"Crack!"
Zheng Qing cried out softly in pain, rubbing his nearly broken shinbone with one hand and groping the ground with the other. He felt that when he had just fallen, he seed to have landed on sothing.
The parachute woven from magical vines transford into strands of magic upon his landing, vanishing into the endless night of the Black Prison.
Soon, Zheng Qing realized that his previous feeling was not an illusion.
When he fell, he indeed landed on sothing.
And the condition of that ’sothing’ seed rather bad.
Because he felt a handful of wet liquid, still slightly warm. The young wizard hesitated, rubbed the warmth between his fingertips, brought it to his nose, and sniffed.
Carrying that unique stench of demons.
It was blood.
And it was demon blood.
So, when he fell from the sky, did he crash a demon to death? This sowhat absurd but undeniably certain thought flashed across Zheng Qing’s mind, and he reached into the warm puddle again, groping to the side.
A body still twitching, broken bones, hard and upwardly curved fangs, coarse, rough fur.
Then he touched a pile of sothing that felt a bit like tofu pudding.
Zheng Qing swallowed, trying hard to block out his next thought—though he had killed many demons, this was the first ti in such a gross manner—he randomly wiped his hand on the corner of his robe, attempted to stand up, but forgot about his slightly injured leg, cried out in pain, and fell back down again.
Splat.
An image of a bowl of tomato egg drop soup ford in Zheng Qing’s mind.
This ti, he was certain he sat on a pool of demon blood, possibly even mixed with so demon brain matter.
"Damn rlin!"
The young cost student cursed lowly, about to say a bit more, when suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of several strands of scarlet, silently creeping up from diagonally behind him.
"Don’t move!"
The warlock instinctively sat up straight and shouted, his finger already on the trigger of the charm gun, the muzzle wavering among those scarlet points—he didn’t know whether he was aiming at the opponent’s head or the space between two demons, because those scarlet eyes kept drifting in the darkness, so he could only keep moving the muzzle to ensure deterrence against those ill-intentioned beings.
Perhaps it was because of his firm attitude.
Or perhaps it was just because of the terrifying aura from the charm gun.
Those few strands of scarlet stopped not far from Zheng Qing, like little lanterns hanging in the air.
The warlock scooted back on the ground, his eyes darted left and right, fearing other demons might be encircling him, while his other hand pressed on the law book, cautiously flipping the pages, attempting to find a suitable spell.
"Hiss... cough cough,"
A hoarse voice coughed twice and asked in a very strange tone, "...Newcor?"
"Huh?"
Zheng Qing raised an eyebrow; this didn’t seem like a typical way for demons and wizards to greet each other. Feeling the sliminess between his fingers and the overwhelming stench on his body, he suddenly had a guess.
"How do you know?" The warlock replied in a hoarse voice, also lowering his tone.
Opposite, a few laughs ca, obviously from a few different demons. The voices varied, one light, another heavy, but the only similarity was that they kept their voices very low.
"Because your eyes are still bright," the hoarse voice explained simply, "bright with the light of the outside world... Of course, if you stay a little longer, the light in your eyes will soon be devoured by this damned night."
Zheng Qing blinked, suddenly rembering that his eyes were bloodshot again due to the overflow of forbidden curse power. Coupled with the demon blood and brain matter on him, it was no wonder he was mistaken for a demon.
"And very fragrant!" Another demon sniffed hard, a pressing impulse in its tone, "You still carry that tender, delicious scent of the little wizards on you... Did you just eat a little wizard outside? Where did you eat it? Is the bone crisp? What sauce do you use now for little wizards? In our ti, we were accustod to dipping them in mandala flower sauce..."
"Cough cough!" The first voice coughed twice, seemingly finding its companion’s performance a bit embarrassing, "It’s just been too long since it contacted the outside world..."
"No, no problem." Zheng Qing replied woodenly, silently gathering more demon blood and brain matter from the ground, applying it more thoroughly on himself.
"Boss, I’m hungry!"
The sucking sounds of other demons ca from the darkness, and those scarlet little lanterns flickered with an uncertain light, "It looks really delicious!!"
Zheng Qing could almost see their drool slowly dripping down from their fangs, corroding small smoking pits in the hard gravel.
He imdiately shook the charm gun in warning.
A few ’red lanterns’ swayed and slowly retreated a bit.
"Don’t misunderstand." The voice of the first demon sounded again, though this ti it carried a hint of threat, "My brothers are talking about that dead guy beside you... He’s a traitor to the clan, hiding food privately... By custom, we need to deal with his corpse... If you don’t mind."
Zheng Qing didn’t answer imdiately.
Because he finally found a suitable spell on the law book.
His fingertip pressed on the book’s page number; although due to the darkness, he couldn’t see a word, every symbol on the spell formula was imprinted clearly in his mind:
"Biyue Feiwei, Biyue Feiwei!"
The softly muttered spell echoed in this desolate world, appearing particularly abrupt.
This was an illumination spell taught to him by Jiang Yu. Compared to ’Little Star’, this spell, though less flexible in illumination, had greater endurance and consud less magic power, very suitable for this situation.
As Zheng Qing’s spell resounded, an extrely dim fluorescent light appeared.
Imdiately, a large mushroom head struggled out of the fluorescence, looked left and right, then pushed out its slender body with effort, wobbling out of the law book, taking root among the gravel.
Where there’s one, there will be more.
Monts later, dozens of slender toadstool-like plants lined up neatly around the warlock, spreading their caps, swaying side to side in the cold night wind.
Perhaps unfamiliar with such a spell, those scarlet eyes opposite retreated a bit, and the leading demon called out softly, "What are you doing?"
"Just trying to get to know you guys." The warlock replied amicably.
Before the words finished, clusters of moonlight sprouted from those toadstool-like plants’ heads, like soap bubbles, swaying into the air, then bursting with a pop, showering a ground full of cold moonlight.
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