Chapter 103: Weird Marvel! Origin Power! [105k]
The harsh honking of a truck horn struck Ian’s eardrums like a slap.
“Damn it! Great Fortune Heavenly Venerable!” He instinctively jumped back, his back slamming against the fire hydrant on the street corner. The cold metal of the hydrant gave way with a groan under the pressure, felt through his thin t-shirt.
Fortunately, the fire hydrant didn’t sustain enough damage to start spraying water.
“Are you looking to die, you bastard?! Do you know you’re blocking the road?” the truck driver yelled, sticking half his body out of the window. The Santa Claus puppet hanging from his rearview mirror swayed with his movements.
“First, I’m standing on a crosswalk, and second… I hope you actually remembered to buy insurance.” Ian stepped forward and kicked the stopped large truck twice.
He directly sent two of the truck’s wheels flying off.
Before the driver could react.
Ian then proceeded to tear off and dismantle the truck’s fuel tank with his bare hands, and then tossed it into the back of a passing pickup truck – the driver of which likely realized he had just received a gift from nature.
“Vroom~”
With a press of the accelerator, he sped off with his full haul, disappearing around the street corner in the blink of an eye, though his escape speed was nowhere near as fast as Ian’s departure.
“Hello! Is this 911? I’ve been robbed by a child! Yes… he stole my fuel tank, and he had an accomplice waiting. This must have been a premeditated crime!”
“He didn’t use any tools; he just ripped off my fuel tank with his hands and kicked off six of my truck’s wheels. Now I have to replace my spare tires.”
“What? You think I’m joking? I’m not joking!”
“What do you mean, ‘Please provide your identity information first’? Damn it! Don’t think I don’t know you guys are just trying to be racially discriminatory! You white people only protect your own kind!”
“My numerous relatives barely managed to sneak over from Curry Country, but you refuse to grant them legal status. This is a failure of freedom and democracy!”
“It’s a decline in morality… Hello? Hello?”
The incessantly rambling Indian driver raged impotently at the disconnected phone.
Prompt response to all reports?
Non-existent.
Real or fake reports require discernment.
The operators in the American police force have considerable autonomy in this regard.
…
After running for two blocks, Ian finally stopped, not because he was tired, but because his shoes had long since disintegrated from the strain. He didn’t want to continue performing a barefoot run for the passersby.
“Wait, this world can influence me again? Is this a good thing or a bad thing?” Ian was a bit perplexed; no one knew what the so-called Creator truly intended.
It was one thing that the Creator didn’t grant Ian the suspended halo above his head, a nameplate of a meritorious saint with special privileges visible to all, wherever he went.
This damn Creator.
Actually encouraged the Will of the Universe to use Great Fortune Heavenly Venerable to scare a little boy!
This is something that uncles can tolerate, and aunts can tolerate, but Ian… after weighing the pros and cons, Ian decided to tolerate it for now, after all, fortunes change.
He still needed to develop.
Mingling in someone else’s territory.
He would inevitably have to endure a tiny bit of annoyance.
“Damn it! Why isn’t this new Marvel world one where large trucks were never invented!” Ian wasn’t actually afraid of Great Fortune Heavenly Venerable.
No matter how many trucks or airplanes were thrown at him, his heart would remain undisturbed. He was only slightly apprehensive of Great Fortune Heavenly Venerable when it was on four wheels and showing signs of movement.
No one could explain the reason.
Perhaps this was the lingering effect of his transmigration, so difficult to erase.
“I can sense the ill will from the Creator,” Ian stared at his left shoe, which was completely coming apart. The toe of the shoe seemed to grin mockingly at his “flying kick at a large truck” feat.
“If I had known it could affect me already, I would have used my fists,” Ian muttered, rubbing his hands together. He then noticed a warm yellow tent set up across the street.
【Winter Distribution – Free Shoes and Clothing for Everyone. 】
This was another facet of America’s landscape.
Wealthy individuals or churches often provided charitable aid for electoral votes and other interests. Since it was free, Ian immediately stepped forward to thank the benefactors.
