Hm?
Finally, she was going out?
Ling Xue was overjoyed—she’d thought Baizhi would stay locked in the lab for a week. Clearly, only her sister’s cuteness worked.
“Good, you finally decided to get out. You’ve been cooped up so long, you have no idea what’s changed outside!”
Changes?
Baizhi really didn’t know what had been happening nearby.
Might as well go and see.
“Alright, show me what’s been happening around here.”
Ling Xue led Baizhi downstairs.
They walked along the orange-red streets—one in a white lab coat, one in uniform—an odd pair, but inexplicably well-matched.
Baizhi, lacking rest, looked constantly weary, but every time she stayed up all night, Ling Xue was there.
Are they just good friends?
No, they looked more like lovers. So, are they?
Ling Xue spotted a stand selling rainbow cotton candy, pointed and said, “Let me treat you! That stuff is delicious.”
Baizhi sighed and flicked Ling Xue on the head.
“You should know, rainbow cotton candy is all coloring. If you eat that and something happens, you’ll know the consequences.”
Ling Xue didn’t care—she bought a cotton candy anyway and handed one to Baizhi. “You have some too.”
“I’m not eating it. All that artificial coloring isn’t good for researchers…”
She started lecturing, but as she opened her mouth, Ling Xue stuffed the candy in.
“Tasty? You’re just too biased—some street food is better than five-star restaurants.”
Baizhi tasted it carefully—it really was delicious and sweet.
But it was all coloring! Not clean…
“Besides, who cares about cleanliness? It’s not like we eat street food every day. What could go wrong? Just once in a while.”
Yeah, just once in a while… it should be fine, right?
Baizhi’s expression relaxed.
“It’s true, it’s good. Maybe relaxing once in a while isn’t so bad.”
The two walked side by side. At six, most working folks were getting off. The street was lively but rushed—life’s three-point line made many forget why they made money at all.
Wasn’t the purpose of earning to live better?
And to live well, was for happiness.
Like the old man fishing by the river—he was happy not because of money, but because he enjoyed life, and that didn’t require riches.
Right now, she was truly happy.
The kids playing card games on the curb had little money, but they were happy too.
In this world, not everyone could be rich, or live their ideal life.
The next day…
This class was political thought—Lin Guanqi’s least favorite, because it was all chicken soup for the soul.
And chicken soup was the last thing she wanted—stand up and say a few words, and you’re told to buy a book. Wasn’t that just a scam?
“Everyone, settle down. Today I’ll teach you how to feel that your life is good.”
Great. So the chicken soup starts now?
“I think living well depends on how you define it. Some people think three meals a day is good; some say money is what matters; some say family unity. Everyone defines it differently.”
“So, I’d like everyone to write what you feel shows that you’re living well.”
Everyone looked at each other. Signs of living well? How are you supposed to express that?
Could you even show it?
Lin Guanqi started nodding off.
“Lin Guanqi! You again! Stand up! You always fall asleep in my class—are you dissatisfied with it?”
No surprise, Lin Guanqi was called out.
“Come on, tell me—are you dissatisfied, or do you have a unique view? I’m all ears.”
The teacher was clearly picking a fight.
“I… I think, living well isn’t about what others think, but what you yourself feel. For me, it’s happiness—no need to worry about food and shelter.”
Of course, best would be to pay off her loans.
Lin Guanqi had thought about paying off one world’s loans with money from this world, but the system only allowed repayments from task money—nothing else counted.
Stupid system! So annoying!
【Detected the host’s inner insult, so 10 popularity points deducted as punishment!】
She nearly coughed blood in anger—10 points! And the system wasn’t even issuing missions; there were no beast invasions; where was she supposed to earn popularity?
“Well said. Your grades may be poor, but here you have insight. You may sit.”
Lin Guanqi didn’t expect it—she always slept in this teacher’s class, yet was allowed to sit.
“Alright…”
Bai Ningbing noticed Lin Guanqi seemed troubled and made a mental note.
