Strange stood on the training field for the entire morning.
His left hand, adorned with the Sling Ring, repeatedly drew circles in the air, occasionally igniting clusters of orange sparks, but each time they remained only at the level of weak Mars, never managing to form a truly stable portal.
His fingers were no longer as stiff as they had been at the beginning, and his movements were much smoother than a few days ago, but every time he was about to succeed, his fingertips would unconsciously tighten.
Lynn leaned against the stone wall, watching this scene unfold. He didn't offer any corrections, nor did he try to guide Strange with various metaphors as he had done in the past few days. He simply watched quietly as Strange failed time and time again, watching his still slightly trembling hands trace increasingly anxious arcs in the air.
He knew where the problem lay. Strange had grasped the underlying logic of magic, mastered the basic techniques of magical resonance, and could even stably maintain the simultaneous operation of multiple runes.
But the surgeon's inherent belief still lingered in his subconscious: he had to be in control of everything.
Every cut must be precise to the millimeter, and every move must be flawless.
This almost instinctive desire for control was his weapon when he was performing surgery, but it became his greatest obstacle when he was learning magic.
A portal isn't something that can be opened with precise control; it's opened by sensing and guiding the flow of energy.
The prerequisite for guidance is to let go of the desire for control.
Lynn placed her teacup on the stone table and sighed softly.
He had intended to guide Strange to understand more gently, but now it seemed that a gentler approach was too slow for the former surgeon.
He needed a more direct and impactful experience.
However, he didn't want to follow the Ancient One leaving people stranded on the snow-covered Mount Everest; that approach was too outdated.
He walked up to Strange and gestured for him to stop. "Take a break. Your fingers are about to cramp."
Strange lowered his arm and stretched his aching wrist. His breathing was rapid, a thin layer of sweat appeared on his forehead, and his eyes held a complex mix of frustration and resentment.
"I don't understand. I completely understand how the portal works; I know it requires guidance, not control. When I was drawing the circles, I kept telling myself to relax, not to exert force, and to let it flow on its own. But every time it comes to the final moment..."
He looked down at his trembling fingers. "They just won't respond to me."
It wasn't that it didn't respond to you. You stopped it at the last minute.
Lynn's tone wasn't serious, but it certainly didn't sound like he was offering comfort. "You say you're relaxing, but your subconscious won't let go. You're afraid that once you completely let go, things will spiral out of your control. It's an instinct you retain; you can't allow anything to escape your control. But the portal doesn't care about your instincts. It only responds to those who are truly willing to let go."
Strange frowned. He could understand Lynn's words, but there was a chasm between understanding and doing, a chasm he could never cross.
Lynn looked at his expression and a slight smile appeared on her lips.
He suddenly raised his hand and drew a circle at Strange's feet.
This time it was a pale golden halo that rapidly expanded before Strange could even ask, "What are you doing?" and then the stone slabs beneath his feet disappeared.
Strange's body plummeted downwards, the wind whistling past his ears. In an instant, the Kamar-Taj courtyard in his field of vision was replaced by dense greenery, and his lungs filled with humid, sultry air, carrying the scents of decaying leaves, earth, and some kind of sweet, fishy smell he couldn't name.
He fell heavily onto a patch of soft moss, his back aching from the protruding tree roots.
He lay on the damp moss, panting for several breaths, then slowly raised his head.
All around is a primeval forest that blocks out the sky. Huge buttress roots extend down from the tree trunks, and vines intertwine with the branches and leaves overhead to form an impenetrable green dome. Sunlight leaks through the gaps, casting dappled patterns of light on the ground.
The air was thick with the sweet, pungent smell of decaying plants and something more acrid, like ammonia. He heard the sound of water, not a stream, but something larger moving slowly deep within the swamp. Then he heard another sound: hissing. It came from all directions simultaneously, densely intertwined, like a warning.
He abruptly turned his head to look around. About three meters away from him, a bright green snake with a long, pointed snout emerged from the pile of decaying leaves, its forked tongue trembling rapidly in the air, its vertical pupils fixed intently on him.
A anaconda, as thick as an adult's arm, coiled around a tree root not far away. Its scales gleamed with a dark luster in the dim light, its body slowly tightening, preparing its strangulation stance. A triangular-headed viper lurked behind a buttress root, the horny rings at the end of its tail vibrating rapidly, emitting a series of warning cries. And there were many more snakes he couldn't name. They coiled around vines, hid beneath withered leaves, and lurked in the cracks of tree trunks.
He instinctively tried to back away, but his back was already pressed against a large tree, leaving him nowhere to retreat.
His hand pressed against the damp moss, and his fingers touched something cold, smooth, and slowly wriggling.
He pulled his hand back as if electrocuted, and looked down to see a snake covered in dark brown scales slowly slithering past his palm. Its triangular head was slightly raised, and its vertical pupils met his gaze for half a second.
Then a pale golden, semi-transparent barrier lit up around him, as if it had materialized out of thin air.
The approaching snakes were stopped by the barrier, emitting a dense, muffled thud.
However, the barrier is not large, only about three meters in diameter, and its edges are slowly shrinking inward at a visible rate.
Lynn's figure appeared in mid-air outside the barrier, a semi-transparent magical projection with a faint golden glow, like a holographic image floating in the air.
