Chapter 27
Chapter 27
The silence in the living room was so thick you could have carved a three-bedroom flat out of it. Wei Wu stared at the Yun Xi who had split into a red-and-white tag-team, his skull buzzing louder than the time he’d been swarmed by lesser demons. Milu hugged her staff in the corner, jade-green eyes flicking frantically between the crimson-tempest big-sis Red Cloud and the silver-haired ice-fairy White Xi; her brain-cpu was seconds from catching fire.
Then—
“BEEP-BEEP-BEEP—!!! Holy crap! Holy crap! Holy crap!”
The CAMCC emergency communicator strapped to Wei Wu’s wrist—disguised as a knock-off sports watch—went berserk, vomiting strobe-red light and an alarm like a square-dance speaker with a busted throat. A male voice howled through the static:
“Emergency call! All able bodies! South City’s ‘Star Whisper’ old library just blew! Not TNT—Shadowmare! Energy reading spiking to Class-C, hotter than a rolling vat of mala hot-pot! Worst part—there’s civilians inside! At least two! Sound like kids! Repeat—kids alive—kzzt—save—”
The signal died cleaner than Wei Wu’s laggy home internet, leaving the watch to flash like it was screaming, “Look at me, I’m trying!”
“Damn it!” Wei Wu slapped the watch, nearly smashing it. “Shadowmare, library, and toddlers?!” Military genes kicked in; twin-witch schizophrenia could wait. Eyes blood-shot, he scanned the room. “Gear up! Hostage rescue!”
Milu’s staff almost clattered to the floor. “The library? Two blocks from our campus! Seniors, what do we do?!” She looked instinctively at the two Xis.
White Xi—limited-edition glacier—sat lotus-straight, ethereal blue gaze drifting south. The silver-blue phantom bracelet on her left wrist shimmered; on the coffee table, the Eternal Dream: Prime Abyss Crack gave a single faint pulse. A needle-like pain, as if someone were embroidering on her brain, arrived via invisible Wi-Fi. Her brows never twitched, but inside she sneered: Tch, overtime again. A witch’s KPI is 24/7.
“Location! Sit-rep! You piece-of-crap watch, wake up!” Wei Wu roared at the dead communicator, then swung to the more reliable Xi. “Boss Bai, you’re up! Scan it—people or ghosts? How many heartbeats?”
White Xi closed her eyes: perception online, connecting to Moonlight-WiFi... South Branch Old Library detected...
She reopened them, voice flat. “South City, third floor, Children’s Reading Area, approximate. Filth index: sewer-grade. Life signs: two, faint, juvenile. Spatial structure: currently being kneaded like play-dough by Shadowmare.” Translation: doomed.
“Kids?!” Milu’s eyes watered. “Senior, please!”
“Ugh, what a pain!” On the sofa, Red Cloud—limited-edition TNT—catapulted up like a stepped-on cat. The crimson-indigo phantom on her right wrist strobe-flashed disco-style. The word “kids” flipped her Yun-xi protection protocol, temporarily overriding the factory-setting grouch. “Old Wei! Quit dithering! Let’s go stomp something!”
She tried to slap the table, forgot she now inhabited a petite witch body, and nearly launched herself off the couch. That only made her angrier.
White Xi’s gaze slid to her, voice AI-cold. “Target Shadowmare: viscous, treacherous, packs psychic pollution. Not brute-force friendly. Your...”—database search for polite—”current status: high-risk, Crack warning. Forcible entry success <30 %, plus 80 % chance of chain-reaction boom, barbecuing hostages and us.”
“Up your spiral-across-the-sky crap!” Red Cloud’s hair frizzed like a Super-Saiyan. “I’m peachy! One shadow-puddle—squish! Better than watching you pose!” She flexed; the phantom flared; the Crack on the coffee table flashed, delivering another brain-needle dose. She froze, face paling. Shared-pain app confirmed.
“EVERYONE—SHUT—THE—HELL—UP!” Wei Wu’s roar rattled dust from the ceiling. “Two kids inside! Not debate club!” He jabbed a finger at Red Cloud. “Redhead! You want in? Fine! But no going rogue! You take orders—from Boss Bai!” Spin to White Xi. “Boss! Tech lead! Plan! Need this walking taunt-bot to pull aggro?”
White Xi’s cpu churned: Red Cloud + Dragon Might = high threat, high burst, unstable... usable... with tweezers.
