After ten rounds, Ye Jinyi still managed to defeat Huimengyi with a score of six to four.
You could say—your master is still your master.
Even though Ye Jinyi’s card pool and understanding of the new cards couldn’t compare to Huimengyi’s, once she figured out her opponent’s mechanics, she could start crafting solid counter-strategies to suppress her.
But card games had too much randomness, and Ye Jinyi couldn’t fully dominate every round—she could only rely on consistent play to stabilize the match.
It was thanks to this steady, methodical style that Ye Jinyi was able to win despite her weaker card pool.
Originally, Ye Jinyi should’ve won seven to three, but she had played so safely in the earlier rounds that it became boring, so in the final game she just played however she wanted—letting herself go.
After all, the main point of playing games is to have fun.
If you’re not enjoying it, even winning feels empty.
Because of that, Ye Jinyi lost one more round.
At least in that match, she lost happily.
Ye Jinyi yawned, her head feeling a little fuzzy.
She checked the time and saw it was already 10 PM.
Looks like this body really couldn’t handle late nights anymore.
Fighting off her fatigue, Ye Jinyi instinctively typed a few words on her keyboard: “Good night, rest early, your health matters most.”
She hit Enter, closed all her programs, and finally shut down her computer before groggily crawling into bed and drifting off to sleep.
While Ye Jinyi had already fallen asleep, the other side of the city was still wide awake and lively.
Mo Shuhua sat at her desk, adjusted her glasses, and looked at the chaos unfolding in the group chat.
This was a confidential chat only accessible to high-ranking magical girls. It served as a kind of lounge for retired magical girls.
At this level, hardly anyone was still active—those who were likely had only a year or two left before retirement.
So, what used to be the “S-Rank Magical Girl Council Group” had now been renamed to the “Retired Magical Girl Retirement Group.”
But rather than calling it a retirement group, it was more like a second-line reserve unit.
These senior magical girls left the field to give the next generation more opportunities.
They would only step in when the newer girls truly couldn’t handle a threat—just to ensure the younger ones had room to grow into capable magical girls.
As for why they retired, the reason was simple—graduation, jobs, no more time to save the world!
Yep, retirement was just that plain and straightforward.
We’re all just trying our best to survive～
Right now, these seasoned magical girls were discussing the topic of the Flame That Burns the World.
[Admin] Chidong: “Early Files on the Flame That Burns the World”
[Admin] Chidong: “Newly Compiled Data on the Flame That Burns the World”
[Admin] Chidong: “All the materials are here. I hope everyone can decide on a response strategy as soon as possible.”
Mo Shuhua downloaded the files and opened them, beginning to read through the contents.
The first document in the early files was a report on the Flame That Burns the World.
“7th Top-Level Calamity Event Report”
Casualty Statistics:
– Immediate Annihilation: 120 million (margin of error ±3 million)
– Subsequent Chain Deaths: Approx. 350 million (radiation—cause unconfirmed)
Magical Girl Losses:
– Killed in Action: 78%
– Annihilated: 16%
Only Effective Countermeasure:
– Sacrifice of 30,000 high-ranking magical girls to construct a 72-layer barrier, isolating all affected zones from the real world.
Calamity Characteristics:
– Its flames reach temperatures of 141.6 decillion degrees Celsius.
Mo Shuhua continued scrolling down the content.
“Post-Disaster Site Photography” — all photographers perished in the calamity.
As Mo Shuhua examined the photos, she felt a creeping unease and a strange chill.
The images looked like they’d been severely overexposed by some intense light, then manually recolored under duress.
The corpses’ skin had an unnatural waxy sheen, as if they had been reshaped into dolls by extreme heat.
In truth, any equipment at the center of the disaster would be instantly annihilated, making it impossible to capture images—there was simply no way to photograph the disaster itself.
Let alone get anywhere near the disaster zone.
It was from that point onward that a fifth level was added to the original four-tiered calamity classification of Harm, Catastrophe, Crisis, and Natural Disaster: “World.”
In fact, magical girls and calamities appeared around the same time. Not ancient history—just seventy-five years ago.
A natural disaster in 2030—specifically, a gamma-ray burst caused by a black hole explosion 1,700 light-years away—affected the entire Blue Star.
Though the burst lasted only five minutes, it changed the world forever.
Much of the energy from those gamma rays was forcibly retained in the atmosphere, becoming part of the Earth itself.
A multitude of calamity entities were born—some biological, others environmental—but all had one thing in common: a mindless drive to destroy everything.
Human technology was utterly powerless against them.
At the same time, magical girls emerged.
Research showed that girls aged 12 to 15 had a far higher compatibility with the strange material compared to most people.
Once their compatibility reached 100%, they could awaken special powers.
Those who succeeded in awakening were known as “Magical Girls.”
The powers of magical girls were, paradoxically, more effective than human technology at combating calamities.
This was why magical girls were accepted by governments around the world.
Magical girls would protect humanity, while governments supported them in eliminating calamities.
That initial natural disaster became known as the first calamity—the origin of the “Natural Disaster” level.
But the Flame That Burns the World, twenty-five years ago, redefined the standard entirely.
After reading the early documentation, Mo Shuhua switched over to the newly compiled intel.
“Real Image of the Flame That Burns the World”
Mo Shuhua had been deep in thought—until she saw the little girl in the photo, and immediately broke down laughing.
“This little loli is the Flame That Burns the World? Talk about losing all sense of menace.”
After laughing her fill, Mo Shuhua refocused on the image of the girl in the photo.
After all, calamities had no fixed form.
They could be storms, infernos; grey wolves, birds in flight—or humanoid, or merely humanoid-looking.
Anything was possible.
In the end, calamities were just unique combinations of strange material.
No one could dictate what they were supposed to look like.
Mo Shuhua skimmed through the remaining pages, then exited the file.
By now, the chatroom was in complete chaos.
Everyone understood what a world-level calamity truly meant.
Mo Shuhua, however, didn’t bother with the noisy opinions of these younger girls—because she had actually experienced that calamity.
Even if only indirectly.
She glanced at the photo frame beside her monitor, the one forever missing a man.
“Dad…”
Damn that’s gonna cause conflict later