Chapter 422: I Hate It Most When People Speak Ill of Me Behind My Back

Chapter 422: Chapter 422: I Hate It Most When People Speak Ill of Me Behind My Back

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Darian had long since used the HYDRA intelligence network to investigate Strange’s background thoroughly.

Put simply, this person’s personality was like Tony Stark of the medical field—equally genius, equally conceited, belonging to the type who could make people’s blood pressure skyrocket after speaking just a couple more sentences.

Darian asked himself if he had the patience and good temper of Ancient One; he was a person who liked humility.

What was referred to here was not his own humility, but others’ humility; if the other party was not humble enough, it was very easy for him to beat them to death.

Therefore, for the sake of Strange’s little life, Darian decided that before formally meeting him, he would first grind away all the arrogant shell on this guy’s body.

Therefore, he did not learn from how Ancient One treated him back then by directly leading Strange through the gates of Kamar-Taj, but instead made the other party search for the entrance of Kamar-Taj by himself like finding a needle in a haystack.

Weren’t movies and novels all written like this?

The protagonist goes through all kinds of hardships, breaks through eighty-one trials, and finally manages to enter the mountain gate; otherwise, how could it set off the status and aura of the mountain gate?

If the main gate was opened right from the start and they eagerly invited him to join, the other party would probably suspect whether this was some kind of MLM den.

However, just letting Strange search for a needle in a haystack was far from enough, and this could not achieve a very good tempering effect.

For this reason, Darian specially arranged a batch of HYDRA members to lurk on Strange’s path to find Kamar-Taj, racking their brains to create all kinds of trouble for him and making up the eighty-one trials.

After all, most of the eighty-one trials in Journey to the West were forced together by immortals sending their own mounts or attendants.

He asked HYDRA to make up the eighty-one trials for Strange; this was called paying tribute to the classics, which was reasonable and fair.

Of course, the guidance that should be given still had to be given.

Otherwise, if Strange were really left running around blindly like a headless fly, given the concealment level of Kamar-Taj, he probably wouldn’t be able to touch the door frame of Kamar-Taj even after a few more decades.

Therefore, whenever Strange fell into a dead end, the HYDRA members would timely act as path-finding NPCs, disguising themselves as various passersby and pretending to inadvertently hand out a bit of fragmented information, step by step guiding him in the direction of Kamar-Taj.

It could be said that from the moment Strange got the first clue from Christine, every move of his was within the script written by Darian.

And this entire process would be recorded via live broadcast throughout.

On the large-screen television in the Sorcerer Supreme’s recreation room, Strange’s real-time footage was broadcast uninterrupted twenty-four hours a day, with clear image quality and multi-camera switching.

Darian specially gave it a name for this, called The World of Strange.

Precisely because of this, Mordo knew what Strange had encountered and expressed sympathy for this guy with a horse face.

In fact, he initially had some thoughts about the position of Sorcerer Supreme.

After all, he was Ancient One’s eldest disciple, and in terms of seniority and strength, he ranked high in Kamar-Taj. If Darian weren’t the Sorcerer Supreme, that position no matter how one looked at it should be his turn to sit on for a while.

But now, after witnessing Strange’s miserable encounters with his own eyes, that little thought in Mordo’s heart had completely vanished.

Whoever wanted to be this Sorcerer Supreme could be it; anyway, he didn’t want to be it.

It was simply too much suffering!

And this was just a novice guide; after Strange joined Kamar-Taj, that would be the real beginning.

Thinking of this, Mordo held a moment of silence for Strange for two seconds.

However, tempering aside, Darian actually favored Strange deep down.

After all, in the comics, Strange was originally the candidate to succeed the Sorcerer Supreme.

That aptitude naturally didn’t need much elaboration; placed in immortal cultivation novels, it could definitely be called a Heavenly Spiritual Root level sapling, the existence of the sect’s holy son tier.

Although Darian became the Sorcerer Supreme, he didn’t want to work himself to death like Ancient One.

Not only working on overdraft, but also working all year round without a break, guarding the reality dimension all day unable to extricate himself, wishing for retirement every day.

Therefore, he had to find a chosen worker.

As for strength, it certainly couldn’t be too weak; otherwise, when he went out to handle some business one day and came back to find that his home had changed completely and become a 5A scenic spot of some Dimensional Demon God, he would even have to pay for an admission ticket just to enter himself.

Strange was undoubtedly this chosen worker.

With high enough talent, as long as he was well-trained, he would be able to stand on his own in no time.

By then, Darian could dump all the work of the Sorcerer Supreme onto Strange, then casually give a little sweetness and draw a few pie-in-the-sky promises, making Strange willingly stay in Kamar-Taj as free labor, while he himself lived a carefree and happy life outside.

Just thinking about it felt wonderful.

Darian suddenly paused: "Wait, why does this routine feel a bit familiar?"

Scouting a top-talent successor, shoving some benefits to bluff the person in, then pushing all the chores to the other party and patting his butt to go out and live it up.

