"You've read Norse Mythology, so you must know something about my deeds." As Loki dodged Zhang Heng's arrows, he continued, "I do like causing trouble everywhere, so whenever the gods run into a problem, their first thought is always whether I did it. But once they rule out that possibility, they still come looking for me. Do you know why?"
Zhang Heng did not answer. He simply kept drawing his bow, firing two arrows at Loki with sharp whistles. Loki snapped his fingers helplessly and dodged them again, then answered his own question. "Because they know I can solve their problems. When Thor lost his hammer, I helped him get it back. When Sif lost her golden hair, I had dwarves forge her even more beautiful hair from gold, more dazzling than what she originally had. So, you see, I'm not busy wrecking things all day long. I can solve problems—those thorny problems no one else can solve..."
Before Loki could finish, several more arrows from Zhang Heng forced him to leave his spot.
"Hey, you know full well you can't hit me, so what's the point of keeping this up?" Loki said speechlessly. "Are you hoping I'll accidentally break my fingers when I snap?"
Zhang Heng finally stopped moving. In just two minutes, he had emptied three quivers. The intense repeated drawing of the bow had left his arms slightly sore, and he needed a brief rest. But as Loki had said, not one of those arrows had struck its target. Every one had been dodged with a snap of Loki's fingers.
It seemed he had indeed been wasting his effort, as though he had been doing it solely to annoy Loki. But Zhang Heng was hardly that bored. He had actually been probing Loki. That near-teleportation life-saving ability