Chapter 421 If you endure the bitterest of hardships, you’ll find endless suffering.

Chapter 421: Chapter 421 If you endure the bitterest of hardships, you’ll find endless suffering.

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Stephen Strange had never been this desperate in his entire life.

Not long ago, he was still the top neurosurgeon in the U.S., maintaining an extremely high surgical success rate.

This was all thanks to his superb medical skills, as well as that pair of machine-like precise and steady hands, completely crushing his peers and making him the rising star of the hospital, unmatched in his limelight.

In everyone’s eyes, Strange was an absolute winner in life, with a booming career and a pretty girlfriend, Christine, by his side.

However, this girlfriend later became an ex.

For no other reason than that Strange was extremely conceited, self-centered in everything he did, and equally looked down on everyone.

Even when Christine proposed a breakup to him, he brushed it off on the surface, being very stubborn and claiming that she was merely a girlfriend, and if he didn’t have one, he still had two.

But he never expected that one day he wouldn’t even have two girlfriends.

That day, Strange was driving while engrossed in medical records, and a momentary lapse in concentration caused his car to drift out of lane, first scraping a neighboring car, and then completely losing control, plunging off a cliff, rolling all the way down to smash into the ground, using the car to test the hardness of the ground.

As a result, the hardness of the ground wasn’t measured, but Strange’s hardness was measured instead.

That luxury car bought at a huge price was shattered into pieces on the spot, but he miraculously survived, without losing a single part, only suffering severe injuries.

Unfortunately, fate liked to play tricks, and the place on his body that was injured the worst happened to be his hands.

Although it didn’t reach the point of amputation, the nerves in his hands suffered severe damage, and both hands trembled uncontrollably from then on, making even holding a pen steady immensely difficult.

In this state, basically all manual crafts would be out of the question for him in the future.

Strange simply could not accept this fact.

For a neurosurgeon, his hands were everything.

His reputation, his dignity, and even his entire life were all built upon these hands.

Without these hands, he was nothing.

After being discharged from the hospital, Strange began frantically searching everywhere for a way to repair his hands.

He even lowered his pride to contact peer experts he had always looked down upon before, thinking of using their hands, guided by himself as a top neurosurgeon, to complete the repair surgery.

But reality slapped him hard in the face.

The precision in the hands of these so-called neurosurgeons was far less than a third of his peak period, completely failing to achieve the effect he wanted.

After interviewing several in a row, the results were all the same.

Strange finally snapped and cursed aloud: "What kind of damn neurosurgeons are you guys, actually unable to even do this? Isn’t this kind of operation something anyone with hands can do?"

The expert who was scolded had long found Strange unpleasant to look at.

He calmly replied: "My skills are indeed inferior to yours, but I have hands."

Strange glanced at his own hands and instantly broke down.

"F*ck * * you * * *!"

The other party was not to be outdone, and the two of them greeted each other’s entire family back and forth.

Finally, the other party raised two middle fingers at Strange, easily crushing Strange.

Strange was shaking with anger, vowing never to count on these mediocracies again in his life, and instead pinning his hopes on those new medical technologies.

Nowadays technology was so developed, that guy named Tony Stark could even fly into the sky wearing an iron coffin, maybe there was some high technology capable of repairing his hands.

Therefore, Strange spared no expense, selling his car, house, and various luxury goods, just to scrape together the medical fees to try those cutting-edge treatments.

Although he was a top neurosurgeon with a handsome income, it couldn’t withstand such endless spending.

Besides, he didn’t have much of a habit of saving money, spending whatever he had. Now that his source of income was completely cut off, it didn’t take long for him to spend his assets clean, and he even had to borrow money from Christine.

But even after so many treatments, his hands still showed little improvement, and to this day they couldn’t even lift slightly heavy things, let alone extremely delicate jobs like surgery.

The money was spent, and his hands weren’t healed.

Today, Strange was like a stray dog, cowering in a rundown rented room, with a sallow complexion and sunken eye sockets, his whole person exuding a lifeless aura, showing no trace of his former high-spirited appearance.

Life was so ironic, soaring highs and plunging lows, lows, lows...

