Monster Hunting High School

"Life and magic have one thing in common, that is magic."

"Every life is the incarnation of magic, and every magic is also the result of magic."

Mr. Wu was sitting by the iron stove, swinging an old cattail leaf fan in his hand. While fanning the fire, he muttered the old man's gossip to the small red clay teapot. From time to time, he would pick up the tea cup and take a sip of tea, which seemed very comfortable:

"...and we wizards are magical witnesses."

At this point, he seemed to notice something, and suddenly turned to look at a corner of the bookstore. The bookshelves there are filled with books, but Mr. Wu’s eyes did not fall on those books, but seemed to look at the world through those books, through the thick walls, and through the long void. some corner of.

After a long while, he added in an admiring tone: "...We are also witnesses of history."

After that, he shook the broken cattail leaf fan in his hand again, and the milky-white flames that had subsided a bit began to boil again, stretching out their slender tongues of flame and licking the maroon wall of the pot.

"Click."

A small voice suddenly sounded in the corner of the bookstore, but it stopped immediately. If you didn't pay attention, you might think that the strange noise was an illusion.

But Mr. Wu has always been very clear about everything.

"I thought you weren't coming back today, so I gave the dried fish to Boss Huang from Hui Zi Ji. His granddaughter got a new Persian cat with a big mouth." The gentleman shook his head without looking back. Holding a broken cattail leaf fan, he said kindly: "If you want to eat it, just go and fish it yourself in the sea of ​​stars."

No one answered, but there was another faint "squeak" sound from deep in the bookstore, like the sound of a cabinet door being opened.

After a while, the angry voice of the yellow raccoon came over:

"This matter has nothing to do with me. Why do you want to deduct my dried fish? Doesn't your conscience hurt?! Those dried fish are mine! I am here, how can you do it casually? How about giving it away?"

"It's a gift for cats," the gentleman corrected him: "Also, those dried fishes were brought back to you when I went out hunting... I have opened the store for so long, and my biggest lesson is that the accounts must be calculated clearly."

The yellow cat angrily jumped out of the shadows in the corner of the bookstore and jumped onto the desk next to the gentleman. It stared, arched its back, and whined in its throat. The cat's paws rubbed on the table, and it looked like it wanted to pounce but failed. He didn't dare to pounce.

The gentleman glanced at it sideways:

"Add another layer of barrier to that little sapling. The store will be very angry. Don't let her get dehydrated."

Alas, the yellow raccoon immediately stopped attacking and looked sideways at the transparent ball floating next to its shoulder. I don't know if it was an illusion, but it also felt that the sapling in the ball was a little wilter than before.

"Illusion, this must be an illusion." The yellow tabby muttered guiltily, opened its mouth, and spit out a bubble with a pop. The bubble swelled in response to the wind, and in a moment it grew from the size of a soybean to the size of a basketball, covering the ball next to the shoulder.

Then the 'bubble' shrank and tightened, shrinking to the size of a volleyball, adding a layer of 'film' to the transparent ball.

The figure of the sapling in the ball became increasingly blurry.

Mr. Wu changed the cattail leaf fan from his right hand to his left hand and asked, "Didn't you look for the bad luck of those two mice? Why did you come back so soon?"

Mentioning the two mice, the yellow tabby's temper exploded again.

"I told you at the beginning that you couldn't keep those mice... It's good for you, you kept one or two more and more! What now? I made trouble for you and ran away, and you can't find them!"

The tabby cat cursed, picked up the teacup that Mr. Wu had put aside with its paw, licked it and drank two sips of the tea. While complaining about Mr. Wu's past wrong decisions, he also denounced the cunning and sneakiness of the two mice, and lamented the difficulty of cat life:

"I can only say that they are indeed mice, and they can hide more slippery than real mice... I haven't caught mice for many years, so I am inevitably a bit unskilled, but it doesn't matter, give me some time, and I will take the two mice's nest I’ll read it all for you!”

Mr. Wu curled his lips, glanced at the teacup that had been used by the civet, turned his hand over, and found a new cup for himself.

The small red clay teapot on the iron stove puffed out two streams of hot air, attracting the attention of the bookstore owner and the cat again.

"How long have you been cooking it?" The yellow tabby craned its neck and asked curiously.

"A few hours, almost." The gentleman was vague, without giving a precise number. He lifted the lid of the teapot, leaned his neck and looked inside, then nodded: "It's almost the same."

Huang Huali sighed old-fashionedly: "I said at the beginning, you can teach him by yourself, why do you have to send him to school? Nowadays, Buji Island is full of smoke, dragons and snakes are mixed, even a great fortune teller I can’t tell what will happen in the future…”

"I'm better than the great fortune teller." Mr. Wu reminded in a low voice.

As if the fish had a sting stuck in it, the voice suddenly stopped. The cat's face was sullen. After a long while, he emphasized: "... Even if you are better than the great fortune teller, you are not much better... I don't see you. This kid was punished every three days, and now in less than a year, he has been smashed to pieces and recooked? "

"That's true." Mr. Wu nodded, raised his head, and seemed to remember something. After hesitating for a moment, he picked up the lid again, then stretched out his left index finger, and lightly scratched the belly of his index finger with his thumb nail, and a drop of bright red blood came out. It seeped out and slowly dripped into the small red clay teapot.

As if the milky white blood at the bottom of the pot was stimulated by something, the flames suddenly became a little tighter, and there were faint thunderous sounds coming from the teapot, rumbling, and the lid of the teapot buzzed.

Then the husband retracted his fingers, folded his hands, and sat back comfortably: "...Next time, he probably won't blow up so easily."

The yellow-breasted raccoon's head shrank back, and there was a 'whoo-ho' sound in its throat, as if it was holding back a mouthful of thick phlegm.

After a long while, it screamed: "What's happened, and you gave him a drop of blood? I have worked hard for so many years, but I only saved a few small dried fish, and you still keep cheating on me... your conscience Doesn’t it hurt?”

This is the second time it has mentioned the topic of ‘conscience’.

The gentleman feels that he needs to answer this question head-on.

"I think, whether it's you or me," he pointed at himself and emphasized: "In this state, talking about 'heart' is really a very luxurious topic. Moreover, even if the state is intact, At this time, everything needs to be weighed, and you can’t just ask your conscience.”