"What kind of feeling is this?" The old man's wrinkled face scrunched up, his already small eyes disappearing into the crisscrossing lines.
Zheng Qing was horrified to find his entire body bound by an unknown force, unable to move.
His fingertips couldn't move.
His eyelids couldn't blink.
Even his breathing solidified.
Besides the ticking pocket watch on his chest, only his thoughts seemed to flow slowly.
"A heavy, surging, crazy, explosive, powerful force!" The old man suddenly opened his pitch-black eyes, devoid of any whites, and murmured like a whisper, "Like tens of millions of people shouting together, like tens of millions of hearts vibrating in unison. I almost don't know what Materials to use to contain it."
He picked up a small wooden mallet beside him and tapped a bronze bell hanging on the table.
"Clang!"
The bell's clear sound reverberated in the enclosed room.
Little Elves, each the size of a palm and emitting a green glow, flew out from the depths of the room, following the sound of the bell.
They lined up neatly, piling rolls of thick, tanned hides onto the table.
One mischievous Little Elves, after putting down the hide, flapped her wings and darted in front of Zheng Qing, curiously examining the stranger.
She wore a dress made of fine gauze, and shiny silver pieces hung on her bare arms. Her large black eyes blinked, and the fine antennae on her head twitched along.
"Xi xi…" The Little Elves made a pleasant and cheerful sound, reaching out to tug at the hair on Zheng Qing's face.
Her small hand was cold, and the tug hurt a lot.
Zheng Qing felt his head could move, and he tried to blink his eyes.
The Little Elves seemed startled, suddenly darting away, transforming into a stream of light, and disappearing into the darkness in the depths of the shop.
Zheng Qing found that he still couldn't speak.
He grimaced and wrinkled his nose with effort, expressing his dissatisfaction to the old man behind the table.
The old man closed his eyes, his withered hand slowly caressing the hides, quietly feeling the Materials beside him.
"Thump, thump, thump, thump," like a woodpecker pecking wood, his withered index finger steadily tapped the hide rolls, one after another, steadily and tirelessly.
"The first layer of Dragon hide is too hard, and the second layer is too soft."
"The seven-colored deer hide is too thin to bear such a heavy Soul."
"Pigskin is a good choice, but if combined with this Soul, it's too inert and will affect Spell casting."
"Mulberry paper is too brittle, no good, no good."
"Bamboo slips and fish skin have too strong attribute tendencies; it would be too much of a waste for this Soul."
The old man, muttering to himself, suddenly pushed all the hides on the table to the ground. His body seemed to defy gravity, floating straight up into the air.
Zheng Qing was horrified to find his own body also uncontrollably floating into the air.
"The heavy power of the earth, the surging power of the Heavenly River, the crazy power of the hurricane, the explosive power of wildfire, all four elements complete—what kind of existence is this!" The old man's nose pressed against Zheng Qing's body, sniffing carefully, his murmuring voice never stopping:
"All things have spirits; within every Wizard spell book, there exists a unique Yao Beast spirit. Casting a Spell is to geometrically amplify the Wizard's power through the Yao Beast Soul's connection with heaven and earth. Even the Soul of a Great Yao Beast is not this violent. Could it be a fierce or a spiritual one? Impossible!"
"Oh, I know, I know. Tanned hides are already shaped, why not try raw hides? Why do I always obsess over these things?" The old man floated backward, disappearing into the darkness in the blink of an eye, leaving only the panicked Zheng Qing hovering in mid-air in front of the table in the empty room.
The green Little Elves flew back.
They collected the hides scattered under the table and then retreated.
Only a few little ones, chirping 'xi xi xi', happily flapped their wings and gathered in front of Zheng Qing.
One by one, they held up sparkling, rice-sized objects and dropped them into Zheng Qing's top pocket. Then they landed on his head and pulled out a strand of his hair.
Zheng Qing blinked angrily, but this time not a single Little Elves fled in panic.
They sang 'xi xi' and each flew back into the depths of the room with a strand of hair.
Zheng Qing somewhat missed the terrifying old man.
After a long time, the old man returned.
Beside him floated a tattered grayish-white hide.
If the hides brought by the Little Elves looked neat and clean after tanning and washing, this grayish-white hide seemed to have just been peeled from a Yao Beast, with fresh bloodstains and remnants of flesh still clinging to it.
Zheng Qing's hair stood on end at the sight.
The old man snapped his fingers, and Zheng Qing horrifyingly felt a piercing pain in his right hand, which then uncontrollably extended in front of him. Drops of fresh red blood seeped from his five fingertips.
"Press it onto this!" The old man said coldly, his voice devoid of emotion.
Zheng Qing suddenly found his upper body could move.
He gritted his teeth and pressed his bleeding right hand onto the hide.
The grayish-white hide felt slightly warm to the touch, and for some reason, a shadow of painful wailing appeared in Zheng Qing's mind.
The blood from his fingertips and the flesh on the grayish-white hide stuck together, immediately merging.
The grayish-white hide seemed to come alive, squeaking and sucking the fresh blood from Zheng Qing's fingertips, and at the same time swallowing the remaining bloodstains and minced meat on its fur.
The old man reached out, hesitated for a moment, then withdrew his hand and took out a black spell book.
He bent his index finger and tapped the spell book's cover.
The spell book flapped open to the middle, and scattered specks of gray light floated out from the pages, followed by streams of smooth gray runes.
The specks and runes formed a grotesque gray claw in mid-air, slowly extending towards Zheng Qing's chest, then slowly closing.
A black dot, like an ink drop, floated out from Zheng Qing's chest, and to Zheng Qing's horrified gaze, following the movement of the gray claw, it plunged into the hide beneath his hand, which had already begun to turn pale.
As the black ink drop landed on the hide, Zheng Qing's fingertips were seized by another uncontrollable, sharp pain. He could even feel the hide in his hand, gradually changing color, greedily absorbing his fresh blood.
Gradually, a dizzy Spell came over him, and he seemed to see the pale hide in front of him burning all over.
The old man frowned, watching the flames on the hide grow dimmer and dimmer, finally unable to resist, he poked Zheng Qing's chest with his withered finger.
"Thump, thump, thump, thump!" As if someone was beating a drum beside his ear, Zheng Qing was jolted awake.
He felt his heart in his chest beating wildly.
Streams of fresh blood surged desperately into Zheng Qing's right arm, then flowed through his five fingertips into the burning hide.
The flames on it rekindled with bright colors.
It wasn't until Zheng Qing's face turned pale again, and his heart's beating became increasingly irregular and faint, that the hide gradually stopped absorbing blood.
The flickering flames on the hide also gradually extinguished.
