Chapter 10: Free Fall

Originally, Meimu had given up hope of being rescued.

In retrospect, it all made sense.

After all, this was near Kamar-Taj!

Since Kaecilius and his cronies had appeared here as fallen sorcerers, it proved he had not only thrown himself entirely into Dormammu’s embrace, but had also committed the unforgivable acts of infiltrating Kamar-Taj, stealing forbidden tomes, and murdering the guardian of the library.

To betray his order and return to the domain of his former master—there was no way the Ancient One, the Supreme Sorcerer and leader of Kamar-Taj, would let him off lightly.

It was only because he ran fast enough; otherwise, Kaecilius—who hadn’t yet fully absorbed Dormammu’s power or become the dark-eyed, transcendent cultivator—would have been nothing but cannon fodder before the Ancient One.

As for the black sorcerer who had just been beating people up, that was Baron Mordo. Meimu’s feelings about him were complicated. In the original timeline, Baron Mordo was destined to become a major antagonist.

But Mordo’s path to villainy differed from Kaecilius’s descent into darkness. Kaecilius was driven by greed and willingly fell, while Mordo’s faith in justice was shaken to its core when he discovered that the Ancient One, whom he trusted, used dark powers to maintain her youth and immortality. This profound betrayal shattered Mordo’s beliefs...

But whatever else happened, the most important thing was—he was alive!

He was overwhelmed.

Meimu’s lips quivered, at a loss for words.

Just moments before, he’d had a blade to his throat, helpless as a sacrificial animal on the butcher’s block. Now, in the blink of an eye, he had been saved—a sensation of soaring from hell to paradise.

It was a thousand times more exhilarating than gaming nonstop for three days and nights in a perfect, energized state.

Not so long ago, his life had been one of apathy and boredom. But after experiencing the razor edge between life and death, with one foot in the underworld only to be pulled back, how could he not be moved?

“Thank you! Thank you all—”

Tears burst forth, streaming down his face despite himself.

“Forgive us, stranger. I’m sorry you had to endure this. If you hadn’t been nosing around Kamar-Taj, perhaps none of this would have happened. Believe me, forget what happened today—it’s better for both you and us,” Baron Mordo said in fluent, serious English.

Meimu’s eyes widened in alarm. Wait! Something’s off here! Wasn’t it supposed to be you who brought me—er, brought Stephen Strange—to Kamar-Taj to train under the Ancient One? What’s with this cold, dismissive tone?

At that moment, the Ancient One approached.

“You may step back. This gentleman clearly recognizes us. Why not hear what he has to say first?” The Ancient One regarded Meimu with amused interest.

Indeed, the Ancient One was truly a stunning beauty. If one could ignore her distinctive bald head, she was the very picture of refined British elegance. Even the plainest monk’s robe could not conceal her extraordinary, regal bearing.

Mysterious.

Profound.

And possessed of a beauty that transcended time and space.

Especially those deep green eyes tinged with black, which seemed to see through all things, all illusions.

Confronted with the Ancient One, Meimu instinctively recited the lines he’d prepared long ago, raising his injured hands.

“Greetings, Master Ancient One. My name is Stephen Mumei. I suffered severe injuries to both hands in a car accident. Modern medicine can do nothing for me. By chance, I found a man named Jonathan Pangborn. He had suffered a complete cervical spinal injury at C7 and C8, leaving his hands and chest paralyzed. Yet I saw him playing basketball before me. I asked how he was healed, and, recalling some shared past, he told me to come to Nepal to find Kamar-Taj...”

He hadn’t even finished before realizing things were going awry, for both the Ancient One and Baron Mordo’s faces had darkened.

Baron Mordo said coldly, “Jonathan would never have told you the Ancient One’s true name. Nor would Kaecilius trouble himself with an ordinary person. Even if he’s fallen, he’d never bother with someone so insignificant, let alone take the initiative to attack you.”

Meimu cursed inwardly. He knew exactly where he’d slipped up.

As a transmigrator, of course he knew who the Ancient One and Baron Mordo were. But in the normal Marvel universe, only those who moved in magical or shadowy circles would know their true names. For him to have learned of the Ancient One from Jonathan, who was sworn to secrecy, was highly suspicious.

And after surviving his near-death ordeal, he had blurted out the Ancient One’s name without thinking.

Now, more disciples of the Ancient One appeared, rounding up the defeated fallen sorcerers—doubtless an interrogation would follow.

No, even without questioning them, Meimu’s story was already full of holes.

Suddenly he recalled—the Ancient One had lived for at least a thousand years! What could possibly escape her insight?

Legend had it that anyone honored as “the Supreme Bald” possessed a terrifying intuition. Did he really think his feeble excuse would fool the Ancient One?

This was bad!

“Wait!” Meimu tried to salvage the situation, but it seemed too late.

The Ancient One’s lips curled into a strange smile. “I can accept silence, but I cannot accept lies. This is the price of your deception.”

With a slender, powerful finger, the Ancient One pointed at Meimu.

In the next instant, the ground beneath his feet vanished.

A three-meter-wide circular void opened up out of thin air, and he plummeted straight through.

Meimu instantly recognized what it was—a portal.

For a brief moment, he thought he’d been cast into the eighteenth level of hell. But he soon realized he wasn’t falling into an abyss, but into open air.

He recognized Kathmandu at once. After all, he’d only recently flown in and seen it from above.

However, plummeting freely from a height of five hundred meters was no laughing matter.

The ancient, feudal city of Kathmandu, with its occasional modern touches, rushed up at him. From an overhead panorama of toy-like buildings and people, the view zoomed in until he could see every tangled power line between buildings, every “high monk” on the roadside gesturing (or conning) their flock.

The world blurred past at dizzying speed, and the weightlessness wracked his entire body with terror.

“Waaaaaaah!”

The ground hurtled toward him.

He was about to crash headfirst and become an unrecognizable smear of flesh when, suddenly, a flaming ring of light opened before him.

In the next second, he was teleported once again to five hundred meters above the ground, continuing his free fall.

Thanks to gravity, he was now stuck in a maddening loop.

“Aaaah—help!—”