High School of Demon Hunting-Chapter 2387 - 608:

A water mirror hovered steadily in midair.

Zheng Qing stared at the reflection of himself in the mirror, his gaze wandering uncertainly. Even he didn’t know whether he was looking at the small white spot on his forehead where the flying centipede had bitten, or at the place where Su Shijun had just pressed her fingertip.

Su Ya squatted in the corner, wagging her tail, diligently cleaning the skirting board, as if this could slightly conceal her guilt; the other two little fox girls pocketed their hands and shrank to the side uneasily, trying hard to minimize their presence while occasionally glancing anxiously at Su Ya, wondering why she was still working at this moment.

Poseidon coiled his tail and squatted obediently at Su Shijun’s feet, completely devoid of the frivolous and messy demeanor from moments ago, resembling a demure and serene lady.

Su Shijun stood by the window, carefully inspecting the flying centipede pinched between her fingertips in the fresh sunlight outside, and after a while, she seemed to remember something: "Oh, by the way, you just said ’you didn’t’... didn’t what?"

Zheng Qing was startled by this abrupt question.

I didn’t look at your chest!

This was the first thought that flashed through his mind, but he immediately realized that answering this way would be a grave mistake.

"Ah, haha," the young man cleared his throat with a dry laugh: "I meant, I wasn’t hurt... Ha, this carpet is so thick, not a scratch!"

He clenched his fist, knocked on his chest, bent his arm, seemingly trying to show off his biceps, and simultaneously stomped his foot. Dong dong. The wooden floor made a dull sound.

The fake smile on the young man’s face suddenly froze, his head lowered slightly to glance.

There’s no carpet on the floor.

"Were you always this thick-skinned?"

The owner of Greenhill Mansion seemed unaware of the small slip in the warlock’s answer, continuing to observe the flying centipede earnestly, her gaze subtly flickered, filled with countless delicate spells, analyzing softly: "...From a height of two meters, fell straight down without any bruising, dizziness, headache, nausea symptoms... Attacked closely by a flying centipede, and not even a layer of skin was broken..."

Zheng Qing rubbed his neck, instinctively glanced at the water mirror in front of him again.

This time, he carefully examined the little white spot bitten by the bug, seemingly lost in thought.

He knew flying centipedes; in his freshman year, he had once been duped by a wandering wizard into buying one—although he eventually gave it to Zhang Ji Xin—but he still remembered the basic information about this ancient spiritual insect.

A centipede with wings is called a flying centipede, its color akin to grease, double pincers like blades, invulnerable to water and fire, fast as lightning, fond of brain matter, often residing in places abundant with magic power and shrouded in darkness.

Thinking about how he was bitten by such a bug on his forehead, the young scholarship student belatedly felt a wave of fear.

"I always thought flying centipedes only sucked the brain matter of demons." He barely managed a smile.

Su Shijun’s gaze finally departed from the little bug, casually tossed it onto Zheng Qing, answered carelessly: "Only the flying centipedes refined through magic would specifically go against demons, but like this one... a purely wild flying centipede, it has an interest in any creature’s brain matter."

The inch-long grease-colored bug dropped onto Zheng Qing’s neck, paused for just half a second, then recovered from its feigned death, its dozens of feet paddling like those of a dragon boat after hearing the starting pistol, gently twisted its slender body and slipped down Zheng Qing’s shirt collar.

A dense and slightly weak stinging sensation spread from the neck downward.

At that moment, Zheng Qing felt he grew the largest batch of goosebumps in his life.

"Damn it!"

He screamed, as if his tail was grabbed like Su Ya’s, or his braid was pulled like Li Meng’s, akin to Mike Foley hearing the music of "Dance of the Great River", stomped his feet madly on the floor, and panicked while tugging at his robe, wanting to shake out the bug that crawled into his clothes.

The two little fox girls shrank to the side, their mouths agape, dazedly watching the scene, uncertain whether to help; Su Ya, though still maintaining the posture of wiping the floor, couldn’t help but turn her head to look at Zheng Qing, curious about how the young man was punished by the lady.

And Poseidon, the moment the flying centipede fell onto Zheng Qing, was immediately held and covered in the arms of the mistress of Greenhill Mansion, obstructed from seeing and hearing, though she struggled vigorously, her effort appeared insignificant before a big wizard.

Zheng Qing’s hands slapped quickly on his body but always lagged a step behind; the flying centipede darted around his shoulders, underarms, maneuvered to the back, then bounced back to the front chest, like a particle performing Brownian motion, making its trajectory impossible to catch.

This brief yet intense movement lasted nearly a minute, and after continuously removing his robe and inner shirt, Zheng Qing, bare-chested, finally intercepted the flying centipede just before it attempted to slip into his pants, capturing it firmly in his hand.

Then, he felt himself drenched in cold sweat.

Swiftly, he looked angrily toward the witch.

"You..." Zheng Qing rarely had the urge to lose his temper in front of Su Shijun without glasses, but just as the first word was uttered, the witch interrupted him.

"Your arrector pili muscle contracts normally, no small nodules, no tentacles." The witch calmly put on her glasses, her vocabulary causing the young man to instinctively ponder for half a second.

He quickly realized she was talking about goosebumps.

In other words, she intended to observe his body’s natural reaction under stress, but why did she suspect his goosebumps might turn into small nodules?

"I..." He opened his mouth, still not knowing what to say next, but unsurprisingly, his words were interrupted by the witch once more.

"I suggest you dress yourself first, after all, you’re not the only one in the room." The witch extended her index finger, seemingly slow yet quick, her fingertip tapping lightly on the young man’s naked body, sliding along his skin twice, then nodded minutely, expression serious: "Hmm... matches my expectations... quite strong-bodied."

A faint cold wind blew through the door crack, Zheng Qing felt his goosebumps contemplating growing again, hurriedly shrank his neck, picked up the robe from the floor, and threw it hastily onto himself.

Only then did he dumbly look at the witch, his face resembling the boiled teapot of the gentleman.

The flying centipede he pinched seemed about to perish, began struggling desperately, its tiny feet awakened the dazed young wizard.

"It..." Zheng Qing swallowed, speaking again, his voice unusually loud.

"What’s certain is, it’s just a regular flying centipede, and even a flying centipede freshly out of the larval stage." Su Shijun adjusted her glasses, holding Poseidon as she walked out: "It probably got attracted by the abundant magic power in the mansion, hiding in this chilly place for the winter... and was disturbed by you. But isn’t the purpose of spring cleaning precisely for these reasons?"