4: Chapter 4 Changes Brought About by Magic

The town wasn't very large, and the roads weren't too complex. After asking a passerby, Zhang Mu soon found himself in front of No. 18 Hatton Street.

This was a residential area with a straight bluestone path, flanked by two-story wooden terraced houses.

He stepped up the stairs and knocked on the door.

No sound came from inside; it was perfectly quiet.

Zhang Mu walked to the window on the right and peered through a narrow gap between two wooden planks with his right eye.

He didn't see anyone.

Stepping back a few paces, Zhang Mu scratched his head. "Not home?"

Unwilling to waste time, he left Hatton Street and searched around the streets illuminated by dim yellow streetlights.

Out of curiosity, Zhang Mu took note of the wooden streetlights and discovered they weren't powered by electricity; the hazy light emanated from a stone without a lampshade.

It was a technology tree completely different from Blue Star's. He was somewhat interested, but now wasn't the right time to explore such things.

Picking up his pace, he circled the town a few times, entering the taverns and inns that were still open for business to ask around. He only stopped when there wasn't another soul left on the road but himself.

He found nothing.

Perhaps he went to a friend's house tonight; he would come back tomorrow at daybreak.

After a long day, Zhang Mu's emotions had been a roller coaster, and having walked around the town without pause, every joint in his body was protesting with soreness.

He summoned the portal and stepped inside.

Back in his room, Zhang Mu put his phone into his inventory to prevent it from getting lost.

He wasn't sure if he could download the game again if he lost the phone, so putting it in an inventory that only he could use was obviously the safest option.

He washed up and went to bed, quickly falling into a deep sleep.

He slept surprisingly well that night.

Morning.

Zhang Mu sat up in bed, raised his hands high for a comfortable stretch, and then summoned the light screen.

"Phew... it's real."

Exhaling softly, he let out his first smile since being diagnosed with cancer.

It was a bit warm, like the winter sun.

He got up to wash.

First, he tidied up the miscellaneous items scattered on the tiled floor.

Normally, Zhang Mu kept his room very neat, but the pressure from the terminal illness lately had been so great that he hadn't had the heart to care about his living environment.

Bending over to pick up several job invitation letters, he glanced at the sender columns and didn't pay much attention, tossing them onto the coffee table in the living room.

These were from companies that had specifically mailed physical invitation letters after sending emails that received no reply.

If it were before, Zhang Mu would have certainly picked the company with the best benefits, but now he felt it didn't matter.

Working himself to death for a year might not even bring in as much as his reselling of instant noodles.

He mopped the floor until it was spotless, then changed into a short-sleeved white T-shirt and tan athletic pants. Taking his phone, ID card, and medical records, he pushed the door open and left home.

He hailed a taxi to the hospital.

Zhang Mu went to register first.

Standing in front of the hall window waiting, he felt an odd sensation of being sized up from all over, and the hall was strangely quiet.

He suddenly turned his head to look around, and those sitting, standing, or walking nearby all shifted their gazes away, and the clamor resumed.

"Why are they all looking at me?"

Zhang Mu scanned his surroundings with a suspicious look.

Finding no reason, he took his number slip and stopped dwelling on it. He headed toward the doctor's office and waited on a plastic chair against the wall outside.

It happened again.

As he sat down, the quiet chatter in front of the door ceased, and his skin felt that itchy sensation of being locked onto by gazes.

"Did I get something dirty on my face because I didn't have time to look in the mirror before leaving?"

He didn't understand the reason.

"Number 36, Zhang Mu." A head wearing a white nurse's cap peeked out the door.

"Here."

Zhang Mu, who had long been made restless by the staring, hurriedly stood up and entered the consultation room. He sat down opposite the doctor and handed over his medical records. "Doctor Song."

"You're here." The man in the white coat, whose hairline had receded into an M-shape, took the medical records and looked up. "Don't worry too much, just cooperate with the treatment... Eh?

Your mindset is quite something."

The last part was said with a rising tone, tinged with surprise.

"What... what do you mean?" Noticing the other man sizing up his face, Zhang Mu raised a hand to touch it.

The doctor didn't explain, his eyes constantly scanning Zhang Mu's face.

In his decades in this profession, this was the first time he'd seen someone whose complexion actually improved after learning they had a terminal illness.

"It's nothing. Come, go get checked first."

The doctor wrote out a test slip, and Zhang Mu turned to leave the room.

The female assistant who had been sneakily peeking from behind immediately trotted over. "Old Song, what a handsome young man."

"What, taken a liking to him?"

"Go on, I'm already in my late forties," the female assistant said, rolling her eyes. "Isn't my niece still single? I was thinking of playing matchmaker."

"Lung cancer."

The light that had gradually brightened in the female assistant's eyes dimmed, and her expression fell. "What a pity. He's only in his early twenties, right?"

"Twenty-three." The balding doctor took off his glasses and gently rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Alright, it's not like we see little of this kind of thing. Hurry up and call the next person in."

...

Meanwhile, Zhang Mu, holding his test slips, spent two hours completing the process before returning to give the results to the doctor.

Upon learning that his condition hadn't worsened too rapidly for the time being, the tense string in his mind relaxed slightly.

The doctor then told him that chemotherapy would require hospitalization. Zhang Mu thought for a long time and ultimately decided to wait a bit.

His primary task at the moment was to master the power of magic, which required him to visit the other world once a day. A hospital, with its many prying eyes, would be inconvenient.

One month. If there was no progress in learning magic within a month, he would start chemotherapy.

Zhang Mu set a deadline for himself, bid the doctor farewell, left the hospital, and took a taxi home.

He tossed the plastic bag containing his medical card and CT scans onto the sofa and walked into the bathroom.

Standing before the sink, he looked at himself in the mirror. In just a second, Zhang Mu understood why he was constantly being peeked at.

Likely due to having absorbed magic once, his skin had become exceptionally fair and clean, and his temperament seemed more profound and captivating than before.

He already had an outstanding figure and appearance, and with these enhancements, he was like the only lit torch in the pitch-black darkness. No wonder men, women, young, and old alike all stole a few glances at him along the way.

He hadn't expected that just having magic pass through his body once would have such an effect.

To prevent the magic from being detected by the hospital equipment, Zhang Mu had intentionally not absorbed any last night, so all these changes came from that half-hour of meditation.

He wondered if continuing to practice magic... it should be fine. Potter looked quite ordinary; perhaps at higher levels of magic, a similar effect of returning to a state of simple nature would occur.

Attracting attention on the street wasn't something to be happy about. Zhang Mu's nature was such that he disliked being noticed, especially now that he carried a monumental secret.

Pulling back his wandering thoughts, Zhang Mu went into the bedroom to change into a set of black clothes, summoned the portal, and stepped through.

The house, now devoid of its master, was so quiet that one could hear a pin drop.

About an hour passed.

"Knock—knock-knock—"

A knocking sound came from the entryway. Seemingly because no movement was heard, the visitor knocked twice more.

"Zhang Mu, are you home?"

A woman's voice that felt like a gentle spring breeze called out tentatively.