“Merry Christmas! May you stay warm this winter!”
The volunteer lady handed him a pair of sturdy work boots.
“I’m not feeling very merry, but… thank you.” Ian took the brand-new boots, squeezed the soles, and felt they were good quality, so he quickly picked up another pair from the pile.
The volunteer lady didn’t stop him, as Ian had smiled at her. Being handsome had its advantages, even when one was a vagrant.
“Are your eyes colored contacts? They’re so beautiful.”
She even gave Ian a lovesick look.
“Thank you.”
Ian thanked her again and politely left. He first changed into his new shoes, then connected the other pair with their shoelaces, and hung them around his neck like dried sausages.
On the street.
Crowded with people.
Cars flowing endlessly.
There was a vitality that Ian had never experienced in his previous frozen world.
He looked around.
Suddenly, he felt his sleeve being tugged.
“Sir, would you like to buy some? To help a poor little boy get enough funds to buy a PSP.” There was a child by the roadside selling cookies.
And he had latched onto Ian.
“It’s only five dollars, and I’ll pray to Jesus for you,” said the little boy in the woolen hat, holding up a tin box containing several abstractly shaped cookies.
“Then tell him to say a few more words and have him send you a game console,” Ian wasn’t fooled. He felt the boy’s craftsmanship didn’t deserve a PSP, which he himself didn’t even have.
“Please help me, help the child.”
The little boy’s eyes reddened, and he looked pitiful.
“Who isn’t a child? If you keep bothering me, I’ll report you to your mother and grandmother, saying they conspired to sexually harass me. Believe me, I’ll win.”
Ian’s deep voice stunned the little boy in front of him.
“…”
The boy could only give up on the routine Ian had used on him, looking at Ian with timid fear as he gradually disappeared around the street corner. His young heart had perhaps gained a great shock today.
“I have to start socializing from scratch in this world again, so annoying.” Ian felt a slight melancholy, wandering aimlessly down the street, a dazzling array of shops catching his eye.
It started snowing.
The weather was quite unpredictable.
Cold wind swirled snowflakes into Ian’s collar, making him shiver. This somewhat resembled the doomsday winter, but the temperature was far from that cold yet.
【Greenwich Village Black Street 】
Ian walked past the street sign. On both sides of the street, Christmas decorations glittered with dazzling light. Pedestrians, wrapped tightly in their coats, hurried by, their exhaled breaths briefly lingering in the air before dissipating.
In front of a three-story Victorian-style brownstone townhouse.
A small table covered with purple velvet cloth was very conspicuous.
On it lay a crystal ball, tarot cards, and a crooked signboard.
【Tarot Reading 】
Sitting behind the small table was a horse-faced man wearing a cheap red cloak. His beard was neatly trimmed, but the hairstyle on his head looked wild, as if ravaged by a whirlwind.
“Young man! I see worry on your face; it’s clear you’ve been encountering bad things lately. This is a sign of a dim fate star. Would you like to try a tarot card reading?” He was in the midst of dramatically shuffling tarot cards when he saw Ian passing by, and immediately put on a mysterious smile.
Exactly like a scammer.
“No, thank you.”
Ian didn’t stop, maintaining basic politeness, and continued walking after politely declining. The fortune teller sighed regretfully behind him, lamenting the sluggish market.
To this.
Ian didn’t hear.
His attention was drawn to the showcase television in a nearby electronics store.
“What the hell!”
Ian’s golden eyes contracted violently.
His decadent demeanor vanished instantly.
Replaced by a trembling astonishment. On the screen, a figure in a familiar uniform walked onto a stage, and then a roar of enthusiastic cheers erupted from the audience, which resembled a talent show.
“Ladies and gentlemen!” The host’s impassioned voice vibrated through the surround speakers, filling the entire street. “Let’s welcome tonight’s show-stopping superstar – Spi! Der! Whirl! Wind!”
As soon as this sentence was uttered.