“Everyone can learn from Lin Guanqi’s answer. She may be lazy, but her answer is excellent.”
“She talked about happiness as living well—what about the rest of you?”
Suddenly, the teacher looked surprised—Bai Ningbing had raised her hand. Usually, she never answered questions, not even homework unless in the mood. Had she changed?
The teacher wasn’t about to miss out.
“Let’s hear from you, Bai Ningbing.”
Bai Ningbing stood and spoke:
“In the evening, walking past the old alley after work, you’ll always see Aunt Zhang sitting at the door picking vegetables, her husband beside her repairing the old radio, with opera drifting from the speakers. Not far away, in the office building, Xiao Lin just finished overtime and is smiling at her phone—on the screen, her daughter is drawing ‘mommy’ with a brush. These two different scenes both hide the appearance of ‘living well.’ Turns out ‘living well’ was never a single standard; there’s no unified answer, but there is a shared core: stability after basic needs are met, warmth in emotional connections, a sense of personal worth, and, above all, peace in accepting life.
Living well needs material basics, but never measures by ‘the more, the better.’ Some think living in a mansion and driving a luxury car means living well, but in reality, many are crushed by mortgages and car loans, with no time for a proper meal. True material security is ‘enough’ with ‘freedom of choice’: when a family member falls ill, there’s no need to worry about medical bills; when you want to take your kids to the park on the weekend, you don’t have to fret over ticket prices; when you see a book you like, you can buy it without hesitation. Like Uncle Li, a retired teacher in our community—his pension isn’t high, but enough for daily needs. She’s turned her balcony into a small garden, grows roses and mint, waters in the morning, reads in the afternoon, occasionally plays chess with old friends—this kind of ‘enough’ is closer to the essence of ‘living well’ than empty luxury. Material is the foundation, not the roof; if you only look up, you’ll forget the solid ground beneath your feet.
The core of ‘living well’ lies in human connection. We are social creatures; lonely wealth is never real happiness. Last winter, the neighbor’s child had a 39-degree fever—the parents were frantic. It was the doctor next door who brought medicine and taught them cooling methods. This spring, Xiao Lin was laid off and fell into anxiety—her college friends called to console her and even helped with job referrals. These small kindnesses mean more than numbers in the bank. It’s not about how many friends you have, but having a few who’ll listen at midnight; not about rowdy family parties, but coming home tired and smelling familiar food. Emotions are like the hearth of life—days may be ordinary, but with these bonds, you’re never cold.
More moving than material or emotion is the personal worth found in ‘living well.’ Brother Wang, who sells tofu at the market, gets up at 3 a.m. to grind tofu. He uses no additives, and neighbors love it. Someone asked if he was tired—he said, ‘Seeing everyone eat safe food, it’s worth it.’ Volunteer Sister Zhang, after retiring, helps the elderly with smartphones and collects packages for office workers. She says, ‘I used to feel useless after retirement, but now people greet me every day—I feel secure.’ Self-worth isn’t about earthshaking deeds, but finding meaning in your field: the programmer who writes smooth code, the teacher who sees students grow, the stay-at-home mom who manages the household and sees her children healthy. When someone feels, ‘I am useful, I am needed,’ life has weight—and that’s the soul of ‘living well.’
Finally, living well needs a peaceful heart to accept imperfection. Life is never smooth—some succeed at work but struggle in love; some have happy families but health problems. Truly living well isn’t about having no worries, but facing them calmly. Uncle Li fell and can’t walk as well, but didn’t complain—she switched to slow walks and learned to photograph neighborhood scenery. Xiao Lin, after being laid off, didn’t wallow; she used the time to learn new skills and found a better job. This peace means knowing ‘life has ups and downs’ and still living each day seriously; it means ‘nobody is perfect,’ but accepting your own flaws. With this attitude, even ordinary days taste sweet.
