Sha Chong felt a strange sense of familiarity at this moment.
She thought this pink-haired magical girl gave her a comfortable, warm feeling, and was clearly powerful—she could fix clothes with magic, and at least hadn’t elbowed her in the chest or anywhere else.
But she seemed to be in cahoots with that other one.
Sha Chong still remembered the code name the other girl used that day—wasn’t it Crystal?
No matter who the two of them were, Sha Chong had to admit—
She couldn’t go back!
She was really out of luck this time. Uncle was probably still busy in the kitchen, and if he heard she’d gone out, he’d probably just assume she’d remembered something or felt uncomfortable and headed home.
(I’m sorry, Uncle.)
Though she couldn’t help but feel sad, Sha Chong chose to restrain herself from hurting others when facing pain. She just became a little withdrawn—she’d already done quite well in that regard.
But in her heart, she still apologized:
(At the very least, I should have insisted on going to the shop to work before.)
Sha Chong wept tears of blood.
Looking at the two magical girls in front of her, she called out helplessly in her heart:
(Uncle! Save me, please!)
At that moment, at Nanhai Restaurant.
Owner and head chef Wang Dahai was stir-frying rice.
“Hm?”
He suddenly looked up, and amidst the smoke and flames, he seemed to hear something: “Qingwan?”
“Boss, table thirteen wants two more orders of fried rice to go!”
A waiter handed him a receipt slip.
“Oh, oh, got it.”
(Must have been my imagination.)
Thinking this, Wang Dahai continued cooking.
“I’m telling the truth. You’d best leave me alone, I don’t need any help.”
“I just want to go back to being a normal person. Magic only brings misfortune.”
At the school, Sha Chong was speaking softly to Jiang Lingwei:
“So far, almost no one who’s been good to me has ended up well.”
“There’s no such thing!”
Jiang Lingwei waved her hand, and the desks and chairs in the classroom automatically straightened themselves. Some small fragments and larger chunks were used to fill in the holes left by the tentacles that had burst through earlier. Except for the window area, which was still a gaping hole, the classroom already looked much more orderly.
“Even though I don’t know what you’ve been through, but…”
While she finished her handiwork, Jiang Lingwei said to Sha Chong, “I’ll say this responsibly, in the name of Aurora.”
“There’s no such thing in this world—everything’s just a coincidence.”
“Impossible.” Sha Chong shuddered all over. “Then I, then I…”
“You’re a magical girl, aren’t you?”
Jiang Lingwei sat down first, tucking her legs in slightly and leaning forward. Then she said, “Even if something truly unlucky happens, even if fate is something you can’t stand, you can just reject it, can’t you?”
“Why do you have to avoid interacting with people?”
“Reject…”
Sha Chong didn’t sit down. She just stood there, not quite understanding what Jiang Lingwei meant by “reject.” She only muttered softly, “Reject… How could there be such a thing…”
“I see.”
The pink-haired girl nodded. “You’re still not used to being a magical girl.”
“Yes, I really am not used to it… I’m not capable enough…”
“Magical Girl [Sha Chong].”
Jiang Lingwei suddenly spoke in a low, serious voice.
She formally called her by name, quietly using magic to connect to Wen Yachuan’s phone, gathering information being sent from her side.
“For seven years, you’ve been a magical girl, part of the magical girl team [Sirius]. You’ve earned three S-class medals, resolved five city-level crises, and your other achievements are too many to count.”
“I ask you, since you say you’re not capable, does that mean your teammates misjudged you? Or that they abused their power and credited you with their own achievements? Are they that kind of person, your…”
“No!” Sha Chong suddenly straightened up, cutting Jiang Lingwei off with a loud shout.
The afternoon sunlight slanted in through the window behind her, casting rays across the classroom.
Sparkles of light flew from Sha Chong’s body and condensed. In the next moment, wearing her cowboy hat, her eyes seemed to ignite with flames as she stood before Jiang Lingwei.
(No transformation animation at all, huh…)
Jiang Lingwei felt quite disappointed.
When she used to watch magical girl anime, each girl’s unique transformation scene was an essential part!
Yet magical girls in this era—let alone transformation animations, they didn’t even have a transformation phrase… not satisfying…
At the very least, there should be a basic “In the name of… I’ll punish you” or something.
“Take back what you said.”
