Marvel Magic Case Files.

Chapter 10 Trick

Salomon's methods were simple and crude, showing little intelligence, and their enemies were not as formidable as the guardians of the British Museum.

Of course, this refers to the magical level.

Despite this, the opponent this time is no pushover either. The descendants of the Puritans who participated in the Salem witch trials, these Puritan civil servant families who hanged innocent women, still control Salem's politics and economy generation after generation—this is the hereditary system of capitalism.

Ricky White is a descendant of one of these civilian families and is a senator from Salem.

Salomon and the young monk found a coffee shop across the street from the city hall and sat there, waiting for the politician to appear.

"Ugh, it tastes like scalding hot mud." Salomon held a cup of coffee with excessive milk and sugar in his hands. He had always hated coffee; no matter how much milk and sugar he added, it always made his mouth feel sour.

He glanced sideways at the young monk Wang sitting across the small white round table. "Brother Wang, how many tuna sandwiches have you eaten now? We're here to monitor, not to eat."

"My allowance was just handed out yesterday, and my dad hasn't had a chance to confiscate it yet," Master Wang said nonchalantly, patting his chubby belly. "Of course I'm going to seize the opportunity to eat something good. Do you really like eating at the Kamar-Taj dining hall? Aren't we all freeloading at the Hong Kong Temple?"

Salomon rolled his eyes. The young mage was still optimistic about his physique. He firmly believed that only by eating more and gaining weight could he have the strength to endure the arduous training at Kamar-Taj, and at least have some cushioning when someone punched him in the stomach.

Being carefree and plump is a good thing, but it's an anomaly in Kamar-Taj, a place known for its rigorous ascetic practices. People there are either skinny or muscular; if you're the only fat guy with a perfectly defined six-pack, who else would they beat up but you?

"How long are we supposed to wait here?" Little Wang the mage burped contentedly. Today was the most enjoyable meal he had ever had. Freed from the supervision of the mage Hamil, he devoured food like a wild dog. Being so satisfied, he naturally showed no impatience. He asked the question simply to find out if he had time to eat a few more.

"I don't know." Salomon shook his head.

But Salomon was patient—politicians don't stay here forever; they always have to go out socializing, have fun, and take care of their businesses. This is a product of capitalist dictatorship, and he'll eventually get his turn.

"If you send me to Washington, I promise to make reforms, and I swear on my life, my principles will remain unchanged." Ricky White was giving a passionate speech on the noisy television screen in the café. The background indicated that he was standing in front of Salem's city hall.

"I will always be Ricky White, son of Salem, and I will fight for everything we have, until the very end..."

Perhaps because the coffee shop's TV was old and in disrepair, not only was the picture always a little noisy, but the sound also had some static.

Ricky White's campaign manifesto was becoming increasingly blurred. Salomon leaned back in his cushioned chair, watching the withered yellow leaves roll down the street outside the window.

He closed his eyes slightly, and slowly, the noise disappeared, as did the sound of passing vehicles. He could hear the dripping of the faucets in the cafe's kitchen, the resonance of water droplets hitting the stainless steel sink, and the hum of fluorescent tubes with poor contact.

Even further afield, there were the clicking sounds of radio knobs turning, the slurring sounds of lovers' lips parting, and the distant chirping of birds.

"Hey, Salomon, wake up!" A sudden, rapid shaking interrupted Salomon's meditation. "They're out!"

Salomon opened his eyes and yawned.

This is the power of a saint that the Venerable One spoke of. He will gradually possess physical abilities far superior to ordinary people, such as exceptional hearing and vision. These abilities will gradually manifest as he grows older. However, he is not a superhuman from the comics. According to the Venerable One, his body has simply been enhanced by magic. In any case, he will not deviate from the realm of humanity, although this is already quite exaggerated for ordinary people.

During his brief rest, he only meditated and did not use the astral projection that he had always disliked—a spell that His Holiness had developed based on the XZ Tantric scriptures, and which was usually used by Kamar-Taj magic for all-night study sessions.

Salomon scoffed at this, saying, "Just sleep properly, why make such a fuss?"

