For reasons unknown, the seaside trip seemed to have slipped into the past in the blink of an eye, as though days had melted away unnoticed.
Life was gradually settling back into its familiar rhythm.
Even Luo Jialan had smoothly resumed her part-time job at the Snow King.
But in recent days, she’d taken to lingering near the hotpot restaurant where Ning Ling worked, on her way back to the martial arts dojo.
She wasn’t obvious about it—just subtle glances, probing to see if Ning Ling was secretly casting magical senses toward the dojo.Â
Her efforts yielded nothing.
With a sigh, Luo Jialan clutched her specially spiked “Beat Today” orange drink and hurried back to the dojo.
“Take it, but hold on—you’re not allowed to drink it yet,” she instructed.
Su Mu’s eyes, which had just begun to sparkle with anticipation, dimmed instantly.
Her small face puffed up with indignation.
‘Who said I was going to drink it now? I was just going to poke the straw in a little, not actually sip it!’
Over the past few days, her training had noticeably strengthened her physique.
At the very least, she no longer felt half-dead after a mere half-kilometer run.
The training for a magical girl wasn’t like that of ordinary people, tearing down muscles to rebuild them stronger.
Instead, intense exercise spurred the flow of magic, weaving it into the body’s metabolism.
The more perfectly magic fused with the body, the stronger a magical girl became.
Generally, when the ratio of magic to physical essence reached a near-perfect 7-to-3 balance, physical prowess peaked.
This degree of fusion was measured by something called the Mana Integration Index, ranging from 0% to 100%—the higher the index, the closer to that ideal ratio.
This data could be obtained through scanning, but it required deep analysis to uncover.
Some outliers, despite having low magical power, boasted astonishingly high Mana Integration Indices.
Underestimating them as mere E- or D-class could lead to a brutal lesson.
Su Mu’s current Mana Integration Index was a paltry 2.5%, while the average person’s physical limit equated to roughly 10%.
Luo Jialan, on the other hand, boasted a staggering 57%.
This was hardly surprising—she’d been steeped in Luo Linglan’s magical aura since childhood, her body quietly tempered through years of training until every cell thrummed with it.
As a child, Luo Linglan had forbidden her from roughhousing with other kids, warning that her “martial arts” training could accidentally hurt them.
Little Luo Jialan, watching her classmates struggle to carry a bucket of water, had been utterly baffled.
She could toss that same bucket around like a beach ball.
Did martial arts really create such a vast gap?
So, under the stunned gazes of her peers, she’d hoisted a 19-liter bucket—roughly 20 kilograms—with one hand, striding effortlessly before hopping lightly to flip it onto the water dispenser.
Her petite frame might have marked her as an easy target for bullies, but after that display, no one dared cross her.
They’d whisper: ‘She’s a martial artist. She’s got power.’
Even in her normal state, Luo Jialan could casually crack asphalt underfoot.
When she activated her star-shaped crest and entered her radiant form, her strength became outright absurd.
Su Mu still had no idea just how far her limits stretched.
‘Could she already be capable of something ridiculous, like crushing coal into diamonds with her bare hands or stopping an earthquake with a single punch?’
“Yesterday, you managed an hour. Starting today, let’s push it to an hour and a half,” Luo Jialan said.
“Nooo!” Su Mu groaned.
Thankfully, these past few days had been free of the blush-inducing mishaps that had once left them both flustered.
It seemed Lando’s little “pinch” had effectively reined in Luo Jialan’s impulses.
‘See? Our friendship is pure. Proof that two girls can just be friends!’
Su Mu’s short-sleeved shirt clung to her sweat-soaked skin, outlining every curve of her lithe frame in vivid detail, the damp fabric turning slightly translucent, revealing the faintest blush of her skin beneath.
Gasping for breath, she was oblivious to the effect she had, unaware that Luo Jialan, watching from the side, often found her heart racing, thrown into quiet chaos by Su Mu’s unintentional allure.
“I’m heading to the restroom for a bit,” Luo Jialan announced.
‘Yes! A chance to slack off!’ Su Mu’s heart sang.
Irina, catching the gleeful thought, doubled over with laughter in her mind.
‘Some things are better left unknown for now, Su Mu. Let’s keep this sweet misunderstanding intact.’
***
The grueling training left Su Mu sleeping like a rock each night, too exhausted even for dreams.
But this time, despite being utterly spent, she found herself startlingly aware that she was dreaming.
She sank into the familiar softness of her favorite spot on the couch in her dream’s living room.
No TV flickered on; she simply relished the sensation of her body melting into the cushions, enveloped in their gentle embrace.
Normally, a glasses-free Ye Wanqing would appear to her left, as predictable as clockwork.
But in this dream, the seat beside her remained empty, leaving a hollow ache in her chest.
“Ugh, I’m so tired. I just want to sleep,” Su Mu murmured.
She didn’t want to overthink it.
All she craved was to sink deeper into slumber.
Closing her eyes, she let the soft glow of the wall lamp fade behind her lids.
Her body, already cradled by the couch, seemed to sink further, a gentle descent into nothingness.
She was falling, endlessly falling.
“Don’t sleep!” Irina’s voice exploded in her ear, jolting her awake.
“Are you trying to snooze your way into a third-layer dream?”
Su Mu blinked, disoriented.
The scene around her had shifted.
She was now in the familiar confines of her rented apartment, every detail—down to the texture of the furniture—perfectly identical to her memories.
“What’s going on?” she asked, voice tinged with unease.
“You’ve fallen asleep twice in a row, dummy. You’ve sunk into a second-layer dream,” Irina replied.
“Second-layer dream?”
Su Mu squinted at the corners of the room, searching for the telltale blurs that might betray the dream’s illusion.
But her mind felt foggy, unable to focus.
No matter how hard she tried, everything looked flawless.
“Don’t bother,” Irina said.
“This is ‘your’ dream, built from your deepest memories. To you, it’s perfect—no flaws to spot. Last time, you were in Luo Jialan’s dream, so you could sense the inconsistencies. Not here.”
“So what do I do? Go back? Or… should I find you? It feels like you’re close, somewhere just below me…”
Her rented apartment was on the first floor, wasn’t it?
The realization hit her like a shock, but the chaotic logic of dreams made it oddly plausible.
She moved toward the door, ready to step outside.
“Wait! Don’t come looking for me,” Irina warned.
“If you go deeper, getting back will be a hassle.”
Su Mu froze.
“What do you mean?”
“You’re only a D-class magical girl. Your consciousness isn’t strong enough. If you slip into a third-layer dream, you’ll lose yourself and become… part of me.”
‘Part of Irina?’
“It’s hard to explain,” Irina continued.
“My consciousness is far stronger than yours. When I appear in a shallow dream, your awareness gets pushed to the edges. If I wanted, I could even block your perception of the outside world entirely.”
Su Mu’s pupils constricted as the weight of those words sank in.
‘So that’s how it works.’