The definition of ‘living well’ is simple—it’s not someone else’s idea of ‘success,’ but your own comfortable state: sleeping soundly, laughing freely, walking your own path. You don’t need riches or fame, just a full heart—like Aunt Zhang in the old alley, or Xiao Lin in the office building, holding onto warmth, with love, living your own ‘good’ life.”
Everyone was stunned by her speech.
But it made perfect sense.
Even the teacher, after a pause, felt she’d learned something from her student.
Her insight didn’t match her own.
“You spoke beautifully. As expected from our top student.”
“The reason I teach you these things is simple—I don’t want you to neglect theory just because you’re magical girls.”
“I hope you’ll balance combat and theory. Keep it up—you’re the future stars of the nation!”
At this point, what else to do but cry?
—
It’s always quiet before the storm.
XXXX: “The Black Tide’s evolution is complete, but it still lacks energy. Zhong Siyi, you haven’t forgotten what I asked you to do, have you?”
Zhong Siyi nodded.
“Yes, I know.”
He knelt on one knee, as purple lines appeared on his right arm.
They spread across his whole body.
Suddenly, the lines on his arm radiated a strong purple light.
Magical particles exploded.
A magic fog formed in the air.
XXXX: “It seems your magical elements have lost control again.”
XXXX returned to her throne—made of bones.
It exuded a gloomy aura.
XXXX: “You’re just a puppet I made. You’d better accept that.”
XXXX: “If you ever think of betraying me, I’ll make your body explode.”
Zhong Siyi nodded. As a man, he was the only one who could use the powers of a magical girl.
Of course, such uniqueness came at a price: in exchange for this power, his whole body became a set of auxiliary organs—essentially, a doll.
The terminal server keeping him alive was with XXXX.
If XXXX died, the server would lose its energy source.
And Zhong Siyi wasn’t the only doll like this; almost all high-level beasts depended on terminals.
XXXX was basically a living terminal.
Zhong Siyi was a top-level beast.
“I’ll go now.”
With that, Zhong Siyi snapped his fingers.
A space-time rift appeared before him.
Following him through the rift was a beast—a new kind of beast.
A high-level beast.
Corrosive Ooze Chimera.
Detailed Description:
In XXXX’s beast legion, the Corrosive Ooze Chimera is a pollution-type beast specialized against magical girls using “light attribute magic.” Its presence is like a living “magical black hole”—every inch of its body radiates a chill foreign to the magic world.
It has no fixed shape; its body is a viscous, tar-like black liquid with a subtle matte blue sheen, like shattered starlit night dissolved into fluid.
It never “walks,” but oozes: the front of its body bulges into a rounded blob, stretching forward and dragging sticky strands as the rest follows. When it touches ground, it doesn’t seep in but gathers into a half-foot-high liquid mound, the edges constantly dropping bean-sized droplets which are pulled back by the main mass, forming tiny whorls. In the vortex, tiny silver-white sparks occasionally flash—remnants of the “Starlight Shield” it devoured from a magical girl the night before, not yet fully digested.
Up close, its scent hits first—not just decay, but a mix of rust and rotting lilies, like tiny needles stabbing the nasal cavity, stifling the heart.
That’s the “emotion toxin” in the ooze, meant to induce human fear and despair, which it then absorbs, converting negative emotion into energy.
Looking closer, at its center floats a dark purple crystal core, nail-sized, slowly spinning in the ooze. Each turn releases a hair-thin black thread, spreading through the liquid, making the calm surface ripple, as if breathing.
Its “limbs” are all shaped from black ooze: upon detecting a magical girl, the left side rears up, solidifying into a semi-transparent arm, splitting into dozens of hair-like filaments at the tip. These filaments twist through the air toward the target. If they touch a magical girl’s battle outfit, they curl like vines, the ooze seeping through fabric and chilling the skin, sticky as if pulling in both warmth and magical energy.
Once, a lower-grade magical girl’s pink skirt was grabbed. In three seconds, the embroidered stars faded, the fabric turned black and tattered, and the skin beneath showed pale marks as the toxin spread.