It immediately attracted many people on the street to gather around the showcase television.
“It’s Spider-Whirlwind!”
“Oh my god! He’s my favorite!”
“His Whirlwind Jet is still a classic that no one else can surpass!”
…
The onlookers beside him were all chattering amongst themselves.
Ian couldn’t hear any of it.
He rubbed his eyes, confirming once again that the person on the talent show stage was wearing a costume identical to the superhero uniform in his memory, but now that young boy was standing on the stage.
【Peter Parker 】
The TV displayed the boy’s name with subtitles.
“Damn it!”
Ian couldn’t help but step back a few paces.
Spider-Man, Peter Parker, the superhero, was wearing a sequined, modified uniform, with a grinning opening in his mask. He first did a split on stage, followed by a backflip!
“Ladies and gentlemen! New York’s boy is here! Where are the applause and screams?” Peter Parker grabbed a rope on the stage and spun himself like a human top. His red and blue bodysuit was adorned with glowing LED beads, and the spider emblem on his back was changed to exaggerated fluorescent pink polka dots.
Music.
Rhythm.
Spinning.
Dancing.
“!!!!”
Ian was stunned.
What had he seen!
He saw Spider-Man dancing wildly on stage!
The background music was deafening.
The passersby gathered around the television, and the audience within the television alike, were cheering.
“Here it comes! Almost here!”
“Whirlwind Jet!”
Two children seemed exceptionally excited.
Just then.
“Let’s get hyped!”
Peter shouted into the microphone, then slid on his knees, placed his hands on the ground, and thrust his hips up – at this moment, a dumbfounded Ian finally understood what Whirlwind Jet meant.
“Pfft!”
Spider-Man’s backside was spitting webs!
A large mass of white webbing sprayed out in a fan shape, accurately splattering the faces of the front-row judges! At this moment, the audience in front of the TV and the audience within the TV erupted in fervent screams.
The atmosphere seemed to be boiling.
A young man with a mohawk waved a fluorescent sign that read “Web-Slinger Boy, I Love You” and fainted. Even beside the television, a few girls looked like they were about to swoon.
“????????”
It had been a long time since Ian had seen question marks on his face.
His eyes were wide open, like kettlebells, not merely bells.
“My eyes! My new eyes are going blind!” Ian closed his eyes and then vigorously touched his open jaw, confirming that his jaw hadn’t actually fallen onto the snowy ground.
It was too horrifying!
Was this real?
This was more terrifying than the horror stories Jonathan loved to watch!
“It must be an impersonator! Or a doppelganger!” Ian refused to believe what he was seeing. He had a bad premonition and, somewhat dazed, retreated several steps, returning to the center of the street.
“Creator, are you there? If you are, just…”
To prevent Great Fortune Heavenly Venerable from appearing again, Ian lowered his voice as he looked up. “If you’re there, throw a few hundred golden apples the size of my head down at me?”
He was being cautious enough in his probing.
Yet, he still received no response from Ian.
“No, is this reasonable? Is this correct? Is this…” Ian’s genuine astonishment was cut short as he turned and saw a clothing store on the street.
That man.
The man in the Marvel Universe who always believed he wasn’t cheating, was standing in front of the glass display window of the clothing store, holding his iconic shield.
Not a mannequin.
Because of Ian’s excellent eyesight, he caught the subtle movement of the other person’s neck.
The boy’s breath hitched again.
Perhaps sensing Ian’s gaze, the living model, wearing only short shorts and with his upper body bare, displaying perfect muscles, smiled at Ian, revealing a mouthful of white teeth.
Yes.
The renowned Captain America, the first leader of the Marvel Universe, was at this moment striking various bodybuilding poses in the display window, his abdominal muscles, coated with olive oil, even glistening under the spotlight!
“Knock, knock, knock!”
Ian quickened his pace and rushed forward.
He pressed his face directly against the cold glass of the display window, his exhaled breath condensing into mist on the surface. The model suddenly came to life and made a gesture forbidding him from knocking on the glass.
