Chapter 189: Strange

New York, a clear morning, still before 7 a. . the streets of Manhattan were already bustling; Wall Street elites in suits held reports as they walked, rattling off a flood of technical terms into their phones; the coffee shop owner struggled to move the magazine rack to the door; the drive-thru at the fast-food joint lined up with cars, vehicles flowing like parts on an assembly line, sunlight glinting off rearview mirrors and skyscraper glass facades.

Summer was nearly over, but iced coffee never went out of style; outside the corner clinic, a group of young people sat drinking coffee and flipping through magazines; Shiler leaned against a lamppost by the clinic's entrance, one hand holding a coffee cup, the other on his phone.

"... eah, I forgot, but I'm the director—you can't lock the director outside his own clinic, can you?"

"You said you're busy—what could you possibly be busy with? Didn't you already finish all your resignation paperwork at the Elders' Hospital months ago? Aside from your work here, what else could possibly need your attention?"

"You became a contracted physician at the Elders' Hospital? Hey, you took a side job without my approval as director?... You couldn't find me? Does that make it okay? The contract clearly states—"

"Fine, fine, I know you're someone with professional ambitions—forget it, just come and bring me my keys..."

"Some lunatic broke into your house? Like me? I'm not... Then why didn't you call the police? Don't you know the number for 911?"

"Who? A bald guy in yellow? Then never mind—you can take the day off. Bye!"

"Oh, one last thing—be polite to her. Be alive and at work tomorrow!"

Shiler hung up quickly, took a sip of coffee, and smiled to himself: back in Marvel and already got good news—perfect start.

At Strange's apartment, Wong waved her hand—countless starlike specks swirled around her, as if an endless cosmos enveloped her back.

Strange stared, stunned. Instantly, the magical radiance vanished; only Wong's robe fluttered slightly, as if nothing had ever happened. Wong looked at Strange and asked: "How do you feel?"

Strange opened his mouth, lost in shock, unable to answer. He'd seen Shiler use magic before—but Shiler could barely float a pen. This? This was a universe descending.

Unbeknownst to Strange, Wong sighed inwardly—things had truly surpassed her expectations.

This whole affair began with that so-called Bat-God's arrival.

The so-called Bat-God guardian sent by the Morun Clan was nothing but a shameless stowaway—no different from a rat sneaking through a hole.

Earth wasn't open to just anyone, not with Odin and Wong here. Odin would crush even the Symbiote God if he flew off the handle, and Wong? She spent her days either beating up debtors or heading out to beat them up.

The demonic gods who attacked openly through the front gate were crushed into dumpling filling; those who slipped in through side doors were pounded into even finer dumpling filling. Most of the rest had learned their lesson—no matter how much they drooled over this world, none dared move.

But with both front and side gates sealed, someone, unbothered by filth, loved crawling through rat holes.

Throughout Earth's long history, rituals to summon demonic gods had existed since ancient times.

Even before the position of Sorcerer Supreme existed, when humans had just formed tribes, emerged from savagery, and begun building civilization, many tribes used shamans and priests to communicate with this world through witchcraft.

Most were mere psychological comfort—but a few succeeded in contacting the real thing.

Back then, tribal shamans used rituals to summon fragments of demonic power to Earth, trading live sacrifices for evil strength to attack rival tribes.

Some demonic gods left behind their marks and exclusive pathways to make it easier for their followers to summon them.

After Wong became Sorcerer Supreme, she'd spent years plugging these historical loopholes—any demonic god who dared such a thing paid the price, becoming fertilizer for Earth's defense system.

《Immortal Wood Destiny》

Though Wong had cut down most reckless demonic gods through the network, some cunning ones had hidden their pathways too well; despite multiple sweeps to purge demons, a few slipped through.

The vampires used one such escaped pathway.

This race lived long and always managed to acquire strange things; in certain ancient surviving grimoires, they found a way to communicate with the cosmos.

