Zheng Qing knew the spell "Imperial Corpse Rises."
It was often paired with another short incantation, "Eight Luan Clang Clang," to form a Wake-up Spell, commonly used by students who could not get out of bed in the morning to force themselves awake.
Although Zheng Qing had never experienced it personally, he had seen Fatty Xin use the spell more than once, and its effects were outstanding. Even if someone had been sleeping like a dead pig one second, the next they would spring from bed under the spell's effects, as though possessed by a ghost.
But now, Dylan had cast that short incantation on a dead ghoul and made it "get out of bed," which was rather horrifying.
In any normal society, desecrating a corpse was a very serious offense.
Even if it was the corpse of a ghoul.
In the Wizarding World, this sort of desecrating magic had a specific term—necromancy. And in the eyes of most wizards, necromancy undoubtedly fell within the category of Black Magic.
This was a stubborn impression rooted in the minds of most wizards, as stubborn as cockroaches in sewers and moss on damp walls.
First University was a very upright school.
That was beyond doubt, and common knowledge.
For a second-year student of First University to cast necromancy on a dead ghoul in broad daylight, before so many witnesses, was enough to make Zheng Qing's heart pound as though Poseidon's identity had been completely exposed.
"Have you gone mad?"
The young publicly funded student leaped up, waving his spellbook as he tried to interrupt Mr. Vampire Werewolf's magic. But after opening the book, he realized that he did not know any necromantic spells.
Xiao Xiao grabbed his sleeve and shook his head slightly.
"This isn't necromancy that desecrates corpses."
Youzui's diviner first