“I must have fallen for Tony’s illusion!” Ian’s gaze was fixed on the shield in the model’s hand, which was once again lifted into the air like a dumbbell by the model.
“Are you really Steve Rogers?”
Ian, disbelieving, pulled open the door and rushed into the store. The doorbell rang cheerfully. The cold wind, carrying snowflakes, chased after him, leaving faint traces on the antique-style wooden floor.
“That’s right, it’s me, your favorite Captain America.” The model flashed a standard eight-teeth smile, his abs rising and falling with his breath. His muscles indeed seemed imbued with technology.
“Kid, I know what you’re trying to do.”
Steve struck a pose, showing off his biceps, “Want to touch it? Modern technology can’t forge this classic. It’ll only cost you one US Dollar for a full minute of touching.”
What a guy.
He’s even started charging for it.
“…”
Ian was hit with a critical silence.
“Why are you doing this here?” After holding back for a while, he finally couldn’t help but ask, his heart feeling like a herd of Grass Mud Horses was galloping through it.
“Uh.”
Steve was taken aback by the question, then showed a helpless expression.
“Sigh, what can I do? I have to eat, right? Those politicians are all bastards who are blind to anything but money. Can you believe they’re giving me a retirement pension based on World War II standards?”
He stopped his exaggerated display, his expression looking a bit dejected. He grumbled, “A retirement pension based on 1945 standards? What kind of person would think of such a tactic to deal with me? Fuck! I slept in the ice for decades and never had such a nightmare!”
Perhaps because Ian was a child, Steve’s profanity was quite restrained, almost akin to using exclamations like “gosh darn it.”
“…”
Ian’s silence mirrored his inner turmoil.
Deafening.
“Sorry… but this has nothing to do with me. It’s Tony. It’s definitely him. He’s mentally unstable, he won’t see a doctor himself but wants to force one on me.”
Ian’s expression was quite complex. If he still couldn’t see that this newly reopened world was in trouble, he would be a disgrace to his Super Brain.
“What are you talking about?”
Steve paused, not understanding Ian’s meaning. He glanced at Ian’s attire and suddenly pulled a small card from his shorts.
“Looks like you’re a rich kid. Tonight at 8 PM, we’ll be live on YouTube. I’ll be leading everyone in the ‘America’s Perfect Glutes Training Plan’ again. Remember to subscribe on time.”
“To have glutes like mine, you must start training from a young age.” Ian didn’t dare to take Captain America’s card; the man maintained his business-like smile.
“Being this handsome, I don’t really need perfect glutes anymore. It’s the perfect glutes out there that need me.” Ian said, picking up a clothes hanger nearby.
He adjusted Steve’s super shorts, which had become a bit too revealing.
“If you subscribe to my channel, you can become even more handsome.” Steve still persistently tried to sell, but seeing the clothing store owner approaching from inside, he quickly resumed his pose.
“Remember to subscribe.”
Steve’s final reminder was as quiet as a mosquito’s buzz. Then, he returned to his statue-like stillness, as if afraid of being fined for moving.
“Sir, can I help you with anything?”
The clothing store owner approached Ian.
“Please pray that none of this is real. Thank you.” As Ian turned, he knocked over a row of hangers, and the mannequins’ wigs rolled onto the floor like colorful mushrooms.
This showed the extent of the shock the little boy had endured.
“Sorry.”
Ian pushed open the clothing store door and rushed out. He wasn’t exactly fleeing, but he suddenly realized something and returned to an area he had passed earlier.
Greenwich Village Black Street
He carefully tucked Steve’s excessively abundant mysterious hair back into his tight shorts.
As the protagonist trotted closer to the brownstone townhouse, the man who had been setting up a stall seemed to have packed up. Not only was the small table gone, but the villa’s main door was also completely shut.
The cold wind swirled with snowflakes.
Ian stood before the oak door, carved with mysterious runes, and looked up at the Victorian-style mansion. If he guessed correctly, this should be the so-called Sanctum Sanctorum.
