Jiang Han unconsciously let out a long breath, raised the procurement list Alesha had handed out, and widened her eyes at the slightly abnormal handwriting on it—neat as if typed on a typewriter. Every stroke seemed to have been written with a ruler, compass, and set square. Still, she was satisfied. It looked far better than Angelite's wildly dancing cursive. She thought of Anjie.
Anjie, that brilliantly talented poet, author, painter, and musician, had once traveled to Northern Europe, to the Black Sea, to those lands where winter was as bitterly cold as hell to study. She had not only brought caviar and high-proof Victory-brand vodka back to the witches of the European Continent, but had also added a large group of poet witches who championed masochism and tragic realism to the literary world.
Those people—those witches—all wrote in ornate cursive. Perhaps Anjie had learned it from them.
"Personal item checklist. Bring your own tent..."
Kraken asked:
"Prepare an adaptive heating-and-cooling tent in advance... What does this tent mean? I haven't really traveled far much."
"It's a high-grade tent. You can set it up outdoors to rest, but inside it is on the level of a standard modern residence," Lilian said.
Though Little Li hid it well, Jiang Han could still see a trace of admiration in Lilian's eyes.
Ever since reaching adulthood, Lilian had been working for her older sister. After Lilith became a Great Witch, Lilian had also continually coordinated with Kraken. Over the course of it all, she must have come to admire this immensely talented Sea Siren witch. That was certain. Very few witches found fault with Kraken's work ethic; even Eileen, during that battle where she had wanted to kill Kraken, had hesitated and felt reluctant to do so.
Like a witch who had only