Zheng Qing lay flat on his back on the floor.
Being hit head-on by three sprites over three feet tall without immediately suffering broken bones or coughing up blood was already proof that he was tough-skinned and durable. Fortunately, at the last moment, the three sprites tacitly grabbed hold of him and slowed his fall, keeping his head from smashing directly into the floor.
But Zheng Qing would rather have cracked his head against the floor and passed out on the spot.
He stared blankly at several dark green patches of mold clinging to a corner of the ceiling, listened to the Fat Wizard's breathless laughter, heard the crisp and pleasant sound of "scum" echoing in his ears, and wore an expression of utter despair.
Ah, let me become a patch of mold.
That was what he told himself inwardly.
Just stay quietly in a corner and rot, spoil, and perish.
"Scum~"
"Scum~ hug~"
"Hug hug~ scum~"
The sprites—no, more accurately, they should be called Great Sprites. Sprites three feet tall could no longer be called little sprites. The difference between them and ordinary sprites was comparable to the difference between an Archwizard and an ordinary wizard—the Great Sprites' melodious voices echoed through the cramped dormitory. Fat Cat Tuantuan unexpectedly displayed a bit of friendliness, meowing like a real cat as he rubbed himself against the Great Sprites. Mixed in were the Fat Wizard's intermittent laughter and the Doctor's heavy coughs. For a moment, Dormitory 403 possessed a contradictory feeling of both desolation and liveliness.
"Mm, they've already developed a more advanced language system."
Dr. Xiao cleared his throat and spoke again, attempting to dispel the cheerful atmosphere with a more serious topic. "Perhaps you can start teaching them how to speak... teach them something proper."
Fatty Xin laughed even