On the way to the central command room of the camp, Jeming clearly felt a shift in the surrounding atmosphere.
Every wizard he encountered along the way, whether they were rushing to the front lines or repairing Witchcraft Artifacts in temporary workshops, would let their gaze linger on him, even if only fleetingly.
Their gazes weren't hostile; they were more a mix of curiosity, inquiry, awe, and... a certain indescribable hint of gossip.
He could even faintly sense the slight encrypted fragments of Spiritual Power fluctuations in the air, suggesting someone was having secret discussions about him.
Jeming frowned slightly.
He wasn't accustomed to such intense attention, especially since he had just gone through a heavy injury.
"Pay it no mind," Viola, beside him, seemed to have read his thoughts, a playful smile on her lips as she lowered her voice.
