Lady Witch

The command post was set up at a temporary stronghold three kilometers away.

Several military vehicles formed a semicircle, with a hastily assembled communications tent in the middle.

For the scale of this operation, this setup was already beyond standard protocol—the Superpowered Youth Corps had essentially deployed in full force.

What was even more absurd was that he had shown up too.

From a distance, Smiling Face could already see the old man sitting under the tent. His hair was streaked with gray, a coat draped over his shoulders, and a cup of tea sat on the folding table in front of him.

The tea had gone cold. He hadn't touched it.

Smiling Face dumped the two captives onto the ground, then casually picked up the teacup in front of Director Cui, drained it in one gulp, and set it back down.

"Director Cui, I've brought back the two from the Psychic Eye Bureau."

Director Cui's gaze shifted from the teacup, swept over Ivy and William sprawled on the ground, then landed on Smiling Face.

"These two weren't taken down by you."

It wasn't a question.

Smiling Face didn't deny it, nor did he try to take credit. "Of course not. But I figured removing these two from the battlefield would work better for our next move—two less variables to worry about."

Director Cui stared at him for a few seconds, then didn't press further.

The old man's attention returned to the two people on the ground. The suppression cuffs were functioning properly, their abilities completely neutralized. Ivy twitched occasionally—a lingering effect of the Dragon Thunder.

"Fine." Director Cui stood up, the chair scraping against the floor with a harsh sound.

"You stay here and watch them."

He walked toward the largest military transport vehicle parked beside the communications tent, clutching a device the size of a remote control in his hand.

"The Demon Witch is about to make her move. After all, Eric isn't easy to deal with, and things have turned out better than expected."

Director Cui's voice wasn't loud, but Smiling Face heard every word.

"Time to let those people from Yanhuang Awakening witness what the Demon Witch's might truly looks like."

He pressed the button.

The rear door of the transport vehicle opened, hydraulic rods groaning low.

The interior lights flickered on, illuminating a massive device that took up most of the space—a metal frame, densely packed with tubing and wiring, with a transparent chamber at the center.

There was someone inside the chamber.

The hatch slid open, and cold white vapor rolled out, carrying the smell of disinfectant and some kind of chemical reagent.

Inside sat a girl.

Fifteen or sixteen years old, painfully thin.

Her collarbones strained against her skin, and the joints of her wrists were visible one by one beneath the skin.

A gray-white hospital gown hung loose and empty on her frame. Her hair spilled down to the chair, and her eyes were closed.

When the chamber fully opened, the girl's eyelashes twitched.

She opened her eyes.

Those eyes—how to describe them?

Empty.

Not cold, not numb. Truly nothing at all.

Everything a living person's eyes should hold—light, emotion—was completely absent.

Like a mannequin in a store window: all the features were there, but you knew it wasn't human.

She just sat there, motionless, breathing steady and even, as if executing some pre-programmed routine.

Director Cui, however, looked at her with great satisfaction, even a hint of admiration in his tone: "What a perfect body. What perfect power."

He turned to look at Smiling Face and gave an instruction: "Protect my body well, understand?"

Smiling Face grinned slightly. "Of course."

Director Cui walked over to the chair beside the chamber and sat down, then took a helmet from a rack.

Behind the helmet trailed over a dozen cables of varying thickness, connected to the main console at the base of the chamber.

He put the helmet on, adjusted it a couple of times, then pulled the lever beside the armrest.

Click.

Director Cui's head lolled to the right, his body slumping into the chair, mouth slightly agape, like a puppet with its strings cut.

At the same time.

The girl inside the chamber stood up.

The movement was slow, like a machine that had been powered off for too long finally being recharged.

She first flexed her fingers, then her neck, and only finally lifted her head.

Her expression had changed.

The emptiness from before was gone, replaced by something far more subtle.

Not exactly lively, but at least it had warmth now—like bubbles surfacing from stagnant water.

"Every time I use this body, I feel like I've been reborn."

The girl spoke, her voice that of a fifteen- or sixteen-year-old girl.

But the tone, the rhythm—that was unmistakably Director Cui's.

Smiling Face beside her bent at the waist and naturally responded: "With Director Cui handling things, no one from the Psychic Eye Bureau or Yanhuang Awakening will be a match for you."

"Mm?" The girl suddenly snapped her gaze toward Smiling Face.

Just one look.

The latter half of Smiling Face's sentence got stuck in his throat. He corrected himself instantly: "It's the Demon Witch's move—naturally, no one can stand against her."

"Mm."

The Demon Witch nodded, a smile forming on her face. That smile, on a young girl's features, carried an inexplicable dissonance.

"Keep watch here. I'll handle them."

Smiling Face immediately bowed with full deference. "Yes!"

The Demon Witch walked to the edge of the vehicle, her flimsy hospital gown pressed against her body by the wind, the outline of her ribs clearly visible.

She extended one hand, palm up, and caught a falling snowflake.

The snowflake didn't melt.

The next second, her entire body lifted off the ground—a blur of white streaking across the night sky, heading toward the battlefield at an absurd speed.

Smiling Face stood in the vehicle, tilting his head back to watch the fading silhouette, and muttered under his breath:

"Who would've thought? The infamous Demon Witch has been nothing but an empty shell all along."

After saying that, he looked down at Director Cui in the chair.

Director Cui's body lay completely defenseless, slumped there, a bit of drool at the corner of his mouth.

The corners of Smiling Face's lips curled upward—into a curve that was decidedly not normal.

He said nothing more.

Back on the battlefield, things were getting intense.

Eric, nicknamed Child of the Earth, was technically an earth-type ability user, but his spirit root strength far exceeded the norm.

As long as his feet were planted on solid ground, he could endlessly draw power from the earth itself.

The dragon he had conjured was over thirty meters long—condensed rock and soil, scales clearly defined, looking from a distance almost like the real thing.

When the dragon appeared, every superpowered individual in the vicinity was drawn to it.

Sam had also been taken into the dragon by Eric, with only a gun-port exposed, allowing him to launch sneak attacks from within.

And Eric himself was hidden inside the dragon as well.

In other words, if you didn't dismantle that dragon, you couldn't even find where he was.

Offense and defense in one—pretty impressive stuff.

Lin Mo tilted his head up, watching the dragon while holding a handful of snacks—peanuts, melon seeds, potato chips, the whole assortment.

Dongfang Shuye sidled over, grabbed a bag of chips, and tore it open. "So? We going in or not?"

"What's the rush? Wait."

"Wait for what?"

"Wait for the Superpowered Youth Corps' trump card." Lin Mo chewed on some peanuts and said, somewhat garbled, "The Demon Witch hasn't even shown up yet. We're not even close to the endgame."

"True." Dongfang Shuye crunched away on the chips, then jerked his chin toward the battlefield. "Look at that guy with the spear."

Bang.

A figure went flying, bounced twice on the snow, and came to a stop. He scrambled up, blood leaking from his mouth.

"This is fucking wrong..." He wiped the blood from his lips. "Four legs—I counted them—four legs. So where the hell did the fifth claw come from?"