“Affirmative,” she intoned. “Her Dragon Might can suppress the core for 0.5 seconds, opening a purge window. But”—she regarded Red Cloud like a soon-to-detonate firework—“deploy, detonate, evacuate. Overstay and we all go sky-high.”
Red Cloud rolled her eyes. “Yeah yeah, less talk, more squish.” Inside: I’ve got this... probably. She cracked her knuckles; the crimson phantom danced.
“Milu!” Wei Wu pointed. “Hold the fort! Guard the bracelet! If anything—” communicator still dead—“—yell out the window! Channel your ancestral lung power!”
“Y-yes, sir!” She saluted with her staff, knees knocking.
“Move!” Wei Wu human-tank’ed the door. White Xi glided after, skirts floating. Red Cloud swaggered out cursing, followed by Xing Dian’s worry-buzz orb and Yue Fei perched on White Xi’s shoulder, purple eyes sweeping 360.
———————— South City, Star Whisper Old Library, 3F, former Children’s Section ————————
The stench hit first: rotting fairy-tale glue plus century-old mop plus expired saccharine and rust. Oily, writhing darkness—think petroleum come alive—coated shelves, floor, ceiling. It morphed: silent-scream masks, then shark-tooth maws crunching picture books, spewing black ash like shredded childhoods.
From behind a toppled shelf came kitten-weak whimpers. A young mum hugged a swaddled infant, trembling violently, tears streaming yet hand clamped over her own mouth. A cling-film-thin gold shield—mother’s desperate instinct—was being sizzled away by the oil.
Wei Wu hissed, “Crap...” White Xi’s eyes X-ray-locked the core and the kids. Red Cloud’s nausea gauge maxed; her bracelet flashed; brain-needle arrived—she staggered, nearly face-planted.
“Red Cloud! Core! Now!” White Xi’s arctic voice cracked slightly. Inside: this hurts like tax season.
Golden eyes ignited. “RAAHH—!!!” A bass-boosted dragon-roar slammed through the room. Pure psychic smash.
Total freeze-frame. Oil-monsters hung like bad lag. Even the baby forgot to cry. World muted.
Red Cloud paid for it: landing stagger, one knee down, knuckles white, phantom blinking like a broken bulb. Internal scream: F— that hurts!
Zero-point-five seconds—go!
White Xi flicked her finger. A GPS-guided sliver of moon-ice shot; silent hit on the crimson-black heart.
SSSS—! The core convulsed, tentacles rushing home, only to melt like sewage under sun-laser. Silver-blue cracks webbed; filth drained.
Parentless shadows boiled off, faces vaporising. Air turned from sewer to alpine. The gold shield steadied; mum and baby burst into earth-shaking sobs.
Red Cloud panted, gold fading. Watching the bawling pair—especially the mother’s blazing love—she froze. Something warm and heavy parked on her chest: not victory buzz, more like... hot-water-bottle to the face? She looked lost.
White Xi, paler, holstered her spell. That shot had cost mana and willpower. Note to self: teammates—high maintenance. She logged Red Cloud’s rare soft expression: anomaly flagged.
Wei Wu exhaled, switching to nanny-mode. “All good, all good! CAMCC uncles incoming!” He patted the hysterical mum, gave Red Cloud a thumbs-up. “Nice landing, Red—well, except the face-plant.”
Red Cloud snapped back, fur rising. “S-shut up! I nailed it!” She stomped off, light-headed, denying any feels. Nope.
White Xi ignored them. Kneeling where the core died, she touched the scorched floor. A strange warmth rose; the bracelet’s needle-pain eased—fractionally. The Crack had stabilised a hair’s breadth. She kept her saintly mask while inner alarms screamed: illogical—record everything.
Return trip: no chatter.
Wei Wu radioed salvage teams—CAMCC logistics already groaning. Milu waited on the apartment steps, eyes wide.
Red Cloud stalked ahead, hands in pockets, trying to copy Yun-xi’s cool stride, gaze distant. The crimson phantom on her wrist seemed... calmer? Trick of light?
White Xi glided in front, sakura-silver hair drifting. She flicked the briefest rear-gaze at the uncharacteristically quiet redhead. Database entry: Subject Red Cloud—possible emotional response—observe.
Back in the living room, Eternal Dream: Prime Abyss lay inert on the coffee table. Its silver Crack pulsed once—steady, almost smug—like a cashier’s drawer closing on a profitable day.