Tap, tap.
The small Black Goat stepped over the rubble-strewn ground, unhurriedly emerging from the shadows deep within the river valley where Zheng Qing and the others stood, as though it were strolling down the busiest commercial street in Four Seasons Market.
Behind it dragged a heavy Night Veil, spreading backward in a funnel shape from its body like an enormous black cloak, painting an additional layer of deep night over the already dim moonlight.
Tap, tap.
At that moment, the clatter of its hooves against the rubble became the only sound between heaven and earth—the faint rumble of thunder behind the clouds, the muffled bubbling of lava in the distant crater, the struggling howls of that fully mutated Nikolas spawn, the urgent whistles of the Kunpeng Hunting Team hunters, the furious whirring of the dwarves' Talisman Cannons, and so on—none of those sounds could drown out the little goat's light yet steady hoofbeats.
Tap, tap.
The little black goat held its head high and chest out, its gaze straight ahead as it slowly passed in front of the young wizards. Its steps seemed slow, yet it moved swiftly; after only a few steps, it had already passed everyone and gone from the depths of the river valley to the foot of the crater flowing with crimson lava and emerald blood.
The black cat tucked in its tail, lowered its body, and stared grimly at the goat's retreating back.
The astonishment had yet to fade from Zheng Qing and Jiang Yu's faces.
The Kunpeng Hunting Team's spirit witch, the Little Witch hiding beneath her cloak, had already curled herself into a ball and trembled deep within it. From afar, she looked like a shivering rock.
The other hunters of the Kunpeng Hunting Team had once again formed their battle formation,