Without paying attention to what Jiang Lingwei had just muttered, Magical Girl — [Sha Chong] looked stern, eyes brimming with tears. As she spoke, her hand moved to the holster at her waist, her words laced with a hint of threat.
Behind Jiang Lingwei, Jiang Yao stood like a knight guarding an emperor, arms folded, watching the proceedings.
As for Sha Chong’s sudden transformation, Jiang Yao wasn’t nervous at all.
Not only was it unlikely for magical girls to seriously harm each other, but Aurora’s strength was right there—if Sha Chong could shake her with a frontal attack, that would be ridiculous.
So Jiang Yao just stood there, not even thinking about drawing her sword.
If Aurora could get Sha Chong to transform again in just a few sentences, she must have a plan. The boss is showing her skills, so she shouldn’t get in the way—just watch, learn, and quietly type “666” in the squad chat.
“So, why?”
As if Sha Chong’s threat was insignificant, Jiang Lingwei wasn’t concerned at all. She simply asked, her tone calm.
When she was with her teammates, Jiang Lingwei had seen all sorts of personalities.
She was a decathlon-type support magical girl!
And the most psychologically stable of them all—taking care of her teammates’ mental health was an important part of her job.
So Jiang Lingwei knew that for Sha Chong, the gentle approach had already been used. Now, it was time to get a little tougher.
“What are you doing?”
Aurora raised her voice:
“You want to draw your gun? At me?”
“Take back what you said!”
Sha Chong’s stubborn voice trembled, but her hand still resolutely moved toward her holster.
(Just as I thought.)
That confirmed it—what happened to Sha Chong was definitely related to her teammates.
Jiang Lingwei understood.
For magical girls, the bonds with comrades they fought alongside were incredibly deep.
There might be friction due to their various personalities, but deep down, these were all good kids. Even if they didn’t always get along, everyone quickly recognized each other’s shining points—they wouldn’t stay at odds for long.
Besides, there was always the catalyst of dark-side attacks.
As comrades who relied on each other for life and death, not a single magical girl didn’t trust her companions.
The only time one might express dissatisfaction would be if she were a tsundere, pretending to be upset.
Even though Jiang Lingwei hadn’t studied modern magical girl teams in detail, her own understanding of magical girls was enough to judge the situation.
Touch on the topic of teammates, and even Sha Chong, in her current state, would transform out of pure emotion.
So what exactly had happened to Sha Chong?
That would be up to Wen Yachuan.
Since she needed to face Sha Chong directly—at least not appear distracted—Jiang Lingwei could only use magic to “skim” Wen Yachuan’s messages, extracting the key points without looking through the details.
First was Wen Yachuan’s message:
“I couldn’t dig up much—this area isn’t connected to my dark channels, but I did find something.”
Then came a big headline:
[Dongsha City: Human Hell.]
(Great, great.)
By the time Jiang Lingwei “read” this, she knew she didn’t need to see anything else.
She didn’t even need to know where Dongsha City was or what happened there.
If it was already being called a human hell, what else could have happened?
She looked up, but despite having a general idea of the original cause, her eyes only grew more severe as she looked at Sha Chong.
“!”
The fierce cowboy girl trembled under that gaze.
The pink-haired magical girl who had just seemed so warm… was still warm, but suddenly, she felt even scarier.
She seemed more terrifying than the Megalodon King…
There was a truly hellish truth: Sha Chong had no mother.
If she did, she’d realize that this feeling was very much like a child being scolded by their mother after doing something wrong—a kind of tough love.
“What’s with your tears?!”
Aurora suddenly shouted, making both people in the room jump.
Sha Chong couldn’t even hold her gun anymore—her hand, which had just touched the grip, recoiled as if shocked.
“What’s with your anger?!”
“Do tears and anger solve anything?!”
“Or do you think that shooting me will bring back everything you’ve lost?”
“Fate? If there’s a fate you hate standing in your way, then smash it!”
“If there are still unresolved problems, if enemies still run free, what are you running from?!”
Jiang Lingwei herself had once thought of walking away and retiring for good.
But now, she had a new mission, and was determined to walk this thorny path.
And Sha Chong? She clearly hadn’t made up her mind.
Aurora raised her head, looking into those trembling eyes beneath the cowboy hat:
“Answer me!”
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