Isn’t this fucking the exact same set that Ancient One used on him back then?

The chosen worker turned out to be none other than myself!?

"I was wondering why Ancient One was so readily willing to let me learn magic back then without setting any restrictions; because this was originally the right of the Sorcerer Supreme!"

Darian’s mouth twitched, and he finally figured out the cause and effect—he had been set up.

Even so, even if given another chance to start over, he would probably still plunge right in headfirst.

Because this was a player.

Knowing clearly that there was a pit ahead, he would still jump down voluntarily.

Of course, as for the rain he had once drenched in, others shouldn’t expect to hold an umbrella either.

"Strange, don’t blame me; if you want to blame someone, blame Ancient One. I am doing all this to maintain the fine tradition of the Sorcerer Supreme, heh heh heh heh..."

On the other side, Strange felt targeted by the World.

Ever since stepping into this city, the bad luck seemed to have never stopped.

First he was ripped off by locals, taken on detours in cars, beaten up by a passerby who didn’t like the look of him, beaten up by a passerby who liked the look of him...

Besides that, the things on him also suffered numerous calamities. First his wallet was stolen, then his ID documents and phone were stolen, and finally even his clothes were stolen.

If he hadn’t guarded strictly, he probably wouldn’t even have been able to keep the underpants on his body.

Strange was so angry he wanted to curse.

Were this gang of thieves collectively rushing for performance quotas at the end of the year?

With so many people on the street, why did they all lock onto him like a sheep to fleece to death?

Today, Strange was penniless and could only sleep on the streets. For several days without taking care of himself, his hair was in a mess, stubble grew wildly on his face, and the whole person looked no different from a street tramp.

Suffering from hunger and cold, sitting on the steps of the roadside, he muttered to himself: "Soon, I should be able to find Kamar-Taj soon, hold on a bit longer."

Heaven rewards those who spare no effort; after inquiring everywhere these days, he finally groped out some clues.

If those passersby hadn’t lied to him, Kamar-Taj should be right around here.

"Poor beggar, take it to buy something to eat."

Strange looked at the kind passerby walking away, as well as the loose change thrown in front of him, feeling that his self-esteem had been insulted.

"What a joke! I am no beggar!"

While cursing, he quickly collected the loose change on the ground, afraid that someone else would snatch it away.

Things having come to this, filling his stomach was more important.

Strange braced against the wall and stood up, turning into an alley, wanting to detour to the street corner ahead to buy some food to stave off hunger.

As a result, not long after walking in, he bumped head-on into a few ruffian-looking guys, just like they had suddenly spawned out of the alley.

Those people’s eyes swept back and forth over him a few times, exchanging winks with each other, and surrounded him with ill intentions.

Strange’s heart tightened, instantly feeling that something bad was about to happen.

He hurriedly spread his palms, revealing the few coins he had just put away, and said at a rapid speed: "My wallet was stolen long ago, and I only have this little money left on me. You’ve targeted the wrong person."

The leader glanced at those pitiful coins in his palm with a face full of disgust.

"Turned out to be a poor ghost after all."

They originally thought they had run into a fat foreign sheep to make a big haul, but didn’t expect this guy’s pockets to be cleaner than theirs.

Unreconciled, the leader’s gaze shifted downward, suddenly locking onto the watch on Strange’s wrist, narrowing his eyes.

"Hand over your watch."

Strange’s heart skipped a beat, secretly thinking it was bad.

This watch was given to him by Christine, and it was of great significance to him, which was why he deliberately wore it close to his body to prevent those ubiquitous thieves from stealing it.

Never had he expected that this time he didn’t run into thieves, but instead ran into a gang of robbers.

"This watch is a fake, it’s not worth any money..."

Strange barely squeezed out a smile, trying to muddle through.

The leading robber directly interrupted his words: "Cut the crap, hand it over quickly, or we’ll make you pay. Seeing that you have tender skin, it’s just right for the brothers to have some good fun."

Saying that, several robbers licked their lips and showed Strange smiles at Strange.

Despair appeared on Strange’s face.

These guys not only wanted to rob him of his money, but actually wanted to ravish him too!

"Bastard!"

Strange was enraged; a scholar can be killed but not humiliated, and he immediately punched the leading robber in the face.

But the nerves in his hands were severely damaged, and he couldn’t exert any strength at all. Not only did this punch fail to hurt the opponent, but it hurt himself instead.

Then he was pushed to the ground by the angry robbers, followed by a flurry of kicks and punches.

Strange had no power to fight back, and could only curl up his body, protecting the watch tightly in his arms, and clenching the waistband of his pants with the other hand.

When his consciousness began to blur, he vaguely heard a muffled sound of beating, followed by several screams and sounds of falling to the ground.

A Strange voice drifted down from above, with a tone of confusion: "Which department are these guys from? Are they getting this deep into character?"

"Uh, they don’t seem to be our people, but real robbers."

