Turtle-back inkstone, purple brush, pine script ink, yellow paper.
Only when Zheng Qing had habitually pulled out the four treasures of study from his grey cloth bag did he suddenly realised that this was a magic text class.
His eyes swept over the students at the neighboring table, his hand hesitated for a moment, and he stuffed the stack of yellow paper back into the bag—this was the only thing he wouldn't need.
Professor Emma had already instructed the little elves to distribute the practice paper for magic text to each student's desk.
Clearly, she wanted these young wizards to dutifully practice at her pace.
Zheng Qing's fingers traced over the small intricate patterns on the practice paper, striving to distinguish the hidden rules within, trying to familiarize himself with the pen strokes before he started writing.
Next to him, Doctor Xiao had already opened "Sky Writings", flipping through the lecture notes about the construction of magic texts with a rustling sound.
