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Chapter 421 If you endure the bitterest of hardships, you'll find endless suffering.

Stephen Strange had never felt so desperate in his life.

Not long ago, he was one of the top neurosurgeons in the United States, maintaining an extremely high surgical success rate.

This is all thanks to his superb medical skills and his machine-like, precise, and steady hands, which completely outclass his colleagues and made him the most popular doctor in the hospital, enjoying unparalleled fame.

In everyone's eyes, Strange was a true winner in life, with a booming career and a beautiful girlfriend, Christine.

However, this girlfriend later became her ex.

The reason is simply that Strange is extremely arrogant, self-centered, and looks down on everyone.

Even when Christine broke up with him, he didn't seem to care and stubbornly insisted that she was just a girlfriend, and that he had two more if he didn't have one.

But he never expected that one day he would lose both of his girlfriends.

That day, Strange was driving while engrossed in reading medical records. He lost focus for a moment and the car veered off the road, first scraping against the car next to him, and then the entire car went out of control and plunged off the cliff, rolling and crashing to the ground as he used the car to test the hardness of the ground.

The hardness of the ground was not measured, but the hardness of Strange was measured instead.

The luxury car, which cost a fortune, was smashed to pieces on the spot, but he miraculously survived, without losing a single part, though he was seriously injured.

Unfortunately, fate played a cruel trick on him; the most severely injured parts of his body happened to be his hands.

Although it didn't come to the point of amputation, the nerves in his hands were severely damaged, and both hands began to tremble uncontrollably, making it extremely difficult to even hold a pen.

In this state, he will basically be out of luck when it comes to any craft work in the future.

Strange simply couldn't accept this fact.

For a neurosurgeon, his hands are everything.

His reputation, his dignity, and even his entire life were built on these hands.

Without these hands, he is nothing.

After being discharged from the hospital, Strange began frantically searching for ways to repair his hands.

He even swallowed his pride and contacted those expert colleagues he had previously looked down upon, hoping to use their expertise and, with his guidance as a top neurosurgeon, complete the repair surgery.

But reality slapped him hard in the face.

These so-called neurosurgeons are far less skilled than he was at his peak, not even a third as skilled, and cannot achieve the results he desires.

I had several interviews, and the result was always the same.

Strange finally snapped and yelled, "What kind of lousy neurosurgeons are you? You can't even do this? Isn't this something anyone can do?"

The expert who was criticized had long disliked Strange.

He calmly replied, "My skills are indeed not as good as yours, but I have hands."

Strange glanced at his hands and immediately lost his guard.

"I'll f*** you!"

The other party was not to be outdone, and the two exchanged insults about each other's entire families.

Finally, the opponent raised two middle fingers at Strange, easily defeating him.

Strange was so angry he was trembling. He vowed never to rely on these mediocre people again and instead pinned his hopes on new medical technologies.

With technology so advanced these days, even Tony Stark can fly into space wearing an iron coffin, so maybe there's some high-tech solution that can repair his hands.

So Strange spared no expense, selling his car, house, and various luxury goods, just to raise money for medical expenses to try the most cutting-edge treatments.

Despite being a top neurosurgeon with a substantial income, he couldn't withstand such endless expenses.

Moreover, he didn't have the habit of saving money; he spent as much as he had. Now that he had completely cut off his source of income, he soon spent all his assets and even had to borrow money from Christine.

Even after so many treatments, his hands have not improved much. To this day, he cannot even lift anything slightly heavy, let alone perform the extremely delicate work of surgery.

I've spent all my money, and my hand still isn't healed.

Now, Strange is like a stray dog, huddled in a dilapidated rented room, his face ashen, his eyes sunken, and his whole being exuding a lifeless aura, showing no trace of his former spirited self.

Life is so ironic, full of ups and downs...

Who would have thought that just recently, he was standing in front of the large French windows, wearing a custom-made suit, holding a glass of red wine, overlooking the city's night view, with a bright future ahead.