Its resistance to light magic is terrifying: when a “Holy Light Orb” is cast, the ooze’s surface caves in, the core flashes purple, and a strong pull drags the orb closer. As the orb nears, its light recedes as if doused; the once-bright gold dims to gray, then is absorbed, leaving a brief glow on the ooze, which swells while the core darkens.
If it ever becomes a special-grade beast, even magical girls would be helpless.
—
The sky suddenly dimmed.
Bai Ningbing and those at the academy knew—it was a prelude to a beast incursion.
First appeared a thin, dark purple crack.
As fine as a hair, but in three seconds, it tore half a meter wide, distorting the sky into muddy blots, warping the drifting clouds into gray mist drawn into the fissure.
Next, the smell of rust and rotting lilies wafted out. Cherry petals in the light instantly dulled, as if their life was drained, falling to the ground as gray-black scraps.
A moment later, black ooze seeped from the crack.
It didn’t pour but crept along the broken edges, like a living vine.
Thick, blue-black ooze clung to the rift, stretching sticky threads. When a thread hung half a meter, it snapped, splattering onto the flagstones.
The droplets didn’t splatter, but quickly gathered into fist-sized puddles. Under the surface, silver-white specks twinkled—leftovers from a devoured “Starlight Shield.”
More ooze poured out as the rift widened to two meters, revealing swirling purple mist.
On the ground, the ooze formed a half-foot mound, the center rising as a nail-sized, dark purple crystal core emerged.
As soon as the core touched air, it buzzed, and the surrounding magic light shrank toward it, the pink glow fading, even the streetlights’ magic runes flickering in resistance.
The Chimera’s body kept “flowing” from the rift, ooze replenishing the mound as it unfurled.
The left ooze solidified into a semi-transparent arm, splitting into dozens of hair-thin threads, reaching for nearby cherry trees. When they touched bark, the tree blackened and rotted in seconds, new buds withered to gray dust, which was silently absorbed.
Once the last ooze slipped from the rift, the gap above slowly closed, its distortion fading—leaving only the stench and the pulsing black ooze behind.
The core spun at the mound’s center, dimming the surrounding magical glow with each turn. The liquid arm spread toward the Academy, probing the shield’s weak points.
A wave of darkness had begun.
“This thing restrains light magic—light-type magical girls, stay back! Everyone else, follow me!”
Bai Ningbing knew—this time, there was no room for error.
If they didn’t fight, the world might be destroyed!
Lin Guanqi’s system sounded the highest alarm.
【Warning! Warning! Host, maximum alert! This is a high-level beast, approaching special-grade—host must go all out! Do NOT fall on the battlefield!】
What, seriously? This isn’t a joke?
It’s a beast nearly special-grade, and she had to fight? Wasn’t this a joke?
Lin Guanqi wanted to give up, but Bai Ningbing patted her on the shoulder.
Whatever you want to do, just do it. I’m here.
That was what she seemed to be saying.
She quickly understood.
If she was being told to let go, then she had to accept the mission.
“System, I accept the mission.”
With that, she and Bai Ningbing smashed through the window into battle. Would the academy make them pay for the window? Surely not, since they were saving the world—who’d nitpick about a broken window?
This beast was more terrifying than any before.
They both doubted they could win.
“Jiaojiao, this beast is even stronger than the last ones. It’s already close to special grade, but someone must be controlling it. We only need to defeat the controller!”
Bai Ningbing seemed certain.
But she couldn’t find the controller.
The mastermind behind this beast would never show herself.
From the oddness of recent invasions, Bai Ningbing suspected this person had come to this world for a purpose.
But what could be so valuable? Why had she come?
If it was just to plunge the world into chaos, then constant attacks would be needed to harvest energy for evolution. The last Black Tide was the highest-tier beast, above all others.
Anyone who could command such a beast was no ordinary figure.
If she could be recruited, it’d be a blessing to the nation.
But that was impossible.
At this point, only battle remained.
Bai Ningbing had no intention of holding back.
Because if she did, the country—and her dearest person—would pay the price.