The Thunderstruck Wood Wand trembled, his blood boiled, and golden light blazed.
The people around Zhang Xiao had already scattered. Standing near him made their exposed skin sting in waves.
It felt as though invisible needles were stabbing them over and over.
Only Little Ma remained where he was, asking shakily:
"Zhang... Zhang... what... what's wrong with you?"
The commotion quickly drew the professors' attention. The smile vanished from Dumbledore's face. He strode through the young wizards, came up to Zhang Xiao, and gently rested a hand on his shoulder, saying quietly:
"Zhang, although I don't know why your desire to kill them is so strong, even barbarians know not to attack guests who have come to their own banquet.
Their presence here falls under a pact honored by all five continents and every magical school-their safety is guaranteed."
Dumbledore said no more, because he felt Zhang should understand.
The wand disappeared again, the golden light gradually faded, and the prickling sensation vanished with it.
Zhang Xiao nodded and let out a long breath.
"Yes, Professor Dumbledore. I understand."
Old Dumbledore was right. He really couldn't attack anyone on such a formal occasion.
Opportunities... there'll be plenty. I didn't know there were still Onmyoji around before, but now that I do, things are different.
Dumbledore returned to the front. The delegation from Mahoutokoro had lined up and bowed deeply to him.
Just as their secular government bowed and scraped before the United States, Mahoutokoro was extremely deferential toward Britain's Ministry of Magic, which held a leading position in the Wizarding World.
Otherwise, Greengrass and Fudge would never have believed Mahoutokoro's records so easily back then.
In their eyes, Mahoutokoro was as obedient as a son. How could it possibly lie to its father?
"Your Excellency Dumbledore, I am Ono no