"It's just... an... ordinary... Binding Spell!"
Zheng Qing answered through gritted teeth, pulling a belt from the Gray Cloth Bag and beginning to bind the spellbook in his hands. Three times crosswise and three times lengthwise, he tied it so tightly that not a single word showed.
Worried that the binding might not be secure enough, he pulled out several sealing talismans, spat on them, and plastered every corner of the spellbook shut.
Only when the sealing talismans emitted a reassuring pale green glow did he stop.
Then he looked up and saw the scrutinizing, curious gazes of his roommates.
"Ahem, spellbook malfunction, spellbook malfunction." The young scholarship student gave a dry cough and casually tossed out the excuse he had just made up. "...This spellbook has been used for too long, so it has a bit of a... temper. Yes, that's right, a bit of a temper. Like Dylan's wardrobe mirror—it likes spouting nonsense for no reason."
After magical wardrobe mirrors had been used for a long time, they often began using cutting language when judging outfits and offering bizarre clothing recommendations.
Most alchemists considered this a magical malfunction, but many users merely thought their magic mirrors had a few minor tempers—a growing pain, or a sign that the mirror's "self-awareness" had strengthened. This was also why many wizards overly reliant on magic had such peculiar taste in clothing. So Zheng Qing's explanation was reluctantly accepted by these young wizards who had grown up in the Magic World.
Of course, Dr. Xiao was never so easy to fool. "A spellbook malfunction doesn't necessarily mean the spellbook wouldn't turn to ashes. Aren't you changing the subject?"
Zheng Qing smacked his lips, looking somewhat troubled. "You're a wizard. Why do you care so much about logic?"
"Logic and magic are not