High School of Demon Hunting
Chapter 1233 - 295: Teapot

Chapter 1233: Chapter 295: Teapot

When Zheng Qing’s vision cleared, the two of them were already standing in the entrance of San You Bookstore.

It was the afternoon, and the orange-hued sunlight filtered through the glass doors and windows, falling onto the brownish-yellow floor. It left behind swatches of faintly undulating light and shadow, casting an exceptionally warm feeling.

Outside the bookstore, people rode past on bicycles, ringing their bells. Poodles and teddy dogs barked at each other across low bushes, and at a distance, one could faintly hear the ’pop pop’ of whipcrackers, along with a group of old women dancing spiritedly to loud music.

Inside the bookstore, a red clay teapot sat on an iron stove, whistling softly. From the spout, a pearly mist sprayed forth, blending with the orange sunlight, looking exceedingly enchanting.

The gentleman walked forward, picked up the lid of the teapot, then turned and gestured to the young wizard,

"Come in."

"Huh?" Zheng Qing looked puzzled at the dark mouth of the red clay teapot, glanced at the gentleman, moved forward two steps in confusion, and then looked around, indicating that he had indeed entered the bookstore.

"Into here." The gentleman sighed, pointing very clearly at the mouth of the teapot.

The pearly mist filled the spout, obscuring what was inside the pot’s belly, but the boiling aura clearly warned the young wizard that it wasn’t something to be trifled with.

"Would you like some tea? Shall I fetch a teacup?" Zheng Qing asked, clinging to his last shred of hope.

The gentleman looked at him expressionlessly.

"You’ve already blown it up." The gentleman’s tone was calm, yet what he described was terrifying: "Blown apart, hardly a few intact bones left... A broken body can’t house a healthy soul, not to mention that there’s a forbidden curse hidden inside this soul."

(The young man lowered his head, finally realizing he was a soul, floating mid-air.)

"The teapot contains the body I’ve brewed for you, original flavor, having taken a lot of my effort."

(Indeed, the young man silently criticized in his heart, all the effort of a pot of tea...)

"Hurry up, slide in while it’s warm. Otherwise, once it cools down and the flesh shrinks, it will be even harder to fit in."

Zheng Qing, with a blank expression, listened to the gentleman’s explanation. Surprisingly, he didn’t find it too ludicrous or horrifying. It seemed a year of college life had well trained his willpower and ability to accept, easily taking in any nonsensical situation.

That being said, if the gentleman had used an alchemy furnace, or arranged a pile of lotus roots and leaves on the floor, or even drawn a complicated magic circle, perhaps Zheng Qing would have been more receptive.

But it was a teapot.

"Cooked, it’s cooked, huh?" The young wizard let out a sigh, his voice slightly stammered, yet relatively calm: "It’s already cooked then."

From the chubby belly of the iron stove came the soft crackling of the wood, and tendrils of ivory flame peeked through the gaps on the range’s surface, licking the smooth belly of the red clay teapot.

The teapot was a deep maroon, cylindrical in shape, with dragon claw feet, twining dragon body, and dragon-handled lid, looking rich in color and majestic in image. The dragon scales on the handle were inlaid with fine mithril scales, detailed runes visible to the naked eye etched onto them. The spout, in contrast, was bare and not shaped like a dragon, like other parts of the body.

At the moment, the gentleman held the dragon lid in hand, revealing the round, dark mouth of the pot. The pearly mist rising from the mouth coiled and lingered, unwilling to part, eventually forming a dense mini cloud above the spout, thick and full as though to burst into a rain shower with a bit more vapor.

"Hurry up, it’s Monday tomorrow, you still have class to attend." After urging, the gentleman turned away, no longer concerning himself with the struggling young man, and walked toward a ceramic kitten figurine placed on the bookshelf.

That ceramic cat, about an inch tall, with kind brows and eyes, seemed familiar to Zheng Qing. He looked closely and recognized it—it was molded in the likeness of ’Brother Huang.’

The gentleman lifted a brush from the desk stand and tapped on the porcelain cat’s head.

"Ding, ding, ding..."

After a moment’s pause, the previously inert porcelain cat suddenly came to life. Its eyes rolled around before glaring angrily at the one who had tapped it, "How many times have I told you not to knock on my head!"

"It won’t make you any dumber," the gentleman remarked indifferently and tapped a few more times, ding, ding, ding, then commanded, "Are they still in the woods? Tell everyone to go back, I’ve resolved the other matters... Yes, send a letter of inquiry to Nicolas and Satoguya later through the School Works Committee, just a warning will do. Satoguya has lost a part of its concept, it should be much more compliant in the short term."

The porcelain cat, initially furious, eventually became more serious upon hearing this.

"What about those two kids? Their situation is a bit grim right now..." The porcelain cat sat up straight, looking seriously at the bookstore owner. Zheng Qing always felt that its eyes stealthily glanced at him.

The gentleman was silent for a few seconds.

"It’s not uncommon for wizards to find their own path, as long as they are still wizards... The school wouldn’t abandon its students over a few Outer Gods. The Tricksters in the North District and The Gypsy Witch Coven should be pleased."

His tone was very calm, showing little emotional fluctuation:

"They’ve chosen their path, they must walk it even if with their eyes closed... Do they have such a realization yet? If not, bring them to the bookstore sometime... They still have the right to choose."

Zheng Qing, belatedly realizing who the gentleman and the porcelain cat were talking about, stopped himself in the nick of time as he was about to pour the tea.

The porcelain cat glanced at the young warlock, ’hmm’ing in what appeared to be a response to the gentleman’s words, then flicked its tail and returned to being a statue.

The gentleman turned to look at the nervous young man by the teapot.

"Sir, Elena..."

"Oh, that charming little Gypsy girl, I know."

"She is now..."

"Do you like her?"

"Yes."

"Do you know she used a love potion on you?"

"... Yes."

"Do you still like her?"

Zheng Qing fell silent. He remembered the Witch who bravely stepped forward to stop the Alpha people during their first confrontation on Pedestrian Street; her face that was both annoyed and smiling behind the pale smoke; her sleeping in the library with a bubble coming out of her nose; her pulling him out of a trap during the freshmen contest; their leisurely walks through snowy scenes, strolls along Pedestrian Street, sneaking into Alpha Fortress; that cold kiss that day.

Suddenly, he remembered what Professor Li had said in the first magic potion class, ’Love created by magic is more romantic, more like true love.’

"I don’t know." The young man looked up and honestly answered, "Maybe I will find the answer in the future. But if something had happened to her today, I would never have that chance."