Ye Jinyi walked along the street, watching the smiling pedestrians pass by her one after another, and felt nothing but overwhelming eeriness.
Was this the world she had created with her own hands?
Standing in the middle of the road, Ye Jinyi raised her left hand and looked at the Red Rose Ring on her ring finger.
“It turned white…”
Ye Jinyi didn’t know what that meant exactly.
All she knew was that when she looked at it, a vague hollowness rose in her chest—like something was gripping her heart, trying to drag her into the depths of the sea.
She lowered her hand and continued wandering through the city.
In a cramped space, Huimengyi stared through the glass at everything outside.
She noticed that the boundaries of the glass always stayed locked to Ye Jinyi.
No matter where Ye Jinyi went, the glass followed her.
But ever since Ye Jinyi left the bedroom, no matter how loudly she tried to call out, it seemed Ye Jinyi couldn’t hear her at all.
And when she saw that every pedestrian outside had also been bound by these threads, Huimengyi finally understood—her organization hadn’t been wrong. Ye Jinyi really was a calamity, an ultimate calamity.
And it was her own reckless decision that had made it real.
Everyone had become complete puppets—even she herself had been locked inside this prison of Ye Jinyi’s making.
Huimengyi crouched in the corner of the enclosed space, hugging her knees, tears streaming down her cheeks.
“Why? Why is everything I do always wrong?”
“Why? Why can’t I feel happy no matter what I try?”
Outside Guiyun City.
The military had already sealed off every road.
All flights and transportation routes through Guiyun City had now been forcibly shut down.
The new governor of Wen’an Province had flown in and was now stationed in a temporary metal command hut.
The state had ordered him to replace the former governor to handle this calamity crisis.
In truth, the new governor was just a scapegoat to take the fall.
At this point, it was no longer something the young magical girls could handle alone.
This had become a nationwide war—everyone had to become a soldier in it.
A whole city had already been swallowed by the calamity. No one knew if a second city would follow.
On the way here from the capital, the governor had reviewed extensive data about Guiyun City from before the calamity broke out.
Sitting in the metal hut, he looked out the window at the black curtain that covered nearly the entire visible skyline, feeling a profound sense of awe.
At the very least, this time the disaster was visible—unlike the Flame That Burns the World back then.
Everyone who had seen that disaster had died, and those who survived had never truly witnessed it.
But this time was different.
This calamity allowed people to stay alive and watch it happen.
The governor pulled his gaze away from the window.
He had already seen the true form of this disaster—there was no need to waste any more time on it.
“Bian Yu, come here.”
He called over his secretary.
“I heard that not long ago, someone discovered the Flame That Burns the World, that old world-level calamity. Supposedly, its location was right here in Guiyun City.”
“That’s true,” Bian Yu replied, then pulled out his tablet and opened a directory to hand over.
The governor quickly reviewed the file his secretary had given him, then returned it.
“Do you think there’s a possibility… that this calamity was never meant to be called the ‘Flame That Burns the World’?”
“Governor Chu, what do you mean by that?”
Bian Yu sensed there was more behind the governor’s words.
He probably hadn’t asked for the documents just to review them.
Chu Lingyun took out his phone and handed over a surveillance frame he had captured.
“This footage was transmitted ten seconds before the outbreak of the calamity.”
“It records what was captured as the so-called ‘Flame That Burns the World’—this is the final sequence from its activity log in subspace.”
Bian Yu said nothing, silently watching the video frame by frame until the end.
In the final moments, massive ice thorns spread out from beneath the feet of the blonde girl in the footage—then the image froze there.
“You’re saying… this calamity is also the work of the Flame That Burns the World?”
“Is that all you can see?”
Chu Lingyun cast a glance at Bian Yu, then lit a cigarette and took a drag.
Hearing the governor’s rebuke, Bian Yu had no choice but to continue her analysis.
“That white-haired girl in the purple dress from the footage shouldn’t have appeared in that subspace. That space was supposedly designed to contain only one calamity from beginning to end.”
Chu Lingyun removed the cigarette from his lips, tapped off the ash, and continued, “That girl is the magical girl who reported the location of the calamity. The state has her on file. Her name is Huimengyi, codename Yingmeng. She’s a G-rank magical girl.”
“What? G-rank?!”
Bian Yu thought she must’ve misheard.
G-rank?
That rank even exists?
Seeing the confusion on Bian Yu’s face, Chu Lingyun explained, “She’s the only G-rank magical girl in the entire country. It’s normal you haven’t heard of it. That rank was created specifically for her—mainly because her abilities perform so poorly in combat. She was demoted to G-rank just two months ago.”
“I see…” Bian Yu was visibly embarrassed.
She wiped the sweat from her forehead and continued analyzing.
“So Huimengyi—why would she report the calamity’s location, then turn around and go after it herself? Her logic from start to finish… I honestly can’t make sense of it.”
“Maybe… it’s out of guilt?”
Chu Lingyun gave his own answer.
“Didn’t she and that calamity call each other sisters? In other words, she might genuinely believe it’s just an ordinary little girl, not some so-called calamity. Honestly, it’s that creature’s appearance—it’s far too deceptive.”
“Bian Yu, I don’t want you to be like her—letting emotions cloud your judgment. Understand?”
“Understood,” Bian Yu answered without hesitation.
She knew this was a test of loyalty.
She had to respond quickly, or her position wouldn’t be secure.
No one would keep a subordinate who lacked loyalty.
“Good. Now tell me—what’s the relationship between this calamity and the Flame That Burns the World?”
Chu Lingyun wanted to see how his secretary viewed the situation.
Without pausing, Bian Yu gave her response: “Actually, all the names of the calamities are defined by us humans—they’re not their real names. Just like how we name a dog, but does the dog actually recognize itself as being called that? It’s something we’ll never know.”
“Not bad!”
Chu Lingyun immediately pressed the half-smoked cigarette into the ashtray and extinguished it.
“For far too long, we’ve been arrogant—like oviraptors stealing eggs. We name the world based on our own biases, without ever considering how those things might feel. It wasn’t until I saw that blonde-haired girl that I truly understood: even a calamity can possess emotions.”
“Of course, that doesn’t mean I sympathize with a calamity that only looks like a girl.”
As he spoke, Chu Lingyun’s hand clenched tightly into a fist.
“In a single night, it took 4.05 million lives—just like that. That’s unforgivable. But I have to find a way to deal with it. Only by understanding it can we destroy it. And even if we can’t destroy it… we must try to control it.”