The ignorant are fearless—they sent a signal straight into deep space. Qiahao, a member of the Morun Clan was hunting in this region of the universe—he smelled blood like a hound and locked onto this spot instantly.

He slipped silently onto Earth through the stowaway pathway, planning to take advantage of the chaos to hunt Spider-Man.

Up to this point, the story was normal—until the giant Venom bat soared into the sky. After communicating with higher-level mystical forces, Wong received the answer: a new beast totem was being born.

Naturally, she got busy. If a new beast totem was truly about to be born in this universe, then Wong, Sorcerer Supreme of Earth, had plenty to prepare for—collecting debts, dicing demon filling, and launching another round of demon purges.

In short, after this major event, the busiest person was Wong.

This created a problem: in such a short time, she had no spare moments to watch over her future successor, Strange—or rather, once busy, Wong simply forgot about him entirely.

Yet, in that brief span, Strange's life underwent a massive transformation.

The most significant change? He became rich overnight.

Strange wasn't poor before—he was one of the world's best neurosurgeons, earning a very high salary. But clearly, a fixed salary could never match the speed of illicit gains.

Ever since becoming a medical consultant for Stark-Osborn Pharmaceuticals, giving global lectures on the efficacy of the Immortality Factor, and lending his elite doctor's credibility to this mysterious drug, Strange suddenly found the whole world rushing to hand him money.

Stark and Osborn paid him a large salary; the S. . . . . . gave him additional compensation; the clinic paid him too—but even these weren't his main income sources.

There were plenty of people who had nothing left but money: Middle Eastern oil barons, Far Eastern oligarchs controlling state finances, monopolistic tycoons in certain industries. Did they really believe the hype around the Immortality Factor? Not necessarily.

They were just too rich—even if they spent money just to hear a sound, as long as it sounded good, they were happy.

Under these conditions, they were willing to pay huge sums for a top doctor to tell them daily, "It works"—placebo effect didn't matter; money was just a number.

Under these conditions, even one of their offers could leave Strange dizzy.

And Strange truly was dizzy from the money.

Fundamentally, Strange wasn't a natural good soul like Peter Parker. His high pursuit of his profession stemmed largely from the Fenghou rewards and prestige it brought him—this was human nature.

The sudden wealth instantly shattered his view of money. Strange suddenly realized money wasn't payment for labor—he hadn't done any real work, just repeated a few phrases, attended lavish banquets, ate and drank, exchanged a few words with the world's richest people, and money flew into his pockets on its own.

Strange realized the world's economic system was, in truth, a scam. Having jumped from victim to con artist, he no longer struggled with it.

After all, being rich was truly delightful.

So when Wong finally took a moment to check on Strange after her busy spell, she found he seemed to have made peace with it.

Just as she planned to investigate what had happened, another nuisance distracted her—the head of the New York Sanctum was crying and begging to be transferred; Wong had to soothe the apprentices and figure out how to reconnect the Sanctum's Wi-Fi.

But she hadn't anticipated that quantity could produce a qualitative change.

Soon after, Pepper finished the critical power transition at Stark Industries and began reorganizing all Immortality Factor-related industries, establishing the Immortality Factor Foundation—and Strange naturally became a member.

When you hold shares in such a vital industry, everything changes.

Simply put—he went from employee to capitalist overnight.

Strange himself didn't know if he had a heart immune to wealth—but clearly, the returning Wong believed he didn't.

After returning, the Sorcerer Supreme found things racing full-speed in a completely wrong direction.

Due to Shiler's absence, Strange had become an indispensable figure in the Immortality Factor industry—his importance kept rising, reaching a pivotal status. He gained the industry's public credibility—and thus, final authority.

This meant he was now as important as Stark and Osborn in this industry. To reinforce this credibility, Osborn planned to establish a company in his name to elevate the pharmaceutical industry's standards—by the time Wong arrived, the process was nearly complete.

