Strange still hadn't recovered from his earlier shock. How could Ancient One possibly know how many surgeries he'd performed?
"Please, sit down first," Ancient One said with a gentle smile, gesturing for Strange to take a seat. At this moment, there were only a few of them left in the room.
She had no intention of asking Alan to leave. When she learned the true identity of the Emperor, she was genuinely surprised.
Because no matter how she tried, she couldn't use her magic crystal ball to see any information about Alan—not even the Time Stone could locate him.
A man shrouded in complete mystery… Ancient One had stopped fixating on why she couldn't see anything about Alan.
"You… how did you know? Did you investigate my hospital records?" Strange asked, unable to understand how she had the information.
Ancient One simply shook her head. "You're wrong. Alan knows this—I rarely leave the Sanctum Sanctorum. My duty is to protect it from being taken by the Dark Elves, to stop them from conquering Earth."
Strange cast a suspicious glance at Alan, clearly unconvinced Ancient One hadn't secretly done some digging.
"As a former doctor, you should know how seriously hospitals protect patient privacy. Unless a patient gives explicit authorization…" Alan said calmly, setting down his teacup.
This cup of tea, brewed personally by Ancient One, had an extraordinary taste. Alan felt his entire mind becoming more serene.
Maybe it was the aura of the Sanctum itself, but the pressure he normally carried seemed to ease significantly.
"This… this is impossible. How could she know?" Strange shook his head. "Alan, you must have used _some_ trick. Also, I have a question…"
Strange truly didn't believe in Ancient One's abilities. Before Alan could even ask, he blurted it out: "I don't think she has any way… to heal my hands."
More than becoming a sorcerer, Strange still hoped his hands could be healed so he could return to medicine.
"Haha… Strange, let go of your prejudice. There is no advanced medical miracle here. What I can teach you… is how your soul can heal your body."
Ancient One wasn't offended by his words—she had already anticipated this reaction from the very beginning.
"…Soul healing the body? Oh, please…" Strange gave a few mocking chuckles. "Alan, are you trying to fool me because you think I'm just a burden?"
"If you thought I was a problem from the start, you shouldn't have given me even the slightest bit of hope. Seriously!" Strange's voice grew bitter and pessimistic again.
He felt like he had gone mad. Alan clearly possessed unimaginable power but wasn't willing to use it on him.
…
He had even told Alan that if he could restore his hands, he would serve him without question for life.
"Dr. Strange, please watch your tone," Gwen said coldly, frowning as she forcefully set her teacup down on the table.
Stephen Strange really _was_ an arrogant man.
"Fool you?" Ancient One still wore a serene smile as she rose and stepped in front of Strange, slowly lifting her hand.
"Stephen Strange, don't view the world from the bottom of a well. There are far more powerful beings in this world than you—or me."
As soon as she finished speaking, Ancient One pressed her palm directly against Strange's chest—at that moment, time itself seemed to slow.
...
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