Kamar-Taj’s sanctuary.
From the outside, it looked no different from the surrounding houses, just a bit more aesthetically pleasing, with French Baroque architectural charm and a unique Mansard roof.
Before any buildings existed, this place was used by a Native American shaman to seal demons. It later became a burial ground and a place for cult killings.
Later, it became the territory of Kamar-Taj, the sanctuary for Earth’s mages in the Marvel Universe. At some point, the originally unholy place became the New York stronghold of the Sorcerer Supreme.
It is also Doctor Strange’s residence.
And if Captain America and Spider-Man had become the characters they were earlier, the identity of the street hustler Ian had just encountered was perhaps self-evident.
“I can’t take this. This isn’t the Marvel journey I wanted.” Ian was very frustrated. The gargoyle on the spire tilted its head as if mocking his hesitation.
After more than ten seconds of internal struggle.
The boy took a deep breath and knocked on the door – knock, knock, knock.
The sound was loud.
But no one responded.
“This is really strange.” Ian muttered, retracting his hand, his fingertips coated in fine copper rust. “Do the mages of Kamar-Taj not even maintain the door knocker of their sanctuary?”
It wasn’t Ian being nitpicky.
It was indeed somewhat unbelievable.
The Sanctum Sanctorum, as an important building for the Sorcerer Supreme to protect Earth and the universe, was a crucial node in the protective barrier. It should have undergone regular maintenance.
How was it now?
It looked almost as dilapidated as America’s fighter jets?
“Knock, knock, knock~”
Ian, filled with confusion, knocked on the door again. After this knock, the gap under the door seemed to widen slightly, and a wisp of very plant-like incense smoke wafted out from inside.
“Is it an invitation? Or is the door not properly locked?”
Ian tried pushing the door.
The heavy oak door slid open silently, revealing a resplendent hall within. Suspended candelabra cast warm halos, illuminating the thin layer of dust accumulated on the banister of the spiral staircase.
It looked like it hadn’t been wiped for at least a few months.
“Is anyone home?”
Ian politely peeked in and asked. His voice echoed in the hall, startling several pigeons roosting on the chandelier, and also allowing him to see where they flew.
As feathers drifted down.
A folding table covered in purple velvet was stowed in a corner. There was also a rocking armchair, and the horse-faced man seen earlier was lounging on it leisurely.
The man’s attire was even more disheveled than when Ian encountered him on the street – dark blue pajama bottoms peeked out from under his mage robe, his left slipper was missing, and his right sock had a hole in it.
He was flipping through a copy of “The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes” with his long fingers. On the hardcover, Sherlock Holmes’s pipe had been colored in the shape of a wand with a highlighter.
“Sir, why aren’t you still setting up your stall?” Ian stepped onto the worn Persian rug, his boots sinking into it. His familiar personality led him to initiate the conversation.
“Of course, it’s because I stop working once I earn 200 yuan a day.” The man answered instinctively, then, as if suddenly realizing something, slammed the book shut.
“Wait!”
The man abruptly stood up, spilling his hot tea onto his pajama pants. He seemed unconcerned, looking at Ian with a mix of surprise and uncertainty.
A red cloak automatically flew to his back.
Identity verification was successful.
“How did you get in!?”
Doctor Strange stared with wide, disbelieving eyes.
“Maybe because the door wasn’t locked?”
Ian pointed behind himself, putting on a slightly embarrassed expression.
“This has nothing to do with the door being locked or not, what about the Sanctum’s protective spells?” Doctor Strange rushed to the main entrance in a few strides, his expression becoming even more incredulous after an inspection.
“The protective spells are fine. Only those I’ve permitted can approach my house, and you, you don’t have my invitation.” Doctor Strange stood at the entrance and suddenly turned around.
There was no anger on his face, but rather excitement. “This proves the Sanctum itself invited you, and it means you’re probably a prodigy destined to be a mage!”
Doctor Strange made a reasonable deduction.
