High School of Demon Hunting
Chapter 209 - 133: Flying Crane Delivers a Letter_1

Chapter 209: Chapter 133: Flying Crane Delivers a Letter_1

Flying Crane letter delivery is an ancient method of communication among wizards.

A piece of talisman paper as the underlying paper, a few simple spells, can carry many words, back and forth between different wizards.

Even in the modern times with all kinds of more convenient magic available, this fun and picturesque way of communication is still popular in the first college.

Especially among young male and female wizards, paper cranes are the preferred method for conveying emotions.

The school once held a ’Crane Fellowship Meeting’, where young male and female wizards each folded their own flying crane, wrote their own information on it, then collectively released them for others to catch.

A sky full of vibrant colors inspired endless imaginings.

No matter who catches it, it’s a sign of fate.

However, with the wide spread of various evil curses, wizards have increasingly tightened their information security, leading to the decline of the Crane Fellowship Meeting.

To this day, it is probably only the campus of the first college where many paper cranes are still flitting around.

Like this one right here.

With broad wings and a slender neck, it was intricately crafted. If it hadn’t fluttered in front of Zheng Qing for so long, he might have misinterpreted it as a dancing butterfly.

Zheng Qing reached out his hand, palm open, suspended in mid-air.

The blue and black crane fluttered its wings for a while, circling him before finally settling down. Even then, it didn’t immediately open up. Instead, it pecked sharply at Zheng Qing’s palm.

Zheng Qing endured a slight discomfort, letting the little creature do whatever it wanted.

This is a necessary procedure for modern Flying Crane communication. In order to ensure the crane delivers the message to the correct person, the crane needs to discern the recipient’s aura before it opens. If one tries to force the crane open, the runes imprinted on the paper will immediately turn the paper crane into ash.

The little fox on Zheng Qing’s shoulder was very interested in this little creature that had just been dancing around.

It had also mistaken it for a butterfly.

In the pet garden, chasing butterflies is always a favorite activity for many small animals.

The little fox hooked Zheng Qing’s neck with its tail, and quietly crawled along his arm, ready to pounce.

"That’s not okay," Zheng Qing said, pinching its fur and placing it on the ground. "You can’t just try to catch anything with wings. What if it’s poisonous? Curiosity killed the cat, remember?"

After saying this, he froze. A strong sense of déjà vu washed over him, as if he had really seen a cat die from chasing a butterfly. Yet after pondering for a long time, he still couldn’t recall the specifics.

Poseidon, feeling aggrieved by his master’s words, gave a whimper, swished his tail and dashed off into the soft lawn, disappearing without a trace in the blink of an eye.

By the time Zheng Qing came back to his senses, the little fox was gone, and the blue-black paper crane in his hand had already spread its wings.

Zheng Qing did not look up, nor did he look at the main text. His eyes directly fell on the end of the letter.

"Ilyana Jones," he murmured the name, his face slowly lighting up with a radiant smile.

"I never knew her last name was Jones," Zheng Qing excitedly told Xiao Xiao, a proud look on his face.

"You’re really something," Xiao Xiao mocked sarcastically.

Zheng Qing carefully folded the letter, resisting the urge to read it immediately, and quickly ran towards the dormitory.

"Why are you running so fast?" Xiao Xiao yelled after him.

"I need to purify my hands and burn incense," Zheng Qing shouted back, his pace quickening.

Shortly after, he turned back a few steps, shouting to Xiao Xiao: "Don’t forget to buy breakfast!"

The campus was particularly quiet on Saturday morning.

Aside from a few figures returning from morning exercise, most people were still immersed in the dream of the holiday.

Zheng Qing hummed a tune, rushing all the way.

The sky was so blue, the sunshine so bright, the wind not at all noisy, and the birds were singing for him.

What a lovely morning it was.

Dormitory 403 was still dark. The curtains hadn’t been completely drawn yet. The snoring of both cats and humans echoed in the room, not much different from when he had left in the morning.

"She’s written to me!" Zheng Qing raced into the dorm, shouting excitedly, startling the little elves daydreaming on the balcony.

"Hehe, Hehe!" Fluttering their wings curiously, they rushed over.

"Congrats on your good luck." Xin Fat Man buried his head in his quilt, throatily expressing his uninspired congratulations.

"Ooh..." Tuan Tuan too, didn’t hold back his praise.

Only Dylan’s bed remained undisturbed.

Zheng Qing didn’t mind.

This vampire werewolf had been behaving mysteriously lately, and hadn’t returned to the dorm for several days now, engaged in some unknown mischief.

After cleansing his hands with incense, Zheng Qing prayed silently for a while before reopening the folded letter.

"Dear Mr. Zheng Qing, I hope this letter finds you in good health."

She had addressed him as ’dear’. Zheng Qing licked his lips, a restrained smile spreading across his face.

"... I’m very sorry, but I have to contact the Wizard Tower today. Besides, there’s a special prayer ritual tonight for the Gypsy witch exchange students, so I might not be able to tutor you in Talisman Studies today..."

Special prayers? Zheng Qing raised an eyebrow in curiosity, but he wasn’t intrinsically concerned.

For most wizards, besides ceaseless experiments, their entire lives revolve around various rituals.

Praying to the heavens, the earth, talking with gods above and making deals with devils below–there was a vast array at their disposal.

It was hardly surprising that the Gypsy witches, heralding from a long lineage of magicians, would have a few peculiar prayer rituals.

"...If you don’t mind, I will be waiting for you at two o’clock tomorrow afternoon near the third window in the east district of the Book Mountain Library. Our school has reserved a few spots for us Gypsy witches there..."

Upon reading this, Zheng Qing’s elation couldn’t be contained, his face broke into an idiotic grin.

When Xiao Xiao returned to the dorm with breakfast, he immediately noticed his smile.

"You look like you’ve had a bad dose of ’Happy Powder’," the short special-admission student scolded, while he walked towards the balcony and yanked open the shade covering the window.

"Ooh..."

"Awoo..."

Two mournful howls rang out from Xin Fat Man’s bed. One couldn’t tell which one came from a human and which from a cat.

"Time for breakfast!" announced Xiao Xiao.

Xin Fat Man’s six-pillar bed immediately began to creak.

Tuan Tuan didn’t need to get dressed and was the first to burst through the curtain, his fluffy pelt shaking, he obediently curled up next to Xiao Xiao’s hand.

Moments later, Xin Fat Man, bleary-eyed and in his pyjamas, sluggishly shuffled to the table.

Only Zheng Qing remained, still clutching the piece of paper, reading it with delight, over and over.

"Here’s your stewed chicken leg," Xiao Xiao threw a deliciously fragrant lunchbox to Tuan Tuan.

Xin Fat Man covetously licked the corner of his mouth.

"Here’s yours, four types of congee," Xiao Xiao set down four cups of different-coloured congee in front of Xin Fat Man: "millet pumpkin congee, century egg and lean meat congee, lily and lotus-seed congee, plain rice congee."

"I eat worse than the cat," grumbled Xin Fat Man dejectedly.

Tuan Tuan ’meowed’ triumphantly.

"If you hadn’t clumsily plucked that bowl flower, you could have been eating something else by now," Xiao Xiao scolded as he inserted several large straws into the cups in front of Xin Fat Man, "Do you think it’s easy to buy all this congee?"

Xin Fat Man obediently lowered his head, slurping his breakfast and voicing no objections.

"Aren’t you going to eat?" Xiao Xiao turned his gaze, glaring at Zheng Qing.

"Oh, what a feast! Oh, what a feast!" Zheng Qing bobbed his head, singing like he was possessed, paying him no mind.