When Zheng Qing, short of breath and draped in his school robe, arrived at the dock on the lakeside, many figures had already gathered there.
Red, white, blue, yellow, gray, black; the six coloured robes were chaotically scattered across the dark green lawn, reflected in the color of the distant indigo blue of the lake, like a slowly unfolding painting.
Zheng Qing squinted his eyes, searching for familiar faces.
Soon, he saw Lin Guo standing next to the old man, Ferna.
They were almost standing in the center of all wizards, surrounded by several assistants in black robes.
"Excuse me, excuse me," Zheng Qing apologized repeatedly, squeezing through the crowd, drenched in sweat, to stand beside the old janitor.
The old janitor was standing with his back to him, intently listening to the arguing assistants.
"Could there have been a mistake?!" Hilda's voice sounded anxious: "Such a hasty mobilization of the patrol team, isn't it somewhat rushed? These students..."