At least, it was a deduction that seemed reasonable to him.
“…”
Ian was silent for a moment.
“Are you trying to imitate Sherlock Holmes with your deductions?”
He found himself increasingly unable to understand the superheroes of this world.
Out of place.
Perhaps that was the feeling.
“Huh?”
Doctor Strange blinked in surprise.
“You figured that out?” He sheepishly let his cloak scratch his head for him.
It truly conveyed an extreme sense of laziness.
“Don’t try it next time.”
Ian sighed deeply.
“It’s not convincing at all, yet even so, it still makes me easily associate it with Sherlock Holmes’s stories.”
His words left Doctor Strange bewildered.
After pondering for a long time.
He couldn’t figure out if Ian was complimenting him or criticizing him.
“Stephen Strange? Former neurosurgeon?” Ian was quite melancholic at the moment, so he didn’t continue small talk but confirmed his identity information with Doctor Strange.
Upon hearing this.
Doctor Strange was first stunned.
“You even know that?” Then, as if he had “deduced” something, he slapped his forehead. “It seems you have exceptional talent in precognition!”
“That’s great! At least you won’t starve in the future!”
“Kid, are your parents nearby? Never mind, I can handle them – it’s mainly up to you, though. Would you consider a career change to become a magnificent mage?”
“Seriously, I’m not lying. You have the potential to become the Sorcerer Supreme!”
“I am the Sorcerer Supreme. Don’t you think this cloak is cool? You don’t even have to wait for me to die. Once you learn it, I’ll give it to you, and I’ll immediately find a place to hang myself!”
“Seamless succession! Couldn’t be better!”
Doctor Strange’s tone was rapid, but it didn’t mean his thinking speed was equally fast. He rambled on, and his intention to dupe Ian was all too obvious.
“…”
Ian looked around.
He didn’t find any trace of another mage having existed.
He roughly understood.
“Is Kamar-Taj only left with you now?”
Ian’s tone carried a hint of probing.
Doctor Strange’s excited expression froze at that moment.
“Uh, it’s not that it’s just me, it’s just that the others… the others don’t have such high talent, you know – it seems you’ve already dabbled in the world of magic.”
“Are you from a mage family?” Doctor Strange forcibly changed the subject, his method being incredibly clumsy. He was clearly trying to conceal something, giving the impression he wanted to engage Ian in a back-and-forth.
However.
Ian didn’t want to engage in a back-and-forth with Doctor Strange.
“No, I’m not from a mage family. I’m from a positive energy family… Damn it, can’t this world be more normal? Compared to learning magic, which is no longer that important…” Ian interrupted Doctor Strange, who was trying to continue his deception. “I actually want to know what’s going on with this world.”
He stared intently at the Sorcerer Supreme in front of him.
“What’s going on?”
Doctor Strange’s expression was somewhat bewildered.
“You were setting up a stall outside doing fortune-telling, Captain America was a model in a clothing store, and Spider-Man went off to do a striptease… Damn it, I really hope he was just doing a striptease!”
Ian held his forehead.
Even he.
Found it hard to accept such an absurd world.
“Oh, you mean those two? It’s normal, they’re just making a living.” Doctor Strange lay back down on the chair, his tone carrying a sense of unwarranted obviousness.
The red cloak behind him flew back to the hanger.
“They are superheroes!”
Ian covered his head.
“No, I need to see the Ancient One, I need to see Eternity… hurry up and tell Eternity that I’ve made contributions to Marvel, I’ve shed blood for Marvel, and I deserve to know an answer.”
It wasn’t that he couldn’t accept an absurd Marvel.
The boy, who had finally played the hero, just couldn’t accept that his heroic deeds had created such a bizarre and outrageous world.
“Eternity? If I knew how to get close to such a big shot, I’d be reading novels here?” Doctor Strange picked up “The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes” again.
“What did you hide in your crotch? I can feel a magical aura.” Doctor Strange said while reading, and he conjured a chair for Ian.
But Ian had no intention of sitting down.
