195: Chapter 193, Page 189: Amei has no extraordinary existence.

When the "magician" raised his teaching rod staff high, Kaya turned and fled the room.

Zhang Mu, however, sat on the wooden chair placed in the middle of the room, crossed his arms over his chest, and stared at him with great interest.

He thought to himself that this organization was indeed not that simple.

Earlier, he had used his Mental Energy to scan the surroundings and discovered over thirty rooms, twenty-five of which were filled with various high-precision detection instruments.

Some were not even released to the public yet and were likely classified equipment currently in use by the military.

Obviously, to be able to use these things for private purposes and to purchase a property in the busiest city center of Charles Cambridge to establish a base, an ordinary organization simply couldn't do it.

What was the purpose?

While Zhang Mu was deep in thought, the "magician" holding the teaching rod staff began to look uncomfortable.

What is wrong with this person?

Even if he doesn't believe in magic, seeing my stance, he should at least look a bit nervous, right?

Neither of them spoke, and as time ticked by, the "magician" whose right arm was held high started to feel sore.

Quietly lowering his exhausted arm, he said in a low voice: "Very good, you have passed the tes..."

"Bang!" The door was kicked open from the outside, and a man in a black suit walked in: "Idiot! Have you been cosplaying as a magician for so long that you actually think you are one?!"

After scolding him, he looked at Zhang Mu on the chair: "Little guy, leave quickly if you have nothing to do; you are not the person we are looking for."

Hm? Glancing at the "magician," Zhang Mu suddenly realized, so it was immersive cosplay, no wonder he made it look so real.

Noticing the man in the suit's last sentence, he smiled and said: "You are looking for a magician? Using such a childish method?"

Perhaps mistaking Zhang Mu's polite smile for mockery, his expression became a bit awkward.

After all, in his own view, finding someone to pretend to be a magician in an attempt to lure out a real one did indeed reek of stupidity.

But he was only following orders; what could he do even if he wasn't happy about it?

Straightening his face, he took out his FBI badge from his inner suit pocket and said with a threatening tone: "You will be sentenced for obstructing official business!"

No wonder Kaya and the professor were so secretive; the smile on Zhang Mu's face became much brighter: "You didn't find the wrong person."

The man in the suit and the "magician" were stunned for a moment, but quickly realized the meaning behind his words.

The former's eyes flared with anger: "Kid, you..."

"Hey." Zhang Mu interrupted him without concern and greeted the "magician," who seemed not yet to have woken up from his cosplay: "Do you like the Fireball Spell very much?"

"Ah? Uh?" He tucked the teaching rod staff into his sleeve and rubbed his hands embarrassedly, "I do like it very much."

"Then." Standing up, Zhang Mu lifted his right hand, "As a reward for your passion for the Fireball Spell..."

Without a sound, a fireball suddenly appeared in his palm.

The two were instinctively confused for a moment; what is this? The next second, they realized, oh, the Fireball Spell. The Fireball Spell?!

The firelight reflecting in their pupils, the heat rushing through the air, and the man smiling while holding the fireball opposite them made their breathing almost stop.

Did they really lure a magician here?

Swallowing nervously, the man in the suit opened his mouth to speak but hesitated, finally saying: "Magician... Mr. Magician, we had no intention of slandering your identity."

"Call your master over to talk." Extinguishing the fireball, Zhang Mu sat back in the wooden chair, "A very interesting plan; I am eager to know what kind of genius devised it."

"Please wait a moment."

He was not mentally prepared to face the transcendent, and while panicking about whether his mission would anger the magician, he rushed out the door the moment he heard he could leave.

"What's wrong?" Zhang Mu looked at the man huddled in the robe, "Do you not like the gift I gave you?"

"No, I, uh, I like it very much!"

His attitude was sincere, but his body trembling slightly under the robe betrayed the fear hidden in his heart.

It was a classic case of loving dragons only in theory.

Zhang Mu was truly worried that if he kept shaking, he would make himself sick, so he waved his hand to signal him to leave.

The "magician" hurried away.

Sitting alone in the room for about ten minutes, Zhang Mu's keen hearing picked up the roar of propellers from above.

Another minute passed, and footsteps approached the door from the entrance of the base.

"Knock, knock—" "Please come in." "Click—"

An old man leaning on a cane walked into the room with small steps, followed closely by three slightly bald middle-aged men.

The old man must be the leader.

He extended his free left hand: "Please forgive my rude invitation, because my heart, which yearns for magic, is firmer than the roots of a snake plant."

The snake plant is a perennial herbaceous foliage plant; because of its strong vitality and tall, upright stature, it symbolizes firmness.

This flower is privately cultivated in China, but not in large numbers.

Fortunately, Zhang Mu had been reading a lot these past few days and successfully understood his metaphor.

"Your physical condition is not very good."

Zhang Mu waved his hand, and the man in the suit, who had gone to the next room and was sitting operating the scanning equipment, suddenly felt the space under his butt disappear and sat heavily on the floor.

Looking back in confusion, he saw the chair floating out of the room out of thin air.

"Please sit." The chair landed behind the old man.

His eyes were full of amazement as he turned to look at the wooden chair, then turned back: "Amazing magic."

Without responding, Zhang Mu waited for him to sit down: "Alright, you can tell me, what is the matter with looking for me?"

"How should I address you?"

"For now, you can call me Gao."

For now... He chewed on these two words repeatedly in his heart.

"You can address me as Neo Rockefeller. Just as I said just now, Mr. Gao." The old man temporarily set aside his confusion, leaning on his cane with both hands, "May I ask, what should America's Magic Academy be called?"

A curve of inexplicable meaning appeared at the corner of his mouth, and Gao said: "America's Magic Academy?"

"Sir, a country with only two hundred years of history... Oh, if two hundred years can be called history. A secular nation with such a brief birth date, why would you think there are magicians?"

The old man, and the three middle-aged men standing in a row behind him who seemed to be his sons, had their worldviews torn to shreds without warning in this ordinary room.

Two hundred years dare to be called history?

Thinking of that Queen who had regained her youth, the old man did not feel even a hint of anger at this mockery.

With lives that could easily span thousands of years or even longer, naturally, he wouldn't think two hundred years was history.

Looking at the three silent men, Gao continued to twist the knife: "I am not unfamiliar with the growth of your nation. If there were really magicians in this land... you had better hope there aren't."

The old man understood what Gao was referring to; his family still kept scalps passed down from their ancestors.

"Mr. Gao." After a long silence, he asked with a hoarse voice, "Where are you from?"

"Hogwarts."

"We have no connection to Hogwarts, is that right?"

"That's right." Gao nodded, "The friendship between Hogwarts and the Kingdom can be traced back a thousand years."

"Magic..." His eyes were full of desolation, "Is this God's punishment for the evil deeds of our ancestors?"

"Do you want to learn magic?" Gao tilted his head.

"Of course, Mr. Gao, it's just..."

"You have to pay a sufficient price." Gao's tone was full of temptation, like a devil from hell preparing to toy with mortals to find some amusement for his own boring, long life.