"If you just want to regain your arms, you can seek out Master Fang Mo."

The Ancient One said to Strange.

"...Him?"

However, Strange seemed not to trust Fang Mo very much. After hearing the Ancient One's words, a hesitant expression appeared on his face. He first stared at Fang Mo, then glanced at the scythe carried on his shoulder: "Are you sure?"

"I can guarantee his level of treatment."

The Ancient One said calmly, "But as for persuading him to treat you... I can't guarantee that."

"Alright then."

Hearing this from the Ancient One, Strange had no choice but to trust her. He then turned to look at Fang Mo beside him: "Um... Master Fang Mo, may I ask what the principle of your treatment is? I suppose I don't need to look at those messy books, right?"

"Ah, Doctor, don't worry."

Fang Mo confidently smiled and said, "I'm not like that old snow leopard; I never fuss over the trivial things and only focus on the final treatment results."

"I understand the principle, but by old snow leopard, you mean..."

Strange was completely bewildered.

"Oh, I was actually referring to the Ancient One." Fang Mo casually shrugged his shoulders; "She has lived for hundreds of years. Normally, a disciple of Buddhism would have turned into relics by this age, but she didn't die, making me worry so much that I can't even eat. So, I simply started calling her 'old relic', but you might have misheard it. I didn't say snow leopard, I said relic."

"Uh... Is that so?"

Strange became even more confused after hearing this. What exactly is the relationship between these two, and why does this guy seem to be looking forward to the Ancient One's death?

"In any case, that's how it is."

Fang Mo's face was very natural, and he directly spoke to the Ancient One: "Old relic, go call Master Hamir."

"..."

The Ancient One looked at Fang Mo speechlessly. To be honest, she also wanted to complain, but considering that Strange was still here, it wasn't really appropriate for her to make a scene, especially since Fang Mo was the kind who becomes crazier the more you try to control him.

However, after hearing Fang Mo's statement, she also understood what he was up to.

This was actually a good thing for Master Hamir, so the Ancient One thought about it and nodded in agreement. She then walked outside the dojo. Hamir wasn't far away, reading in another room, so the Ancient One quickly brought him back.

This was a middle-aged Taoist, wearing a rather old Taoist robe, looking very ordinary.

"Master Hamir."

Fang Mo was quite polite to the passersby on the Kamar-Taj side. Seeing him coming over, he nodded and said, "Please expose your left arm, I want to show this guest my special skill."

"Hmm."

Hamir didn't seem to like talking much. At this moment, he nodded slightly and then rolled up his sleeve, revealing a bare left wrist.

"This..."

Strange was startled to see the other's bare left wrist.

However, before he could think much, Fang Mo suddenly swung the huge scythe in his hand without any warning, directly chopping off Hamir's arm.

With a splat, warm blood even splashed onto Strange's face.

At that moment, Strange was utterly terrified, screaming as he stumbled several steps backward. Fang Mo's imposing aura momentarily reminded him of that cult fanatic, Kaecilius, who had similarly severed his arm in the past. Although he no longer had that arm, the phantom pain lingered.

"My heavens, so you are indeed a cult."

Strange said in a panic, "This won't do... I must leave immediately!"

However, before he could attempt to leave, the Ancient One had already placed a hand on his shoulder. Despite appearing to be just a bald woman, her grip was so strong that Strange couldn't break free.

"Let me go!"

Strange frantically said, "Stop it, or I'll call the police!"

"Go ahead and call."

Fang Mo's voice came from not far away, as he casually rested the scythe back on his shoulder, chuckling, "Shall we prepare a chair for you first, so you can comfortably use your toes to dial?…"

"You…"

Strange was both scared and furious upon hearing this, his mind racing to come up with a plan.

It was then he noticed something amiss.

Master Hamir, whose arm had been severed, hadn't let out even a whimper of pain, which struck Strange as odd.

So, he glanced over at Master Hamir.

To his astonishment, after looking, he stood there thunderstruck. The arm, not only the severed part but even the vanished palm, had regenerated as if it was never lost.

"This… what is this…"

Seeing the regrown arm, something reignited in Strange, filling him with immense excitement. Master Hamir felt the same surge of emotion.

However, having been a sorcerer at Kamar-Taj for many years, Hamir managed to somewhat contain his joy, bowing deeply to Fang Mo, "Thank you for healing my hand, Master Fang Mo. I am truly grateful."

"It's nothing, just a flick of the wrist," Fang Mo said with a smile, gesturing for Hamir to rest: "Go, rest, and get used to your hand again."

"Okay."

Hamir nodded respectfully and left.

Once Hamir was gone, the Ancient One then asked Strange, "So, Mr. Strange, are you satisfied with Master Fang Mo's healing methods?"

"Why does severing it lead to regeneration? What is the principle behind this?"

Strange appeared perplexed but quickly shook his head, "Why think so much about it... It doesn't matter, as long as it heals me. Master Fang Mo, no, Grandmaster Fang Mo, could you please heal my arms as well?"

"It's possible."

Seeing Strange's interest, Fang Mo couldn't help but smile, "But to be honest, your injury is not easy to heal."

"What?"

Strange immediately asked, "Why is it difficult to heal?"

"This is my staff." Fang Mo pointed to the giant scythe resting on his shoulder, "Its original form is inspired by the Grim Reaper's scythe, which I call the Scythe of Shenanigans. It symbolizes the cycle of life and death. Naturally, its healing principle is the same: destruction before reconstruction. It must first destroy before it can heal."

"Oh, I see.”

