Hogwarts Blood Curse Martial Arts

A large number of surveillance cameras were installed throughout the castle and in designated outdoor areas. However, the professors were unable to clean up the mess when they saw this chaotic scene. As a result, the competition format of several consecutive simulation battles was changed again and again, in order to suppress the imagination bit by bit. Dear students, please stop making mistakes.

After traveling half of the north with Li Xiuhui, Chen Bin was finally able to calm down. Under the full supervision of his mother, he spent two weeks and finally successfully cast ten heart-clearing spells on himself.

On the night of farewell, Chen Bin asked in confusion: "Mom, why do you seem to have given up on magic?"

During this trip, Chen Bin discovered that she didn't use magic very much, but only regarded it as an auxiliary means.

There was no need for Li Xiuhui to hide anything from her son, and she admitted generously: "I have reached the limit of casting spells without emotions, and I cannot break the blood curse of Naama. Therefore, I try my best to convert the excess magic power into the capacity of the true energy, and do it all the time. Remind yourself that you are a martial artist and you shouldn’t place too much emphasis on magic.”

After a pause, she warned with a serious face: "We are martial arts cultivators. No matter how strong our magic is, it belongs to others. Only martial arts cultivators are the foundation for our invincibility. Don't just think about using magic to defeat powerful enemies. Remember the martial arts cultivators. Strength is what allows you to reach your 100% potential.”

Chen Bin nodded in agreement.

If he had used pure magic to fight against Wolf in the bookstore, grass would have grown on his grave by now, but it was the martial artist's instant burst that saved his life. No wonder my mother would rather give up practicing magic and quickly improve her martial arts skills. Now she has become a fierce man on the level of Taiye.

After thinking about it, Chen Bin suddenly remembered something very important. "Mom, how can I release my mania?"

"Uh." Li Xiuhui was stunned for a moment by the question. "Yes, we are in a peaceful age now, and we cannot vent our anger through killing like that ancestor."

"Isn't it okay to make sandbags?" Chen Bin asked suspiciously.

"What do you think?" The mother rolled her eyes at her son and said unnaturally: "But there is really another way."

"Asking knowingly." My mother was not used to talking about this kind of topic with her son, so her explanation became vague. "The ancestor mentioned in his notes that in addition to killing, there is also..."

She whispered the method and sent her notes.

It was getting late, so Chen Bin chatted for a few more words and then hurriedly apparated away.

"This child." Li Xiuhui looked at the direction in which her son disappeared and sighed helplessly: "Alas..."

Chen Bin soon arrived in the woods outside the old house, but was stopped by two uncles, who told him that his grandfather wanted to see him for something.

(`;): "Master, what do you want from me?"

When Chen Bin came to the garden, his whole body was trembling and his knees were lacking calcium.

(д): "What are you shaking for?"

The grandpa pretended to knock Chen Bin on the head, which frightened him so much that he almost knelt down, which made all the elders laugh.

*ω`* Chen Bin was holding his head and squatting on the defensive, assuming the posture of a dead pig that is not afraid of boiling water: If you are willing to smash his great-grandson's head, just do it!

The master did not tease this living treasure and directly answered: "The Monk Management Bureau has been looking for you for nearly a month."

After Chen Bin said it was okay, he immediately fled the garden quickly. Brother Xiao Ming received the notice early in the morning and waited at the door for Chen Bin to appear. Then several people apparated to the monk management branch in the provincial capital.

This is a traditional Chinese-style courtyard. The majestic building combines some modern office elements.

Brother Xiao Ming took Chen Bin to the small conference room and saw Yu Shao, a monk wearing Hanfu and modern clothes outside.

The two chatted for a while, and then a young man in a suit knocked on the door and came in. He said with a strong Chinese accent: "Hello, Mr. Naama, I am the special commissioner of the monk community, Yiming Zang."

Chen Bin shook hands with him, introduced himself a few words, and then added: "Mr. Zang, I am also Chinese. Please speak Chinese."

"Uh, ah, haha." Zang Yiming smiled awkwardly and asked the two of them to sit down. "Habits come naturally. This time, the monks asked a strong man to come here to discuss it with you. Please don't mind."

"Aren't you a monk?" Chen Bin asked curiously, but received an elbow from Xiao Ming. "Why hit me?"

"Mr. Chen, I don't mind." Zang Yiming had a good temper and replied with a smile: "I am not a monk, I am a person with a broken pulse."

Chen Bin finally understood why Brother Xiao Ming wanted to teach him a lesson.

The status of a person with a broken pulse is similar to that of a squib. It is very impolite to specifically ask about this status. Moreover, waste and waste pulse are homophones in Cantonese, so people with waste pulse in eastern Guangdong Province are particularly sensitive to this term.

The two said some kind words to warm things up, and finally turned to the main topic, asking him to bring back something important.