Chapter 103: Can You Explain It in Terms a Vocational School Student Can Understand?

One advantage of working at a game company is that you get to see all sorts of bizarre skills and attack moves.

There was the Leopard Boy who used lion dance as an attack skill;

the White-haired Uncle wielding a motorcycle as a weapon;

and the Sunny Boy who treated his mechanical prosthetic arm like a grappling claw.

With her rich gaming experience, Song Wuli had already formed some guesses about the enemy’s abilities after just a few encounters.

Before making any important speculation, she forced herself to get up.

A heavy pressure came down on her body again, and she started to lose mobility, collapsing helplessly.

However, she was already very familiar with this move.

Gritting her teeth, she grabbed her staff and took flight, escaping the area.

Sure enough, after flying about 100 meters away, the oppressive weight vanished.

Now temporarily safe, Yinlin began to recall her deductions.

The enemy wielded some kind of Gravity Magic, with an effective range of 100 meters.

Within that 100-meter radius, gravity was increased many times over, pressing people down so heavily they couldn’t lift their heads.

It was a control-type skill—terrifying to behold but not lethal.

Guessing numbers offhand, she estimated the gravity was increased about tenfold.

She had no real concept of what ten times gravity meant; it was just a rough estimate based on that heavy but non-fatal feeling.

She glanced back at the huge pit crushed into the ground.

That was the enemy’s second move, with an effective radius of only 50 meters.

This attack could crush almost anything within that range.

Again, she guessed roughly—probably over 500 times normal gravity.

Still, she felt the actual figure might be even higher.

She would have to ask the glasses guy for confirmation.

Yinlin ascended higher, surpassing the 100-meter mark, and continued climbing while staying vigilant.

For now, she labeled the enemy’s skill as Gravity Magic.

Her extraordinary perception suppressed the enemy’s gravity magic tightly.

Any slightest fluctuation in mana revealed the enemy’s intentions to her immediately.

When she was about 180 meters away, she sensed a different kind of mana fluctuation and guessed the enemy was about to act again.

As expected, she felt a slight pressure, though it wasn’t strong.

She was forced to lower her altitude briefly but quickly stabilized her flight posture.

Once she flew beyond 200 meters, the pressure disappeared, and everything returned to normal.

From this, she obtained new intel.

The enemy could also influence up to 200 meters, though likely only able to impose around three times gravity at that distance.

This guy was basically a nightmare for close combat, especially against Jinluan.

Facing Jinluan, it would be like a father beating his son.

And with Yinlin’s ultra-long-range strike capability, she might just be this enemy’s “father.”

If the enemy couldn’t fly, then Yinlin would be the big boss here.

She kept climbing, only firing a mana cannon once she reached 300 meters, targeting the position where she detected the enemy’s mana.

The enemy sensed Yinlin’s mana fluctuation and guessed the cannon shot.

The ground there dented deeply again, crushed more than twenty meters down—flattened almost beyond recognition.

When the mana cannon reached about 50 meters from that thing, it suddenly plummeted, its flight path forcibly altered, crashing vertically into the ground.

She’d guessed right—it wasn’t so easy to break through the enemy’s absurd magic.

The explosion left a half crater, which was very strange.

The Gravity Magic acted like a protective shield: outside the shield, the ground was blasted into a huge pit, but inside the shield, the ground was compressed and peeled like skin, becoming as hard as metal.

Within this ridiculous gravity magic’s effective radius, even the shockwave from the explosion couldn’t spread, let alone the milky-white explosion ring, which was forcibly stopped at the 50-meter boundary.

A 5% power mana cannon was utterly useless.

Damn it, she wanted to fire a real big shot!

Taking out her phone to write a request form, she suddenly received a message from the glasses guy, Huang Yi, sent a few minutes earlier.

[The incident from the other day—the one where someone got crushed flat—that was this. Don’t engage with the enemy.]

[Our experts calculated that to cause such damage in such a short time, it would require a force exceeding one billion newtons.]

A huge question mark appeared on her face.

One billion newtons?

What does that even mean?

What kind of concept is that?

She quickly sent a voice message: “Can you explain it in terms a vocational school student can understand?”

She continued charging mana, planning to fire at 20% power this time.

The thing underground started moving again, retreating at a speed just a little faster than the human sprinting limit.

Yinlin continued to follow.

Her phone vibrated again; Huang Yi sent a concise message.

A picture of Yinlin, followed by an image of a hydraulic press, then a tissue paper pack.

This was such a cruel joke—vocational school students would definitely understand this.

She sent another voice message: “I’m currently engaged with it. My preliminary guess is some kind of gravity-controlling magic. I’ve confirmed its effective range is about 50 meters, extendable to 100 meters but with only one ten-thousandth—or even less—of its power. It can reach 200 meters but at negligible power.”

Huang Yi responded with a message: [Don’t engage under unclear intel.]

Yinlin frowned; there was more meaning buried in that sentence than just caution.

She sent a voice message: “If I avoid fighting, it will run away. And it might attack more people. Several have already died.”

She kept chasing it in the air, maintaining a 300-meter distance.

The enemy couldn’t conceal its mana fluctuations and was locked firmly in her sights.

Huang Yi messaged again: [Watch carefully, do not get close.]

This made Yinlin uneasy again.

She shot straight: “What if it’s planning to do something evil? What if it’s going to attack humans? I’m still watching.”

A few seconds later, Huang Yi replied: [Yes, watch.]

Yinlin’s breathing quickened—she understood his meaning now.

Fearing she wouldn’t get it, Huang Yi sent a blunt, explicit message:

[If you don’t have confidence to kill it, don’t take action. Watch closely, find its weakness, and try to find its vulnerability before everyone in this city is killed.]

After a pause, another message came: [Right now, you have greater strategic value.]

Though it sounded like caring words, they chilled her as if she was standing inside a freezer.

Yinlin kept charging her mana without pause.

Her thoughts wandered—since becoming Yinlin, she had grown cold and somewhat indifferent toward humans.

But Huang Yi’s words were even colder, almost bordering on betrayal.

Another message arrived from Huang Yi: [Don’t misunderstand, we’re not just standing by. The special task force is almost here.]

Yinlin finally let out a slight sigh of relief.

Huang Yi still wanted to win, was considering many factors, and humans just needed to follow the plan.

Thinking that, she became nervous again.

Wasn’t the special task force coming just to die?

Could there be some way to deal with it?

Huang Yi wasn’t trying to sacrifice ordinary civilians—he wanted to sacrifice the special task force?

Thinking it over, it actually seemed possible.

The special task force and the magical girls were enemies; those witches who were close to the magical girls were, naturally, in a weakly hostile relationship with the task force.