"I'll fight you, b*****d!!"
Strange roared and lunged at Mordo, who looked genuinely confused.
Bang!
Mordo casually stepped aside, watching Strange fall flat on his face like a dog eating dirt. Shaking his head, Mordo said coldly:
"To be honest, I'm already tired of you."
"Eat your meal, then get out of here."
Lying on the ground, Strange gritted his teeth and sneered:
"Only dogs eat the food here."
Just then, Wong walked in carrying a plate of roast beef, vegetable soup, and tacos from Kathmandu.
Strange froze, catching the complex aroma.
A few seconds later, he swallowed hard and mumbled:
"Can I… take back what I just said?"
A few minutes later.
Strange, who hadn't eaten decent food in a long time, was nearly in tears.
It was so delicious.
While devouring his meal, he finally noticed the clothes worn by the two people standing nearby.
They looked vaguely like monk robes but tighter—almost like combat uniforms.
"Thank you, Master, for saving me," Strange said gratefully to Wong.
Even though Wong's face looked tough, Strange figured he was a good man.
Standing off to the side, Mordo felt strangely irritated by this scene but wasn't sure why.
Wong chuckled and said:
"You're welcome, but I wouldn't call myself a master."
"Here, there's only one master."
Strange's eyes lit up.
"Is it the abbot of the temple?"
"I've been having terrible nightmares recently… do you think he can help me?"
Wong exchanged a glance with Mordo, both understanding each other immediately.
Perfect.
Everything had gone exactly according to plan.
From Strange arriving here to his money and food being robbed… and even him getting beaten up—it had all been part of the setup.
Though neither Wong nor Mordo understood why the Sorcerer Supreme wanted things this way, neither dared to disobey.
Wong smiled and said:
"Of course. But he's not the abbot. You can call him… the Venerable One."
Strange immediately put down his spoon, stood up excitedly, and asked:
"Can I meet him now?"
He'd tried countless ways to stop his nightmares, but nothing worked.
Maybe only guidance from these monks—or enlightenment—could help.
Mordo nodded silently and led the way.
Strange eagerly followed, his heart racing as he admired the ancient, magnificent architecture along the way.
What a massive temple!
I definitely came to the right place!
Finally, they reached a pavilion halfway up the mountain.
There, Strange saw an Asian man reading a book he couldn't recognize.
Beside him sat a young woman, perhaps seventeen or eighteen, with a graceful figure. She was quietly peeling grapes and feeding them to him one by one.
Strange's excitement dimmed instantly.
So... the master's living this kind of life?
A beautiful woman serving him grapes?
For a moment, Strange felt disappointed.
Maybe this "Venerable One" wasn't as wise as he'd hoped.
But... since he'd made it this far, even if the master couldn't help him, he figured at least he could get another good meal.
Mordo bowed respectfully and said,
"Sir, I've brought him."
Russell looked up slightly, glanced at Strange, and said,
"Young man, you should learn some moderation. Those dark circles under your eyes are terrible."
"I'd recommend taking Liuwei Dihuang Pills. Good for treating kidney deficiency."
Strange almost spat blood.
I came here to find a master, not some back-alley doctor!
And most importantly—he didn't have kidney deficiency!
Taking a deep breath, he clasped his hands together and bowed politely:
"Master, I don't have kidney deficiency. I've just been haunted by nightmares these past few months. It feels like my soul's trapped in some terrible hell… about to be devoured."
"Oh, is that so?"
Russell stood up, curled his finger, and said calmly:
"That's easy. Come here and let me take a look."
Strange, thinking there was no harm in trying, stepped forward.
But just as he stopped in front of Russell—
SLAP!
Russell suddenly struck him without warning.
Damn! A sneak attack?!
After months of suffering, Strange's reflexes were much sharper than before. He instinctively tried to dodge… but failed.
BANG!
A transparent, ghostly figure was slapped right out of his body!
With a dull thud, Strange's physical body collapsed to the floor, while his soul floated mid-air, his expression frozen in shock.
Looking down at his own translucent hands, Strange's voice trembled:
"This… what… what is this?!"
"Your soul, obviously."
Russell said casually, raising a finger as Strange's body levitated and reunited with his floating soul.
Because of Russell's disguise magic altering his appearance, Strange couldn't recognize him.
Still dazed, Strange remained frozen in shock.
But the next moment, golden lines materialized from thin air, forming intricate magical circles around him—like something straight out of a movie's special effects.
Above, below, left, right—a total of six rings spun and shifted, surrounding him completely.
"Tsk. Something's resonating with your soul."
Russell looked mildly surprised.
He'd assumed the nightmares were purely mental, but apparently something was wrong with Strange's soul itself.
At that moment, a puff of green smoke seeped out of Strange's body!
In an instant, a milky-white light burst forth from the magic circles. Hissing sounds echoed as the light attacked the smoke.
Within seconds, the green mist evaporated like snow meeting a furnace.
With a soft plop, the magic circles vanished.
Strange collapsed onto his knees, overwhelmed, and pleaded desperately:
"Master… please teach me!"
"Please… I'm begging you!"
Russell couldn't be bothered. He waved Mordo over.
"Take him away. Arrange a dormitory for him."
After giving Wanda some instructions, Russell directly cracked open a dimensional rift and entered a hidden chamber.
Lighting a stick of special sandalwood, he raised his hands and began constructing complex mana patterns.
With his current magical abilities, most spells could be formed with just his thoughts.
But not this one.
Half a minute later, an intricate spherical formation took shape, unfolding to fill the entire secret chamber.
Blue light gathered, forming a projection.
The projection flickered… then stabilized.
Standing before him was the familiar form of the Ancient One, her features glowing blue.
"What happened? Why did you contact me so suddenly?" she asked.
This was a cross-timeline psychic projection—an illusion carrying the Ancient One's consciousness.
Russell immediately reported Strange's anomaly, then added:
"The green smoke… its energy level is extremely high. Dimensional energy."
"But Earth's dimensional barrier shows no breach. So I'm guessing something from the outside is connected to Strange."
The Ancient One's expression darkened.
"Are you saying… it's the Lord of the Dream Dimension?"
Her tone turned serious.
"If it's really Him… then we're in trouble."
"That thing's powers are too unique. In dreams, He's nearly invincible."
"But why would Strange attract His attention?"
She was genuinely puzzled. Nightmares rarely cross over into reality.
Russell felt awkward.
He hadn't expected Strange's nightmare problem to lead to something this serious.
Still, he wasn't taking responsibility.
The connection had already been made. That green mist was only temporarily purged. It would return.
So… if worse came to worst, Strange would just have to suffer.
The Ancient One sighed softly:
"Every version of Strange is always this troublesome~"
"If it gets too bad, just toss him into the Quantum Realm for now."
"We don't have the resources to deal with this until the timeline crisis is resolved."
Russell blinked.
The Ancient One's still too merciful…
Honestly, he was already considering tossing Strange to the edge of Hell, and letting Nightmare battle the other Lords of Hell over him.
At the same time…
In the dormitory, Strange—currently struggling to get a Wi-Fi signal—sneezed suddenly.
A chill ran down his spine, and he had no idea why.
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