This future Sorcerer Supreme was about to embark on a capitalist path with no return.

But Wong knew: if Strange truly became a capitalist as powerful as Stark or Osborn—holding the industry's lifeline—neither car accidents nor the death of loved ones could free him from worldly fame and fortune, and draw him toward the mystical Dao.

Even if he wanted to, those who could profit from him would never allow it.

For example, if Stark suddenly decided to abandon everything and become a monk, the first person to panic would be the U. . President—and he'd panic until his blood pressure spiked.

Once these people were involved, things became messy. Wong, in her position as Sorcerer Supreme for so many years, had always followed non-interference. Now, Strange's fate tied directly to the Immortality Factor industry, which tied to Stark Industries, Osborn Industries, S. . . . . ., the military, and Congress—she didn't want her successor's issue to trigger conflict with so many powers.

At the same time, Wong deeply doubted whether Strange, with his current will and character, could truly resist corruption by money.

What if he truly became a wicked capitalist, lying atop piles of cash, indulging in debauchery, sprinting headlong down the path of unearned pleasure? Could she really turn him into dumpling filling?

At this point, to prevent her favored successor from blindly embracing capitalism, Wong decided to handle this as a special case—she could skip the usual trials. First, ensure Strange didn't stray.

So, on the morning Shiler was locked outside the clinic for forgetting his keys, Strange first truly learned of the magical world from Wong—and received an invitation to study at Kamar-Taj.

Yes—an invitation to study, not a merciful offer to take him as a disciple.

After all, this wasn't Strange desperately begging the world for healing—he was the one Wong had identified as talented, and she didn't want him blinded by worldly fame and fortune, so she came to him. Naturally, the invitation was far more courteous.

Moreover, Wong knew Strange couldn't simply vanish—too many people depended on him to make money. If she just took him away, the Sanctum's newly reconnected internet line would be cut again.

So the Sorcerer Supreme generously offered: Strange could commute—after work, use the Sanctum's portal to attend a few hours of class, then return home in the morning.

Wong also gave Strange two days to decide—after all, she needed time to consider what kind of car accident might be needed to make him repent and start anew if he refused.

When Strange arrived for work that afternoon, he was still dazed—Wong's display of magic had shaken him even more.

Shiler's tricks—floating pens and such—weren't unheard of in magic shows; they were more like illusions.

But Wong? She was the real Sorcerer Supreme—every move honed from thousands of demonic gods crushed into dumpling filling. A master's touch—no matter how ordinary a person Strange was, having spent his life studying science, even the world's most creative magician would be awed by the boundless power radiating from her magic.

"Is all this we do even meaningful?" Strange sat on his desk, eyes vacant, asking: "I've spent years learning knowledge and skills—yet magic... they just wave a hand and accomplish all this..."

Strange looked down at his fingers, pointing to them: "When I was chopping vegetables, I cut myself here..."

"Then she waved her hand—and the wound healed. No medical tech, no drugs, no doctor..."

"So what's the point of human medicine? What's the point of my existence?"

"A patient lies on a hospital bed—he can just call a group of magicians to wave their hands, and I can just leave, because no more ten-hour surgeries, no more post-op recovery..."

Strange spread his hands, opened his mouth—but nothing came out.

Then he asked Shiler, confused: "You're all in the same group, right? You magic users—what do you think of ordinary people? Do you see us as stupid and laughable? Spending decades learning knowledge, refining skills, only to..."

He gave a self-deprecating laugh: "Like ants endlessly circling in mud, right?"

"Then why don't you try it yourself?" Shiler said, sitting across from him. "Try seeing if magic is as easy and effortless as you imagine."

"What's easier than waving a hand? It makes no sense at all," Strange sighed, pressing his forehead. "I've known since childhood that some people can easily obtain what you'll never have in your lifetime."

"They don't need to exert any effort—just because they're lucky. The world was always unfair."

"But..." he paused, then continued, "the extent of its unfairness still exceeds my imagination."

