When Yinlin arrived, the tentacle monster suddenly wriggled rapidly toward her.
Startled, Yinlin instinctively fled, running for a few seconds before realizing that thing was just a shadow illusion—no physical form.
Only then did she stop.
The tentacle monster halted as well, its long, wet tentacles passing right through her, as if attempting a loving embrace, but failing to do so.
“Is this guy the one handling your… physiological problems?” Yinlin couldn’t help but tease, probing for information.
The Contract Goddess replied, “You’ll find out later.”
This time, she no longer hid her voice—it was exactly the same as Yinlin’s, as if one person was asking and answering herself.
Yinlin walked behind the Tree Hollow and continued the topic: “Is it your boyfriend or your girlfriend?”
The Contract Goddess still refused to answer: “You guess.”
She entered the Tree Hollow, a place filled with a stifling atmosphere.
Inside was pitch dark; only their breathing could be heard.
Yinlin said, “Still afraid I’ll peek? Not turning on the lights?”
Contract Goddess: “Do it yourself. Test your guess.”
Sometimes chatting with yourself is troublesome.
Since you know yourself inside and out, understanding what’s on your mind, it becomes difficult to hide many things.
Yinlin began experimenting, trying once more to cast magic empty-handed.
Sure enough, she couldn’t.
What she had in mind was this: although she couldn’t use lighting magic herself, she could try to replicate the effect by charging a mana cannon.
That thing automatically draws a Magic Circle, and the Magic Circle emits light, thus mimicking a light bulb’s illumination.
But without a magic wand, casting magic was impossible.
At least, for her current self, it was impossible.
Then, suddenly, a light appeared before her eyes—the Contract Goddess had cast a Lighting Spell.
“When will I learn to cast spells empty-handed?” Yinlin had noticed last time that the Contract Goddess cast the Lighting Spell without using a wand.
If this was her future self, that meant she would eventually learn to cast spells without a wand, right?
“Still need some time,” the Contract Goddess replied, uttering another vague answer.
Yinlin crouched down, carefully examining the girl firmly bound by tree roots.
Her gaze fixed on the mysterious area beneath the skirt, inspecting from several angles—even lying on the ground—but still couldn’t get a clear view.
That area was precisely blocked by the roots, like a natural mosaic.
“Can you not be so creepy?” The Contract Goddess looked at her sprawled on the ground, staring relentlessly at her crotch, both amused and exasperated.
“So, can you just tell me plainly—have I been taken?” Yinlin was very curious about this question.
“You’ll find out later.” The Contract Goddess once again dodged the question.
This was why Yinlin hadn’t asked her directly but instead stared at that area for several minutes, confirming it was blocked by the roots and impossible to see before finally asking.
Suddenly, she thought of another way to check—moving to the side, she compared the size of the Contract Goddess’s chest.
Measuring with her hand, then comparing it with her own chest.
The size was the same, no growth, no signs of development.
“Had enough playing? If so, let’s get to business,” the Contract Goddess sighed, finding her rather childish.
Yinlin said, “You already know what I’m going to ask, don’t you?”
Contract Goddess: “If you want the answer, just ask. This is just a formality; the formality can’t be skipped.”
Yinlin: “Got it. Just bored out of my mind, looking for something to do, counting on me to come here and entertain you. I’ll be direct—I want you to teach me the next magic, the City Combat Magic.”
The Contract Goddess smiled playfully: “Sir, what’s the proper attitude when asking for a favor? Do I even need to teach you?”
Yinlin was clearly having fun now, clearly bored and had found a toy here.
Watching herself from a third-person perspective felt disgusting, and she really wanted to slap herself, venting all her past anger.
At this moment, Yinlin knew this Contract Goddess was undeniably a bitch—both inside and out.
“Please, honorable Contract Goddess, teach your humble servant. It’s time to learn a more fitting magic.” Yinlin read the line flatly.
They played house like this.
She faintly felt there was a chance this time.
Ten minutes later, after playing and pleasing that bitch to satisfaction, the Contract Goddess finally agreed to teach something.
Before starting, the Contract Goddess asked, “Didn’t you say you would never become like me? You’re already following my old path.”
Yinlin probably hadn’t expected that woman to remember those words.
Putting aside her playful mood, Yinlin answered seriously: “Gaining the same power isn’t the problem. The issue is how to use this power.”
Contract Goddess: “Hah, excuses. You don’t want to completely change History because you know we can live a long time. You’re a dirty old thing—wanting to profit without taking responsibility.”
Yinlin shrugged: “Say whatever you want.”
Her face was thick enough—she couldn’t fool herself anyway, so admitting it was fine.
The Contract Goddess warned, “You and I walk the same path, but I failed to control the time separated from History. By the time I wanted to deviate, it was already too late.”
Yinlin understood what she meant.
If the story continued as is, Yinlin could live for a long time, always standing undefeated against the aberrations.
As long as History wasn’t changed.
So when was the best time to change History?
That would be after taking full advantage of knowing the Future, gaining enough Benefit from the Contract Goddess, and when about to fall into the current dead-end, breaking free from History and doing everything possible to change it.
That was Yinlin’s plan.
But doing so risked things spiraling out of control, turning her into the half-dead state seen now.
This was the real contest between Yinlin and the Contract Goddess.
The Contract Goddess hoped she would follow the old path, maintaining the normal flow of History.
So no matter what Yinlin did, as long as it fit History, she would accept it.
But Yinlin didn’t want to follow the old path anymore; she needed to see through the false information given by the Contract Goddess and escape before things became irreversible.
How to identify the moment about to be taken advantage of but not yet exposed?
That was their contest.
After some thought, the Contract Goddess finally taught her.
Because this was the correct History—in the past, the current Contract Goddess had asked another Contract Goddess the same question, and that Contract Goddess had given the same answers and taught new things.
So now, the Contract Goddess would teach Yinlin these new things.
Some new knowledge and a precise, lethal attack magic: the Spear of Gungnir.
Just as the Contract Goddess began to explain, Yinlin interrupted, “Can’t you come up with a more unique name? I’m tired of hearing that one.”
Contract Goddess: “I’m just following the script. The official name is exactly what you’re thinking now: Spear of Creation.”
The Contract Goddess went on to explain that to learn this magic, certain prerequisite talents were needed.
First, she had to learn more formal Magic Attribute Conversion and Magic Construction.
At first, Yinlin didn’t think much of it, assuming it was just a simple matter of learning prerequisite talents.