Nepal, Kamar-Taj.
Not long ago, Stephen Strange, who had just arrived to study magic, displayed his astonishingly powerful intellect.
Bang!
Strange slapped a thick stack of introductory magic books onto the table.
Wong looked up and gave him a stern glance.
"You borrowed these books less than two days ago," Wong said.
"I've already finished them." Strange patted the covers.
"Finished them?" Wong frowned. "Magic isn't something you can master by merely flipping through pages."
"I memorized everything." Strange pointed at his head. "I have a photographic memory. That little talent earned me doctorates in both medicine and philosophy."
Unconvinced, Wong casually opened a copy of Basic Sigils of the Vishanti and selected several obscure passages of incantation for questioning.
"In the sacred geometric construction of the Vishanti, where are the magical nodes distributed in the third-layer spell array?"
"With the caster at the center and the twelve o'clock direction as the primary axis, auxiliary nodes are placed at three, six, and nine o'clock. The flow of energy must follow a counterclockwise principle, or it will trigger a magical backlash."
Without even a second's pause, Strange gave the perfect answer.
Wong fell silent.
He stared at Strange for a full ten seconds before finally saying, "Come with me."
Wong turned and headed deeper into the library.
Strange rose and followed him, a victor's smile on his lips.
Along the way, Strange casually asked, "What's your name?"
"Wong."
Wong was a man of few words.
"Just Wong? No surname?"
Strange pressed on.
Wong remained silent.
"Like Adele? Or Beyoncé?" Strange raised an eyebrow.
Wong looked utterly bewildered. "Who is Beyoncé?"
"You don't know Beyoncé?" Strange's eyes widened. "Man, you need to listen to more of her music. You'll love her."
Expressionless, Wong turned around and led Strange through the first-floor corridor