Who would have thought that not long ago, he was still standing in front of a large floor-to-ceiling window wearing a custom suit, holding a glass of red wine, overlooking the city’s night view, with a bright future ahead.

And now, he was curled up in a corner like a rat in a gutter, penniless, and even facing the risk of the execution threshold.

If he had a chance to do it all over again, he would definitely honestly obey traffic rules.

Countless roads exist, safety is number one; improper driving leads to two lines of tears for loved ones.

These were all bloody lessons.

Just then, the phone tossed on the coffee table suddenly rang.

Strange instinctively looked over, discovered it was a call from Christine, and pressed answer without thinking much.

"Strange, I have some news to tell you."

Christine’s tone carried a hint of excitement: "A patient came to the hospital for a routine checkup today. I flipped through his medical records and found that he was diagnosed as disabled a few months ago, completely losing mobility in both hands."

"With that degree of damage, according to current medical understanding, there is basically no possibility of recovery, but today his checkup results are all normal, his hands move freely, and there is no difference from a healthy person."

"What!?"

Strange suddenly straightened his body and asked hurriedly: "Are you sure there’s no mistake?" ℯℯ𝑙.

"No mistake, I still have his medical files saved here, take a look yourself."

Soon, the phone received a few pictures, which were precisely the basic medical files of that patient.

Strange stared fixedly at the screen. Just as Christine said, a few months ago this patient still had disabled hands, much more severe than his, and even with his peak-era abilities, he would have been helpless.

As a result, a few months passed, and this patient’s hands were completely healed; it was simply a miracle.

And what Strange needed most right now was a miracle.

He was like a drowning person; even if just a straw floated past his eyes, he would seize it tightly without hesitation.

"Christine, can you send this patient’s info to me?"

Strange’s voice carried a plea.

Christine was silent for two seconds. Doing this was indeed a bit against the rules, but she still sent the information over.

Strange was very moved. Adversity reveals true feelings; when he was at his most down and out, those so-called friends hid from him one by one, and only Christine never went far away, trying all sorts of ways to help him.

Even for someone as arrogant as him, he couldn’t help feeling a sourness in his nose.

"Thank you... Thank you."

"I hope you won’t degrade yourself anymore, Strange."

Christine sighed, and after speaking, she hung up the phone.

An ex who didn’t kick him while he was down like her was simply a rare species, but unfortunately Strange didn’t cherish her well himself, and his remorse grew deeper in his heart.

A few minutes later, that patient file was sent to his phone.

Strange immediately followed the information on it and found the man named Najaka in a boxing gym club.

On the ring, Najaka was boxing and sparring with an opponent, his double fists powerful and heavy, and a single straight punch KO’d his opponent.

If he hadn’t seen that diagnostic record with his own eyes, Strange would never have believed that this person’s hands were once disabled.

Seeing this scene, Strange felt hope even more strongly.

After the match ended, he hurried up eagerly: "Hello, I’m Stephen Strange, a neurosurgeon... formerly."

Najaka glanced at him with a somewhat baffled expression: "Is there something you want from me?"

Strange took a deep breath and asked: "I heard you suffered a very serious injury before, and your hands became disabled with almost no possibility of recovery, but you look completely healed now, so I want to ask you, how did you do it?"

Najaka chuckled: "I don’t even know you, why should I tell you?"

Strange stretched out both of his hands, his gaze toward Najaka full of entreaty: "My situation is the same as yours, I’m really at my wit’s end... Please."

Najaka stared at him for a few seconds, as if hesitating, and finally sighed: "Fine, for the sake of our shared misery, it doesn’t matter to tell you. A while ago I met a mysterious master. Seeing that my hands were disabled, he said he knew of a place that could cure my hands, for just one million bucks."

Strange was startled: "Why does this sound like a scam?"

"It doesn’t just sound like one, it is a scam. He took all my property and then skipped town." Najaka said with a face full of resentment.

Strange: "..."

Najaka continued on his own: "But later I inquired about the place mentioned by that master, went through countless hardships, finally found that place, and saw that master again."

"That master told me that everything before was a test for me to see if I was a destined person."

Strange’s mouth twitched.

What destined person, more like a person with money.

"And then?"

"And then... no more then."

