All things are miracles, even darkness and silence.
After the explosion, all the noises vanished; everything burned to ashes, a scene of desolation.
The end of the world is not a dramatic destruction, but a whimpering silence; the end of hell is not endless tornt, but infinite coldness and silence.
In the midst of chaos, Zheng Qing passed through the black moon and arrived at a place of quietness, where these thoughts suddenly erged in his mind.
It wasn’t his first ti crossing the border of different worlds.
Nor was it his first ti falling from the sky.
But it was the first ti he experienced such extre ups and downs in a short period—like riding a seatless roller coaster—one mont he struggled mid-air, torn by ubiquitous gravity, flying toward the black moon, as if a screw drawn to a magnet; the next mont, after passing through the black moon, his vision went black, his footing vanished, and he tumbled downwards.
His mind was still stuck in the mont of shouting ’Catch Nikita! Don’t let her escape!’
The trailing sound of ’escape’ crossed the boundary of two worlds, leaving a lingering quiver in the sky above Lin Zhong Lake, then was completely frozen by the cold and desolate aura of Black Prison, abruptly ending.
Zheng Qing felt like he entered a room lined with soundproofing cotton on all sides, equipped with a powerful cooling system.
Ice-cold wind whizzed past his ears, carrying so singed and sulfurous odors, perhaps so sour and biting slls, making it hard for him to breathe.
Like a little stone, falling into the calm deep lake, the water gave a satisfying low ’gulp’ sound, causing a faint ripple, then the stone was engulfed silently by the lake.
Besides the howling wind, ears couldn’t perceive any sound.
Besides boundless darkness, eyes couldn’t perceive any view.
In just a second, Zheng Qing confird he had arrived at Black Prison, not only because of the rumors circulated on campus setting his expectations, but also because he couldn’t imagine any other place bearing such despairing colors.
Almost stripped of his senses.
Then, naturally, the phrase erged in his mind—
’All things are miracles, even darkness and silence’.
Humans pursue glorious death, praise grand commorations, simply because they know, after death lies silence and darkness, thus use life’s excitent, to dress death’s loneliness.
While contemplating the silence between life and death, he fell for quite a while—a re four or five seconds, perhaps seven or eight minutes, Zheng Qing felt unsure, as the ti seed peculiarly distorted and prolonged—anyhow, after such adjustnts, the young wizard realized the second thing.
He was descending from the sky.
It sounded like a courageous term, but in reality, it was particularly cruel.
Because Zheng Qing was not a bird, nor a sprite, lacking wings to support his flight. Moreover, beneath this pitch-black night, he couldn’t expect a tall elder wizard standing beneath, raising a magic wand, shouting ’Bright sun, gentle valley wind’ with such spells, then safely landing guided by a silver-white ribbon.
The young wizard frantically waved his arms, like a drowning swimr, yet he could grasp nothing of reassurance besides the icy air.
The magic wand in his hand, its shaft glittered gently with symbols shaped like windmills.
Boom!
Zheng Qing instinctively pulled the trigger, pale blue magic bullets shot from the muzzle, fleeting swiftly, vanishing in the boundless darkness, faintly a terrifying roar echoed afar, Zheng Qing couldn’t hear clearly, as he was flipped mid-air by the weak recoil of the shot.
It was this flip that let him see the trace of pale white above.
Due to proximity, the white trace in his eyes didn’t resemble that of a white rainbow seen by observers in Black Prison Castle, or Extre East Abyss. In Zheng Qing’s view, the white trace above was more like flying white after dense ink, with wisps leaking through.
But none of that mattered.
What mattered was, Zheng Qing finally saw an anchor point in the pitch-black world, an anchor point confirming his existence.
Within that trace of flying white above, ca a familiar thought
——’What you cannot achieve, seek within yourself’!
This phrase urged him to introspect, Zheng Qing rolled his eyes in the cold wind, unsure who spoke it, yet he rembered a famous phrase followed it, ’Of eternal fate, make your own fortune’.
"Make your own fortune, make your own fortune!"
The young cost student muttered, reaching into the grey cloth bag hanging at his waist, rummaging randomly: hard wooden box poking his hand, filled with textbooks; then cauldrons, jade pots, test tubes, and other potion mixing tools.
Magic Potion, upon thinking that, Zheng Qing’s fingers paused on several ampoule bottles for half a second, he recalled possessing so Transformation Potions, imdiately abandoning the idea.
Transforming into a cat mid-air was a foolish choice. Falling from tens of thousands of ters isn’t like re ters high, cats would also end up smashed into a pancake.
Thinking of muddled flesh mixed with so dark cat fur made Zheng Qing shiver mid-air, hurriedly speeding up his search.
Finally, he found the box holding Talisman paper.
Featherweight Talisman, Cloud Peeking Talisman, both used up during Dreamland adventures; though he knew of a Dancing in the Air charm, yet hadn’t prepared it beforehand, nor had the opportunity to draw it now; sensing the warlock’s presence, a little snake on the inkstone licked his palm.
Zheng Qing hopelessly withdrew his hand from the Talisman paper box, rembering wooden flying swords seen in Hui Zi Ji in childhood with seniors, flying brooms and magic carpets seen with Thomas in Great Ming Pavilion.
rlin Above, how he wished there laid a folded magic carpet in his grey cloth bag!
Then, his fingertips brushed a soft bulging cover.
It was the law book borrowed temporarily from the school library.
Zheng Qing instinctively drew out the law book, recalling it contained spells for hunting, none aiding in flight.
The pages rustled in the rapid descent’s cold wind, seemingly ready to be torn apart the next second; from the corner of Zheng Qing’s eyes glimpsed so dense dark patches, possibly mountain shadows.
He had no more ti.
Clutching the magic wand, Zheng Qing opened the law book with one hand, pressing the most familiar spell to him:
"Ge Zhitianxi!"
Vines probed, protruding from the void, surrounding the young wizard, darting like playful fish.
"Ge Zhitianxi!"
Zheng Qing yelled with closed eyes, fiercely visualizing a parachute’s form in his mind, striving to block out the increasingly distinct wind sound.
The vines soared, weaving dozens, hundreds, interlaced tightly to form a vine fabric, unfolding in mid-air.
Zheng Qing’s body abruptly dipped, the crazed sensation of falling finally ceased.
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