He had his hands in his pockets, looking relaxed.
"This protective barrier will slowly shrink. It won't be fast, but it will shrink to your feet in about twenty minutes, and then disappear completely in another five minutes."
You probably recognize most of the snakes around here, but I'll still kindly introduce them to you.
That emerald green one is called a palm viper; it's highly venomous.
That big one is called an anaconda. Oh, and most importantly, there's a coral snake under the moss on your right.
(Please, no creature monsters, I genuinely don't know if these snakes exist in the Amazon; I'm just listing the ones I know... I'm not sure if they live in the Amazon.)
It's small, but its venom is the most potent of all the snakes here. You should be glad it didn't bite you when it was next to you.
He paused, tilting his head to look at Strange. "Either open the portal back to Kamar-Taj, or they kill you. Happy learning, Doctor Strange."
The projection dissipated. The edges of the barrier continued to shrink inward.
The snakes are still roaming outside.
The anaconda had already unfurled its coiled body and slowly and steadily slid towards the barrier, its massive body grinding a deep groove into the moss.
A palm viper, which had somehow dangled from the treetop, was slithering along the arc of the outer edge of the barrier, its forked tongue constantly protruding.
Strange stood there, breathing rapidly and erratically, his back pressed against the rough bark of the tree, his heart pounding violently in his chest.
His brain was operating with the extreme rationality characteristic of a neurosurgeon.
Palm viper venom can cause severe pain, tissue necrosis, and internal bleeding. Coral snake venom is the most potent, enough to induce cardiac arrest. Anacondas are non-venomous and rely on mechanical constriction to break ribs.
These data were arranged into a clear table in his mind, with each item pointing to the same conclusion.
If he can't get out, he really will die here.
Poisoned, strangled by pythons, they died in this nameless Amazon swamp, their bodies devoured by snakes, never to be discovered.
He raised his left hand, which was adorned with Sling Ring, and his fingers trembled more violently than ever before.
He took a deep breath and drew a circle in the humid air. No sparks.
The barrier edge shrank to two meters. A spear-headed viper's body was already pressed against the outside of the barrier, its scales scraping against the energy wall with a harsh screeching sound. He drew another circle.
His fingers were straining, his surgeon's instincts amplified by the surge of adrenaline.
He wanted control, precision, and perfection.
He would die if he did nothing; he had to take control and do his best.
The barrier shrank to 1.5 meters. The head of a palm viper was already pressed against the barrier.
There was nothing there. His fingers were too tight; his brain was telling him to relax, but his body didn't believe it. If relaxing meant survival, he could relax, but what would be the result? It would be a lack of control, indulgence, surrendering his life to something he couldn't fully trust.
He closed his eyes.
He finally realized that the ultimate price for all his precision, control, and perfection was death here.
He had to let go completely. He let his fingers trace an arc in the air naturally, no longer controlling the angle of each joint, no longer caring about whether the trajectory was perfect; he was simply pleading.
He needs to go back. He needs to survive.
He needs to return to that courtyard, back to that pitted stone wall, to continue learning, to continue failing, and to continue improving.
Orange sparks ignited at his fingertips. No longer were they the faint, fleeting Mars of before; they transformed into a rotating, ring-shaped portal.
Sparks spun rapidly, tearing open an ever-growing circular space in front of him. Beyond the door lay the familiar stone wall of the Kamar-Taj training grounds.
He could see the craters blasted into the stone wall by magic, the leaves of the old tree in the courtyard swaying in the sunlight, and Lynn leaning against the wall, holding a teacup.
He practically tumbled and crawled through the portal, his feet landing on the stone slabs before he staggered and collapsed into a pile of rubble beside the training ground.
He scraped his elbow, but he didn't feel any pain at all.
He propped himself up and looked back. The portal closed rapidly behind him, and the last wisp of orange spark dissipated into the air.
He lay sprawled on the cold stone floor, panting heavily. His body was covered in moss debris, mud, and decaying leaves, and a withered leaf, which had somehow gotten stuck in his hair, was tangled in it.
His fingers were still trembling violently, a physiological reaction to the adrenaline overload.
Lynn leaned against the stone wall, placed his teacup on the stone table beside him, and looked down at Strange was shivering and sprawled among the rubble. "How's the air quality in the Amazon? Pretty good, huh?"
Strange didn't answer. He rolled over, lying on his back on the pile of rubble, his chest heaving, his body reeking of the swamp's stench, but a smile was uncontrollably spreading across his face. His fingers were still trembling, his heartbeat hadn't returned to normal, but he finally understood what "guidance" meant.
It's not about control or domination, but about completely surrendering your will to the energy itself after letting go of all fear.
I did it.
His voice was hoarse and weak, filled with a euphoric joy born of relief and unwavering certainty. "I opened it."
Yes. You succeeded.
Lynn walked up to him with a teacup in hand, looked down at his muddy and disheveled appearance, and curled up his lips into that signature Lynn- style smirk.
"Remember this feeling. Every time you draw a portal in the future, you'll remember this day."
Strange closed his eyes, rested the back of his head on the pile of rubble, and exhaled deeply and thoroughly.
His body was still trembling slightly from the aftereffects of the adrenaline, but he knew he had succeeded.