Now, he's huddled in a corner like a rat in a stinking ditch, penniless, and even facing the risk of being killed.

If he had the chance to do it all over again, he would definitely obey the traffic rules.

There are countless roads, but safety is the most important. Reckless driving will bring tears to your loved ones' eyes.

These are all bloody lessons.

Just then, the cell phone lying on the coffee table suddenly rang.

Strange glanced over instinctively and saw it was Christine calling. Without thinking much, he answered the call.

"Strange, I have some news for you."

Christine's voice was tinged with excitement: "Today a patient came to the hospital for a routine check-up. I looked through his medical records and found that he was diagnosed with a disability a few months ago, and his hands have completely lost their mobility."

"With current medical knowledge, there is basically no possibility of recovery from that level of injury, but his test results today are all normal. He can move his hands freely and is no different from a healthy person."

"What!?"

Strange sat bolt upright and asked urgently, "Are you sure you haven't made a mistake?"

"No mistake, I still have his medical records here, you can take a look yourself."

Soon, the phone received several pictures, which were the patient's basic medical records.

Strange stared intently at the screen. Just as Christine had said, a few months ago this patient had been crippled in both hands, much more severely than him, and even with his peak abilities, he was helpless.

Several months later, the patient's hands were completely healed, which was nothing short of a miracle.

What Strange needs most right now is a miracle.

He was like a drowning man; if even a single straw floated by in front of him, he would grab it without hesitation.

"Christine, could you send me this patient's information?"

Strange's voice was pleading.

Christine paused for two seconds. It was indeed a violation of the rules, but she still sent the information.

Strange was deeply moved. True friendship is revealed in times of trouble. When he was at his lowest point, all his so-called friends avoided him, but Christine never went far and tried every possible way to help him.

Even someone as arrogant as him couldn't help but feel a lump in his throat.

"Thank you... thank you."

"I hope you'll stop degrading yourself, Strange."

Christine sighed and hung up the phone.

An ex who doesn't kick someone when they're down is a rare breed, and it's a pity that Strange didn't cherish her, which only fuels his regret.

A few minutes later, the patient's file was sent to his phone.

Strange immediately followed the information and found the man named Natch at a boxing gym club.

In the ring, Nachi was boxing against his opponent. His fists were powerful and heavy, and he knocked out his opponent with a straight punch.

If he hadn't seen the diagnosis record with his own eyes, Strange would never have believed that this person had ever been crippled in both hands.

Seeing this, Strange felt even more hopeful.

After the game, he couldn't wait to approach her: "Hello, I'm Stephen Strange, a neurosurgeon... I used to be."

Nachi glanced at him, her expression somewhat puzzled: "What do you need me for?"

Strange took a deep breath and asked, "I heard you suffered a very serious injury before, leaving your hands crippled with almost no chance of recovery, but you look completely healed now. So I'd like to ask you, how did you do it?"

Nachi chuckled: "I don't know you, why should I tell you?"

Strange stretched out his hands, his eyes pleading as he looked at Natchet: "I'm in the same situation as you, I'm really desperate... Please."

Nachi stared at him for a few seconds, as if hesitating, and finally sighed: "Alright, out of consideration for our shared plight, I might as well tell you. A while ago, I met a mysterious master who saw that my hands were crippled and said he knew a place that could heal my hands for just one million US dollars."

Strange was shocked: "This sounds like a scam!"

"It's not just a resemblance, he's a fraudster who took all my money and ran away," Nachi said angrily.

Strange: "

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Nachi continued, "However, later I found out about the place the master had mentioned, and after many hardships, I finally found it and met the master again."

"That master told me that everything before was a test to see if I was the one destined for him."

Strange's lips twitched.

What kind of destined person is this? Perhaps it's someone from the Yuan Dynasty.

"and then?"

"And then... that was it."

