High School of Demon Hunting

Chapter 1149: Chapter 211 Poseidon

The task of clearing the Blue Dew Anthills was much easier than Zheng Qing had imagined.

All that was needed was to use a hoe to flip and smash the small mounds, a few inches high, and then collect them into designated baskets. If the Hundred Herb Gardens of the school didn’t require it, often, they wouldn’t even need to bother collecting the fertile soil.

For some students with superior magic skills, they could completely command their hoes or shovels to work on their own, sparing the esteemed magician’s hands from labor.

Old Hemingway never restricted this but rather strongly supported it.

In his words, ”Only by applying what one learns can one justify being a scholar of the First University. If one cannot even command a hoe, they might as well drop dead of exhaustion by the lake.”

Though roughly put, there was reason in his words.

Zheng Qing certainly wasn’t a traditional bookworm, and soon, under the guidance of the veterans, he learned how to command the hoe to work by itself. This made his job much easier, though the mental strain increased slightly—each time after finishing work and returning to his dormitory, he would sleep a deep, enveloping sleep.

On Thursday noon, after rolling back to his dormitory from the lakeside anthill area, Zheng Qing quickly fell into a deep sleep. He had a Fishman Language elective that afternoon and needed to be fully rested before class. With tight time and heavy tasks, achieving the best sleep in limited time required his soul to sink deep enough into the spiritual world.

The previous Wednesday had been okay because Zheng Qing happened to have a Poor Quality Magic Amulet to promote sleep, which helped him refresh completely in less than half an hour.

But this noon, because he was incredibly sleepy—the morning’s potion class and the midday fieldwork were both mentally and physically draining—he closed his eyes as soon as he hit the bed. He hadn’t managed to use the talisman.

This led to his eyes being closed, but his mind not fully settling down, remaining in a state of slow, mild activity. Put simply, he started having continuous dreams.

The images in his dreams were fragmented and jumpy.

At first, Zheng Qing vaguely remembered being chased by an enormous hunting dog on fire, barking madly at him.

Old Verne, leaning on a tall wooden cane, followed behind the hunting dog, shouting frantically at the young wizard.

Latter, the dog slowly melted into endless fiery clouds and towering red waves that stretched into the sky; no matter how Zheng Qing tried to escape, he couldn’t evade the encompassing redness.

He climbed over mountains, walked along cliff paths barely half a foot wide for a long distance; crossed rivers, clinging to thin iron chain bridges for a long time; and also traversed vast prairies, stepping into grass nests, occasionally sinking halfway into mud pits.

The redness followed him steadily yet casually, consistently keeping him in a state of high tension.

Later on, Old Hemingway appeared out of nowhere, brandishing a stack of documents, ranting at Zheng Qing that his punishment work for the month was inadequate and he needed to supplement it with another month of labor.

Zheng Qing was so scared and jittery, he tried to argue back, but his voice was always drowned out by the old janitor.

Then the faces of Old Verne and Old Hemingway began to merge, gradually melting into a twisted face, much like Edward Munch’s in ”The Scream.”

The entire dream ended amidst a burst of brilliant colors and noisy clamor.

Zheng Qing suddenly opened his eyes wide, sat up quickly, and gasped for air. He still lay in his dormitory bed in Room 403, not being chased by any dog or scolded by any furious janitor.

The naptime shouldn’t be over yet; through the curtain, he could faintly hear Xin Fat Man quietly chatting with Fatty Cat Tuan Tuan, and another sound of a pen scratching on paper likely belonged to Xiao Xiao.

The young student pulled a pocket watch from under his pillow and, by the faint light peeping through the tent’s seam, checked the time.

It was one twenty in the afternoon, less than half an hour since he had fallen asleep.

He touched the back of his neck, feeling a cold sweat. His head still throbbed painfully, as if a hard balloon was wedged between his skull. This was a sign that his spirit had not recovered.

The boy sighed deeply and muttered something under his breath, then clumsily slapped a Poor Quality Magic Amulet onto his forehead.

This time, he slept very soundly.

Unfortunately, there wasn’t much time left, and Zheng Qing felt as if he had just closed his eyes when the surroundings began to irritate him. It started with a dim light flickering through his eyelids, and then he faintly heard his roommates packing up their books. Later, their voices grew louder as they talked.

This meant they were getting ready to head to the classroom, Zheng Qing deduced in his sleep.

Before he could decide to open his eyes, a familiar scent suddenly wafted into his tent. The fine fur tickled his nostrils, gradually provoking the urge to sneeze.

But this secretive stimulus was elusive, causing the sneeze to circle within his nose but never finding release.

As the sourness in his nostrils spread, Zheng Qing’s eyelids grew hot, as if there were a pool of boiling water beneath them, and it seemed that a gentle blink would squeeze out a string of annoying tears.

The warlock sighed long, closed his eyes, and grabbed the mischievous fur ball’s tail in his hand.

”How did you get up here?”

He lifted half an eyelid and looked at the Little Fox scrambling on his chest, mumbling, ”Is Grandpa Niwu blind?”

Grandpa Niwu, the Alchemy Beast guarding the dormitory gate, was usually very aloof and ill-tempered, and never allowed students to bring pets through the main gate. Although the Little Fox was not low in intelligence, Zheng Qing didn’t think it had the ability to slip by unnoticed.

”Just like Tuan Tuan, it came in through the window,” came Xin Fat Man’s cheerful voice from outside the tent. ”And let me tell you, it really startled me when it first popped up... I haven’t seen it for a few days, and Poseidon’s gotten quite capable.”

The Little Fox yipped proudly twice, its eyes seeking praise from Zheng Qing.

Zheng Qing scratched its ears and placed it on his pillow, then flung aside the tent flap and got out of bed.

”It’s almost a year old now. Whatever Tuan Tuan can do, it stands to reason my Dong Dong should be able to as well.” Zheng Qing rubbed his face, repeating the last two syllables of Poseidon’s name, ”Dong Dong... Dong Dong... Hmm, what do you guys think about calling it Poseidon Dong instead?”

”What’s the difference?” The Fat Man couldn’t detect the subtle difference.

Zheng Qing curled his lips and headed to the bathroom, not planning to explain.

From behind him, Dr. Xiao’s lazy voice followed.

”While you were sleeping, Old Hemingway sent you a crane... It was unencrypted, so the crane unfolded itself after hitting your tent.”

”He told you to report to Old Sistanda’s Hundred Herb Gardens tomorrow at noon instead of weeding after lunch. He said the garden’s bees have been vanishing mysteriously lately, and some herbs are at a critical pollination stage, so he wants you to help with manual pollination.”