High School of Demon Hunting

Chapter 1540: Chapter 284: Riddle

”To ward off those uninvited guests, the farmer took some time to cut bamboo and thorny twigs, retying the fence tightly. But he overlooked one point—the fence was dead, while claws and teeth were alive.”

”It never took long for the fence to once again become riddled with holes.”

”And so, the farmer made the fence tighter and tighter, spending increasingly more time in the garden every day. Until one day, after chasing away a grass spirit that had slipped through the gaps into the garden and watching the small creature flee in a panic with a handful of berries—utterly ignoring the basket of mushrooms in front of him—the farmer suddenly straightened his back.”

”It dawned on him: he was a farmer, not a gardener.”

”The following year, he leveled all the flowers and plants in the garden and instead planted mushrooms... thus, there were no more bees, no more flower sprites or grass spirits, and naturally, no more rabbits, mouse-wolves, or wild boars. In this way, the farmer’s little garden returned to tranquility... it’s said that later he dismantled the fence altogether.”

”Wild beasts in the woods would occasionally pass by his little garden, but they would only cast an indifferent glance or relieve themselves beside it. Nothing ever ruined his garden again.”

The story ends here.

Elder Atar raised the wine goblet in his hand, took a satisfied sip, and sighed in contentment: ”Every idea begins as a blank canvas—anyone can scribble on it... until that idea becomes a plan, and the plan turns into reality. The canvas gains borders and lines, and so do our thoughts.”

Zheng Qing stared blankly at the wine goblet in the elder’s hand.

At first, he thought he understood the meaning of Elder Atar’s story. But now, he suddenly doubted his own interpretation.

Was the garden truly the Dreamland? Were he and the other uninvited guests really the flower sprites, grass spirits, or even wild boars that had snuck into the garden? Then who was the farmer? And where were the remains of the fence?

Xiao Xiao also seemed lost in similar confusion, furrowing his brows and staring absentmindedly at the carpet’s patterns, saying nothing. It seemed that the cleverer the mind, the deeper it could sink into the mire of thought.

Luckily, the hunting team had one hunter who wasn’t adept at thinking.

After a brief silence following the elder’s storytelling, Zhang Ji Xin finally couldn’t suppress the impatience burning in his heart and shouted, ”So, the path you’re showing us—how do we get there?”

This outburst startled the ’intellectuals’ trapped in their contemplative swamps and interrupted the elder, who had just raised his goblet to his lips for another sip.

Elder Atar raised his right index finger and pointed upward.

The young wizards and female demons all looked up in unison—to see the temple’s glittering golden dome above them, adorned with intricate sculptures and vibrant murals. Streams of light danced along the beams, while large panels of transparent glass embedded in skylights offered glimpses of the dazzling starlight deep beyond the sky.

”Seeking aid from those great beings deep in the Starry Sky?” This was the first thought in Zheng Qing’s mind, but he quickly dismissed it: ”No, that can’t be it. We’re already standing in Bastit’s temple... She wouldn’t direct us to seek help from other Elder Gods—that would be far too humiliating.”

The divine spirits value ’face’ far more than mortals do. After all, considering their existential form, there are few things left worth caring about. Or rather, as beings of a ’conceptual’ nature, the divine spirits emphasize certain ’shared consciousness’ concepts far more than ordinary folk.

”Is it the star path?” Zheng Qing combed through his thoughts for fragments of knowledge he’d come across before and speculated: ”I recall studying Magic Universe Theory, which mentions that the cosmos is like a thin membrane, and the different worlds are like tiny bulges on this membrane... The Starry Sky is the reflection of these bulges.”

Following the star path to find the way home might be the most reliable, albeit the least feasible, solution.

Thus far, Zheng Qing had never considered this possibility.

Lengthy journeys through time, navigating deep star paths, the markers of different worlds, interstellar ships, navigators, and the risks of traversing the world’s membrane—all presented countless uncontrollable variables.

It was much like the farmer’s little garden.

Zheng Qing and his companions had slipped into the garden through gaps in the fence, whereas traveling the star path was akin to ringing the doorbell at the house’s front entrance, handing over a calling card, and choosing a sunny, auspicious morning to present a gift, earning the homeowner’s permission before entering the backyard.

The problem was, the absolution-seeking young wizards were already in the backyard garden, and if they were to greet the homeowner now and try to exit through the front door, it’d be like when a stranger suddenly appears in a house—they’d likely be knocked unconscious by the homeowner’s baseball bat.

Elder Atar gave Zheng Qing an intrigued look.

”Of course not,” the elder said, swirling his goblet. The little remaining wine inside splashed against the edges, making soft plopping sounds: ”In your terms, I’m merely a Big Wizard... I don’t have the capability to take you down paths only Legendary Wizards can tread.”

Zheng Qing exhaled a faintly disappointed sigh.

Truth be told, he was quite excited at the thought of journeying along the star path. Yet the current circumstances didn’t permit it, nor was there enough time. Zhu Si’s condition deteriorated with every passing moment—he needed to get her back to school as swiftly as possible.

”What do those murals depict?” Compared to Zheng Qing, Xin Fat Man’s focus seemed narrower. It was as if he was noticing those intricate panels above for the first time. He craned his neck, mouth agape, utterly absorbed.

”The story of Wusa City’s conversion to Bastit,” Xiao Xiao adjusted his glasses—though near-sighted, he saw more clearly than Xin Fat Man did, a phenomenon that seemed almost magical—and described in a flat tone: ”A wandering merchant caravan came to Wusa City. A farmer injured the cat of a child in the caravan, and then the child prayed to Lady Bastit... The farmer was devoured by Wusa’s cats... and finally, the Wusa Council passed that famous decree.”

It was a tale familiar to every resident of Wusa City.

Yet compared to the version passed down by word of mouth, the mural overhead presented the story in greater vividness and grandeur. For the first time, the young wizards learned that the child who lost his cat had black hair, black eyes, and a striking visage.

”Are you asking us to convert to Lady Bastit?” Jiang Yu’s brows furrowed slightly, her cat ears alertly perked up and swiveling. ”We’re students of Jiuyou Academy at the First University... We believe in knowledge.”

”Unfaithful words, filled with blasphemy,” Elder Atar huffed and puffed a few breaths before shaking his head: ”In the halls of divine spirits, no one would touch such impure notions.”