How Strong Is the Witch

"You really can eat."

In a private room at a five-star hotel, Lin Mo's avatar was buried in his seventh plate of steak.

Song Junhe leaned back in his chair, legs crossed and resting on the table, his gaze sweeping over the stack of empty plates piled haphazardly across the surface.

He silently counted.

Not that he cared about the cost.

It was reimbursable, anyway.

What he was genuinely curious about was what the hell Piao Guochang's stomach was made of.

A normal adult male, even if he'd been starving for three days, shouldn't be able to eat like this.

Not even a superhuman should.

Lin Mo finished the last piece of meat, wiped his mouth with a napkin, and said candidly, "I haven't been able to eat my fill for a while. My body's like a bottomless pit—no matter how much I put in, it's never enough."

He raised his right arm and clenched his fist, flexing hard.

The muscle definition on his forearm was noticeably more pronounced than before, veins bulging faintly beneath the skin. He looked like an entirely different person from before.

"My supernatural ability probably works by modifying my body through blood. Everything I consume gets rapidly converted into usable energy. Simply put, the more I eat, the stronger I get."

Song Junhe listened for a long moment without taking a single word to heart.

He didn't give a damn about the mechanics of Piao Guochang's ability. He only cared about results.

"Fine. Keep eating."

With that, he made a phone call and ordered three more main courses.

The waiter's expression was priceless. He looked at the wreckage covering the table, then at Lin Mo's not-exactly-imposing build, his lips twitching as if he wanted to say something. In the end, he said nothing and turned to place the order.

Lin Mo was about to take a sip of water to rinse his mouth when Song Junhe's phone rang.

The caller ID showed an unknown number.

Song Junhe frowned.

This line was dedicated. Anyone who could reach it was either his own people or an outsider with serious connections.

Either way, he had to pick up.

"Hello."

The other side said something.

Song Junhe's expression shifted slightly, his tone growing more courteous.

"It's you?"

"Alright, no problem. Want to meet in person?"

"Sure, we can share the full plan."

Three sentences, crisp and clean, and the call ended.

The entire conversation lasted under forty seconds.

Lin Mo set down his water glass, glanced over, and said nothing. He already knew who was on the other end of that call.

And he didn't need to ask—Song Junhe would tell him anyway.

Sure enough, Song Junhe spoke up on his own.

"That was the Chinese side."

He picked up the teapot and poured himself a cup, speaking slowly, as if choosing his words carefully.

"They don't want that dirty bomb to land either, so they're willing to run a joint operation with our people to intercept the shipment directly."

Lin Mo picked up his chopsticks again and took a bite of kimchi.

"And after we intercept it?"

"After?"

Song Junhe raised his glass and took a sip. "After that, we pin it on them."

He said it with a perfectly natural expression, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Lin Mo set down his chopsticks.

"Is that... appropriate? They're helping us do the work, and then we screw them over?"

Song Junhe didn't dodge the question. He set down his glass, leaned forward, interlaced his fingers on the table, and his expression turned serious.

"Justice itself has no right or wrong. But we have to look at things from our own country's perspective. Between nations, there's no absolute right or wrong—only positions. We're citizens of our country, so every move we make must prioritize our nation's interests."

It sounded noble. Grand. A whole perfectly constructed string of rhetoric.

Lin Mo didn't argue.

But he knew full well that Song Junhe hadn't told him the whole truth.

Song Junhe studied him for a couple of seconds, probably assuming his silence was just simple skepticism. He didn't elaborate further. Instead, he picked up his phone and dialed another number.

This call was even shorter.

"Check on Lin Mo's situation. Find out what's been happening around him recently."

Click. He hung up.

Lin Mo's pace of eating didn't change at all.

Song Junhe put down his phone, grabbed a French fry and tossed it into his mouth, then suddenly switched topics.

"The person coming from the Chinese side is strong."

"How strong?"

"Just don't provoke him. He's a partner, but he's also someone to be wary of."

"So this operation, it's just the few of us?" Lin Mo asked, like a curious kid.

Song Junhe shook his head, swallowed the fry.

"No, what are you thinking?"

He grabbed a napkin and wiped his hands.

"Bringing you along this time has two purposes. One, to broaden your horizons. Two, to make you understand something: you are strong, sure, but there are plenty of people in this world stronger than you. Don't get it into your head that you're invincible just because you think you're a big deal."

"So?"

"For absolute certainty, the Super Youth Corps will deploy all of its S-rank ability users."

"The ones escorting the dirty bomb are superhumans from the Eye of God Bureau. Intelligence says they're also S-rank."

"Evenly matched, then."

"Roughly. But the variable is the Chinese guy."

Song Junhe paused, and a subtle expression crossed his face, like he was recalling something unpleasant.

"Intelligence rated him S-rank. But today I crossed hands with him."

He glanced down at his own right hand.

"His actual strength is far beyond S-rank. My personal assessment? The only person who could crush him... is probably Lady Demon Witch."

As he said those words, Song Junhe's tone unconsciously dropped half a register.

Now they were getting to the main point.

Lin Mo's ears perked up.

"Demon Witch?"

"The Super Youth Corps' only SSS-rank. Also the person standing at the very top of the entire Korean superhuman system."

Song Junhe picked up his teacup and took another sip. "No one has ever been able to challenge her position. Not once."

With that, Song Junhe looked at Lin Mo.

"Don't get some random impulse to go provoke her. You'll see for yourself just how strong Lady Demon Witch is soon enough."

Lin Mo rested his chin on his hand, his expression thoughtful.

SSS-rank.

Sounded intimidating, sure.

But how strong was Demon Witch, really? Lin Mo had his doubts.

Putting aside whether the Americans even acknowledged how strong this Demon Witch was—if she were truly that powerful, wouldn't Korea have stopped getting pushed around by now?

He didn't voice that thought out loud, but his expression gave away a hint of it.

Song Junhe glanced at him and let out a light chuckle.

"Lady Demon Witch is a secret weapon. She's not publicly known. She rarely acts, but every time she does..."

He paused, searching for the right word.

"It's an absolute demolition."

Now Lin Mo was genuinely looking forward to it.

"So you're telling me not to mess with her?"

"I'm telling you not to get some wild idea about seeking her out for a spar. It won't be long before you see with your own eyes how strong she is."

Lin Mo grinned, but didn't take the bait.

SSS-rank, or SSSS-rank, whatever—he'd need to see it with his own eyes before he believed it.

The Americans certainly didn't recognize anyone as the strongest in the world. Every faction had its own claims about the real rankings.

Still, he was looking forward to it.

"When's the operation?"

"Tomorrow night. The Eye of God personnel arrive at the U.S. military base in Korea tomorrow evening. The device will be transported out directly. That's when we intercept."

No breaks this month. Updates on schedule.