"I can't do it."

As he said this, Keegan felt his tongue stiffen, almost hitting his teeth. But he still squeezed the words out of his mouth.

"Master, I can't do it."

The defeat gave him a chance to catch his breath. Who would have predicted that setbacks would be so abrasive? He looked into the old man's eyes to see if there was any hint of sympathy—what disgusted him was that he did see, as clear as a cloudless clear sky.

Master speaks in a light tone from afar. This accent is rarely heard in places where the north wind is howling. "It has nothing to do with whether you can do it or not," he said, "and you have to do it." ”

The old man snapped his fingers. With a flash of purple light, the dry wood pile came to life—and in an instant, a campfire was lit up by the power of the mind.

Keegan turned his head to the side and spat into the snow. He had heard these words a long time ago, and as always, it was all nonsense.

"It's as if you're making it easy."

Master shrugged, as if it would take a moment to respond to Keegan's nonchalant accusation. "It should be said that it is simple, not easy. These are two concepts. ”

"But there must be another way...... Keegan muttered, subconsciously touching the burn scar on his cheek. As he spoke, he became more and more convinced. Absolutely. It won't always be like this, it can't always be like this.

"Why?" Master looked at him with unconcealed curiosity in his eyes. "Why is there necessarily another way? Is it because you keep losing at this method? ”

Keegan whispered, "Only a coward would answer a question with a question." ”

The master raised an eyebrow: "Well, a barbarian, who can't read big characters, can't count more than ten, but can also say some clever things." ”

The two of them invariably showed a wicked smile, and the atmosphere eased. They heated the soup and sipped it in ivory cups, and the campfire clothed them in a shimmering amber. Above them, some hundred miles above the tundra, rippled light.

Keegan looked at the familiar spectacle in the sky. The gauzy glow gently caressed the moon and the cradle-like stars around it. Although he has a lot of contempt for this land, as long as he knows where to look, he can still find endless beauty.

Sometimes it's just a matter of looking up.

"The elves danced happily tonight." He said.

Master threw his strange gaze into the sky. "Aurora, you say? It wasn't the elves' doing—it was just the ...... of the solar wind acting on the sky."

Keegan stared at him.

Master's voice grew weaker, and he cleared his throat stiffly: "It's nothing. ”

The two fell silent again. Keegan removed a knife from his belt and carved it on an unburned piece of wood. His engraving is light. The hands that once ignited the flames and killed people are now much calmer.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the old mage looking at him.

"I want you to take a breath." The old man said.

The knife was still scratching the pieces of wood. "I'm not breathing now, I'm breathing all the time."

"Please," Master's patience was coming to an end, "don't be so dull. ”

"So-what?"

"Stupid. Meaning...... Alas, forget it, when I didn't say. I want you to take a breath and hold it as long as you can. ”

"Why?"

Master seemed to sigh.

"Okay." Keegan threw the pieces of wood into the fire and shoved the bone-handled knife back into its sheath. "Okay, okay, okay."

He inhaled deeply, the muscles in his chest and shoulders bulging. He held his breath and looked at the master quietly, unable to figure out what to do next.

"The air you breathe in is not something you create in your body," said the Master, "and you welcome the air in and let it sustain you." It comes in handy when your body needs it, and it releases it when you exhale. The air never belongs to you. You're just a container for it. You inhale, you exhale, and you are the channel through which the air flows. ”

Keegan wanted to breathe relief, but Master shook his head at him.

"No, I can't. It's not enough. Keegan, feel the air in your lungs. Feel it break through the cage of your body. Feel its desire to struggle to escape. ”

The young savage's face flushed. He couldn't speak, his eyes were full of questions.

"Nope." The mage replied. He held up a faded hand and pointed at Keegan. "Keep holding back."

When Keegan's stamina ran out, a competitive spirit surged up, allowing him to hold on for a while. By the time his competitive spirit began to falter with the pain in his chest, the rest was pure stubbornness. His whole body trembled, and his eyes stared at Master like knives. He knew it was going to be a test for him, and he knew he had to prove something, even if he didn't know what it was.

The edges of his vision turned a foggy gray. The pulse beat his ears rhythmically. The master kept watching him and didn't say anything.

Finally, the air inhaled burst out and returned to the cold night breeze. Keegan collapsed to the ground, gasping for air. At this moment he was like a wolf, baring his fangs around him, guarding against any danger that would take advantage of his weakness.

Master was still watching.

"I was wondering if you'd pass you out." Master muttered.

Keegan grinned and slammed his fist into his chest, clearly proud that he had held back for so long.

"Herein lies the problem," Master surveyed his posture, "I said that air does not belong to you, but you feel that the longer you can hold air in your body, the more proud you are. It's the same with magic. You crave magic, thinking it's something you can keep for yourself. You're stubborn, forgetting that you're just a conduit through which magic flows. You hold it in your heart, hold it in your hands, and the magic will be suffocated. Because you think of magic as something that can be at your disposal. And you're wrong, very wrong. Magic is like air. You have to welcome the magic around you, borrow it, and return it. ”

The two men—an apprentice and a master, a barbarian and a mage—were silent again. The wind howled through the canyon to the south as if it were a mournful cry.

Keegan looked at the old man suspiciously. "That'...... Can't you just say these words? Why do you want me to hold my breath? ”

"I said it...... Dozens of ways, dozens of times. I hope to add a little bit of practice to help you understand. ”

Keegan snorted and turned to stare at the campfire.

"Master. Lately, there's been something I can't let go. ”

The mage snickered and patted the scroll tied to his back. "No, Keegan. I can't let you see it. ”

The young man smiled, though there was no smile in his eyes. "That's not what I'm asking." He said, "Is it possible that I'm not a bad apprentice and you're a bad teacher?" ”

Master stared at the flames, his tired pupils reflecting the dancing light of the fire.

"I sometimes doubt that, too." He said.