Unlike the Black Cat.
Qian Zi'ang was too close to the situation to see clearly. He had only glimpsed a flash of white and had not seen its true form.
After a moment's hesitation, he held his sword in one hand and kept his head raised, staring at the gaps between the roof beams and tiles, while reaching toward the table for his spellbook with the other. He planned to cast Jinjin Qi Ming and investigate exactly what kind of thing was causing trouble.
But when he reached for it, the spellbook slid three inches sideways out of thin air, just barely avoiding his fingertips.
Qian Zi'ang did not notice. He simply thought he had remembered its position wrong.
He quickly glanced back, confirmed the spellbook's position again, withdrew his gaze, fixed his eyes on those gaps once more, and reached for the spellbook a second time.
Again, his hand came up empty.
He looked at the desk in confusion, only then discovering that the spellbook's position had changed.
There was no one else in the room.
There was not even any wind.
And his spellbook was only an ordinary Song edition book; it had not reached the level of a "living being," so naturally it would not proactively dodge his hand.
These thoughts merely circled once through Qian Zi'ang's mind before he realized what had happened. His hand tightened even more around the wooden sword, his eyes fixed on the spellbook as he went straight to grab it.
This time, he watched with his own eyes as the book shifted to the edge of the table out of thin air, then fell to the floor with a rustle.
"—What the hell!"
Even with Qian Zi'ang's caution, he could not help crying out. He did not bend over to pick