Chapter 46: If I Get Caught, My Life’s Over  

Morning came. Song Wuli got up to pee, locking eyes with Diamond, who was awake.  

“Morning,” Song Wuli greeted, scratching an itchy spot under his shirt.  

“Morning, cough cough,” Diamond replied, hacking.  

It was watching TV, volume low to avoid waking him.  

The news still covered yesterday’s high-level demon standoff, broadcast all night.  

The battle was a stalemate, no winner yet.  

After peeing, Song Wuli joined Diamond in the living room, watching while ordering takeout.  

“What do you want?” he asked.  

Diamond: “Fried dumplings.”  

“Who eats dumplings this early? Pick something else.”  

“Fried dumplings.”  

“Fine.” He gave in, ordering buns and soy milk—cheap and easy—plus dumplings for Diamond.  

The news hit a lull; both sides were exhausted, like a halftime break.  

Humans lost a dozen helicopters, all shot down, with over twenty casualties—not too bad.  

The demon had minor scratches, two shield layers broken.  

The wildfire on the hill was out, extinguished at the base.  

The hill was now bald, ugly.  

The high-level demon couldn’t hide anymore, exposed to humans.  

Takeout arrived as the action picked up.  

They ate fast, eyes on the news.  

Humans brought in heavy artillery, shelling from 30 kilometers out—too far for the demon to hit back. Ground troops pulled back.  

It was a one-sided beatdown, artillery hammering the demon.  

Song Wuli could faintly hear explosions from his place.  

The demon raised a shield, tanking hundreds of shells without a scratch, then started moving down the hill.  

Its speed was wild—stronger than low-level demons.  

Don’t think magic-specialized meant frail like Yinlin.  

It ran too fast for artillery to track.  

At the hill’s base, shelling stopped. Ground troops in vehicles chased, firing armor-piercing rounds.  

Out of twenty shots, one hit directly, the rest grazing, rippling the demon’s shield.  

It kept running, avoiding direct combat. Mobility was key—trucks could keep up, but tanks were too slow.  

“This demon’s got some brains, or someone’s directing it,” Song Wuli noted.  

Diamond agreed: “Yeah, Lightning Man’s probably nearby, calling the shots.”  

The demon wasn’t in a killing frenzy, which was surprising.  

Song Wuli sensed a bigger game at play.  

The news expert was censored multiple times, nearly spilling human tactics.  

Though muted, Song Wuli knew: magical girls hadn’t shown, likely waiting to swoop in after humans wore the demon down.  

The demon wasn’t going all-out, possibly conserving mana, baiting magical girls to ambush them.  

Humans knew the demon wasn’t taking them seriously, so they hit hard while it held back.  

A weird three-way dynamic emerged.  

Not good—the demon showed high intelligence.  

Diamond asked: “Yin, you really not going? People will die.”  

Song Wuli: “Nope. It’s obviously a trap.”  

He wanted to take out Lightning Man, the puppet master, not jump into a setup.  

Jinluan and Huanhong weren’t fighting either—why should he?  

Still, he transformed. He had work to do.  

Not just for money, but to win the bet with the Contract Goddess and knock her down a peg.  

Seeing him transform, Diamond thought Yinlin was joining the fight, but her actions got weirder.  

She hid in the bedroom, avoiding Diamond.  

She stripped, and Diamond assumed she was changing into her cosplay outfit.  

Instead, she pulled out thick Band-Aids, sticking them over her chest in an “X” shape, doubling up.  

Two more went below.  

Then she slipped into her cosplay outfit, ready for the milk tea shop.  

This wasn’t some fetish—the bet with the Goddess demanded it:  

[No underwear, including safety shorts, just the usual cosplay outfit, work at the milk tea shop at least 8 hours daily. If you don’t get exposed in 48 hours, you win.]  

A bizarre bet, overly specific, like a trap was baked in.  

Determined to humiliate the Goddess, Song Wuli took it on, no backing down.  

Just 48 hours? No big deal.  

The Goddess wouldn’t let Yinlin get exposed—that’d end her magical girl career.  

Song Wuli was 98% sure he’d win.  

Checking the mirror, his chest looked fine—the thick Band-Aids worked.  

Below was discreet; the skirt wasn’t see-through.  

As long as he avoided flashing or upskirt shots, he was golden.  

Bumped his odds to 99%.  

Off he went!  

No flying—too risky. One glance up, and Yinlin’s life was over.  

He wore casual clothes, took public transit to No. 8 Milk Tea Shop, and changed into the cosplay outfit in the back room.  

9 a.m., shop open!  

The breeze below was chilly—AC air bounced off the floor, sneaking up.  

It felt like wearing nothing, awkward as hell.  

Walking caused slight friction, throwing off his gait.  

First time working the morning shift. The owner, grinning, sent him to open the door, saying it was for the fans.  

It did feel ceremonial.  

Song Wuli didn’t refuse. At the glass door, he saw the long queue outside, many familiar faces.  

Why were they so obsessed with milk tea? Didn’t they have jobs or school?  

Grumbling inwardly, he pulled the door open.  

A sudden gust hit, lifting his skirt.  

Ten seconds into work, was the bet over?  

No way!  

Yinlin was 1000% ready. Sensing the wind, she moved faster than ever.  

Legs clamped, left hand pressed the front, right hand the back.  

The gust pushed the skirt to thigh-level, but her hands held it down.  

Seconds later, the wind died.  

Yinlin survived her first crisis, no flash.