Smack!
A little bug fell from a tree and landed on the hands Zheng Qing and Nicholas were holding.
It was a Horsetail Golden Flower Beetle.
This was a small beetle that fed on leaves. Whatever tree the female laid its larvae on, the larvae would feed on that tree's leaves from birth to adulthood.
At that moment, the tiny beetle had curled up its tarsi and lay perfectly still. Its two long, slender antennae drooped beside its body, swaying faintly in the breeze as though it were dead.
Zheng Qing paid it no mind—getting hit by a bug in the Silent Forest was perfectly normal. Even if a bug crawled into one's nostril, ear, or even mouth, it would hardly be surprising—so he raised a hand to flick the little thing away.
Once, twice, three times.
The young publicly funded student flicked at it three times in a row, yet failed to hit it even once!
The world before him seemed to have developed afterimages, layer upon layer. His outstretched finger multiplied from one into four or five, while the bug on his hand seemed to have entered a kaleidoscope, appearing amid countless fragments and making it impossible for him to tell what was real and what was an illusion.
He could not help blinking hard, then looked into the distance, hoping that looking far away would correct the illusion. Even then, he thought it was merely a symptom of magical imbalance caused by the backlash from the battle formation.
But as far as the eye could see, the whole world—near and far, high and low, large and small—began to distort.
The boy was immediately horrified and turned to look at his companions.
Dylan hung upside down from the sycamore tree, his arms crossed over his chest and a