Chapter 7: Wuli, Sit Down!  

While slacking off at work, Song Wuli reopened the last line of the tea-art guide he was reading yesterday.  

Excerpt from: From Green Tea to Bratty Imp in No Time.  

Damn!  

He kept working standing up, his mind filled with thoughts of bratty imps and green tea, making him distracted.  

The copywriting team’s work was heavy, with endless drafts to write daily.  

Sometimes, they had to write quest storylines, memorizing past settings to avoid contradictions.  

So, the team loved writing standalone plots—stories unrelated to prior content, where they could go wild.  

Other times, they wrote character profiles and dialogue.  

During lunch, Song Wuli chatted with team leader Huang Yijun about character archetypes.  

“Old Huang, question: what’s your take on the green tea archetype?”  

Huang Yijun: “Why’re you asking this?”  

Song Wuli: “Work stuff. We write archetypes all the time. Just wanna know your thoughts on green tea.”  

“Green tea, huh?” Huang Yijun took a few bites of rice, thinking, then answered, “In mobile games, green tea’s outdated. Everyone’s into bratty imps now.”  

Song Wuli: “Why?”  

Huang Yijun: “Green tea’s old-school. It needs a male lead and a second male to play off, and it has negative vibes. People genuinely hate green tea—not fake hate. Plus, green tea needs events to establish the archetype, which is a hassle.”  

Song Wuli took mental notes and asked, “What about bratty imps?”  

Huang Yijun: “Bratty imps are faster-paced. You don’t need actual events—just a few lines to set the vibe. Their negative vibes are lighter, and the archetype can lean positive. Lots of people eat it up.”  

Seeing Huang Yijun’s excitement, Song Wuli felt a chill: “So you think bratty imps are more positive than green tea?”  

Huang Yijun: “Yeah. Countering green tea or imps is satisfying, but in different ways.”  

He leaned closer, whispering, “With green tea, players just want her gone. But with imps, players crave the moment she gets wrecked, like waiting for a magical girl to fight a tentacle monster.”  

Pfft—Song Wuli spat out his cola.  

He quickly wiped the table.  

Huang Yijun snapped back, eyeing him suspiciously: “What’s with you today, Old Song? Standing to work, standing to eat?”  

Song Wuli: “Like I said, hemorrhoids.”  

Huang Yijun: “I’ve got ‘em too, but I don’t stand. What’s really going on?”  

Song Wuli: “Can we not talk about gross stuff while eating?”  

Huang Yijun dropped it.  

By afternoon, the news of Song Wuli’s “hemorrhoids” spread through the copywriting team.  

Everyone gave him weird looks.  

He put on earphones, pretending not to notice, and kept working standing up.  

At 6 p.m., quitting time, the younger colleagues left in a cheerful group.  

Song Wuli stayed, as usual, “voluntarily” working overtime.  

Half the team cleared out, leaving a few young folks and old-timers grinding away.  

Huang Yijun stayed too. Despite his age, he was stuck in the team leader role, half a manager, half still climbing the ladder.  

Song Wuli had stood all day and was exhausted.  

He found a bench to rest, cautiously lying face-down, scrolling his phone.  

Huang Yijun, holding instant noodles, passed by to get hot water. 

Seeing Song Wuli’s “inviting” pose…  

What’s inviting to a guy?  

Someone sitting on a cliff edge or by a river—you’d want to give them a kick.  

Or someone hiding under a tree in rain or snow—you’d want to shake the tree.  

And now, with his buddy lying on a bench, showing off an “inviting” rear…  

Slap!  

A smack landed.  

“Ahhh!!!” Song Wuli let out a marmot-like scream.  

Huang Yijun was startled. Seeing Song Wuli’s teary-eyed, pained expression—a 34-year-old man in tears looked pitiful, not fake.  

Were hemorrhoids that bad?  

Did it vary by person?  

Huang Yijun, full of doubt, apologized.  

Suddenly, an air raid siren blared.  

In this era, it meant something else—a demon attack.  

Sure enough, a phone alert popped up, warning of a demon attack and urging residents to take shelter.  

Song Wuli got up from the bench, looking at Huang Yijun.  

Huang showed his phone, which had the same demon attack alert.  

Receiving this meant a demon was nearby, already spotted by authorities and being engaged.  

The sudden event sent the office into chaos, with colleagues buzzing.  

Those who’d left work were relieved; those still at the company were anxious.  

Demons—terrifying creatures that claimed two-thirds of humanity’s land, forcing humans onto the remaining third and slashing the population.  

Humans, demons, and magical girls formed a closed ecosystem.  

Demons crushed humans, who couldn’t harm them with conventional weapons.  

Magical girls dealt massive bonus damage to demons.  

But humans forced magical girls to hide their identities.  

Don’t be fooled by how easily magical girls killed low-level demons—those demons treated humans like a dad beating his kid.  

The copywriting team’s work chat shared a few videos.  

Song Wuli watched them all.  

They were filmed by others.  

At the subway station, someone captured a demon rampaging on the street, killing on sight, flattening people with one punch.  

That was just a basic attack, no skills used.  

Security forces were maintaining order, evacuating nearby civilians.  

The special task force arrived—the city’s main unit for handling demons.  

They rode jeeps equipped with large-caliber autocannons, firing at the over-two-meter-tall demon.  

Each bullet was nearly as long as a forearm, with a casing as wide as three thumbs side-by-side.  

A hit from one could tear a human apart.  

These were meant for military armored vehicles but were now mounted on jeeps.  

Each shot made the jeep shake violently, showing the bullets’ terrifying power.  

Yet, they couldn’t kill the demon, only piercing its skin for minor damage.  

These were for containment, using high mobility to herd the demon to a designated spot for an ambush.  

The real killing power came from two small trucks carrying massive sniper cannons, rivaling battleship guns.  

Mounted on trucks for mobility, they had little defense.  

The setup looked absurd but was hard-earned through human lives.  

Mobility was critical against demons.  

No helicopters were deployed yet—just ground forces.  

Before the sniper trucks could act, the demon bolted, darting through the streets, flipping cars, and tearing out their occupants.  

That was the video circulating in the team’s chat.  

The demon was less than two kilometers away.  

Now’s the time! The grand stage for Magical Girl Yinlin!  

Song Wuli rushed to his desk, grabbed his briefcase, and touched the wand—but hesitated.  

Wait, this is a magical girl’s job, not mine. 

Why get involved?  

“A magical girl’s here!” a colleague shouted nearby.  

What? 

I haven’t even transformed yet!