in his own chest had nowhere to settle.

Kamidar's request descended like a heavy stone.

He knew what that name represented.

It was an existence that left many instructors feeling powerless.

The light outside slanted across the tabletop, revealing every speck of dust in the air.

He remained silent for a long time, so long that he could hear the rhythm of his own breathing.

At last, he raised his eyes. No emotion could be heard in his voice. "Since that is your wish, let him come to me."

Kamidar seemed to let out a breath, his shoulders sinking ever so slightly. "Thank you."

He paused, a complicated note entering his tone. "I will tell him everything that needs to be said, then send him here to you.

This student... I truly can no longer guide him."

After saying that, he looked out the window toward some distant place.

For one who imparted knowledge, nothing was more precious than finding an uncut jade worth carving.

But when that jade shone so brilliantly that even the carving blade felt fear, all that remained was a profound sense of helplessness.

The man opposite him did not respond, merely nodding almost imperceptibly.

He understood the dilemma Kamidar had left unspoken.

What that child had displayed had long surpassed ordinary standards.

Even he himself could not shake the question of whether he could handle such dazzling talent.

Vast spiritual power and dominance in actual combat did not equate to complete mastery of ancient spells.

Some elders who had immersed themselves in magic for decades possessed vast accumulated knowledge and subtle understanding—depth of another kind.

What he himself relied upon was nothing more than several special inheritances obtained through fortunate circumstances.

How long could those inheritances sustain him? He had no answer.

But now that things had reached this point, there was no room to turn back.

"Let him come."

He repeated it once more, as if speaking to Kamidar, and also to himself.

A look of relief crossed Kamidar's face, mingled with regret.

He gave one final bow, turned, and left the room. His footsteps gradually faded in the empty corridor.

The one left behind sat alone at the boundary between light and shadow, his fingertips still rubbing the rough parchment.

The road ahead would likely not be smooth.

He looked at his open palm, which seemed already to feel the scorching, heavy warmth that was about to arrive.

Kamidar stood by the door, his fingertips unconsciously stroking the grain of the wood.

The light from outside cut in at an angle, turning the dust in the air into drifting flecks of gold.

He heard his own breathing, slow and heavy, like water-soaked leather.

This had to be done.

That young man—Zhao Yu—was crossing the courtyard at that very moment.

His footsteps drew closer, making a steady knocking sound on the stone path.

Kamidar turned and took tea leaves from a ceramic jar. The sound of hot water pouring into a cup covered the creak of the door turning on its hinges.

"You sent for me?"

Zhao Yu's voice carried the clear brightness unique to young men.

The old man did not answer immediately.

He pushed over a teacup and watched the steam coil upward, forming a hazy barrier between them. "Your time here has been short."

As he spoke, his finger traced circles along the rim of the cup. "So short, like the instant before morning dew evaporates."

Zhao Yu leaned forward slightly.

Kamidar noticed the veins standing out on the back of his hand as he clenched his fist.

"But I can no longer teach you."

As those words left his mouth, the old man avoided Zhao Yu's eyes.

He stared at the tea leaves gradually unfurling in the cup, their curled green forms sinking little by little to the bottom.

"Why?"

The young man's voice tightened, like a string suddenly twisted half a turn too far. "Did I do something wrong?"

Wrong? Kamidar nearly smiled bitterly.

The problem was that everything had gone too right.

Every spell demonstration, the child could reproduce after seeing it once; every explanation of a principle, he could always raise an angle that even the tomes had never recorded.

That kind of talent was like a mirror too bright to look into.

An old man's fragile heart truly could not bear such constant, soundless blows.

"Kamar-Taj is not a secluded garden."

He changed his phrasing, lowering his voice to a whisper. "Every spell we cultivate ultimately serves one purpose—protection.

You have mastered the foundations. Now, it is time to learn how to turn knowledge into a shield and a spear."

The chanting of distant apprentices drifted in from the courtyard, its monotonous rhythm surging into the room like a tide.

Kamidar lifted his own cup of tea, which had long gone cold, and tasted the bitterness left by leaves steeped too long.

The corners of Kamidar's mouth lifted slightly.

"These things,"

he said, "are not what I am particularly good at."

Zhao Yu straightened.

He understood what those words meant.

Here, at Kamar-Taj, people learned far more than knowledge from books.

The air was always filled with tension, like a bowstring being slowly drawn taut.

