Bella's current memory, reading comprehension, and level of understanding remained at the level of a typical genius. She didn't possess the Superman-like ability to pick up a book and fully comprehend it in three seconds. By comparison, she was more like the future Doctor Strange: she possessed a near-photographic memory, but she still needed to read carefully to gradually internalize the knowledge from the books.
If her goal were merely to coast through and collect credits for graduation, Bella could have managed easily. But her objective wasn't that simple. Beyond her standard coursework, she needed to undertake a massive amount of extracurricular reading.
Ancient history, Medieval European history, and Jewish history—these were Stanford's leading fields and the focal points of her studies.
Stanford really did have a lot of libraries. She frequently visited Green Library, the university's main library, which held a vast collection. The Meyer Library held a large collection of materials on East Asia, but that wasn't within her scope of research for the time being. The remaining Jackson Business Library, Cubberley Education Library, and Branner Earth Sciences Library were also places she frequented.
"Today, while studying Hebrew, we encounter a question: Why do we use the term 'Hebrew'? Can anyone answer this?" the elegant-looking middle-aged professor asked.
He scanned the students raising their hands in the classroom and, quite satisfied, pointed to one. "Miss Swan."
"The word 'Hebrew' comes from the Hebrew word 'ever,' meaning 'the other side.' This likely refers to the ancestor of the ancient Hebrews, Abraham, crossing from the other side of the Euphrates River into Canaan. The term represents the perspective of an outsider—someone viewing a group of people coming from the 'other side' to the land beneath their feet, thus naming them Hebrews."
The middle-aged professor nodded with a smile. "A very comprehensive answer. Even I would find it difficult to provide a more accurate explanation. That is correct. The 'Hebrew' we speak of today is an exonym used by other nations for the Israelites; their endonym has always been Israel, and that has never changed..."
The order in the classroom was excellent. Even students who were just there to collect credits listened attentively. In the United States, the teaching standard of university professors was generally very high, while the standard of high school teachers was typically on the lower side. This created a very distinct dividing line between high school and college; entering university felt like stepping into a completely different world.
Bella studied very seriously. She already had a foundation, and she spent her spare time immersed in the library. She could answer basically every question in class.
When the professor asked, she answered. Not only did this earn her goodwill, but the professor's praise was also sincere. Accumulating these small amounts of praise was also a pathway to strengthening her psionic power...
Hebrew history, or rather the history of Israel, was the focus of her current studies. There was no helping it; this was a crucial component of modern magic. God, angels, and demons—these were topics one simply couldn't bypass.
Pick any story from the Old Testament at random, and she could see traces of magic within it.
God is just an extremely high-level mage. Bella wasn't the only one with this perspective; from ancient times to the present, a multitude of mages held similar views. This wasn't to say they were arrogant or lacked reverence, but rather that it was a thought that naturally arose after extensive study.
In her view, stories involving fire were fire spells, and those involving light were light spells. Those miracles that terrified enemies and emboldened allies were, without exception, magical effects.
From this, Bella felt the power of language even more profoundly. She had to learn many languages personally to grasp their unique nuances; relying solely on translations was useless.
Take the example of Hebrew and Israel that the professor discussed. From the Israelites' own perspective, they never really embraced the title "Hebrew." If one didn't learn their language, one might end up going in the opposite direction, confusing oneself without ever understanding the true meaning.
In this process, one also had to learn a vast amount of historical knowledge to understand exactly why these titles were formed.
Stories, language, and history—the three were interconnected.
Without sufficient historical knowledge, learning the language alone would only lead to more confusion.
Take a familiar example: the word "barbarian."
To the ancient Greeks, barbaros simply meant "non-Greek speaker"—someone whose language sounded like nonsensical "bar-bar" noise. It wasn't inherently an insult. Yet over centuries, through Roman adoption and medieval usage, the word accumulated layers of meaning: uncivilized, savage, brutal.
If one purely studied the language without the history, questions would arise. Why does "barbarian" carry such negative connotations when its origin was merely descriptive? Why did the Romans—themselves once called barbarians by the Greeks—later use the same term to describe Germanic tribes?
The answer lies in history. The sack of Rome in 410 AD, the fall of the Western Empire, centuries of conflict—all these events transformed a simple linguistic observation into a loaded term carrying the weight of civilizational trauma.
Similar complexities existed everywhere. "Pagan" originally meant "country dweller." "Heretic" came from the Greek word for "choice." "Assassin" derived from Arabic hashishiyyin, with theories ranging from "hashish users" to "followers of Hassan." Each word was a palimpsest of historical meaning.
The titles nations used for each other, and the collisions between different cultures, created far too many ambiguities. Without understanding history, it was like blind men touching an elephant—you simply couldn't see the truth behind the curtain.
Magic needed to be researched, languages needed to be mastered, and history had to be learned. In just two short months, she frantically absorbed all kinds of knowledge and looked exceptionally busy. To avoid being branded a nerd, she also signed up for Stanford's Fencing Club, Swimming Club, and Drama Club.
After the final exams, the Fencing Club held a competition. Bella swept through the ranks, only encountering a somewhat decent opponent in the finals.
Barbara Morse—a girl who was 175 cm tall, with shoulder-length blonde hair and a slender figure.
Her talent was good, but like Natasha, she was currently just a beginner. Whether in experience or physical fitness, she lagged by a large margin and was simply no match for Bella.
The entire match was basically a display of Bella's swordsmanship. Clean and efficient, she left her opponent with no power to retaliate.
After the match, Barbara's confidence took a hit. She sat off to the side, looking thoroughly dejected. From time to time, guys would walk over to try to chat her up. She was a beauty, after all, so naturally she had plenty of suitors. Among them, a tall, black-haired man caught Bella's attention.
If she wasn't mistaken, that was John Winchester's second son, Dean Winchester's brother: Sam Winchester. A human possessing demon blood.
Bella just hadn't expected that he would be in the same year as her.