Clark was satisfied with the child's response. He glanced at the crystal ball in his hand. "Come, let me see your talent. I promised your father I would teach you, but the condition is that you must possess magical talent. Otherwise..."
Du Wei looked up. "What should I do?"
"Place your hands on the crystal ball, grip it tightly. Then, try to focus your thoughts on something—anything. Happy things, angry things, whatever. In short, do everything possible to stir your emotions," Clark replied, his tone returning to its previous coldness. "Let me see your talent."
Du Wei fell silent. He stepped forward, placed his hands on the smooth, cool surface of the crystal ball, and gripped it firmly.
"Concentrate. Begin now... think. Think about the things that have left the deepest impression on you. Anger, joy, anything..." Clark's stern voice sounded beside Du Wei's ear.
Du Wei closed his eyes and began searching through his memories...
Clark watched as the crystal ball in his hands began to emit a faint glow. The light started dimly but quickly grew brighter and brighter!
The haughty mage couldn't help but show a flicker of surprise on his face. He looked at the glowing ball in his hands, then at the young Du Wei before him, and let out a soft "Hmm?" of astonishment.
Du Wei, however, wasn't feeling well. He felt agitated inside, vaguely recalling his past life... how he had inexplicably arrived in this world. Everything before—ideals, dreams, life, pursuits—all had turned to emptiness! The longer he stayed here, the more he adapted to this world, and the more his memories of that past life faded... Though it was normal for human memory to fade, it still filled Du Wei with profound sorrow, truly profound sorrow...
Was I dreaming of the butterfly, or was the butterfly dreaming of me?
Du Wei's breathing grew rapid. The strange power within the crystal ball seemed to amplify his inner turmoil. His heart pounded uncomfortably, and his chest felt constricted, as if squeezed by an invisible force...
Finally, a cold, large hand pressed onto his head. A rush of coolness flowed down from his forehead, forcibly calming his fevered mind.
"That's enough, my child," Clark's voice was still cool, but he had changed his address from "boy" to "my child," a clear sign that the mage was satisfied with Du Wei's innate potential.
"Not bad... I must say, quite impressive. You're barely six years old, yet your magical talent is comparable to that of a magic apprentice. Your spiritual power is almost twice that of an ordinary person. Considering your age... I am very satisfied with your innate gifts." The proud mage even allowed a faint smile to touch his lips.
Strong spiritual power? Du Wei inwardly scoffed. That's probably because I've been 'reborn' yet retain the memories of my past life. It's like one person possessing the spiritual power of two lifetimes.
Mage Clark put away the crystal ball and motioned for Du Wei to sit. "Now, I need to test your second aptitude... I will teach you the simplest, most basic form of magic. I need you to focus your mind, meditate, reach out to sense the power of nature, and then tell me what you perceive."
Du Wei listened intently as Clark recited a short phrase—a simple chant with ancient, mysterious-sounding syllables.
"Focus your mind completely. Meditate. This is a crucial step. Many people with even greater innate talent than yours have failed at this point and could not become mages."
"What exactly do I need to do?" Du Wei frowned.
"You don't do anything. Just silently chant the incantation, let your mind wander and sense your surroundings. Feel with your heart—cold, heat, sounds, anything. It's not difficult."
Du Wei complied. He sat down, naturally assuming a cross-legged position. This posture seemed novel to Clark. The mage then pulled an hourglass from beneath his grey robe and set it nearby to mark the time...
The fine sand flowed steadily. Little Du Wei sat in complete stillness for a long time. Finally, he opened his eyes, hesitated, and spoke: "Master Mage..."
"Oh? What did you sense?"
"I..." Du Wei sounded somewhat helpless. "I feel... hungry."
"..."
Clark was utterly disheartened by this answer. Clearly, while the boy possessed outstanding magical aptitude, he lacked the sensitive heart needed to perceive the world.
The magnitude of magical power, while important, wasn't the sole criterion. Spiritual power could also be gradually increased through dedicated meditation practice later. Those born with stronger spiritual power merely had a higher starting point.
