Chapter 27: True Mastery of Both Magic and Martial Arts

Abandoned old house.

Old Wang came back to his senses, holding the Book of Darkness in his hand.

It was actually quite a pity—Old Wang was not a sorcerer. If he were, he could have learned the spells within, connected with the Dark Dimension and Hell, and perhaps his achievements would not pale in comparison to Doctor Strange. He might even replace him, becoming the new Sorcerer Supreme.

Unfortunately, sorcery was a profession that required intelligence, and Old Wang had little confidence in his own intellect.

Wait…

In the Marvel Universe, it seems sorcerers don’t require high intelligence, unlike in World of Warcraft. Baron Mordo and that librarian with the same name hardly seemed like geniuses…

One didn’t need to painstakingly study magical knowledge, nor laboriously weave spells. All it took was a way to connect with the Trinity of the Vishanti or other magical entities from different dimensions, borrowing their power as if casting a spell.

This was what they called “casting.”

Quite impressive.

The only problem was, it was like building castles in the air—unreliable and dangerous.

If you borrowed someone else’s power, what if they were unwilling? What if they had their own plans? Casting spells seemed to come with a price—it could cost you a limb, trap you in a mirror dimension or temporal isolation, or damage your body and shorten your life.

That’s why the sorcerers of Kamar-Taj were all capable fighters, Gandalf-like battle mages—

They prioritized strength, agility, and constitution, with mental attributes secondary, and intelligence as an afterthought, because it was hardly needed.

Charisma could be utterly neglected.

They didn’t even need to learn light spells—their magic was granted by others.

Spells couldn’t be used recklessly, their repertoire was limited, lacking frostbolt and fireball, and most of the time, they had to fight hand-to-hand.

Unlike World of Warcraft mages, who started as apprentices, had to learn a mountain of magical knowledge, build a complete magical system, and often spent years or decades before they could cast spells—their foundations were solid, and their magic came from within, not from external sources.

Sorcerers at Kamar-Taj were more like shamans and warlocks… at least somewhat.

A shaman could destroy a castle after two years of study, a warlock could grow powerful by selling their soul, and the doctor with weak kidneys hadn’t been at it long before he became the guardian of the New York Sanctum… talent mattered a lot.

This talent lay in communicating with magical entities and other dimensions of the multiverse, and in the use of energy.

For Old Wang, none of that mattered.

The most important thing was…

Sorcerers who used powers from the Dark Dimension and Hell were corroded by dark energy, and their looks suffered—each appeared as if they’d spent ten days and nights cultivating immortality.

Forehead darkened, lips purple, eyes dull, eye sockets as deep as a panda’s.

Something seemed off…

Suddenly, Old Wang realized it suited him quite well.

After all, in his previous life, he was a panda-man with dark circles!

Moreover, it seemed he was not so different from the sorcerers of Kamar-Taj?

Those sorcerers could communicate with powerful entities from the multiverse, treating them as sources of energy.

For him, Miss Azeroth was his source of energy.

So he was not merely a monk.

By Marvel’s definition, he was a sorcerer too!

A true martial-sorcerer hybrid!

The difference was, the sorcerers at Kamar-Taj paid various prices for casting spells—being corroded by darkness, for example.

His only price for casting spells was… money.

Others risked their lives to cast spells; he just needed cash!

Was there anything more tragic?

When the Book of Darkness reappeared, the eyes of the new ghosts instantly lit up.

When the book had vanished, they nearly broke down, as if their beloved had been snatched away—now it was back, their joy was boundless.

But just as smiles bloomed on their faces, the Book of Darkness vanished again.

Their moods soared and plummeted like a roller coaster, swinging in minutes with the force of a sine wave.

“Give me the Book of Darkness! Or I’ll fight you!” the irritable fat ghost, Vincent, roared.

The rational thin ghost, Frederick, quickly clung to him.

“Buddy, don’t make trouble.

If you want to die, fine, but don’t drag us with you!

I still want to live again!”

Lucy pondered.

Earlier, it was invisible; now it seemed to be in another space—a quantum realm or parallel universe, something to do with wormholes or phase shifts. Was the boss a mutant with special abilities, or had he acquired some form of super-advanced technology?

Skye looked at Old Wang, saying nothing.

This guy had more secrets than Fury. When the Book of Darkness vanished just now, was it invisible, or truly gone?

Of course, she couldn’t ask.

After all, there were outsiders present.

Wait for tonight—find a quiet place, open a room, and have a calm, slow conversation.

Within Robbie, the Spirit of Vengeance was unusually calm.

It disliked the dark energy from the Book of Darkness, much as it disliked anything related to Hell.

But if it could get the book, it wouldn’t be bad—perhaps its power could be enhanced. Compared to Cython, it was several levels inferior; Mephistos and Dormammu didn’t even qualify.

It really wanted to snatch the book, but feared Robbie’s refusal.

The key was, it might not be able to win!

Old Wang swept his gaze over everyone, taking in their reactions, and smiled with the warmth of the boy next door.

These new ghosts were all scientists, PhDs, with enough intellect and decent emotional intelligence.

Logically, they shouldn’t be so impulsive.

It was the Book of Darkness’ fault—it changed their personalities, inflamed their desires, and imperceptibly lowered their intelligence.

“Roxxon Power Plant—you know where it is, don’t you?” Old Wang fixed his gaze on Lucy, half smiling.

Lucy froze.

A look of disbelief appeared on her face.

The boss even knew about that?

Knowing about Roxxon Power Plant wasn’t much—it was a subsidiary of Roxxon Corporation, which had existed since WWII, older than Stark Industries, one of America’s largest companies, known to all.

But what was the meaning behind this question?

The boss actually knew the connection between the lab and Roxxon Power Plant?

The laboratory’s research began in WWII; back then, the lab was what is now Roxxon Power Plant.

It housed the complete equipment for building a quantum generator.

The lab’s quantum generator and battery materials all came from Roxxon Power Plant.

Did the boss know even this?

Was he really that omnipotent?

“Don’t doubt it—I know more than you can imagine.”

Old Wang smiled, inscrutable.

He clapped his hands: “Next, we split up. You go to Roxxon Power Plant; I’ll get Eli out… you can’t wait much longer, can you?”

Lucy nodded.

She felt that tugging from the dark power.

Hell—the Dark Dimension the boss mentioned—possessed infinite darkness, deprived of all light and warmth, trying to absorb any creature approaching that state of existence, and trapped between dimensions, she was one of them.

Time was running out.

There was no other choice.

She had to take the risk!

“Skye, Robbie, you two go to Roxxon Power Plant and wait for me.”

Old Wang smiled, “Lucy, you and the others, come with me to find Eli!”

…

…

Los Angeles Prison.

Natasha had gone out for dinner and brought a portion for Coulson as well: “Shall we keep waiting?”

Coulson rubbed his stiff face. “My experience tells me, the one who took the battery will definitely come—he can’t do without Eli.”