Clark was pleased with the child's reaction. Looking at the crystal sphere in his hand, he said, “Come. Let me see your talent. I promised your father I would teach you, but only if you possess magical talent. Otherwise...”

Du Wei raised his head. “What should I do?”

“Place your hands on the crystal sphere and hold it tightly. Then think of something—something happy, or something that makes you angry. In short, do whatever you can to stir your emotions.” Clark's voice had returned to its usual coldness. “Let me see your talent.”

Du Wei was silent. He took two steps forward, laid both hands on the crystal sphere, and gripped it hard. It felt cool and smooth.

“Focus. Begin now... Think. Think of whatever has left the deepest impression on you. Anger, joy—anything.” Clark's grave voice sounded beside his ear.

Du Wei closed his eyes and searched his memories.

Clark watched a faint radiance begin to seep from the crystal sphere. At first it was dim, but it gradually grew brighter and brighter.

The proud mage could not help showing surprise. He looked from the sphere to little Du Wei and let out a small sound of astonishment.

Du Wei, however, did not feel well. His emotions surged as memories of his former life surfaced. He had been cast into this world for no reason at all. Everything that had come before—his ideals, dreams, life, and ambitions—had turned to nothing. And the longer he remained here, the more accustomed he became to this world and the more his old memories faded. Human memory weakened with time; that was only natural. Even so, it filled Du Wei with sorrow.

Was Zhuang Zhou dreaming he was a butterfly, or was he a butterfly dreaming he was Zhuang Zhou?

Du Wei's breathing quickened. The mysterious force inside the crystal sphere seemed to magnify his emotions. His heart pounded, and an unbearable pressure seemed to squeeze his chest.

At last, a cold hand pressed against his head. A chill flowed down from his brow and forcibly cooled his overheated mind.

“That is enough, my child.” Clark's voice was cold, but he had changed his address from “boy” to “my child.” That alone proved he was pleased with Du Wei's talent.

“Very good. I must say, remarkably good. You are not yet six, but your magical potential already rivals that of a magic apprentice. Your mental power is nearly twice that of an ordinary person. Considering your age... I am very satisfied with your talent.” The proud mage even smiled faintly.

Strong mental power? Du Wei laughed bitterly to himself. It was probably because he had been “reborn” while retaining memories of his former life. In effect, he possessed the mental power of two lifetimes.

Clark put away the crystal sphere and directed Du Wei to sit down. “Now I need to test the second part of your talent. I will teach you the simplest, most basic magic. Meditate carefully and sense nature's power. Then tell me what you perceive.”

Du Wei carefully memorized the short incantation Clark taught him. Its simple, ancient sounds carried a mysterious quality.

“Meditate with your whole heart and concentrate. This is a crucial trial. Whether you can become a mage... many people with greater potential than yours have failed at this step.”

“What do I need to do?” Du Wei frowned.

“Nothing. Recite the incantation silently. Open your mind to everything around you. Try to sense cold, heat, sound—anything at all. It is not difficult.”

Du Wei did as he was told. Sitting down, he naturally crossed his legs. The posture looked strange to Clark. The mage then drew an hourglass from beneath his gray robe and set it nearby to measure the time.

Fine grains of sand flowed. Little Du Wei sat quietly for a long while. Finally, he opened his eyes, hesitated, and said, “Mage...”

“Oh? What did you sense?”

“I...” Du Wei looked helpless. “I feel hungry.”

“...”

Clark's heart sank at the answer. The child might possess outstanding mental power, but he lacked the sensitivity needed to perceive the world around him.

The amount of magical power was important, but it was not the only criterion. Mental power could steadily grow through later meditation and effort. A person born with stronger mental power merely started somewhat ahead of others.

But the ability to sense magical elements in nature was the most crucial test.

Clark had taught several magic apprentices. Some had possessed less mental power than Du Wei, yet they had shown far greater promise. During this same first trial, one had sat for less than half the time measured by the hourglass before rising and extending a hand. A tiny flame leapt from his finger, and he later specialized in fire magic.

Another apprentice could already hear the wind in the sky during this trial. He later specialized in wind magic.

Clark's finest student, when first passing this test, merely sat down to think—and all the water in a vase in the room floated up, gathering into a fist-sized sphere that did not disperse.

In short, truly gifted mages always displayed some extraordinary sign during this first trial. Yet Young Master Du Wei, who seemed to possess excellent inborn magical potential, appeared not to have awakened to magic at all.

That could only mean...

He was simply unsuited to becoming a mage.

“What a pity, the mental power the gods granted him. If he could pass the test, he would begin ahead of the others with that mental power.” Clark felt regret, but the proud mage quickly dismissed it.

Hmph. What use was a little extra mental power? In a fight, greater strength did not guarantee victory. An ox might be powerful, but it was still no match for a leopard.

Still... what a pity.

When Count Raymond saw Mage Clark emerge from the room with a gloomy expression, he had waited outside long enough to know the result already.

And indeed...

“My Lord Count, I am sorry. Your son does not possess the talent to become a mage. It seems the gods have not chosen him. I suggest you find some other field in which he is better suited.” Clark could not help adding, “Forgive my presumption... in my thirty-six years of magical research, I have never seen anyone like your son...”

With a sigh, Mage Clark did not even say farewell. He turned to leave. After taking two steps, he seemed suddenly to remember something. “Oh. If you truly insist on making him a mage, I would suggest magical potioncraft. After all, a potion mage can barely be considered a kind of mage.”

He waved a hand, scattered a handful of golden powder, and vanished in a burst of flame.

The Count fell into thought, his face dark. Du Wei emerged from the room and looked quietly at him.

Raymond met his son's eyes for a moment and sighed without speaking. The disappointment on his face was impossible to miss.

“...in thirty-six years, I have never seen anyone like your son...”

Yes, someone like what? Such a fool? Such an idiot? Such a useless boy? Someone so wholly without talent?

The Count sighed in despair.

But because of Mage Clark's pride, his unfinished sentence led the Count astray.

What the mage had meant was: a person with excellent magical potential who could not sense natural magical elements at all, such a contradictory combination.

Yet everything the Count had seen led him to one conclusion: It seemed the boy truly was an idiot.

It had to be said that both the cautious old scholar Rossiat and Mage Clark, through their guarded or ambiguous words, bore some responsibility for the misunderstanding.

Du Wei was not suited to becoming a mage, but he was certainly no idiot. On the contrary, his greater-than-normal mental power made him cleverer than most. Its advantage gave him more energy and a better memory.

Yet by now, the label of idiot had been all but permanently fastened to him.

He had convinced an excellent warrior that he lacked martial talent, driven away a learned scholar, and finally disappointed a famous mage.

Together, these things made every noble circle in the Imperial Capital even more interested in the Rowling Family's little idiot. Even nobles educating their unruly children could not resist saying, “No matter how stupid you are, you cannot be worse than that little idiot from the Rowling Family,” to spur them on.

And so Du Wei became a negative example.

Where, then, did this young master's future path lie? The question troubled every member of the Rowling Family...

Except Du Wei himself.