Chapter 15 Chambora (Asking for Recommendation Votes)

The world was filled with claw-like hands, each one like a vengeful ghost wandering the pits of hell, reaching out and dragging at Mei Mumu, nearly driving him to the edge of madness.

“Aaaaah—!”

With a scream, Mei Mumu was flung into yet another kaleidoscopic world of glass and light.

“This world is but one among the infinite universes.”

“The worlds are endless.”

“Some are beautiful, bursting with life.”

“Others are wicked, steeped in slaughter.”

“In the dark corners, primeval forces lurk hungrily, awaiting their chance…”

Then, Mei Mumu witnessed it himself—a dark planet before him contorted, its surface creasing like a folding fan. From the planet’s core, two eyes burst open: eyes brimming with malice and violence, fixing him with a deadly gaze.

A black planet, a mottled universe of darkness—this being was colossal, utterly beyond mortal comprehension.

Dormammu.

The Lord of Darkness.

Even though Mei Mumu knew that what he saw must be an illusion, his sixth sense warned him—the Dark Lord had come, truly come. It was he who had killed Stephen Strange.

Now Dormammu would surely stop at nothing to annihilate Mei Mumu, the one who had inherited Stephen’s destiny!

The Ancient One’s voice rang out, ethereal and melodic, softly calling to Mei Mumu.

“In this multiverse, Mei Mumu… who are you, truly? Or rather, what role are you destined to play…”

Was this hypnosis?

Or the search for true knowledge?

Mei Mumu realized that after such an ordeal, his soul was utterly exhausted. Confronted with the Ancient One’s question, he found he had not the slightest urge to hide the truth.

“I’m just someone trying to survive! I don’t want to die! Whoever wants me dead, I’ll destroy them, even if their name is Dormammu—or… Thanos!”

All for survival, yet he dared declare he would destroy even Thanos, the single most powerful being in the universe…

That was a mighty will to live.

For reasons unknown, the Ancient One’s mind conjured a series of images: a lizard still struggling as half its body dangled from the jaws of a bullfrog; a monkey, arm clamped by a crocodile and dragged into the water, willing to lose the limb if it meant escape; a surfer, bitten by a shark, still stabbing at the beast’s eyes and nose!

Though Mei Mumu was the underdog in every scene, he left the Ancient One with a unique impression.

With a soft sigh, the Ancient One declared, “Excellent… There are no natural-born cowards, nor are there natural-born heroes. Even if your ambition to become a Master of the Mystic Arts is a little… unconventional, I accept you!”

Suddenly, all illusions vanished. Mei Mumu’s soul, which he had felt scattered and stretched across the universe, snapped back into his body.

He gasped for air, turning to see the Ancient One standing amiably beside him, greeting him with a warm, approving smile.

Enlightenment dawned on Mei Mumu. In the original story, Stephen Strange had not been tested so harshly. He was a flawless gem, instantly recognized by any sorcerer.

Stephen was the perfect jade; he, at best, was a piece of rotten wood. Without the scales of fate tipping in his favor, no master would have taken him as a disciple.

But now, the Ancient One was determined to carve this piece of rotten wood into a precious artifact.

Forcing a weak smile, Mei Mumu promptly fainted.

A middle-aged sorcerer, hair tied up in the fashion of a Taoist priest, stepped forward—Hamir. From the sleeves of his robe, two magical whips flicked out, gently supporting the collapsed Mei Mumu and carrying him away.

With the dust settled, the Ancient One let out a long sigh. “It feels… as though I’ve gone from one extreme to another. Mei Mumu is humble, unambitious, and seemingly without principle… No, he even trusts the omens he sees more than himself. What a peculiar young man.”

Baron Mordo approached, folding his hands over his abdomen, a strange smile on his face. “He’s the exact opposite of Kaecilius—proud, stubborn, and ambitious. Perhaps it’s this very nature that makes him less susceptible to the darkness.”

“Perhaps I chose Mei Mumu precisely because I didn’t want another student to fall,” the Ancient One mused.

Mordo stepped forward. “Master, Kaecilius has fallen completely. To steal those forbidden pages, he even killed the guardians, and he won’t spare witnesses like Mei Mumu. Though Mei Mumu cannot become a force for Kamar-Taj any time soon, I still recommend we keep him protected.”

Had Mei Mumu been present, he would have realized how unwelcome he was. In the original story, Mordo had hoped Stephen would swiftly strengthen Kamar-Taj. But for Mei Mumu, he was merely someone to be protected.

The Ancient One shook her head. “Protected? No! Having chosen to become a guardian of humanity, he is now a protector. He must shoulder his responsibilities.”

“Then allow me to oversee his daily training. I want him to crave the defeat of our enemies as I do—to gain power, wield it against those who threaten us, abide by our principles, and conquer his inner demons.”

The Ancient One regarded her disciple with both kindness and concern.

Mordo was too rigid, bound to his absolute convictions. At times, this was a virtue—but if things went awry, the consequences could be unpredictable.

The Ancient One emphasized, “Inner demons cannot be eliminated. We must learn to coexist with them, Mordo!” That final syllable of his name was steeped in a refined English accent, the kind that always seemed a pleasure to the ear.

Mordo knew better than to argue with his master, so he changed the subject. “If Kaecilius masters those forbidden pages, we are doomed. The darkness grows stronger, and every bit of strength is precious. Master, I will help train him well.”

The Ancient One nodded in assent.

Elsewhere, after an indeterminate time, Mei Mumu slowly regained consciousness.

As soon as his eyes opened, he was greeted by Mordo’s dark face. It had to be said: different races, different standards of beauty. Seeing that broad nose and thick lips looming less than half a meter from his own, Mei Mumu couldn’t help but feel a pang of discomfort.

“What happened to me?”

“You overextended your soul’s strength.”

Oh, thank goodness—it wasn’t kidney failure.

“The soul is a person’s most vital essence. Yours is somewhat weak, so the Ancient One’s demonstration was too much for you.” As he spoke, Mordo handed him a slip of paper, upon which was written “shamballa”—which, in Chinese, meant Shangri-La.

“I get it, this is the Wi-Fi password here!”

“It’s the spell to open your room!”

What the hell!