"What kind of feeling was this?" The old man's dry, wrinkled face scrunched into a ball, and his already tiny eyes vanished amid the crisscrossing creases.
Zheng Qing was horrified to discover that an inexplicable force had bound his entire body, leaving him unable to move.
He could not move his fingertips.
He could not blink.
Even his breathing had frozen.
Other than the Pocket Watch ticking against his chest, only his thoughts seemed to be flowing slowly.
"Heavy, surging, mad, explosive, powerful strength!" The old man suddenly opened his pitch-black eyes, devoid of even a trace of white, and murmured as if whispering, "Like tens of millions of people shouting together, like tens of millions of hearts trembling in unison. I scarcely know what material could bear it."
He picked up a small wooden mallet beside him and struck a bronze bell hanging on the table.
Clang!
The bell rang melodiously, reverberating through the sealed room.
Palm-sized little elves radiating green light flew out from the depths of the room with the ringing bell.
They formed neat lines and piled roll after roll of thick, tanned hides onto the table.
After setting down a hide, one mischievous little elf fluttered over to Zheng Qing and curiously examined the stranger.
She wore a finely spun gauze dress, bright silver flakes dangled from her bare arms, her large black eyes blinked rapidly, and the delicate antennae atop her head trembled along with them.
"Xi xi..." The little elf made a sweet, cheerful sound and reached out to tug at the fine hairs on Zheng Qing's face.
Her little hand was icy cold, and the tug hurt badly.
Zheng Qing felt as though he could move his head again. He tried blinking.
As if startled, the little elf sprang away in an instant, becoming a streak of light that vanished into the darkness deep within the shop.
Zheng Qing discovered that he still could not speak.
He pulled faces and wrinkled his nose with effort, expressing his displeasure to the old man behind the table.
The old man had his eyes closed. His withered hands slowly brushed across the hides, silently feeling the materials at hand.
"Tap, tap, tap, tap." Like a woodpecker pecking at wood, his bony index finger steadily tapped one hide after another, even and tireless.
"A dragon's top-grain hide is too hard, while the second layer is too soft."
"Seven-colored Deer hide is too thin to bear such a heavy soul."
"Pigskin is a decent choice, but combined with this soul, its inertia would be too strong. It would affect the casting of spells."
"Mulberry paper is too brittle. No, no."
"Bamboo slips and fish skin both have excessively strong elemental inclinations. They would be too much of a waste for this soul."
The old man muttered like a madman. Then he suddenly swept all the hides from the table onto the floor. His body seemed weightless as he floated straight into the air.
Zheng Qing discovered in terror that his own body was also floating helplessly into the air.
"The heavy power of earth, the surging power of the heavenly river, the mad power of hurricanes, the explosive power of wildfire—complete in all four aspects. What kind of being is this?" The old man pressed his nose against Zheng Qing's body and sniffed him carefully, his muttering never ceasing.
"All things possess spirits. Within every wizard's book exists a unique demon spirit. Casting spells uses that demon beast's soul to resonate with heaven and earth, amplifying a wizard's power geometrically. Even the soul of a great demon is not this violent. Could it be a fiend or a spirit? Impossible!"
"Oh, I know, I know. Tanned hides have already taken shape, so why not try raw hide? Why am I always so stubborn about these things?" The old man drifted backward and vanished into the darkness in the blink of an eye, leaving only Zheng Qing, panicked and helpless, floating in midair before the table in the vast empty room.
The green little elves flew back again.
They gathered up the hides scattered beneath the table and retreated once more.
Only a few little ones calling "Xi xi xi" fluttered their wings happily and gathered before Zheng Qing.
One after another, they held up tiny glittering objects the size of rice grains and tossed them into Zheng Qing's jacket pocket. Then they landed on his head and plucked out a strand of his hair.
Zheng Qing blinked furiously, but this time, not a single little elf fled in panic.
They sang "Xi xi" songs and each flew back into the depths of the room carrying a strand of hair.
Zheng Qing found himself missing that terrifying old man.
After a long while, the old man finally returned.
A battered grayish-white hide floated beside him.
If the hides brought by the little elves looked as though they had been tanned and washed, neat and clean, then this grayish-white hide looked as though it had just been skinned from some demon beast. Fresh blood threads and scraps of flesh still clung to it.
The sight made Zheng Qing's skin crawl.
The old man snapped his fingers. Zheng Qing discovered in terror that a piercing pain shot through his right hand, and then his right hand stretched out before him against his will. Bright red drops seeped from all five fingertips.
"Press it onto this!" the old man said coldly, his voice utterly flat.
Zheng Qing suddenly discovered that he could move his upper body.
Gritting his teeth, he pressed his bleeding right hand onto the hide.
The grayish-white hide still felt faintly warm to the touch. For some reason, the image of something crying out in agony surfaced in Zheng Qing's mind.
The blood from his fingertips stuck to the flesh and blood on the grayish-white hide, immediately blending together.
The grayish-white hide seemed to come alive. It squeaked as it sucked Zheng Qing's blood from his fingertips, swallowing the remaining blood threads and scraps of meat from its fur as well.
The old man extended his hand, hesitated for a moment, then withdrew it and pulled out a black spellbook.
He curled his index finger and tapped the spellbook's cover.
With a rustle, the spellbook flipped open to its middle pages. Specks of gray light drifted out from the pages, followed by streams of smooth gray Runes.
The specks and Runes formed a ferocious gray claw in midair. It slowly stretched open toward Zheng Qing's chest, then slowly closed.
A point of black light, like a drop of ink, floated out from Zheng Qing's chest. Before Zheng Qing's terrified eyes, it followed the motion of the gray claw and fell onto the hide beneath his hand, whose color had already begun to pale.
When the black ink drop landed on the hide, a fierce, uncontrollable pain erupted from Zheng Qing's fingertips again. He could even feel the gradually whitening hide in his hand greedily drawing out his blood.
Gradually, his vision swam, and he seemed to see the pale hide before him burning all over.
The old man frowned. Seeing the flames on the hide grow dimmer and dimmer, he finally could not hold back and poked Zheng Qing's chest with a withered finger.
Thump, thump, thump, thump! It was as though someone had beaten a great drum beside his ears, jolting Zheng Qing awake.
He felt his heart pounding madly in his chest.
Fresh blood surged desperately into Zheng Qing's right arm, then flowed from his five fingertips into the burning hide.
The flames atop it flared up brightly once more.
Only when Zheng Qing's face turned deathly pale again, when his heartbeat grew more erratic and weaker, did the hide gradually stop sucking his blood.
The flames dancing on the hide gradually went out as well.
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