The entrance to the wardrobe space wasn't wide, yet it seemed to connect to a conveyor belt in some kind of interdimensional factory, with stone magic golems streaming through without the slightest pause towards the bored-out hole.
These golems continued the style of those poppet pets on the market, mostly about the size of a fist, with the sand and dry ice blocks they carried on their heads or hugged in their arms naturally being petite as well.
In a different setting, these doll-like little things would only make people feel lively and adorable.
But at this moment, people crowded in the hallway were in a state of panic, jumping onto seats on either side to dodge them, like the parting of the Red Sea.
A burly man even jumped directly into the lap of a bespectacled passenger, who unhesitatingly hugged him tightly, both of them trembling together in their seats.
Another person, whose leg was broken in the crush, didn't have time to dodge and watched helplessly as the golems climbed onto him, letting out a piercing scream—as if these little guys were drilling directly into him.
A hoodie-wearing youth, unable to stand it, grabbed him and hoisted him onto a seat, coolly saying, "Shut up!"
Although the passenger with the broken leg hadn't seen the scene of the youth kicking the assassin, he still gritted through the pain and sensibly shut his mouth under the icy gaze.
The golems clattered towards the hole, and people, both terrified and bewildered, made way for this inhuman troupe, even the wizards in the cabin instinctively shut their mouths.
Ron took the opportunity to pick up his magic wand, which had snapped into several pieces, caressing the break with distress.
As he saw the small troop of golems march past him, he involuntarily broke out in goosebumps.
Ron mumbled, "Vid, that guy, carrying such a large group of golems with him... feels kinda creepy..."
"What do you know!"
Fred smacked his brother on the head, propping his chin on the seatback as his eyes sparkled:
"Having a whole obedient army with you, that's so cool!"
Ron thought for a moment and said, "Alright... it is really cool."
—Is it cool? But when others want this kind of "cool," a peaceful and serene life becomes a luxury.
Michael clenched his fists anxiously but said nothing.
—Earlier, he publicly pointed out the bald man's suspicious nature and was nearly swept out of the plane by a gale, and at the moment, a jellyfish tentacle was still lingering around them.
Michael certainly didn't find this jellyfish scary, but Madam Kona seemed about to faint.
Some things can be purely appreciated when viewed through a screen, but once they appear up close, you'd wish for them to be far, far away.
"Clack, clack, clack..."
The orderly footsteps of the golems seemed to make the fuselage tremble slightly, with only one person able to walk among them at will.
Vid quickly maneuvered through the gaps between the golems, arriving in front of the smoke-filled, newly-drilled hole, crouching low to see the red-hot flames roaring on the level below, emitting a pungent odor.
The next golem to arrive removed the canister from its head, precisely sprinkling the dry ice blocks, which were like white salt grains, into the hole.
"Hiss—hiss—"
The dry ice expanded in size during its descent, quickly becoming as large as a brick.
A massive surge of dense, icy white mist erupted as if it had a life of its own, spreading swiftly across the ground with a chilling coldness.
However, the fire released by the Scourers didn't seem to be ordinary, as the mist could only temporarily drive it back without completely extinguishing it.
But even all sorts of flames in the Magic World (including Fiendfyre) still have to follow one basic physical law—
Combustion requires fuel!
Vid pointed his magic wand at the hole, and where the wand's tip touched the edge of the metal, the metal surface immediately melted, expanded silently, and in an instant, it transformed into a neatly round hole big enough to toss in a basketball.
Without needing his command, the stone golems standing by with sandbags moved in unison, unhesitatingly tossing the heavy sacks of sand down, then taking out small shovels and wheelbarrows before jumping down themselves.
Further back, more golems transported additional sand out from the wardrobe space, dumping it down the hole; the heat-resistant stone golems inside transformed into workers, tirelessly using the sand to bury the fire points.
The entire scene was efficient, calm, possessing an orderliness that transcended human effort, leaving one's heart pounding.
And the airplane's economy cabin and cargo hold seemed transformed into a miniature construction site, with many busy "workers" coming and going, well-trained.
If any luggage or obstacles blocked their path, some would deftly navigate around, while others would squeak in complaint, awkwardly and stubbornly climbing over with their short legs.
This fairy tale-like scene greatly soothed the passengers' tense nerves; they curled up in their seats, their eyes filled with daze, some even with strange smiles.
Suddenly, a passenger in a floral shirt stood on his seat, raising his arm and shouting:
"I get it! This is a dream; I must be dreaming! Hahaha... so dreams can feel this real!"
With a face of relieved ecstasy, he began to twist and jump in place, humming an off-key tune.
These words acted like a revelation, instantly awakening the other passengers whose minds were muddled like mush.