Nachi spread his hands: "That master invited me to stay for a meal and then sent me away. After I left that place, my hands inexplicably returned to normal."

"That's amazing?"

Strange frowned, a hint of doubt in his eyes.

This story sounds incredibly unreliable.

But he has no choice now. Even if there's only a one in ten thousand chance, he has to try.

Strange immediately asked, "Where is that place?"

Nachi's expression became somewhat subtle: "Actually, I can't really explain it. I just vaguely remember walking to that place. It's like I've lost all my memories of what happened. I can't remember the exact location, and I can't even remember how I got back."

"However, I remember that place is called Kamar-Taj."

"Karmar-Taj?"

Strange remembered the name and then asked Natch a few more questions.

Nachi knew nothing when asked, like an NPC who only delivered fixed information.

Seeing that he couldn't get any more useful information, Strange thanked him repeatedly and hurriedly left the boxing club.

Once he was out of sight, Nachi's expression changed, and he immediately took out his phone and dialed an encrypted number.

"He took the bait, and everything is going according to plan."

"Long live Hydra!"

After returning to his run-down rented room, Strange immediately used his phone to look up information about Kamar-Taj.

However, the search results were few and far between, and the few pieces of information were contradictory. After searching for a long time, he couldn't find anything useful, which made him doubt whether this place really existed.

He looked down at his hands, which were still trembling slightly, and gritted his teeth.

He has nothing left to lose now.

So Strange borrowed another sum of money from Christine, packed a few simple bags, and set off.

He traveled to the city provided by Natchee and began his search for Kamar-Taj.

Although it is only a small city, its area is still ridiculously large for one person.

Strange had no idea of ​​the exact location, so he had to resort to the simplest and most rudimentary method: searching city by city and region by region, asking everyone he met if they knew Kamar-Taj.

This process was extremely arduous.

His appearance was too conspicuous in this small town; he was clearly an outsider. Coupled with the locals' simple and honest nature, Strange encountered obstacles at every turn.

In just a few days, his already meager savings were almost completely depleted, and he was struggling to even afford food, having to buy cheap coarse grains to barely fill his stomach.

However, there are still zero clues about Kamar-Taj.

Not only do people know this place, but very few have even heard of its name.

Strange felt increasingly confused.

He had no idea whether continuing like this would lead to an answer.

Kamar-Taj, the Ancient One's retreat.

Since Du Mu inherited the position of Supreme Mage, this place has become his exclusive territory.

With a wave of his hand, he ordered his men to completely transform this solemn hall into the Supreme Mage's private entertainment room.

Now it's fully equipped with all kinds of entertainment facilities, and even high-end computers have been moved in.

Although Kamar-Taj is located in a remote area, the network is very stable, and there is basically no lag when playing games.

Du Mu knew that Gu Yi also played games occasionally, so he had good reason to suspect that the internet was originally created by Gu Yi for convenience.

I specifically configured it for gaming.

Incidentally, Du Mu also changed the Wi-Fi password.

The old password was too hard to remember, so he changed it to one that was easier to remember.

Du Mu lay on the sofa, playing games and drinking cola, looking completely at ease, a stark contrast to the ascetic figures outside.

But no one said anything.

Who can blame Du Mu for being the supreme Buddhist master of our time?

Let alone setting up a private entertainment room, even setting up a Kamar-Taj bikini pool party... cough cough, let's not do that, lest it cause mental demons for the sorcerers who come to see Kamar-Taj.

Mordo sat beside him, holding a game controller and somewhat clumsily manipulating the character on the screen. He cautiously asked, "Master Du Mu, that guy seems to be about to collapse. Should we intervene?"

Du Mu waved his hand, his eyes still fixed on the screen: "It's alright. If you can endure hardship, there will be endless suffering. I went through the same thing back then, which is why I became who I am today, a supreme master."

Modu:

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Bullshit, you got in through the back door of the Ancient One, so what bitterness are you talking about?