C628 The Way to Vent

In the backyard, Zimo was crouched on the ground, grinding herbs with a look of frustration, but his eyes kept darting forward.

"Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh," a few sharp sounds cut through the air. As he looked up, a small tree trunk not far away suddenly snapped in half and crashed to the ground.

Zimo's pupils contracted, and he shrank his neck, too scared to look again