The Black Cat that Xiao Xiao spoke of, which seemed to have gone who-knows-where, was now squatting on a large tree stump, watching the witches busily constructing the final part of the magic circle with a numb expression on its face.
Floating in front of it was a piece of parchment, curled at both ends and emitting a faint golden glow. As the witches completed each task, a phantom white feather pen would emerge from thin air and make a check on the parchment.
As the third-party supervisor for this parchment contract, the Black Cat needed to leave a paw print in the corresponding spot each time an item was checked off.
It was like a manager responsible for stamping approvals.
This thought crossed the Black Cat's mind, and a look of utter disinterest appeared on its face. It would rather roll around under a Cat Fruit Tree than stare dumbly at this parchment, forced to act as a cat-meat stamping machine.
A long while passed.