With the nose ring and earring-waving totem pole no longer obstructing their way, the threat from the crazed dead trees to the young wizards suddenly increased. A dead tree branch crashed heavily to the ground beside Zheng Qing, scattering a spray of colorful sand and stones.
The splattering stones and the brushing branches left two shallow blood marks on the warlock's cheek.
As the blood mist spread, a strange immobilization spell seemed to lock all the flowing odd colors in the withered forest; everything froze in place, even the mad trees stopped and remained still.
"Oh no, we're doomed."
Zheng Qing touched his cheek, seeing the faint bloodstains on his hand, he immediately realized what might happen. Muttering, he raised his charm gun, aimed at the nearest big tree and pulled the trigger without hesitation.
