Page 11
The old guy has never come to the lab so early. Who stabbed me?
After going through the colleagues who were working on the project together, Ye Ming had an idea in his mind. He knew who the old man's lackeys were.
"The subsidy is just this much."
Ye Ming sneered and turned the key to open the door.
"Senior brother."
He subconsciously looked over, smiled and greeted, "Lin Miao."
The black girl who came skipping over from the other end of the corridor frowned immediately: "Call me Xiao Miao."
"the same."
"What's the difference?" Lin Miao picked up the pen tied with a spring string and punched in. "Brother, why are you marking me as late? There are still a few minutes left."
Ye Ming said nothing and shrugged.
She understood instantly and buried her head in her chest: "I'm sorry, Senior Brother, it's all because of me..."
"You're right." Ye Ming waved his hands cheerfully, "If beating someone wasn't against the law, I would have knocked three teeth out of that old guy with one punch that day."
“Hehe.” Lin Miao was amused and moved closer to grab his sleeve. “It would be more appropriate to call him Lao B Deng. I learned it on the Internet.”
After she finished laughing, her shoulders slumped: "Brother, this won't work. He will definitely prevent me from graduating.
I might as well drop out of school, will you come with me?"
The little girl is quite good at talking.
Ye Ming smiled and chopped her head lightly with his hand: "We'll talk about it later."
"Okay, it's up to you."
"Huh? What is this?" Lin Miao finally saw the herbs in his hand.
"My friend asked me to help test the ingredients."
"Then hurry in, I'll help you."
"it is good."
……
Another world.
Zhang Mu walked out of the portal, meditated for half an hour to replenish his magic power, and then strode to the door of Potter's House.
First, take out the sausage from your pocket. Today it’s corn flavored. Peel it and throw it to the rhubarb that is sticking out its tongue and breathing heavily.
Looking at Da Huang, who had been firmly under his control and was happily lying on the side to enjoy the delicious food, Zhang Mu was very worried about the safety of the Potter family.
If a thief really comes, this thing will probably surrender to the enemy in a second.
“Tsk, tsk, tsk—”
Smacking his lips, Zhang Mu pushed open the half-open door, went up to the second floor, turned left and entered the house.
Potter pulled up a chair and sat down in front of the stove.
He was still wearing the same black robe that he hadn't changed since they met. I didn't know if he hadn't changed it or if he had prepared many sets.
"Mr. Potter... Shit!"
Potter turned his head, and Zhang Mu saw his eyes clearly. He was so scared that he shook all over as if he had been electrocuted.
"Why are you shouting so loudly?"
After calming down, Zhang Mu approached him in astonishment and stared into his eyes: "What happened? Your eyeball is swollen like a light bulb, and it's full of bloodshot."
"Last night, I remembered something that happened a long time ago."
Something that happened a long time ago?
Potter looks to be around seventy years old, but magic can extend his life, so his actual age is definitely higher.
What can a centenarian recall?
Thinking of the story in the novel where only a few days in the cave seem like a thousand years in the world, and when Zhang Mu came out of seclusion in the cave, the beauty had passed away, and all his relatives and friends had turned into a handful of earth, he suddenly understood.
He frowned, searching his mind for an impassioned speech of loyalty: "If you don't give up, I'm willing to do it. No, I got it wrong, Mr. Potter..."
"Stop talking!" Potter stood up with a dark face, "What nonsense."
"Classes begin."
"Oh."
Zhang Mu nodded in response, feeling very sorry that he had not shown his loyalty in time. Suddenly he remembered the magic book and looked up:
"Mr. Potter, I have already learned the fireball technique."
Potter, who was picking herbs on the operating table, turned around slowly, stared at him for a while, and asked, "Are you still asleep, or am I?"
"What do you mean?"
"If you haven't woken up yet, then you are talking in your sleep. If I haven't woken up yet, then you are talking in my dream."
So all the talking in my sleep was done by me.
Rolling his eyes, Zhang Mu put on a serious face: "I am serious."
Potter was silent, wondering if he had harmed him by giving him a magic book yesterday.
Look, the little guy is too happy and has become mentally ill.
He was so sure for the same reason: studying magic books and practicing meditation were two different things.
The president of the Magicians' Guild of the Kingdom of Lake and Potter himself are living examples.
The president practiced meditation successfully for two and a half years, and Porter was just scratching the surface, five years.
But in terms of magical achievements and speed of advancement, Potter far surpasses the president.
If they fought now, Potter could kill the president with one hand.
Potter sighed, "You said you have mastered the fireball technique?"
"Yes."
"Then condense a fireball."
Zhang Mu raised his right hand and mobilized magic power to flow into his palm. A cluster of flames appeared out of thin air, lasting for about three seconds before exploding with a "bang".
He looked a little embarrassed: "I just learned it, so my hands are a little unfamiliar."
"Well..." Potter frowned and paced back and forth in the room.
After walking around for a few minutes, he suddenly fell to the ground, threw his staff aside, folded his hands on his chest, and closed his eyelids.
After listening for a while, Zhang Mu's breathing became steady and he fell into a baby-like sleep.
"Mr. Potter?"
Crouching beside him, Zhang Mu twitched his lips and said, "Please face the reality, Mr. Potter."
"Go away!" Potter said with a ferocious face, "I'm not awake yet, don't you understand?"
"Dream, this must be a dream!"
"Sleep, sleep." He returned to his previous sleeping position and muttered, "When I get up, I can wake up from this illusory dream."
How come this old man is like a child?
Zhang Mu touched the back of his head and said in a coaxing tone: "Okay, it's all a dream. Can we have class in our dreams?"
After a long while, perhaps realizing that he could not escape reality, Potter finally slowly got up.
"Have you really mastered the fireball technique?"
Chapter 13 Avril, You May Have a Rival
Porter yelled and insisted that Zhang Mu cast the fireball spell again.
Zhang Mu said that his magic power was exhausted, so he went to class first, absorbed magic power, and came back later when his magic power recovered.
But Potter shook his head and rejected it. If he didn't look at it once, he would feel uneasy and couldn't concentrate on teaching.
Helplessly, he sat cross-legged, spent more than half an hour recovering his magic power, and then released the fireball.
It was slightly better than the previous one, lasting about four seconds before exploding.
There's no way, the time he has been exposed to magic is too short.
Under normal circumstances, by the time a magician reaches the stage of coming into contact with magic, his magic power has already surpassed the first level.
After watching the fireball, Porter said nothing for more than ten minutes, then waved his hand to signal the start of class.
Or brew medicine and identify herbs.
At the end of the day's class, Zhang Mu said goodbye and left.
After the people left, Porter pushed open the wooden window.
As the sun sets, the gentle glow is particularly intoxicating.
He pulled out a crystal ball from his robes, and magic power poured into it.
"Teacher, is there something wrong?" It was still an icy voice, the chill seemed to penetrate into the bone marrow.
"Avril." Porter held the crystal ball and looked at the sky. "Perhaps you have an opponent."
"Oh?" The chill seemed to warm up a little. "What kind of genius can be recognized by the teacher?"
"He only needs one night to master the fireball technique."
The air was quiet for a while, and the voice that rang out again became calm again: "Mr. Potter, please don't make boring jokes without permission."
Potter did not explain further.
If he had not seen it with his own eyes and someone had told him that someone could master the fireball technique in one night, he would probably have mocked the person who said it as a lunatic.
With a silent smile, he changed the subject: "What is your brother's attitude?"
Avril understood the sentence without a subject: "After all, there are only a few pioneers who have enough courage, teacher."