Strange was now genuinely excited and immediately said, "In simple terms, it's about first destroying the cells and then stimulating them to grow quickly, right?"

"Pretty much," Fang Mo nodded.

"But if it's about cellular reconstitution, then why was it easy to heal Master Hamir's hand, but not my arms?" Strange asked. "Is it because the human tissue I need to generate is more?"

"It's not really about that," Fang Mo shook his head. "The main issue is that it's not easy to cut."

"Huh?" Strange was taken aback.

"Look, Master Hamir just lost his hand, right?" Fang Mo, seeing Strange's confused look, laughed and began to explain, "So I chopped off his arm, and he could quickly grow back a hand. But the problem is, you've lost both arms... where do you want me to chop?"

"This..." Strange was stunned. He had indeed forgotten about this aspect: "Can't you cut at the shoulder?"

"It would probably be no problem for someone else."

But Fang Mo shook his head: "For you, I guess it still won't work."

"Why?" Strange became anxious upon hearing this. The hope of healing his arms seemed within reach, but now the other party was refusing him, so he became nervous again.

"Forgive my bluntness."

Fang Mo gave Strange a look, then asked seriously, "Your arms... weren't lost by accident, were they?"

"Indeed."

Seeing this, the Ancient One chimed in: "He has remnants of dark magic on him, similar to the Dimensional Demon Lord Sargeras you fought before."

"Have you practiced dark magic?"

Fang Mo, seeing the complex expression on Strange's face, deliberately asked.

"I... just heard of that name."

Strange was indeed a bit confused. Normally, he was quite intelligent, but with the hope of healing his arms right in front of him, and the mention of the evil god Sargeras, Fang Mo and the Ancient One played off each other, causing his brain to indeed crash a bit.

"Have you offended a dark mage?"

Fang Mo almost burst out laughing but still looked at Strange seriously: "Did they do this to you?"

"I..."

"Mr. Strange, I hope you can seriously answer this question."

Before Strange could respond, the Ancient One spoke up again: "This is related to whether your injuries can be healed, and also to the safety of the world, because Sargeras truly is a very terrifying existence."

"Alright, this is what happened."

Strange, swayed by the two, sighed deeply and began to explain: "One night, I was driving, and then I had a car accident. When I woke up, a strange person in a robe stood before me, telling me that Lord Sargeras wants your arms, and then... he chopped off my arms."

"Actually, if it was just about chopping off the arms, with my connections in New York, I probably could have found a way to transplant a pair of arms…”

Strange spoke up to this point, a peculiar expression appearing on his face: "In fact, I did just that. I applied through official channels and obtained a healthy arm. But the day after the transplant, my hand began to rot. The hospital couldn't find the cause; there was no sign of rejection on the test results."

"I thought it was a problem with the arm and tried several more times, transplanting several different arms, but the result was always the same. At that moment, I realized I might never have hands again."

Strange said helplessly, "If you say there's black magic on me, then this must be it."

"Right, it's indeed the power of black magic."

After hearing Strange's explanation, Fang Mo nodded: "Sargeras' magic clings to you, preventing you from being reborn."

"So, who exactly is Sargeras?"

Hearing this, Strange was utterly baffled: "Why would he do this to me? Do I know him?"

"That's exactly what we find strange."

The Ancient One also spoke up: "If you were just an ordinary person, why would he have his followers target you specifically?"

"So, Sargeras is..."

"He's a dark god."

Fang Mo briefly explained to Strange: "There exists beings known as dimensional demons in this world, aiming to destroy the Earth and devour humanity. Sargeras is one of them."

"Huh? Dimensional demons? Destroy the Earth?"

Strange was confused: "Really? Aren't gods supposed to be aliens? I heard there's a Thor from Asgard in the Avengers, but to me, he just seems like an alien. Can this thing really destroy the Earth?"

"Damn, explaining this to a muggle is so hard..."

Hearing Strange's skepticism, Fang Mo sighed and then turned to the Ancient One: "Come on, let's bring out his astral form to broaden his horizons."

"Alright."

The Ancient One nodded and walked straight toward Strange.

"Wait, what are you doing..."

Seeing this, Strange went on alert, but as a mere mortal who had lost both arms, he was completely defenseless against the Sorcerer Supreme, the Ancient One. She smacked him on the forehead in an instant.

What spell the Ancient One used was unknown.

At any rate, Strange stood there stunned, but his consciousness wandered through the multiverse, witnessing the wonders of three thousand worlds in an instant.

And when his consciousness returned to his body.

He collapsed on the ground, gasping for air, and said, "My god, what is all this? You didn't secretly drug me, did you?"

"I just showed you a more real, more vast world," the Ancient One said.

"Alright, I've said it before, I'm not interested in this stuff." Strange wriggled on the ground for a while before barely managing to get up: "I only care about my arms. Can they be healed?"

"I'll try my best."

Fang Mo struggled to keep from smiling at the dark humor: "But I still can't understand why Sargeras would order his followers to chop off your arms. I suspect this might be a lead... If we don't figure it out, even if your arms are healed, they'll just be chopped off again eventually."

"I..."

Strange was speechless at this point, truly unfamiliar with any so-called dimensional demon. God knows why the latter targeted him.

"Let it be, come with me first. I'll try to heal your arms."

Seeing Strange's distraught appearance, Fang Mo waved his hand: "As for Sargeras' conspiracy... we'll figure it out later."

"Thank you very much."

Hearing that the other party intended to treat his severed arms, Strange's eyes immediately lit up, and he quickly thanked them.