Chapter 14: Mind and Reality

"Your soul is far too weak," the Ancient One sighed, then continued, "But talent has never only referred to body and soul. For a sorcerer, imagination is equally important. Compared to my other disciples, your imagination is probably the strongest."

The Ancient One stood with her hands at her sides—a simple gesture, yet it gave Meimu a sense of unfathomable depth, as if she might unleash an overwhelming move in the next moment, pressing him flat and rolling him into a ball.

Meimu swallowed hard, then cupped his hands in a martial salute, adopting a wuxia style: "Please guide me!"

The Ancient One moved, her motions slow yet fluid, like water flowing among clouds. A straightforward horse stance followed by a punch, then transforming the fist into a palm, and finally—"puff!"—pressing her hand against Meimu's chest.

"Hmm?" The Ancient One rarely showed curiosity, but now her expression shifted. What was meant to be a simple push became, at the last instant, a hooked palm with fingers curling inward.

"Bang!" The Ancient One knocked as if rapping on a door.

"Woo—" Meimu's world spun wildly.

To those watching, he appeared as a human figure wreathed in multicolored light, struck by the Ancient One so forcefully his form was driven outside his body.

The scenery before Meimu’s eyes retreated faster than a bullet—Kathmandu became a tiny dot in the blink of an eye.

In the next instant, even Mount Everest, Earth's highest peak, shrank to a mere hill. When he regained his senses, Meimu was stunned to realize he was floating above the equator, gazing down at half the Earth.

"Ah!" Without firsthand experience, one could never fathom the awe of seeing the planet as an astronaut from space.

Even more incredible, a butterfly with yellow wings bordered in black fluttered up beside him. Instinctively, Meimu extended his right index finger, and it landed on the back of his hand.

At that moment, the Ancient One’s voice echoed in his ears.

"Meimu, you are fortunate. You are a modern person, raised in a nation saturated with information. From childhood, you could access nearly infinite knowledge through comics, cartoons, TV, films, and the internet. When it comes to imagination, you truly surpass my other disciples. But have you ever considered one question?"

"What?" Meimu asked, bewildered.

"The movies you watch, the games you play—could they be worlds that truly exist?" The Ancient One asked solemnly.

Her words struck Meimu like lightning, piercing his heart.

As a traveler between worlds, he’d always wondered—why had he crossed into the Marvel universe? Was it simply because he was a fan?

There are countless Marvel fans across the globe, yet not all of them die and traverse worlds, do they?

While Meimu was lost in confusion, the Ancient One's voice sounded again.

"Every film with true soul, capable of resonating with its audience, is actually the influence and information projection from one world among infinite worlds onto another. In other worlds, there are always sensitive souls who receive this information through ‘dreams’, ‘inspiration’, or ‘imagination’."

"When those receivers imperfectly express it through novels, scripts, games, television, or film, it becomes communication between worlds."

"If you wish to become a sorcerer of the sanctuary, first you must believe in the existence of infinite worlds."

"Now, I will let you witness everything, experience everything!"

The Ancient One’s voice grew louder, echoing from the depths. Her seemingly frail figure now magnified before Meimu’s eyes, soaring to unimaginable heights—standing upon the earth, her upper body bursting through the atmosphere, her form beyond words.

"Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah!" Countless streaks of light flashed across Meimu’s retina; the next instant, his body seemed sucked into a black hole. When he came to, he found himself in a dazzling, bizarre tunnel of space.

He tumbled uncontrollably, unable to see what images flashed past.

Through the haze, Meimu seemed to hear Baron Mordo say, "His body is too weak. He won’t survive this."

The Ancient One laughed, "Is that so? I think he’s just warming up!"

"Ah! Ah! Ah!" Suddenly, all visions and sounds vanished. Meimu discovered sweat pouring from his body, soaking him as he collapsed onto a wooden bench.

Before he could catch his breath, the Ancient One patted his back. Instantly, Meimu felt as if he’d been struck by the Super Saiyan Goku’s Kamehameha—his entire being pushed by a scorching force that threatened to incinerate him, flung once more into endless void.

"No, no, no—" Meimu screamed, utterly unable to control himself.

Watching Doctor Strange’s ordeal in the movies was thrilling; suffering it himself was terrifying.

Even as a transmigrator, a cheater who knew the general plot, entering this story firsthand was nothing short of horrifying.

The Ancient One’s voice drifted again—

"Meimu… Perhaps, like so many prophets, you have glimpsed fate. Perhaps you believe you know the path of destiny, the workings of the world. You think foresight makes you invincible."

"You are mistaken."

"Fate is fickle!"

If a butterfly’s flutter can trigger a storm, who can say the path of destiny is absolute?

"What is real?"

"What is false?"

As the Ancient One spoke, Meimu continued his soul’s journey across worlds; his essence hurtled at impossible speed through cracks between dreams and reality, his screams echoing as he saw the place he’d just been leave behind a shed skin, like a snake.

Meimu was annihilated.

Meimu was reborn.

The endless cycle of soul shattering and reformation nearly drove him mad.

Then he found himself in a world of endlessly exploding, cell-like spheres, rolling about as each orb expanded, erupted like fireworks, and returned to nothingness.

The Ancient One’s voice still reverberated.

"What a person can learn is so little, so limited."

"You will never know what secrets lie hidden behind what you perceive."

"At the origin of reality, mind connects with matter."

"Thought sculpts reality!"

"Nightmares become real!"

With these words, Meimu watched as the five fingers on his right hand mutated into monstrous forms. Each finger sprouted five hands, each hand five fingers, and so on, proliferating endlessly.

That nightmarish, infinite multiplication threatened to drive him insane.