"...."

Good grief, a few real ones actually mixed into a bunch of fakes.

I don’t know how long had passed, but Strange vaguely opened his eyes.

In his vision was an unfamiliar ceiling, wooden beams looming in the dim light, and the air drifted with a faint scent of tea mixed with old books.

He suddenly sat up, immediately checking his sphincter, and finding no signs of loosening, only then did he breathe a sigh of relief.

"You’re awake."

Strange looked toward the source of the voice, and a fat man in a robe was sitting not far away looking at him.

"Who are you? What is this place?"

Strange stared at the other party vigilantly, his body subconsciously shrinking back.

"Don’t be afraid, my name is Wong; when I passed by the alley and saw you lying on the ground, I brought you back."

The fat man stood up with a gentle smile on his face: "As for here, it is Kamar-Taj, the sacred cultivation ground of sorcerers."

"Kamar-Taj?"

Strange first was stunned, then a look of pleasant surprise appeared on his face.

After eating so much bitterness and suffering so many crimes for so many days, he had finally found the place.

Thinking of the hardships during this period of time, and even almost losing both money and virtue at the end, Strange suddenly had the urge to cry.

It was truly not easy!

Strange impatiently lifted the quilt, his feet stepping on the ground, with an eager tone: "Master Wong, I am here to seek help. I heard you possess the ability to heal others. Please help me cure these hands of mine; I am willing to pay any price."

Wong coughed and raised his hand to signal him not to get excited first: "I have no right to decide this matter; I need to ask the Sorcerer Supreme."

Strange was stunned for a moment.

Seeing Wong’s oriental face, plus this appearance method, he thought the other party was the master in NJadaka’s mouth.

Sorcerer Supreme, this title sounded extraordinary at first hearing, perhaps the person in charge of Kamar-Taj.

Strange had weighed it in his heart and carefully spoke: "Master Wong, then can you let me meet the Sorcerer Supreme?"

Changed to the past, he would never speak to people in this tone.

But these days of encounters had taught him one thing: to be a person, one must be humble enough, especially when facing those people one couldn’t beat.

Wong looked him up and down, his gaze pausing on his disheveled look, and then looking at his hands that were still trembling slightly, he sighed.

"You wait, I’ll go report."

After speaking, he turned and went out, the footsteps gradually fading away along the corridor.

The room quieted down, and Strange began to let his imagination run wild: if that Sorcerer Supreme disagreed, what should he do?

After a while, the door was pushed open.

Wong waved at him: "The Sorcerer Supreme has agreed to see you. Come with me."

Strange was instantly overjoyed, his hanging heart falling back halfway, and he quickly got up and followed.

The corridor outside was very long, surrounded by oriental-style buildings, almost identical to the cultivation places of worldly experts in movies.

Looking into the distance, he actually saw a towering mountain range covered with sparkling white snow.

"This is... the Himalayas?"

Strange was dumbfounded.

Where on earth had this gotten him?

Walking and walking, a crackling sound faintly came from afar, giving Strange a sense of familiarity like returning to his hometown, but he felt it was unlikely.

He thought of the tradition over in the East and curiously asked: "Master Wong, does Kamar-Taj have any joyous events? Why do I hear the sound of firecrackers?"

Wong calmly replied: "That’s the sorcerers practicing; the commotion is a bit big, you’ll get used to it."

Strange was very confused.

What kind of practicing could make such a big commotion? Could it be the legendary Magic?

The two turned a corner at the end of the corridor and stopped in front of a wooden door.

"Here we are."

Wong turned around and looked at Strange, saying with a serious expression: "This is the meditation place of the Sorcerer Supreme. After entering, you must remember one point, and that is to respect the Sorcerer Supreme and absolutely not have any trace of disrespect."

"If you think there is any problem, it is definitely not the Sorcerer Supreme’s problem, but your problem. Understood?"

Strange looked at Wong’s solemn appearance, couldn’t help swallowing saliva, and tentatively asked: "How come hearing you say this, this Sorcerer Supreme seems quite terrifying?"

Wong’s expression was very complicated: "It’s not terrifying, but..."

He reached out his hand and placed it on the position of his left chest, making a gesture with his index finger and thumb.

Strange was a smart person, his brain turning rapidly, instantly guessing the meaning of this gesture.

"You mean the Sorcerer Supreme is petty?"

"Holy shit!?"

Wong’s face turned pale instantly, and all the hair on his body stood on end.

Before he could even speak, a palm suddenly burst through the door, heavily imprinting on Wong’s body.

Wong didn’t even have time to issue a complete scream; his body traced an arc in the air, flying sideways more than ten meters away, crashing into a room in the distance, sending shattered wood and dust flying all over the ground.

Strange froze in place, vaguely able to see one of Wong’s legs still exposed outside the hole, twitching twice before stopping all movement.

The newcomer clapped their palms and sneered: "I hate it most when people speak ill of me behind my back."

Strange: " "