Over the weekend, Zhang Xiao slipped out first thing in the morning. He had no choice-with how well-known and popular he was at school, even second- and third-year girls had started giving him coy looks.
What are you thinking, girl? I'm only eleven! How can you even consider that?
After turning down a whole host of student groups, including the Gobstones Club and various Quidditch clubs, Zhang Xiao felt that this sort of thing would only become more frequent. He had to take action.
Although his Hogwarts classes were easy for him, he still had his self-study lessons from Dragon-Tiger Mountain. As he progressed deeper into Meditation, the point where all eight characters would light up was clearly not far off.
He needed somewhere quiet where no one would disturb him. As soon as that thought occurred to him, the first place that came to mind was the Room of Requirement, a must-visit spot at Hogwarts.
Upon reaching the castle's Seventh Floor, Zhang Xiao immediately spotted the enormous tapestry.
It depicted several trolls in ballet costumes raising their clubs to beat a wizard who was also dressed for ballet.
This was the tapestry of trolls clubbing Barnabas the Barmy.
Zhang Xiao admired the tapestry for a while, then stood before the bare wall opposite it, closed his eyes, and silently repeated:
I need a quiet place to practice magic.
After repeating this three times, Zhang Xiao opened his eyes. A broad door had appeared before him.
The door bore intricate patterns and had an air of age, as though weathered by the passage of time.
He pushed it open and walked inside. The first thing he saw was a small, open practice area, about half the size of a basketball court.
Rows of human-sized dummies stood along the side. Some wore iron armor, some wore leather, and others wore nothing at all, exposing their bare wooden bodies.
Stacks of thick mats surrounded the practice area. The room had no windows, but soft light filled every corner, making it exceptionally comfortable.
Square tiles covered the floor, and he could faintly make out what seemed to be strange writing flowing across them.
Is this the Room of Requirement's protective magic? Because I wanted to practice spells? Zhang Xiao rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
In his previous life, there had been plenty of theories about the Room of Requirement, broadly divided into a few schools of thought. But Zhang Xiao had little interest in uncovering its secrets.
As long as it works, why dig into every last detail?
He drew his wand and went through all the spells he already knew. Zhang Xiao found that his wand seemed a little reluctant to cast protective magic.
But when he cast offensive spells, it grew so excited that it practically switched to vibrate mode. It all but shouted, "Jam me straight into that bastard's head! Today, I'm going all out-let me stir up some shit!"
Like a certain Slytherin predecessor, he had chosen Protego and Stupefy as his main spells, though he also practiced others, such as Impedimenta and Expelliarmus.
Searing spells streaked through the air in dazzling flashes and struck the targets, sending the poor things flying in every direction.
But soon, drawn together by some mysterious force, the targets repaired themselves and returned to their original positions.
They even raised their wooden arms with a series of creaks and made a taunting gesture.
How could I let that slide?
Zhang Xiao raised his wand, rattling off incantations as fast as someone reciting a menu, switching constantly between spells. As he did, he could distinctly feel himself growing more familiar with them.
Sometimes, cleverness alone could not provide a shortcut. He had learned that in his previous life. Talent determined how quickly you rose, but effort ultimately determined how high you reached.
"Stupefy!"
After hitting the target with his spell, a panting Zhang Xiao slowly sat down on a mat.
His wand hand shook uncontrollably. Sweat had soaked his black hair, leaving strands plastered to his forehead.
He had long since tossed his black Slytherin robes aside. His white shirt was drenched until it was translucent and clung to his body.
He took out a chart, pulled the cap off a ballpoint pen with his teeth, and slowly entered a number in one of the little boxes.
Thirty-six! That was the number of spells he could cast without stopping, and his limit. Ever since the day he received his wand, Zhang Xiao had been keeping track of how many spells he could cast.
There really was something unusual going on. As far as he knew, a young wizard's magic grew year by year. Excluding special phenomena such as bursts of accidental magic, the overall curve should rise smoothly.
The Daoist Order was much the same. Although it had methods for refining qi, progress was extremely slow. Otherwise, there would not have been so many crooked paths and unorthodox practices.
But the numbers on his chart told a different story. Though the overall trend was still upward, the jumps were quite pronounced, producing a staircase-shaped curve.
He picked out the dates of each sudden rise. Something shared by all those days must have caused his magic to increase.
Zhang Xiao's eyes lit up. Could it be... sitting in Meditation?
The Mystic Order's Meditation differed considerably from ordinary meditation. Generally, meditation and similar practices involved a state of profound relaxation and could even serve as a form of rest.
But the Daoist Order's true seated Meditation sought fierce movement within utter stillness, using that movement to explore the mysteries of the Dao. Like the yin-yang fish, utmost stillness gave birth to movement, and utmost movement gave birth to stillness. All things carried yin upon their backs and embraced yang.
That made seated Meditation extremely mentally taxing. Zhang Xiao did not enter this true state of contemplating the Dao every day, usually managing it about twice a week.
His sample was still too small. He would need more data before he could determine whether the sudden increases in his spell count had anything to do with seated Meditation.
If that's really the case... wouldn't the winning formula be a blend of East and West? Excelling in both culture and sports... pfft, no, both Daoist arts and magic?
That tiny improvement was not to be underestimated. It was practically unimaginable, because most people had no way to increase their magic beyond waiting for time to pass.
Even an increase of one part in a thousand each time would accumulate into a staggering figure over the years, because it compounded!
He took a small jade bottle from his Heaven and Earth Bag, tipped out a little stamina-restoring pill, and tossed it into his mouth, quietly feeling it dissolve with remarkable speed into a sweet liquid that flowed into his stomach.
Zhang Xiao suddenly thought of Professor Snape. If he saw this Eastern method of brewing "potions," he would probably be very interested, wouldn't he?
Unfortunately, trying to learn too much would leave him mastering nothing. He would leave pill-making alone. Given his father's position, he was destined never to lack such things anyway.
After he had rested for a while, the crackle of spells once again filled the room. Only by constantly pushing his potential to its limits could he climb higher peaks and see sights that others could not.
He would shut out every distraction, focus his entire being on approaching that purity, and then surpass himself!
By the time Zhang Xiao left the Room of Requirement, night had completely enveloped the sky. He staggered back to his dormitory, struggled through a shower, and collapsed onto his bed.
Though both his mind and body had reached their limits, Zhang Xiao could not help smiling.
It felt wonderful to have nothing else to consider and devote himself wholeheartedly to a single task.
What a fulfilling day...
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