“A Demon Book?”
Ian pulled out his collectible from his crotch. Honestly, he still didn’t understand what this book was. Perhaps Doctor Strange could help him identify it.
Although the world was different.
Some things were still common.
Ian’s Creation God Book
This book liked to change its name, which Ian found amusing. Still, he held the “simp book” and walked forward, hoping for authentication from the Sorcerer Supreme of the Marvel Universe.
However.
“What the hell is this? The words are twisted into monsters, I can’t understand any of it.”
Doctor Strange gave Ian a suspicious look. “As for demons? Are you trying to scare me? A ten-year-old mage should know by now that demons only exist in bedtime stories.”
His words carried a hint of disdain.
Ian’s pupils constricted.
He sensed something new was wrong, yet again.
Once again, I sensed that something was wrong.
“What do you mean? You haven’t seen demons? Haven’t fought Demon Gods from other dimensions? Dormammu? Zarathos?” Ian, under the normal functioning of the Super Brain, acutely captured crucial information.
He immediately pressed for more.
Along with it, he directly snatched Sherlock Holmes’ Case Files from Doctor Strange’s hand.
“Who are Dormammu and Zarathos?” Without his books, Doctor Strange could only answer Ian helplessly. In his heart, he had already begun to see Ian as the successor who would replace him.
He couldn’t afford to be impatient.
He still had to trick the other party into joining the sect.
“They are Demon Gods from other dimensions, also known as Dimensional Lords.”
Ian swallowed.
He seemed to have realized what Tony Stark had done.
As expected.
“I don’t know what a Demon God from another dimension is.” Doctor Strange picked up his empty teacup and took a few sips. When he put the teacup down, it was full, as if he had coughed into it.
“And no one has ever seen demons, because demons are just stories used to scare children. Perhaps they also appear in movies, but at most, they are merely products of people’s imagination.”
Doctor Strange’s answer was as matter-of-fact as ever.
Silence enveloped the hall.
“Oh…”
Ian’s expression kept changing.
“Tony, you said you weren’t influenced… Oh, he was silent at the time, wasn’t he.”
His brain seemed to be short-circuiting.
“No, then what kind of magic do you sorcerers at Kamar-Taj study? And this cloak of yours, its power should come from the Vishanti, the trinity, right?”
Ian seemed to have found a loophole in this world.
However.
“Uh… Vishanti? You’re confusing me. It seems you know something about the world of sorcerers, but how does that knowledge also contain so much fantasy?”
Doctor Strange stood up from his chair and manually took down the cloak that had automatically hung itself on the hanger. Its somewhat cheap and inferior texture felt very out of place.
“This is my Cloak of the Sorcerer, not a creation of the Vishanti, but a magical artifact I made myself… only I know how much effort I poured into making it.”
“But that’s how practicing magic is, you can only rely on yourself for everything.” Doctor Strange’s tone was filled with emotion, and his words seemed to reveal why this place was so run-down.
No creditors!
No backing!
In this Marvel Universe, magic can only be cultivated through personal effort! The reason for this must be the information Tony added when setting up that Infinity Gauntlet!
Tony tampered with the information he planned! He inserted his own agenda!
“Without the power bestowed by a magical source, are there no shortcuts for sorcerers to cultivate? I mean, a more convenient way to practice.” Ian swallowed, desperately trying to process the information.
“No.”
Doctor Strange shook his head.
He looked at Ian with a peculiar gaze.
“So there are people lazier than me in this world.”
His tone was filled with emotion.
“How did you get this magical artifact? Did you steal it from your parents?” Doctor Strange’s attention shifted back to the wondrous magic book Ian had taken out. He began to consider whether he could defeat Ian’s parents and take the child back to Kamar-Taj to study magic.
At this very moment.
“Knock knock knock~”
The sound of someone knocking on the door echoed.
“It’s my takeout.”
Doctor Strange’s attention was immediately drawn away.
He quickly walked to the door.
