Although they had received the bluebird's report, the You Zui Hunting Team's sortie did not go smoothly.
As the five young wizards left camp one after another and crossed the fence, a dead crow hanging from the gate happened to fall into the middle of the group, landing at Li Meng's feet.
This time, the Little Witch did not scream. Instead, she swiftly crouched down, grabbed the dead crow by its claws, and held it up before Zheng Qing with a showy flourish.
"See what I said?"
Not a trace of fear showed on her face. She looked thoroughly pleased with herself. "An ill omen! A terrible ill omen! A black dog walking the streets, a dead crow falling to the ground, an owl snickering, ancestral tablets toppling over... What signs could possibly be worse than those?"
Zheng Qing stared at the rotten, shriveled dead crow, and a shadow settled over his heart. In truth, the Little Witch did not need to say anything more; the mood throughout the hunting team had already turned somewhat grim.
"Li Meng, drop it!"
Jiang Yu warned her in a dangerous tone. Although modern wizards did not pay much heed to concepts like "bad luck," as the wizards of old classical mystic schools had, they were still affected by them to some extent.
Avoiding contact with filthy things was one such principle.
And a dead crow undoubtedly fell within the category of filthy things.
Hearing her cousin's rebuke, the Little Witch curled her lips and casually tossed the dead crow back onto the gate. Jiang Yu then tore open a Talisman of Evil Warding and used a cluster of pale green flames to wipe Li Meng's hands clean.
"One or two dead crows don't prove anything."
Zheng Qing tried to boost his companions' morale,