"Zheng Qing?!"
"Where is Zheng Qing?!"
"Zheng Qing?? Is he in the library?!"
"Zheng Qing! Get your ass out here! Something huge happened!!"
Fatty Xin's shrill, piercing voice rang through the entire library, making the towering floor-to-ceiling windows hum. It was like a plucked drake suddenly appearing in a deathly silent forest, shattering the tranquility in an instant and swiftly drawing numerous disgruntled complaints and noisy condemnations.
Zheng Qing's face immediately turned green.
He struggled up from the floor and, clinging to a faint hope, pricked up his ears and listened for a while longer.
No mistake—those were Fatty Xin's shouts, and he really was calling Zheng Qing's name.
"Fuck! Did that dead fatso take the wrong medicine or something?" The young publicly funded student grabbed the spellbook and Pocket Watch at hand, stuffed them into his Gray Cloth Bag, and took off running. He did not even have time to tidy up the pile of books on the table.
He had to do something.
For instance, find the fatty before the fatty found him, knock him out, and drag him out of the library; or quietly slip out of the library before the fatty found him, pretending he had never been here and did not know that dead fatso at all.
In theory, the first plan was best and would minimize the damage. But considering the gap in combat strength between him and the fatty under normal circumstances, the young wizard ultimately decided that discretion was the better part of valor.
Unfortunately, unsatisfactory things were common in this world, and even worse luck came in twos and threes.
The moment he passed through the narrow aisle between two bookshelves, Zheng Qing slammed headfirst into a familiar greasy fat man.
Before he could recover his senses, the fatty had already