Someone was picking a fight.
Naturally, others joined in.
Beside the second-generation witch was a witch accused of "controlling the weather."
Her hair was disheveled, and madness gleamed in her eyes. Seeing the second-generation wizard confront Ian, she suddenly laughed. "The name Shorty suits him perfectly!"
"He really does look like a dwarf!"
The witch's insults became even filthier.
If those two prisoners had insulted something else,
Ian might have laughed it off.
But they had called Ian Shorty.
That really touched a nerve.
It was like how Ke Jie might laugh off someone saying he was bad at Go, but would get angry if they said he was bad at Teamfight Tactics. In real life, Ian really did get angry over something like this.
They had struck precisely at a flaw he had endured for a long time.
Once upon a time,
Ian really had been a Shorty, and he really had cared. That was why he now liked to focus on staying healthy and promoting his growth. And now, this prisoner was using "Shorty" to humiliate him?
It seemed unrelated to Ian's old weakness.
Yet it precisely awakened that suppressed memory. Ian slowly turned around, his dark green pupils glinting in the dim light like blades in a cold night.
The witch was still laughing, thinking he would not dare to act.
But the next second, the smile on her face froze.
Ian said nothing. He merely raised a hand and gave it a slight curl.
The witch's golden-threaded robe suddenly trembled violently. Then the entire robe turned into countless fine Golden Threads that burrowed into her skin like living snakes.
"Ah—!" she screamed, but the sound lasted only a second before it came to an abrupt halt.
Her mouth was still moving, yet no sound came out.