Chapter 72: The Destruction of the Sacred Temple

"Master, I can immediately arrange a legal identity for you. What kind of setting would you like?" Christine's eyelids twitched uncontrollably. Since when did the American identity verification system become so casual?

Ancient One shot her disciple a glance, clearly saying, "I knew you’d have some tricks up your sleeve."

Ancient One did not refuse. "I am Celtic. Set me up with a nationality that fits a Celtic identity."

Mei Mumu thought for a moment, found a blank sheet of paper, and wrote, "Tilda Swinton, born November 5, 1960, in London."

Originally, Mei did this out of a mischievous sense of humor, since in another world, it was Aunt Tilda who played Ancient One in the movies.

Unexpectedly, Ancient One was even more impressive, changing the birth year directly to 1980.

This time, Mei Mumu was left speechless: Ancient One, how do you look thirty-six?

Ancient One gave Mei Mumu a death stare—clearly saying, "If you can't handle this, you might as well go die."

"I'll step out for a call," Mei Mumu hurried out of the operating room and dialed the special number, 9527.

Of course, it didn’t connect. After pretending to give some instructions, Mei Mumu returned. "Christine, it’s done. Just enter the information from the note."

Christine, still skeptical, left.

The vast operating room was left with only Ancient One and Mei Mumu.

Ancient One beckoned him over. "Come here. I must quickly pass my magical power onto you. Otherwise, if my aged body fails to endure, this vast magic will dissipate along with my soul. That would be a terrible waste."

Mei Mumu pulled up a chair and sat beside Ancient One, half-reclining on the operating table. "What do I need to do?"

"Open your mind, accept and merge with my soul fragments, and those of the previous Supreme Sorcerers."

"Soul fragments?"

"Yes! The human body can only withstand so much magical power. Humans can't simply surpass physical limits, but the soul can. It’s the soul that truly carries the magic drawn from other worlds. The secret of the Supreme Sorcerer’s strength lies in each generation inheriting the accumulated magic of the previous Supreme Sorcerers."

Ancient One shrugged and continued, "Whether you call them magical circuits or mana vortices, inheritance is inheritance. These soul fragments won't affect your will."

Mei Mumu was a little stunned.

In his memory, whether in Marvel movies or comics, all power systems were extremely crude and straightforward. If a character was powerful, they simply were. The details of cultivation or how one reached that level were never clearly explained.

With the multiverse chaos and writers restarting the Marvel universe on a whim, even the most seasoned fans would be lost when it came to advancing power levels or methods.

He’d never imagined the inheritance would be so direct and brutal.

Mei Mumu nodded, indicating he was ready.

Ancient One gave her final instructions: "Dormammu is too strong. Even at my peak, relying on the three Sanctums, I could only barely hold my own against him. You, lacking experience—even with the Supreme Sorcerer’s inheritance, your odds of victory are less than one percent. This burden is heavy, but Earth has no better choice. Do your best."

"Alright."

With a gentle spell, she laid down a protective array, shielding them and subconsciously guiding others away from the operating room. Ancient One, seemingly with ease, transferred her soul fragments to Mei Mumu.

Tearing away fragments of one’s soul is far more painful than ripping off an arm. Although Ancient One suppressed her reaction and expression, Mei Mumu could clearly sense her pain.

It was a torment like casting oneself into purgatory.

For a moment, Mei Mumu’s eyes grew moist.

The inheritance of magic was utterly natural.

It felt like putting on clothing.

No—more accurately, it was like donning an exoskeleton suit from a sci-fi film. Like Tony Stark wearing the Iron Man armor. Only this ‘external device’ was closely bound to his soul.

Every movement, every gesture, he could feel the surging magic from those soul fragments.

"You must quickly adapt to the use of these magical circuits. Don’t worry—they won’t activate on their own or harm you if you’re too weak. After all, you’re cultivating the magic lineage of Kamar-Taj, and my soul imprint as the previous guardian is there." As Ancient One spoke, her body seemed to age by decades, appearing as a centenarian on the brink of death.

Having sacrificed so much, Mei Mumu naturally showed gratitude.

Without that immense magic, Ancient One was just an ordinary elder. Mei Mumu gently activated the Eye of Agamotto, wielding time magic.

Bathed in green magical light, as Mei Mumu’s wrist turned, Ancient One’s body began to regain youth.

Her withered skin quickly became radiant, not as tender as a baby’s, but quite plump. The wrinkles on her face faded swiftly, and eventually, even the crow’s feet vanished.

Within ten seconds, Ancient One transformed into a noblewoman in her prime.

"Ah!" With a low gasp from the doorway, Mei Mumu and Ancient One saw Christine, so startled she dropped the medical records in her hand.

Mei Mumu grimaced. "Master, you didn’t stop her from coming in?"

"You said you didn’t want to hide it from her." Ancient One ignored Mei Mumu and picked up a mirror, scrutinizing her younger reflection.

Mei Mumu had truly shot himself in the foot.

"Christine?"

Christine quickly said, "I understand! I understand! This is another mysterious... magic, right? I swear by God I’ll keep it a secret."

Mei Mumu pursed his lips. "Very good."

Christine grabbed Mei Mumu, dragging him to the preparation room beside the operating theater. "Hey! How did you manage it? Is there really a Tilda Swinton, with recent entry records and commercial insurance?"

"Uh..." Mei Mumu scratched his head.

How could he explain it? The mystical war was already bizarre enough. It seemed fate was even more mysterious than the world of sorcerers!

Just as he was about to say something, Mordo burst in. "Mei Mumu, Hamir is dead, the New York Sanctum destroyed. When Wang tried to lead reinforcements, he was held up by demons. Hurry! If we don’t act, Dormammu will descend and Earth will be destroyed!"

With Mordo’s anxious cries, the entire city heard a thunderous explosion from the direction of Manhattan, like a small nuclear blast shaking the heavens.