Chapter 34: Miracles at the Edge of Extremity
Having a system would be ideal—never again would I need to bother taking notes.
The magical array that Ancient One had just used to challenge Mei Mumu was broken down frame by frame, and projected into the sea of his consciousness, overlapping with the images on his retina.
In theory, as long as he traced the shapes, he could manage it.
But...
If only it were that simple!
Compared to what Doctor Strange faced at the same point in time, the difficulty Mei Mumu now encountered was more than ten times greater. His earlier preparations, intended to anticipate trouble, had only dug a deeper pit for himself.
In the original story, the Ancient One only wanted to shake Doctor Strange’s stubborn beliefs, forcing him to abandon his ingrained notions, obsessions, and the idea of the “impossible”—hence she left him stranded on Mount Everest. Now, she was punishing Mei Mumu for his cleverness, deliberately increasing the difficulty.
Mei Mumu had dug himself a hole, fallen in, and then filled it in behind him.
No, panic is useless—it only hastens death!
Calm! Calm!
Damn! What I need now is calm, not frozen nerves!
It’s over. They say frostbite turns the skin black, and then you have to cut it off.
If only I’d brought pure cotton thermal underwear...
Mei Mumu was in a panic.
But on Mount Everest, focusing was easier said than done. Even with Khadgar’s character card enhancing his magical senses, the howling icy wind made gathering magical energy at least twice as difficult.
Especially as his body grew colder, the sensation was like being trapped in a reservoir, water rising inexorably to drown him, his head sealed under a lid.
“Calm! Calm! Calm!” he repeated. A college student, inexperienced in life’s hardships, suddenly forced to confront crisis after crisis—this kind of trial threatened to break him.
Had he not already narrowly escaped death at Kaecilius’s hands, his mental state would have been even worse.
Yet, as his body became more numb with cold, his mind grew sharper.
The faint magic lingering between heaven and earth became clearer to him.
Meanwhile, in Kamar-Taj—
The Ancient One stood in the center of the training ground, hands clasped behind her back, unmoving as a mountain.
Mordo, observing, approached with concern.
“Master, isn’t this a bit too much...?”
The Ancient One shook her head. “Mei Mumu is far too self-assured, and full of ideas. He firmly believes he’s a prophet. But seeing the summit doesn’t mean you can climb it. I just want him to recognize reality, to stop aiming too high and train with his feet on the ground.”
“But...”
“That boy foresaw my tricks, and secretly prepared a pile of thermal clothing. He can last at least five minutes.”
Mordo’s anxious expression froze. Once again, he realized how cunning Mei Mumu was. His worries, it seemed, were wasted.
The seconds ticked by—soon, five minutes passed.
“Master, this...”
The Ancient One raised her hand to stop Mordo. “Wait a bit longer!”
On Everest, Mei Mumu was trapped in true despair.
His body began to fail; though his limbs could still move, he had lost all feeling. He was working purely on instinct, moving his fingers in the air to trace circles.
The nearer he drew to his limits, the more his mind became singularly focused.
His fingers no longer trembled—they were nearly frozen stiff.
His thoughts, once tangled and wild as death approached, faded away completely.
Only the cold remained—bone-deep, biting cold!
He gasped for breath, at first exhaling warm air from his nose and mouth; now, even his breaths felt icy, as if his lungs were filling with shards of ice.
All that remained in his mind was the increasingly distinct composite magic array—not drawn by gesture, but filled with his very soul.
He stretched out his hands; each felt as if it were a separate head, capable of independent thought and movement.
It was as though Mei Mumu had split into three—triplets united by mind. His soul guided his two “other brains,” simultaneously channeling the sparse magic needed to trace the array.
Back at Kamar-Taj, the Ancient One soothed Mordo. Unseen by him, she nervously fiddled with the folding fan hidden behind her back.
She was beginning to doubt herself.
“Master, how did you increase the difficulty for Mei Mumu?”
The Ancient One quickly explained, then added, “I temporarily sealed his Sling Ring. Of course, if he concentrates hard enough, his mental strength will gradually restore its function.”
“Wait! That guy surely doesn’t think he’s such a genius that he can ignore the Sling Ring and open a portal with his own magic array, right? That’s something only a full-fledged sorcerer can do!” Mordo guessed the truth.
“Surely not! That boy is clever—he should soon sense the Sling Ring’s function returning.”
Unfortunately, they were right.
The Ancient One only meant to push Mei Mumu to his true limits, not to have him accomplish something reserved for formal sorcerers.
But in the extreme cold, with his mental focus at its peak, Mei Mumu not only ignored the Sling Ring’s magic fluctuations, he even overlooked Miss Balance’s calls.
He truly forgot himself and the world.
All else faded from existence—only the unstable magic array remained.
Construct!
Build!
Outline!
Depict!
Correct!
Sense the flow of magic, transform the vapor to liquid, then to solid.
His inner cry became Vedic language—a call from ancient times, from the primordial mysteries.
For some reason, Mei Mumu suddenly felt compelled to do something.
He acted on impulse, and an irregular, crooked circle appeared.
Without hesitation, Mei Mumu summoned his last ounce of strength and threw himself forward.
Ten minutes passed—Mordo was worried, and even the Ancient One began to panic.
She was strict, but also compassionate.
Kamar-Taj never practiced Spartan-style death training. Spartans might leave newborns overnight in the snow, and only raise those who survived.
Kamar-Taj was not like that.
Just as the Ancient One moved her hand to open a portal, the space before her was suddenly sliced open by a crooked golden arc.
A figure, snow-covered like a yeti, fell through.
Sensing no magical fluctuation from Mei Mumu’s Sling Ring, Mordo’s face lit up with delight. “Hey, man, you did it! You managed to open a portal without the Sling Ring... Wait—what?”
Suddenly, Mordo saw another portal open beneath his feet. This was clearly Mei Mumu’s revenge—a trap for him and the Ancient One.
The Ancient One was too skilled to fall in, but the dark-skinned friend dropped straight through...