Chapter 190

Shi Ler sat in his office, flipping through reports while dialing a number on his phone; after finishing the call, he held it to his ear, and after a long stretch of busy tones, it was finally answered—first came a series of explosions, then the sound of something falling, followed by Strange's shout.

"Hello? Stephen, what are you doing? Why haven't you sent me the two medical records I asked for last night?"

"Oh, wait! I forgot!" Strange hadn't even finished speaking when he cried out: "Ow!"

He tore the silk strip wrapped around his face off and looked at the man across from him: "Wang, I told you to wait—I need to take this call, I—"

Before he could finish, Shi Ler's roar came through the phone: "Forgot?! You've forgotten four times this week already! Yesterday I asked for three records and you said you forgot—I pay you that much, can't you—"

Strange was about to explain when the floating silk strip whipped his face again, making him yell; the master Wang said: "You must focus, or the magical force won't obey your command."

"I want to focus too!" Strange shouted, speaking into the phone: "The patient in Room 2 has nothing worth reviewing! Didn't I tell you yesterday? His symptoms are completely made up—he's just trying to flirt with that nurse named Fenna—"

Strange dodged left, speaking rapidly into the phone: "I've got a bit of trouble here, oh damn it—get out of the way—"

He ducked again, avoiding the sweeping silk strip, switched the phone to his other hand, and used his free right hand to shield his face: "I'll give you those two records when I get home tonight—I've got to—"

With a fierce swing of his arm, he finally grabbed the flying silk strip. He exhaled in relief: "... eal with some trouble."

No sooner had he spoken than the silk strip shot out of his palm with a whoosh, looped around the chandelier, then launched forward, yanking the chandelier straight at Strange.

Strange screamed, flying backward with his head covered; the phone hit the floor, and Shi Ler's threatening voice echoed from inside: "Listen, no matter how badly you're struggling in your hobby class, you must complete your work on time—or I'll dock your pay!"

Listening to the busy tone, Strange helplessly covered his eyes: "I regret it. Can I drop out now?"

He lay on the ground, utterly defeated: "This isn't something a human can learn. How do I even explain to a piece of silk that it should listen to me?"

The master Wang remained calm: "Magical power lies in belief. You must learn perseverance."

The next afternoon, Strange was bent over writing when Shi Ler walked in carrying a cup of coffee: "You've been taking classes for a week now—how's it going?"

Strange said nothing, only sighed deeply. He raised his head and scanned Shi Ler up and down several times; Shi Ler glanced at himself: "What? Is there something wrong with me?"

"You do magic too, right? How long did it take you to learn?"

"Who told you that was magic?" Shi Ler countered. Seeing Strange glaring at him, he said: "I'm a mutant. This ability is innate—I don't need to learn it."

Strange's eyes widened further, shocked and furious: "Then why did you make me learn magic?! You actually— you damn—"

Shi Ler shrugged—it had always been his line. To ordinary people and mutants, he was a magician; to magicians, he was an ordinary person or a mutant. Neither side could possibly cross-check his story.

Strange covered his forehead: "I should've realized—such a powerful ability couldn't possibly be easy to learn."

"Can you believe it? For a whole week, I've been fighting a floating silk strip!"

Strange laughed bitterly: "I'm grateful to that damn silk strip—it made me realize the patients here are actually manageable!"

"Silk strip?" Shi Ler frowned: "Didn't they teach you to draw circles yet?"

"Draw circles? What's that?"

"That's the magical portal."

Strange snorted: "That's going to take ages. Right now I'm just getting beaten senseless by that strip—I can't even grab it, let alone control it."

"I really hope you learn that portal technique soon."

"Why?"

"Then you could just throw your completed medical records through the portal straight to me."

Strange rolled his eyes: "That fat master said the Sorcerer Supreme thinks I have talent. What the hell? I don't see what talent it takes to fight a silk strip—"

"Didn't he teach you any techniques? Like calming down, focusing your mind—"

"Of course he did—but how am I supposed to calm down when that strip is slapping me twice a second? Is that my fault?"

"So you're just going to keep wasting time like this? Against a silk strip?"

"What else can I do? Wang told me every beginner mage must go through this to train concentration."

Strange picked up his pen again and kept writing as he spoke: "He says magic isn't created from nothing—it draws power from higher sources. So every apprentice must first train control, to prevent the borrowed power from going wild."

"So what's the principle behind that silk strip?"

Strange paused his writing: "I heard it's also borrowed power—but weaker, specifically designed for beginners to train with."

"I've been thinking—if this ability can be learned, then it must be no different from the medical knowledge I've studied. It should all be reducible through induction, summary, and refinement—"

Undoubtedly, Strange was a top student. After a few days of setbacks, he'd already begun thinking of ways to improve efficiency.

Wong's judgment was sharp: Strange's talent lay in his exceptional learning ability and high receptivity to magic. He quickly accepted his identity as a magic apprentice and resolved to advance in his magical career.

Shi Ler propped his chin on his hand: "If that's the case, have you considered a more convenient approach?"

"A more convenient approach? What do you mean?"

"Since this power is borrowed, why not negotiate with your creditor? Ask him to calm down."

Strange sighed: "The problem is, I can't even grab the silk strip. You have to master it first—get it to stop—before you can even communicate with the power behind it."

"But there are many ways to make that silk strip stop."

"For example?"

"For example, this." Shi Ler pulled a blue pistol from his drawer.

The next day, Master Wang stood to the side, watching Strange roll up his sleeves, holding a strange-looking blue pistol in one hand, and speaking slowly to a silk strip frozen solid as an ice stick: "Listen, if you keep being this violent, you're not worth this price—"

Watching Strange resemble a mob enforcer collecting protection money, Master Wang was speechless. He tried to intervene: "Stephen, a mage's concentration is vital—you can't do this—"

Before he finished, Wong appeared behind him. Wong's tone was light, even delighted: "It seems he's even more talented than I imagined."

Master Wang stared, wide-eyed. Wong stroked her chin: "I was worried his temperament was too mild—it might put Kamar-Taj and Earth at risk. But now, it seems fine."

Master Wang stared fixedly at the Sorcerer Supreme. Wong smiled: "Concentration matters. Belief matters. But those come later. Before you control magic, you must first obtain it. That is the essence of magic."