Najaka spread his hands: "That master kept me for a meal, and then drove me away. After I left that place, my hands inexplicably returned to normal."

"So magical?"

Strange frowned, his eyes somewhat skeptical.

No matter how one listened to this story, it exuded a sense of unreliability.

But where did he still have the right to choose now? Even if there was only a one-in-ten-thousand chance, he had to try it.

Strange immediately asked: "Where is that place?"

Najaka’s expression became somewhat subtle: "Actually I can’t explain it very clearly either. At that time I muddled my way to that place, the memory of the process seemed missing, and I can’t remember the specific location, nor can I remember how I got back."

"However, I remember that place is called Kamar-Taj."

"Kamar-Taj?"

Strange remembered this name, and then asked Najaka a few more questions.

Najaka claimed ignorance to everything, acting like an NPC only responsible for dispensing fixed information.

Seeing that he really couldn’t ask out any more useful information, Strange had no choice but to thank him repeatedly, turned around, and hurried away from the boxing gym club.

Once he walked far away, Najaka’s expression changed, and he immediately took out his phone and dialed an encrypted number.

"He’s hooked, everything proceeds according to plan."

"Hail HYDRA!"

After returning to that rundown rented room, Strange immediately used his phone to search for information on Kamar-Taj.

However, the search results were few and far between, and the sporadic pieces of information contradicted each other. After flipping through for a long time, he couldn’t find a single useful thing, making him suspect whether this place actually existed.

He lowered his head to glance at his hands that were still trembling slightly, and clenched his teeth.

Now he had nothing left to lose.

Therefore, Strange borrowed another sum of money from Christine, packed a simple luggage, and set off.

He headed to the city provided by Najaka and began searching for Kamar-Taj.

Although it was just a small city, the scope was still ridiculously large for a single person.

Strange had no idea of the specific location, so he had to choose the clumsiest yet simplest method, which was to investigate city regions one by one, asking anyone he saw if they knew of Kamar-Taj.

And this process was exceptionally arduous.

His appearance was too conspicuous in this small town, looking at a glance like an outsider. Coupled with the simple local folk customs, Strange hit walls everywhere.

Not many days passed, his already meager money was scammed until it was almost bottomed out, and even eating meals was becoming a problem, forcing him to buy some cheap coarse grains to barely pad his stomach.

However, the clues regarding Kamar-Taj were still zero.

Let alone anyone knowing this place, not even a few people had heard of this name.

Strange’s heart grew more and more confused.

He had no idea whether persisting like this would ever find him an answer.

Kamar-Taj, the sanctum of the Ancient One.

Ever since Darian inherited the position of Sorcerer Supreme, this place had become his exclusive territory.

With a wave of his hand, he directly ordered people to violently renovate this solemn-looking hall into the Sorcerer Supreme’s private recreation room.

Today, all kinds of recreational facilities were complete inside, and even high-spec computers were moved in.

Although Kamar-Taj was located in a remote area, the internet was very stable, and playing games basically didn’t lag.

Darian knew that the Ancient One usually played games too, so he had every reason to suspect that back then this internet was specially set up by the Ancient One for convenience.

Specially configured for playing games.

By the way, Darian also changed the Wi-Fi password.

The previous password was too hard to remember, so he changed it to one that was relatively easy to remember.

Darian lay on the sofa, playing games while drinking cola, carefree and content, completely different in style from those ascetics outside.

But no one said anything either.

Who made Darian the contemporary Sorcerer Supreme.

Let alone making a private recreation room, even if it were making a Kamar-Taj bikini pool party... cough cough, let’s forget about this one, lest it give the mages watching Kamar-Taj inner demons.

Mordo sat nearby, holding a game controller in his hand, clumsily controlling the character on the screen. He asked cautiously: "Master Darian, that guy seems to be reaching his breaking point, shouldn’t we intervene?"

Darian waved his hand, his eyes never moving away from the screen: "It’s fine. Endure the bitterest of hardships, and you will have endless hardships to endure. I came through it this way back then too, which is how I could achieve who I am today and become a generation’s Sorcerer Supreme."

Mordo: "..."

Bullshit, you came in by taking the Ancient One’s backdoor, what hardships did you have?