Zheng Qing had heard a saying.
If you had no way of understanding what had happened to you, or everything that came with it, then bury a seed in your heart. Water and fertilize it day after day, pouring your confusion and the experience accumulated over time into that seed, then continue living a happy, ignorant life.
Until one day in the future, when you were able to understand and accept it, you would suddenly discover that the seed had somehow sprouted and grown, already bearing abundant fruit—whether those fruits were sweet, sour, bitter, or long since rotten.
Zheng Qing felt that he had just buried another seed.
Because the wizards examining him could find no trace of evil magic corrupting the boy's body—and with such limited clues, even the Archwizards had failed to divine much useful information—after Zheng Qing had cried out the word "raven" in terror, fewer than five minutes had passed before more than a dozen healers and diviners of varying ranks examined him. Yet without exception, no one found anything abnormal inside him.
For one brief moment, the young publicly funded student had even wanted to cut open his own arm and let them inspect it more carefully.
"There are many ways to tenderize beef..."
Not far away, the Magical Creatures Studies Lecturer, who had already cleared himself of suspicion, was quietly discussing several ways of preparing beef with Fatty Xin. "The best method, naturally, is choosing veal. Veal is the most tender and requires little preparation to become a fine delicacy. Some people also like using a metal hammer to break apart the coarse fibers in the meat through pounding. It's fast and efficient, but exhausting, liable to send bits flying everywhere, and the texture is not as good. Others, like me, prefer magical marinade.