But the ability to sense the magical elements in nature—that was the absolute, most critical barrier!
Clark had taught several magic apprentices before. Some had even started with less innate magical power than young Du Wei, yet among them were outstanding talents. One, during this initial trial, had stood up before half the sand had flowed through the hourglass, extended his hand, and produced a flicker of flame on his fingertip. That student later specialized in fire magic.
Another apprentice, during his trial, had been able to hear the sound of the wind in the sky. He later specialized in wind magic.
Clark's most exceptional student, during his initial trial, had sat in concentration. While he meditated, the water in a vase in the room rose into the air, coalescing into a fist-sized sphere of water that hung suspended without dispersing!
In short, those truly destined to be mages invariably manifested some kind of phenomenon during this initial trial. But this young Master Du Wei, who seemed blessed with strong innate magical potential, appeared completely... unenlightened.
This could only mean one thing: he was fundamentally unsuited to be a mage.
"A pity about the spiritual power bestowed upon him by the gods. If he could have passed the test, his higher starting spiritual power would have been an advantage," Clark felt a pang of regret. But swiftly, the proud mage dismissed it.
Hmph! What use is slightly higher spiritual power? It's like fighting—the stronger man doesn't always beat the weaker one. Or like an ox—strong, yet no match for a leopard.
Still... a pity.
Seeing the grim expression on Mage Clark's face as he emerged from the room, the waiting Count immediately knew the result.
Indeed...
"Count, I must apologize. Your son does not possess the talent to become a mage. It seems the gods have not chosen him. I suggest you find another field where his strengths might lie." Clark couldn't resist adding, "Forgive my bluntness... In my thirty-six years of magical study, I have never encountered someone like your son..."
Here, Mage Clark sighed deeply. He didn't even bother with formal farewells; he simply turned to leave. After a couple of steps, however, he seemed to recall something. "Ah, if you truly insist on him becoming a mage... I might suggest he pursue Magical Alchemy. After all, a Magical Alchemist is still, technically, a type of mage."
With that, Mage Clark waved his hand, scattered a handful of golden powder, and vanished in a burst of flame.
The Count fell into deep thought, his face clouded with gloom. At that moment, Du Wei emerged from the room and stood quietly, looking at the Count.
Raymond locked eyes with his son for a moment. He sighed heavily without speaking, but the disappointment etched on his face was unmistakable.
"...I have never encountered someone like your son in thirty-six years..."
Hmm... like what? Like an idiot? Like a fool? Like a complete dolt? Like someone utterly devoid of talent?
The Count despaired inwardly.
However, Clark's pride, combined with his unfinished sentence, had tragically misled the Count.
What the mage had intended to say was: "someone with such excellent magical aptitude yet completely insensitive to natural magical elements—such a contradictory combination."
But the result, the apparent facts, led the Count to a final, devastating conclusion about his son: "It seems he truly is an imbecile."
It must be said that this misunderstanding arose partly from the responsibility of both Old Scholar Rosicart and Mage Clark. Their vague phrasing, one out of politeness and the other out of pride, had each played a role!
For while Du Wei lacked the aptitude for magic, he was certainly no imbecile. Quite the opposite. His naturally higher spiritual power meant he was likely more intelligent than average. The advantage of stronger spiritual power granted him greater energy and better memory.
Yet here was this boy, practically branded with the label "imbecile"!
He had convinced a superb warrior he had no talent for martial arts. He had driven away a profoundly learned scholar. And now, he had left a renowned mage disappointed.
The result? All this combined to make the "little idiot of the Rowling family" a subject of intense fascination throughout the noble circles of the imperial capital. Even nobles admonishing their own unruly children would say things like, "No matter how foolish you are, you couldn't possibly be worse than the Rowling family's little idiot!" using Du Wei as a cautionary tale.
And so, Du Wei became a textbook example of failure.
The question of what path lay ahead for this young master troubled everyone in the Rowling family... everyone, that is, except Du Wei himself.