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After all the werewolves fled, Zhang Zongde looked at the empty doorframe. As for where the door had gone—hadn't Fenrir just taken it?

"Elder, what were they...?" The young man turned his gaze to Zhang Zongde.

"Western werewolves," Zhang Zongde said blandly, a cold glint flashing in his eyes. Then he began tidying up again. "Clean this place up. It'd be a shame to leave everything broken."

"Oh." The young man followed Zhang Zongde's lead and began cleaning up. Talismans formed one after another, and the damaged objects gradually returned to their original state.

"What do we do now?"

Zhang Zongde rose to his feet and looked outside. "Inform Dumbledore's side, and send word back to Shu Mountain. The terrorists here are rather fierce."

"Terrorists... Voldemort?"

"His name is Voldemort. Study a little more next time. Don't keep making our country lose face," Zhang Zongde said, frustrated by his failure to meet expectations.

"Oh." The young man lowered his head and continued repairing the objects.

In the eastern lands, in southwestern China, stood a remote mountain range, sparsely populated. The occasional mountaineer who loved adventure might come here for a look, but compared to the endless mountains of the Shu region, this place was utterly ordinary.

But that was not the case for the residents of this mountain.

"Sigh, how many has this been? Fewer and fewer people are coming."

"Isn't our mountain-protecting formation a little too ordinary? I heard Changbai Mountain even has some scary illusion realms."

Two young men in blue robes stood beneath a magnificent yet ancient mountain gate, taking turns grumbling.

This was Shu Mountain, protected by techniques much like those of Hogwarts. Ordinary people could not detect anything unusual at all.

The mountaineers who came here usually only wandered around the foot of the