Marvel Magic Case Files

Chapter 1174 Kathmandu (First Update)

Kathmandu is arguably Nepal's most prosperous city, but the extreme temperature differences between day and night, violence against foreigners, and a series of crimes stemming from poverty have resulted in a generally poor security and living environment outside of a few tourist hotspots. The water quality is also problematic, potentially leading to illness. The Kama Taj Mahal is located on the edge of a Hindu temple complex in southeastern Kathmandu, and the presence of shamans who regularly clean it keeps the area relatively clean. Local poor gangs, out of blind religious respect, are hesitant to disturb the area.

For Stephen Strange, every corner of Kathmandu was terrible. The dust storms that swept through the city as the dry season approached filled his winter clothes, which he had to painstakingly clean with his crippled hands each night to ensure he could wear them the next day. His messy hair and beard were simply rinsed with water to maintain a semblance of decorum. For several days, he wandered aimlessly among the temples, occasionally grabbing a passerby who understood English to ask about Kamatra, but to no avail. His belongings were stolen several times by local children who preyed on foreign tourists. If he hadn't paid for his accommodation early, he might have ended up sleeping on the streets on his second day in Kathmandu.

Although he had been determined to knock on every door in Kathmandu until he found Kamar-Taj before coming here, the current situation was making him increasingly desperate. He was running out of money; the airfare from New York to Kathmandu was Christine's last gift. To return to New York, he would have to ask the embassy for help. "I don't even know if there's an American embassy here," he complained, dragging his weary legs along the abandoned religious buildings. "I'm afraid I'm going to die here."

"Why are you standing here?" Sherlock Holmes asked.

After waking up, he only saw the Sorcerer Supreme once, after which the Sorcerer Supreme assigned Mordo as his mentor. For half a month, he hadn't seen a single spell; his days consisted of reading books and learning various lost languages. Mordo's strange behavior today piqued his curiosity. He had never seen Mordo go a whole day without ordering him to clean the plaza or wipe the tables and chairs, instead standing at the temple gate as if waiting for someone. Sherlock Holmes stated his observation: "The bloodstains on your knuckles indicate you went out and beat someone up, but you're certainly not waiting for that unfortunate fellow you beat up."

"Very clever. I taught a few thugs a lesson," Mordo said coldly. "Hopefully they can get the job done."

"You still haven't said who you're waiting for," Sherlock Holmes said, leaning on his broom.

His learning progressed rapidly. He regarded the Sorcerer Supreme's act of allowing him to gaze into outer dimensions as a dream, even though this dream caused him to have an epileptic seizure and had to stay in bed to recuperate. Sherlock Holmes remained skeptical. If it weren't for the regular reports from Latveria regarding the investigation of contraband from cults, Sherlock Holmes would have already fled.

He had tried before, but each time he would inexplicably return to his room, only to realize it was time for the morning lessons the next day. Mordo didn't care whether he had been wandering around Kathmandu in a Kamar-Taj robe the night before; he simply demanded that Sherlock Holmes continue with his morning tasks. After a few attempts, the sleep-deprived Sherlock Holmes gave up on his blind escape, as he couldn't help but fall asleep after dinner.

“A new apprentice,” Mordo replied. He opened the door and glanced outside a few more times, then closed one eye. “Damn it, he’s getting further and further away! Those thugs aren’t keeping up with him at all!”

"What are you talking about?" Sherlock Holmes asked. "Are you using a drone?"

"Foolish!" Mordo grew increasingly furious at the thought of having two such foolish apprentices. However, he took a deep breath, using the scriptures and prayers he had learned over the years to calm himself. Salomon was the most powerful arcane mage in Kamar-Taj's history, but before becoming an arcane mage, he was also the most unruly apprentice in Kamar-Taj's history. Although Mordo had never been able to control him much in the past, dealing with two stubborn and foolish apprentices was more than enough. "You wait here. If anyone knocks, come and open the door, understand?"

"Where are you going? And why are you carrying a handgun?"

"None of your business!" Mordo retorted angrily. To avoid revealing his magic to ordinary people, a pistol was a good choice. Before leaving, he added, "Just wait here!"

Sherlock Holmes shrugged and continued sweeping the granite square, which he could never finish sweeping.

The vague directions resulted in him getting lost, and Stephen Strange had no idea how far he had strayed from the directions given to him. To be precise, even the person who gave him directions didn't know his destination. Few people in Kathmandu had heard of Kamar-Taj; after all, it was just a facade that never held events and didn't welcome tourists. Stephen Strange knew today would be another fruitless day, and he was mentally prepared to leave empty-handed—however, having lived in the affluent areas of New York for so long, Stephen Strange subconsciously believed that everywhere in the world was as safe as those areas. Both the abandoned buildings far from tourist attractions and the dwindling number of foreign tourists indicated that Stephen Strange was gradually venturing into the working-class areas of Kathmandu. The lack of public infrastructure, poverty, lack of education, and police corruption have caused the evil and ignorance in this place to cling stubbornly to the city's glamorous tourist area like sludge in a gutter. Stephen Strange, as a foreign tourist, is quite conspicuous, but he is completely unaware of it.

It wasn't until he squeezed through the bustling crowd of poor people that he realized someone was following him.

There were four people in total. One of them blocked his way, while the other three surrounded him, blocking the path he had come from.

"I have no money," Stephen Strange said helplessly, raising his hands. "Not a single penny."

"The watch," the man in front of him said. At least they were speaking English, which gave Stephen Strange a strange sense of relief, though he wished he hadn't understood a word. One of them pulled out a small, worn-out dagger, its handle studded with fake plastic jewels, just like the souvenirs sold by roadside vendors. "Give me the watch," the man stepped forward and repeated, "Give it to me!"

"No, please, this is all I have left."

But these thugs ignored his pleas. Stephen Strange could only reach for his wrist, as if to remove his watch. At that moment, however, an overwhelming emotion surged from his heart to his throat. The despair he had experienced in New York, the confusion he had felt in Kathmandu, and the bleak future all roared within him, urging him to resist. A surge of rage descended upon him. Stephen Strange chose to comply; he wasn't going to be a fool and get robbed in a dark alley like a karaoke patron. Just as one of the thugs reached out to take the watch from his finger, Stephen Strange punched him in the face.

The punch had no effect whatsoever; instead, his hand throbbed with pain. The fingers, which had been held together, immediately snapped, and the excruciating pain that shot to his brain made him forget everything else. Enraged, the thug who had been slapped retaliated, kicking Stephen Strange hard in the stomach as he lay sprawled on the ground in agony. The other thugs surrounded him, grabbed the watch that had fallen to the side, and began punching and kicking him. One of them even kicked him in the chin.

Until the man in the black and green hooded cloak appeared, dodging all the attacks like in the movies, and slamming his fists and elbows into the skinny bodies of the thugs during the fight. At that moment, Stephen Strange, lying on the ground being brutally beaten, was shocked by a far greater shock than at any other moment in his barren and dull life, as the thugs who had robbed him fell to the ground one after another, howling in pain.

The man picked something up from the ground and stood in front of Stephen Strange; Strange could only make out the man's shoes. Then his gaze began to rise, and the man lifted him up with an irresistible force. "You're looking for Kamar-Taj?" the man asked in an unintelligible accent. "Is that so?"

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(End of this chapter)