Strange smiled, though it looked painfully forced. "Now I see—even the rich are just fools deceived by the system. That's the only good news I've heard today."

"Do you know how Stark views magic?"

Strange looked at Shiler. He really wanted to say he didn't care about that annoying guy's opinion—but he truly wanted to know: how did those who stood at the pinnacle of humanity, who had gained the most fame and fortune in the world, view such supernatural things?

"During the vampire invasion, he pondered this too. The immortality humans dream of—even eternal life—those giant bats were born with it. They're incredibly strong, immensely powerful; even trained ordinary humans must swarm in groups to fight just one of them. It seems profoundly unfair—a cruel joke by the Creator."

"But then I thought—this had already happened millions of years ago. In ancient wilderness, human physique was nothing compared to beasts with sharp claws and fangs. Yet we survived, and built this thriving civilization."

"But this is different," Strange pointed out the flaw: "Magic users are still human, not beasts. They possess all human advantages—intelligence, thought, the ability to pass knowledge down."

"And she told me they're organized too—like ordinary people, working in groups, dividing labor. They have all human advantages, plus magic..."

"So why haven't they ruled humanity? Or why, in your entire life, have you never heard of them? Such a superior, powerful group—why don't they step into the public eye and lead humanity to greater glory?"

Strange fell silent. Shiler said: "Perhaps one possibility is that their abilities truly surpass ordinary humans—they're nobler, and wouldn't use their power to enslave us."

"But you and I know: humans possess wisdom, and with wisdom comes ambition and desire. If they were truly superior, able to achieve in an instant what ordinary people spend decades to accomplish, without any cost, we'd see in history books bloody wars between them and ordinary humans."

"Humans even try to dominate each other by nationality and skin color—how much more so with a truly superior ability?"

"So..." Strange said hesitantly.

"So they must pay the price," Shiler spread his hands and said. "If you still don't believe it, then why not try?"

"I..." Strange closed his eyes, frowning with visible pain—after all, anyone whose years of hard-won skill had been rejected would feel deeply defeated.

But he could not deny that he was curious about this magical power.

Or rather, to understand magic in this way filled Strange with more questions than clarity: Where did this power truly come from? Why was it so strong? Did it truly have no flaws?

Shiler looked at Strange and thought: now, this future Sorcerer Supreme was not seeking magic out of a desperate desire to save himself or others, but had learned half the truth of this world on an ordinary, mundane morning.

The impact on him was great, yet the questions he pondered were different—Strange still had the luxury to contemplate lofty philosophical matters, rather than being like a desperate stray dog, clutching at magic as his only lifeline.

His changed social status gave Strange considerable leverage when facing Wong.

Strange still had an escape route: even if he refused to become Sorcerer Supreme, he could remain a happy billionaire in ordinary society; even if he eventually became Sorcerer Supreme, he could still play a vital role within this world.

This was Shiler's goal.

Shiler always believed that a Sorcerer Supreme completely detached from human society was not enough. When they long remained isolated, aloof, and above all else, their mindset gradually shifted, severing ties with ordinary humans and forgetting they too had been born from this common world—the true origin of all things.

This could easily turn them into the greatest threat to human society.

Even if Strange, like Wong, could truly transcend the world and hold fast to his inner self, his impact would still be too small. With the status and power of the Sorcerer Supreme, he could do far more.

If others did a little more, Shiler could do a little less—and gain more paid leisure time.

So Shiler chose the tactic of wealth, using a sudden windfall to knock the future Sorcerer Supreme off his feet, keeping him from drifting too far from society.

Shiler asked Strange: "Isn't being rich happy?"

"Of course it is," Strange answered instinctively. "Who isn't happy being rich?"

"You may think being rich is joyful now, but once you've encountered the wondrous and great magic, you'll realize..."

"... hat being rich isn't truly joyful?"

"... hat being rich is genuinely, deeply joyful."