“When I knocked just now, you weren’t this quick to react. Can’t a boy like me be the one delivering takeout?” Ian asked, confused, but Doctor Strange looked even more bewildered.
“You didn’t knock. If you had knocked, I would have heard it.” Doctor Strange said as he opened the door, and a gust of cold wind carrying the aroma of cheese rushed in.
It was pizza delivery.
The delivery person was a beautiful girl.
Ian recognized her.
“Hi, Gwen, you’re finally not wearing leather pants. Do you remember the bond between us? You owe me over 180 favors, you can’t just easily default on it!”
Ian greeted her, probing to see if this familiar person had any past memories.
Yes.
Standing outside the door was a maiden wearing a woolen hat with rabbit ears, holding a pizza box, her nose tip red from the cold. This exceptionally beautiful pizza girl was Gwen Stacy.
“Huh?”
Gwen looked at the boy inside with confusion.
“Who are you?”
She felt a sense of familiarity but couldn’t recall anything.
“It’s me, the Amazing Boy Ian, the one you begged to be the new Spider-Man, but I refused.” Ian keenly noticed the daze in Gwen’s eyes.
“I knew it! The bond of friendship can transcend space-time!” Ian was extremely excited. He pushed Doctor Strange aside, rushed out the door, lifted the bewildered Gwen, and ran outside.
“Put me down! This is kidnapping! It’s kidnapping!”
Gwen was so frightened she turned pale.
“We need to find Tony! If you still remember me! Even a little bit, then Tony must be the same as you!” Ian always had his plan.
“God! What are you talking about? What kind of amazing boy are you? You’re practically a mentally ill boy! Damn it! Why does this sentence feel so familiar!”
Gwen beat Ian on the back.
But she found Ian’s back to be exceptionally hard.
“Fantastic!”
Ian was overjoyed.
“That’s it! The power of bonds is continuously at work!”
He quickly ran through the street.
Behind him.
Doctor Strange, pushed to the ground, looked confused, like a discarded peasant woman.
“You little brat! I was just about to invite you for pizza! And you treat me like this? Fine, you can treat me like this too… Are you going to become the Sorcerer Supreme or not!”
He stood up, picked up the pizza box from the ground, and while eating the pizza, he shouted outside—however, his only response was the disappearing figure of Ian carrying Gwen, who was speeding away.
Ian was in a hurry.
Because Ian was about to return.
“Why is he running so fast… Holy crap! He’s jumping! He’s flying!” Doctor Strange watched the scene in the distance, and the half-eaten pizza in his hand dropped to the ground.
A moment later.
He slowly recovered from his shock.
“It’s only been ten minutes on the ground, I can still eat it.”
Doctor Strange picked up the pizza from the ground, and with immense frustration, closed the door and walked back into the Sanctum hall, his greasy hands reaching directly for Sherlock Holmes’ Case Files.
Perhaps.
At this moment.
Something in the depths of his mind struck Doctor Strange.
“Wait, what did he call himself just now?” Doctor Strange suddenly ran to the rear hall of the Sanctum Sanctorum, opened a portal, and instantly crossed an extremely vast distance.
Kamar-Taj.
Stephen Strange stepped over the threshold, his boots clashing with the stone floor.
No greetings from apprentices.
No conversations with sorcerers.
Only the mournful sound of the cold wind whistling through the corridors. The empty holy land was desolate; the wooden dummies in the training ground were covered in dust, and a few discarded practice outfits still hung on the racks, weathered by time.
“I remember that name!” Doctor Strange’s footsteps echoed in the long corridor. He pushed open door after door, arriving at the dusty and empty library. Doctor Strange’s fingers glided between the bookshelves, which held few books, finally stopping on an ancient tome with a golden cover.
He carefully pulled it out. The spine made a slight “crack” sound, as if it hadn’t been opened in years and needed to be blown clean of dust before the large characters on the cover could be seen.
The empty pages contained no text or records of magic.
However.
Ian’s Magic Book
On the cover.
These large characters, even more golden than gold, were very conspicuous.
