Clarke was pleased with the child's response and glanced at the crystal sphere in his hand. "Come now, let me see your talent. I agreed to teach you at your father's request, but the condition remains—you must possess magical aptitude; otherwise…"
Du Wei raised his head. "What should I do?"
"Place your hand upon the crystal sphere, grasp it firmly. Then, try to summon your emotions, whatever they may be—joy, anger, anything that can stir your spirit." Clarke's tone shifted back to its cold indifference. "Let me assess your potential."
In silence, Du Wei took two steps forward, pressing his hands onto the crystal sphere and gripping it tightly. It was cold and smooth to the touch.
"Focus now… think deeply of something that left a mark on you, be it rage or joy…" Clarke's solemn voice echoed in Du Wei's ears.
Du Wei closed his eyes, searching his memories…
Gradually, the crystal sphere in Clarke's hand began to emit a faint glow. At first dim, it soon brightened, bit by bit.
The proud magician could not conceal a glimmer of surprise, casting a sidelong glance at the young Du Wei. He even murmured a soft "hmm."
Yet, Du Wei himself felt anything but well. A tide of emotion surged within, vague memories rising unbidden… he had inexplicably arrived in this world, and all that he once held dear—his ideals, his dreams, his ambitions—had faded into emptiness. And as time wore on, as he adapted to this world, his former memories gradually grew hazy… though it's natural for human recollections to dim with time, it filled him with sorrow, an aching kind of sorrow…
Is this like Zhuangzi's dream of the butterfly? Am I the one dreaming of the butterfly, or is the butterfly dreaming of me?
Du Wei's breathing grew faster, and the mystical force within the crystal sphere seemed to amplify his emotions, making his heart pound, his chest tightening as if crushed by some invisible weight…
At last, a cold, firm hand pressed upon his head, sending a coolness that washed over him, calming his fevered mind.
"That will do, my child." Clarke's tone remained indifferent, though he had begun addressing him as "my child" rather than "boy," a subtle mark of the magician's approval.
"Impressive… I must say, quite impressive. Not yet six years old, and your magical potential is nearly that of an apprentice. Your mental strength alone is almost twice that of an ordinary person. Considering your age, I am most satisfied with your talent." The haughty magician even allowed a hint of a smile to grace his lips.
Powerful mental strength? Du Wei smiled bitterly to himself. It's likely due to my "rebirth," carrying remnants of memories from a previous life—perhaps the strength of two lifetimes.
Clarke stored away the crystal sphere and directed Du Wei to sit. "Now I need to test your second gift… I will teach you the simplest of spells. Focus your mind, attune yourself to the forces of nature, then tell me what you sense."
Du Wei committed the incantation Clarke provided to memory with great care.The simple and ancient pronunciation carried with it a faint aura of mystery.
"Focus deeply, immerse yourself in meditation. This step is crucial; many who are even more gifted than you have stumbled here and failed to become magicians."
"What exactly should I do?" Du Wei frowned.
"Do nothing. Simply recite the incantation silently, let your mind wander and feel everything around you—cold, heat, sounds—anything. It's not difficult."
Du Wei followed his instructions, sitting down naturally in a cross-legged position. Clarke found this instinctive pose somewhat unusual. The magician then drew a small hourglass from his gray robe and set it aside to measure the time…
The fine sand trickled as young Du Wei sat in stillness for a long while. Finally, he opened his eyes and hesitated. "Master Mage…"
"Oh? What did you feel?"
"I…" Du Wei replied, a bit helpless, "I feel hungry."
…
Clarke was momentarily deflated by this answer. Clearly, though this child possessed an impressive magical gift, he lacked a sensitivity for perceiving the world around him.
While magical strength is vital, it is not the only measure of a true mage. Mental strength can indeed be cultivated over time through meditation; those who are naturally strong in spirit merely begin a bit further ahead. Yet, the real test—the crux of it all—is whether one can sense the magical elements within nature.
Clarke had trained several apprentices before; even those less gifted than Du Wei often displayed promising potential. One, during this very test, sat for only half an hourglass's measure before rising to open his hand and summon a spark from his fingertips. That student later pursued fire magic as his specialty.
Another apprentice had once heard the murmur of the winds during this phase and ultimately became devoted to wind magic. Clarke's most exceptional pupil, upon first passing this test, had sat calmly as water from a vase across the room floated upward, forming a fist-sized sphere that held its shape without dispersing.
In short, those truly destined for magic often produce subtle, wondrous manifestations at this stage. Yet, for all his innate talent, young Master Du Wei seemed incapable of even the faintest spark.
It could only be said that… he simply was not suited to be a mage.
"Ah, it's a pity the gods granted him such mental strength. Had he passed the test, his talent would have set him apart." Clarke felt a twinge of regret. But quickly, the proud magician dismissed it.
Hmph, what use is strong mental power alone? Like a strong man in battle, raw strength does not guarantee victory. A bull is mighty, but it is no match for a leopard.
Still… what a waste.
…
When Clarke emerged from the room with a somber expression, the Count, who had been waiting outside, immediately understood the outcome.
As expected… "My lord, I am truly sorry. Your son possesses no aptitude for becoming a mage. It seems the gods have not chosen him. Perhaps it would be best to find another field in which he may excel," Clarke added, unable to hold back another remark. "Pardon my boldness…but in all my thirty-six years of magical research, I have never encountered anyone quite like your son…"
With that, Clarke sighed, neglecting even a formal farewell, and turned to leave. After taking a few steps, he seemed to remember something. "Oh, if you truly insist on making him a mage… I would suggest he pursue magical alchemy. After all, potion-making does fall within the realm of magic, if only loosely."
With a wave, Clarke scattered a handful of golden powder, disappearing in a flash of flame.
The Count stood deep in thought, his face darkened by disappointment, as Du Wei emerged quietly from the room to face his father. For a moment, Count Raymond met his son's gaze, sighing wordlessly, his disappointment written clearly upon his face.
"…in all my years, never have I met anyone quite like your son…"
And what exactly did that mean? *Like this*—how? As a fool? An idiot? A dullard? An utter simpleton?
A silent despair filled the Count's heart. Yet, due to Clarke's characteristic pride and unfinished words, the Count was left with a damaging misconception.
It must be noted that both Rosyate, the elderly scholar, and Clarke, the proud mage, shared some responsibility in this misunderstanding, for their cryptic and evasive words had fueled this unfortunate conclusion.
Though Du Wei lacked a mage's innate talent, he was by no means an imbecile. Quite the opposite—his unusually high natural mental strength made him sharper and more perceptive than most. This mental fortitude gave him boundless energy and an exceptional memory. Yet now, the young master bore the cruel label of "fool."
Thus, he had inadvertently led an accomplished warrior to deem him unfit for martial training, then had driven off a scholarly tutor, and now had disappointed a renowned magician. Together, these events fueled a rising interest within the noble circles of the capital in "the little fool of the Rowling family." Indeed, it was not uncommon for nobles to rebuke their unruly children by exclaiming, "At least you're not as hopeless as the little fool from the Rowling family!"
And so Du Wei, without his consent, became a cautionary tale.
What path awaited this young master in the future? This question troubled everyone in the Rowling household… except Du Wei himself.
In truth, the mage had intended to say that Du Wei was an unusual combination—a person blessed with a remarkable magical gift yet devoid of any sensitivity to natural magical elements. But instead, the Count concluded with finality, "It seems he truly is a fool."