Of course, the scriptures on Kamar-Taj are not limited to astral projection. If any monks are interested in this, they can continue to study the Yang-generating methods of the Purple Yang True Man Zhang Boduan, which were collected by His Holiness.

It's just that nobody studies it. That kind of method of cultivating both body and mind sounds good, but it takes too long and has never been in line with the principles of Kamar-Taj.

Salomon followed the gaze of the young mage and looked outside the glass window. Ricky White, with short blond hair, was walking out of the city hall with his secretary, Gloria, and they were about to get into a black car.

"Stop! Don't disturb my spellcasting." Salomon withdrew his hand and began to chant the incantation in a low voice.

Salem is a small town, and its streets are not very wide. Most of the buildings have gray-black walls, giving it a rather cold and austere appearance. It seems that the residents prefer a peaceful life and are not particularly interested in things like developing into a large town.

Therefore, Salomon's café was not far from Ricky White, and the spell he cast was enough to reach his target.

When Master Wang saw Salomon point his finger, Ricky White, along with his secretary Gloria, who was wearing a red fur-trimmed coat, fell to the ground. Upon closer inspection, Master Wang was immediately astonished.

"You...you took his pants off!" He stared wide-eyed at Salomon in disbelief. "What kind of magic is this?"

"The pants-dropping technique," Salomon replied.

This spell was a prank used by many mage apprentices in Grallion, but many established mages still use it as one of their regular spells. Because, except for warriors wearing plate armor, whether you use a belt or suspenders, you can't stop your pants from falling to your ankles; unless you want to fight naked, even legendary warriors can't escape this spell.

Who can avoid tripping over a pair of pants that have fallen down?

Ricky White hurriedly stood up, and his bodyguards in black suits quickly blocked the view of others—after all, a senator taking off his pants in the street is not good news.

"Alright, we can set off now." Salomon stood up and continued chanting the spell as he walked towards their destination.

The once-imposing black-clad bodyguards all bent over in unison, as their trousers fell to the ground one after another, attracting the attention of tourists. Salomon and the young mage quickly squeezed through the crowd.

The bodyguards in black hurriedly pulled up their trousers while trying to block the reporters. They attempted to stop the paparazzi from taking pictures, but to little avail, as the clever reporters had already stepped on their trouser legs, preventing them from moving an inch.

Salomon weaved through the crowd, chanting incantations. With his magic, the movements and reactions of those around him slowed. He raised one hand above his head, and golden dust enveloped everyone.

"Close your eyes," he whispered to the young monk, followed by a blinding flash of light comparable to a flashbang. The onlookers instinctively closed their eyes, some even shedding tears from the intense stimulation.

"Hurry, it's the ring with the pink gemstone!"

P.S.: I'm asking for investment! Investment = extra chapters!

Pants removal technique

School of thought: Transmutation; Level: Bard 0, Warlock/Mage 0

Casting time: 1 standard action

Components: Language, gestures

Distance: Close range (25 feet + 5 feet/level)

Objective: A creature wearing pants

Duration: Immediate

Savings: Willpower overload negates; Spell Resistance: Possible

You let the target's pants slide down to his ankles. Belts or suspenders won't protect the target, but full-body armor, such as plate armor, will prevent the spell's negative effects.

After the pants fall down, the target can use a movement action to put them back on. If the target does not pull up his pants, his movement speed is reduced by half, and if he attempts to move more than 5 feet in a round, he must make a reflex save (DC equal to a spell) or he will fall to the ground.

Pause technique

School of Thought: Bewitching (Coercion); Level: Bard 0, Warlock/Mage 0

Casting time: 1 intuitive action

Components: Language, gestures

Distance: Close range (25 feet + 5 feet / 2 levels)

Target: A living creature

Duration: Immediate

Savings: Willpower overload negates; Spell Resistance: Possible

This spell slows down the target's reaction time. His initiative is penalized by -4 from environmental factors (minimum initiative is 0). If he has already acted this round, the spell does not allow an additional action, so his new initiative will not occur until the next round.

(End of this chapter)