Zhang Xiao sat on a bench in the lobby of St. Mungo's, looking around the Wizarding World's famous magical hospital.
He had no choice. He simply couldn't stay in the ward any longer. Message Talismans were being used one after another, and the conversation was growing incredibly noisy.
The people at Dragon-Tiger Mountain had already decided to gang up on their opponent once they returned.
As they put it, "If we can't beat you one-on-one, surely we can beat you in a group?"
In any case, seeing how happily his parents were rolling up their sleeves, Zhang Xiao had no intention of interrupting them. He could only slip away.
Besides, he hadn't had a chance to look around St. Mungo's yet.
There were plenty of witches and wizards in the lobby, which seemed to be a crowded reception area.
Rows of witches and wizards sat on rickety wooden chairs. Some looked perfectly normal and were reading outdated copies of Witch Weekly.
Others looked horrifying, with injuries such as damaged tusks or a hand growing out of their chest.
For instance, diagonally behind Zhang Xiao sat someone with a pig's head, drooling as they stared at another person who had a steaming soup pot stuck on their head.
Judging by the healer's questions, the pig-headed patient had secretly practiced some fast-track version of becoming an Animagus, obtained from who knew where, and ended up like this.
The room was far from quiet, as most of the patients were making very distinctive noises:
A witch sitting in the middle of the front row was drenched in sweat, fanning herself vigorously with a copy of the Daily Prophet. Whenever steam poured out of her mouth, it made a shrill whistle, just like a train;
A grubby-looking wizard sat in a corner, giving off