Chapter 458: Encounter on the Train

By now the holiday was already halfway over, and Bai Lang returned to his home in London to begin doing the normal things a kid should do—studying martial arts. Over the past year he had put considerable effort into the library, and his notebook recorded a lot of information, especially his research on so‑called magical power—thanks to having spent an extra year here, he felt the magical power that seeped into his body had increased, making his research a bit easier.

At least the sample size had increased, right? Moreover, Bai Lang considered himself to have shed a misconception: "Why must I understand the nature of magical power? Think of the different worlds—if I can use it here, then when I encounter similar forces later I can just incorporate them, can't I? All rivers return to the sea; my own Qi is the foremost, isn't it?" Bai Lang trains in the public sports field simply to loosen the restraints on his body.

Now his only ranged attack is an air projectile, which is admittedly underpowered—at the very least it should become an air cannon delivered in a single punch, like a Shōryūken. Even ignoring the Shōryūken's ability to break meridians, the air blast's striking power should at least match his fist strength. As for the vacuum blades he can draw with his hands and feet, they don't need to travel far; they should be able to extend at least a foot from his body.

But Bai Lang cannot do that; his strength is insufficient, so he needs magical power to assist. "The development of magical martial arts has a hint, but it's still not working," he thought. The magical wand in his hand can channel magical power, and using pure magical power to smash an opponent's magical shield and crush a wizard's or a spiritual being's dog head is probably the most rudimentary method—but it is also a return to basics, isn't it? Otherwise how did Bai Lang smash the Pipi Ghost's dog head? And the Tom dog head inside the Horcrux was broken the same way, right?

So can it be done bare‑handed? Most likely yes. Can magical power be used bare‑handed to create earth, water, fire, and wind effects? Perhaps. Can a wand be used to construct earth, water, fire, and wind attacks? Very possible. "This is the essence of magical martial arts!" Bai Lang wrote in his notebook. Should magical power flow through meridians? He deemed it unnecessary. Magical power is merely an external "tool"; a wizard's spirit can manipulate it, but the power does not originate from within the wizard.

What they call pure‑blood may simply mean that their lineage grants them stronger spirit power, allowing them to better manipulate the magical power that exists between heaven and earth. After all, Bai Lang is not a biochemist and would not dissect a pure‑blood for study—he is a martial arts master, not a researcher of the strong.

One week before the holiday ended, the owl Bubo delivered a school notice to him about which books to buy. Bai Lang slung his satchel and rode his bike to the Leaky Cauldron. When he arrived at Diagon Alley, he saw Harry Potter sitting on a bench eating a huge ice cream. "Hey, Potter, what are you doing here?" Bai Lang asked casually, and Harry shrugged. "Just escaped from my aunt's place," he said.

"Alright, kid. It's time for you to fend for yourself," Bai Lang said, then he and Harry burst into laughter together. This holiday Bai Lang grew taller, now standing more than half a head taller than Harry. Bai Lang nodded at Harry, "Okay, I need to buy the textbooks and the required materials. And…" he gestured, "I also have to go to Mrs. Mo Jin's shop to order a few sets of uniforms. They're a bit short."

Harry Potter nodded, "I'm waiting for Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger." he said, "Well, I'll be off then." Bai Lang said goodbye to Harry. First he headed to Lihun Bookstore; at the entrance stood an iron cage containing over a hundred copies of "Monsters' Monster Book" engaged in a brawl. When the manager heard Bai Lang ask for one, he seemed on the verge of crying. "Oh, no need. I'll take it myself," Bai Lang said, then struck a monster book with his wand.

The resonating force knocked all the monster books unconscious. "Alright, they can be a bit quieter now." Bai Lang took out a book, bundled it with the other textbooks, and paid with Garron. After Bai Lang bought the clothes and all the materials, he saw many classmates on the street, and eventually discovered that Harry had indeed been waiting for Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. Bai Lang didn't walk over to disturb their conversation; he entered the Leaky Cauldron alone. "One butterbeer, please."

Unfortunately it failed; Tom refused to sell beer to the young wizard.

The conversation in the Leaky Cauldron revolved around words like "escape" and "fugitive," which made Bai Lang uneasy. "What's going on?" he asked, and Tom handed him a few copies of The Daily Prophet. Apparently someone had broken out of Azkaban, a rare occurrence. "And they're a murderer too," Bai Lang muttered; he knew Sirius was being slandered, and the real culprit was Ron Weasley's rat.

Anyway, it didn't matter; Sirius had nothing to do with him, and the rat? Bai Lang thought it best not to get involved.

On the day the Hogwarts Express departed, Bai Lang still arrived at the station early, and, as before, many young wizards and their families had not yet arrived when he got there. Bai Lang found a compartment on the train, placed his satchel beside him, and drifted into a half‑sleep, intending to catch a few more hours of rest—after a morning of martial practice and Qi cultivation, he was a bit drowsy. When he woke, the train had already left, and the compartment still held those few junior companions.

They seemed to let the big brother rest, so even their chatter was low. "As usual. Hey, miss, bring over all the snacks, I'll pay." Bai Lang waved the lady pushing the cart over, and he still bought a huge pile of snacks to share with the juniors. The weather grew worse, a torrential downpour, and by afternoon the sun was nowhere to be seen, and the train slowed more and more. "Are we arriving?" someone asked, but Bai Lang didn't catch who it was.

Suddenly, the train halted, and the lights in the carriage flickered out. A chilling cold swept the whole carriage; Bai Lang sprang up and flung open the door. His wand burst into light, illuminating the corridor. In the hallway stood a figure extremely tall, reaching the ceiling, clad in a black robe. Very tall yet very thin, it seemed a tattered black robe wrapped around a skeleton. Beneath the hood was darkness, making it impossible to see what lay inside.

"Dementor!" Zabini's voice changed, twisted and hoarse with terror. Bai Lang stared at the monster before him; as the light from his wand fell on it and the creature shifted, the hood revealed a scar‑covered, gaunt chin—hard to tell what it was. Moreover, the thing seemed to be inhaling, drawing not only air but also the surrounding "joy"; an intensely chilling sensation swept over him.

Bai Lang's embracing of his core was ordinary; he felt nothing special, only a sense of nausea, and the martial arts master launched his attack. "Get out!" Like a roaring tiger, fierce blood‑qi and murderous intent surged forward, as if coalescing into an illusory tiger. The monster instantly floated backward, and the chilling sensation vanished without a trace.