The Witch's Might

The dragon was just a shape.

Sure, it was big, but that didn't mean it was clumsy.

An earth-type ability user could sculpt whatever shape they wanted. The four legs were just decoration—they could grow eight legs if they felt like it, or even turn into an octopus. Focusing on the dragon's form to analyze its attack patterns was just letting yourself be led around by the nose.

Another S-ranked superhuman made a snap decision and shouted at the top of their lungs, "Forget about its form! Everyone attack at once! Drain his mental energy! Maintaining a construct of this scale takes a massive toll on an earth-type's mental reserves—wear him down!"

There were three other S-ranked superhumans on site, plus even more A-ranks. All told, there were at least twenty-odd fighters scattered around.

They all piled in.

Multicolored energy beams and shockwaves all came crashing down on the dragon at once.

The stone and earth on the dragon's surface was blasted into flying debris, but fresh soil surged up from the ground to patch the wounds just as quickly.

Lin Mo's clone was mixed in with the crowd too, contributing to the output with a perfectly average performance—not standing out, but not slacking off either.

Song Junhe stood behind Lin Mo, hands shoved in his pockets, watching the chaotic melee with zero intention of joining in.

Lin Mo glanced back at him. "You're not going up?"

"I'm melee."

"So?"

"You want me to go up and scratch a thirty-meter dragon with my fists?" Song Junhe said flatly. "Am I hitting it, or am I giving it a massage?"

Lin Mo thought about it, found the logic sound, and didn't press further.

That was when Song Junhe looked up.

He stared at the sky for two seconds and said two words.

"It's here."

Lin Mo, of course, knew what "it" meant.

Whoosh!

The moonlight on a snowy night wasn't bright to begin with—just a haze of gray—but everyone saw it.

A white figure flew in from the direction of the horizon, moving at incredible speed, then came to an abrupt halt above the battlefield, hovering mid-air.

A white hospital gown. Long, flowing hair. A frame so thin it looked unnatural.

The wind and snow parted around her.

Not because she blocked them—they actively veered away on their own.

The clamor of the battlefield dimmed in that instant. Not silent, exactly, but everyone's attention was yanked in the same direction.

One phrase surfaced simultaneously in the minds of everyone from the Superhuman Administration Bureau.

Demon Witch.

Lin Mo tossed the last peanut into his mouth and brushed the crumbs off his hands.

"And that's that."

He straightened up.

"The real show's here."

The Demon Witch's arrival injected a powerful surge of morale into the Superhuman Youth Corps.

The feeling of being backed into a corner vanished the moment she appeared, and the surrounding members erupted in thunderous cheers.

Standing off in the distance, Dongfang Shuye crossed his arms and shook his head.

"That's it? Four people from the Bureau of Divine Eyes pushed the Superhuman Youth Corps this hard?"

He clicked his tongue, a note of blunt disdain in his voice.

If it were Yanhuang Rising, they would never have waited for Director Long to make a move.

Lin Mo didn't respond to that. His gaze stayed fixed on the Demon Witch hovering mid-air.

She floated a dozen meters above the ground, black hair streaming backward in the air currents.

Gazing down at the dragon of mud and stone, her expression was indifferent—like she was inspecting a less-than-satisfactory piece of craftsmanship.

Inside the dragon's abdominal cavity, Eric saw her through the gaps in the rock.

"Stick to the plan, Sam! Do it now!"

Sam didn't hesitate. Both hands blazed with searing red light as two thermal rays fired at full power.

Beams of extreme heat tore through the air, hurtling straight toward the Demon Witch.

She raised a hand.

A casual gesture, like shooing away a fly.

A visible ripple of space formed in front of her palm. The moment the lasers entered that ripple, their trajectory bent in an unnatural arc, shooting straight up into the night sky, where they burst into two flashes of light in the clouds and fizzled out.

"She deflected them?" Dongfang Shuye's pupils contracted.

Before he could dwell on it, the dragon was already moving.

Two massive wings—forged from rubble and earth—snapped open. The body rose from the ruins, and its right claw came down with enough weight to level mountains.

That claw was bigger than a transport truck.

The Demon Witch didn't even dodge. She simply raised her hand again, fingers spread.

The claw was still thirty meters from her when its middle section simply... ceased to exist.

Not a crack. Not a collapse. Like something had cut clean through it.

The part above the severed point lost its support, and chunks of mud and stone came tumbling down, crashing into the ground and kicking up a thick cloud of dust.

"Disgusting."

The Demon Witch spoke two words, her voice soft, yet every single person heard them clearly.

She drew both hands apart.

A small motion, like tearing a piece of paper.

Then the dragon's wing—dozens of meters long—was ripped in half right down the middle.

The left and right halves toppled away from each other, as torrents of mud and stone poured down, piling up into two small hills on the ground.

Dongfang Shuye watched, his throat bobbing.

He'd fought plenty of hard battles. He'd seen plenty of strong fighters. But the oppressive weight of the Demon Witch's fighting style was something else entirely.

This was pure, overwhelming power crushing everything in its path—something he had rarely witnessed.

Whatever you threw at her, it never got close.

Whatever stood in her way, she dismantled it with a flick of her hand.

"Is she a telekinetic? A psychic type?" Dongfang Shuye asked. "With telekinesis this strong, I've never even seen it in Yanhuang Rising."

Lin Mo shook his head. "Space type."

"Space type?"

"A once-in-a-generation gift. Too bad."

Dongfang Shuye thought for a moment. "How does she compare to Ning Qingcheng then? She's got to count as a genius, right?"

Lin Mo shook his head. "Not even close. Ning Qingcheng's potential far exceeds hers."

"But they look about the same age—fifteen or sixteen at most."

"Eyes are the easiest thing to fool. When did Yanhuang Rising first hear about the Demon Witch?"

Realization hit Dongfang Shuye instantly. He'd heard of the Demon Witch years ago.

If it was years ago, then she wouldn't have been called a demon witch back then. She'd have been a demon seed.

"It's just that certain events stunted her growth. Mostly because those people wanted to squeeze every last drop of use from her."

Dongfang Shuye didn't fully understand, but he kept his eyes on the Demon Witch in the sky.

She was finishing up.

What remained of the dragon was just the torso, standing swaying and unstable on the ground.

The Demon Witch raised her right hand, palm facing down, and pushed.

A force slammed down like an invisible giant hand, pulverizing the dragon's head. Mud and stone scattered in every direction, raining down like gravel.

But Eric, his mental reserves drained, wasn't repairing the dragon anymore. Instead, from the jagged broken surface of the creature, countless stones shot outward.

Not boulders—just fist-sized rocks. But there were a lot of them, a wall of projectiles hurtling toward the Demon Witch.

Can't beat her with a single strike? Switch to buckshot. That was his way of thinking, clear enough.

The Demon Witch couldn't be bothered to even look. With a horizontal sweep of her left hand, every single stone's trajectory veered off course, all of them hooking a perfect ninety-degree turn and thudding into the wilderness beyond.

"Child of the Earth from the Bureau of Divine Eyes."

The Demon Witch's voice radiated outward in every direction, and every person heard it clearly.

"Is that all you've got?"