Every morning, what echoed through the courtyard was never the sound of recitation, but the dull rush of fists and feet cutting through the air and sharp shouts.

Even Doctor Strange, who would later become renowned, had first learned how to block and throw a punch before truly touching those mysterious powers.

Magic? That was only part of the training.

What lay deeper concerned survival, concerned battle.

"I understand."

Zhao Yu's voice lowered, touched by an almost imperceptible disappointment. "Master, that is truly regrettable.

I had hoped to remain under your guidance for a little longer."

Those words stirred complicated feelings in the old man standing opposite him.

On one hand, he was gratified to have such a quick-witted apprentice; on the other, a faint sense of defeat gnawed at him.

If this young man stayed by his side any longer, he would truly have nothing left to teach him. For an instructor, that would be a severe blow to his confidence.

Letting Zhao Yu leave now and study under someone else made his chest feel tight.

But he quickly took a breath and pressed those emotions back down. "There is no need for that, Zhao Yu."

His tone returned to calm. "Everyone who comes here must eventually find a combat guide suited to them.

Remaining with one's first mentor forever is not Kamar-Taj's tradition."

"Then,"

Zhao Yu raised his eyes and asked tentatively, "who will my next mentor be?"

He truly wanted to know.

Who would take over his instruction? Several names flashed through his mind, and he silently hoped it would not be Kaecilius, whose eyes always seemed to conceal gloom.

Getting too deeply involved with someone like that might bring unnecessary trouble in the future.

"Wong."

Kamidar gave him the answer, seemingly seeing through his momentary tension. "He is one of Kamar-Taj's most respected **Masters.

And,"

he paused before adding, "he comes from the same land as you.

He will look after you."

Hearing that, Zhao Yu's tense shoulders relaxed.

After Kamidar informed him, accepting the change of mentor became a natural matter.

To avoid affecting the other apprentices' mindsets, he no longer needed to attend the group morning lessons and would continue training directly under Wong—though Kamidar had put it far more tactfully, saying only that Zhao Yu had completed the current stage and no longer needed to practice alongside everyone else.

Before dawn had filtered through the window lattice, Zhao Yu was already up.

He wanted to leave the sorcerer with a good first impression.

Wong was one of the few figures at Kamar-Taj honored with the title of **Master. Even Kaecilius, who would later fall into darkness, had once been defeated by him.

His power was enough to make those arrogant invaders of the universe retreat in defeat.

Before someone like that, caution was necessary.

When he arrived at Wong's quarters, the door was slightly ajar.

The person inside seemed to have anticipated his arrival and was waiting for him.

The moment he appeared, a deep voice came from within. "Come in."

"Greetings, **Master."

Zhao Yu lowered his head in greeting.

"Sit."

The other man showed little expression, merely nodding.

Zhao Yu was not surprised—Wong had a naturally stern face and always looked angry, but those who knew him understood the warmth and sincerity in his heart.

"Kamidar should have told you."

Wong skipped the pleasantries and went straight to the point. "From today onward, you will train under me."

"Yes, **Master."

Zhao Yu dipped his chin.

Wong's gaze lingered on his face for a moment, as though assessing the quality of an ore.

A short, approving grunt came from his throat before he finally spoke. "I know you were born with gifts that others lack."

He spoke slowly, each word as though ground through a stone mortar. "And I can see that you value those gifts above everything else."

He paused, his gaze passing over Zhao Yu's shoulder into the distant void, as though countless dimmed stars were displayed there. "But I have seen too many people like you.

In the end, those who make it to the level of 'Master' can be counted on one hand."

His eyes shifted back, locking onto Zhao Yu again. "Have you ever thought about why?"

"Please enlighten me, Teacher."

Zhao Yu inclined his head slightly, keeping his voice steady.

The gesture seemed to please Wang.

The lines at the corners of his mouth loosened slightly. "Because they trusted themselves too much."

He said it with a trace of cold hardness in his tone. "They always wanted to meddle with things they had no business touching, to provoke enemies they could never afford to provoke.

Listen, you can trust the skills in your own hands, but don't let that trust become a crown on your head, pressing your neck stiff and leaving your eyes fixed only on the sky."

He moved half a step forward, his shadow covering half of Zhao Yu's body. "In a real fight, it was never simply the stronger man who walked away alive.

The mages of Kamar-Taj did not stand on the soil of a greenhouse, but on loose gravel at the edge of a cliff.

Their next step might miss the ground entirely."