Cleaning up the Green Ant anthills was much easier than Zheng Qing had imagined.
All they had to do was use hoes to turn over and smash the little mounds, each only about an inch high, then collect them in designated baskets. If Hundred Herbs Garden had not required it, they often would not even have needed to gather that rich soil.
Students with exceptional magical skill could simply command their hoes or iron shovels to work on their own, without troubling the noble hands of a mage.
Old Man Hemingway had never restricted this. On the contrary, he strongly encouraged it.
In his words, only by applying what they learned could they be worthy students of First University. If someone was a "bookworm" who could not even command a hoe, they might as well work themselves to death by the lake.
The words were rough, but the reasoning was sound.
Zheng Qing was certainly no orthodox bookworm. Under the guidance of the older students, he quickly learned how to command a hoe to work by itself. It made his work much easier, though the mental drain was a little heavier. Every time he returned to the dormitory after work, he would sleep like the dead.
At noon on thursday, after dragging himself back to the dormitory from the anthill field by the lake, Zheng Qing quickly fell asleep. He had an elective Merfolk Language class that afternoon, so he had to restore his energy before class. Time was short and the task pressing; to get the best sleep possible in limited time, he needed to sink his soul deep enough into the spiritual world.
Wednesday had been easier, because Zheng Qing happened to have an Inferior Talisman that promoted sleep. With its help, he had recovered in less than