Four-colored heavenly flowers manifested from the void one after another, drifting slowly down.
More fell inside the castle, fewer outside.
Some people entered meditation the moment the old man behind the lectern spoke his first word; others only grew thoughtful after the first flower landed on them; still others remained utterly bewildered even after the old man had spoken himself hoarse. When the flowers fell upon them, they spun away and rolled to the ground, dissolving into the Clear Springs on the floor.
These Clear Springs had appeared alongside the heavenly flowers.
When the first heavenly flower manifested,
a stream of crystalline spring water gushed from the lectern, cascading down the dark-brown oak with a splash. It fell to the floor, then flowed down the steps and across the bluish stone slabs, making lively sounds as it went. Before long, it had washed over the guests' feet, yet no one felt wet in the slightest.
Zheng Qing bent down and dipped a finger into the Clear Spring.
Rich, vibrant Magic Power lingered around his fingertip, making him feel as though a mere thought would let him effortlessly cast a spell. This feeling had nothing to do with accumulation or rank; it was simply the natural response to an abundance of Magic Power. Like a bamboo grove after a midsummer downpour, every inch of air was saturated with moisture, and the slightest touch to a bamboo leaf would shake loose a patter of droplets; or like a brush heavy with ink hovering above rice paper—even before it touched down, the ink's intent was already ready to burst forth.
"—The children of the North District should really like an environment like this."
Zheng Qing could not help sighing softly. He thought of the Tricksters who, because of their lack of Magic Power,