Chapter 41: The Thought of a Ten-Thousand-Year-Old Purple Hag Kills My Vibe  

Yinlin was living on edge now.  

Let’s be real—Jinluan was stunning, a nearly expired beauty with a mature allure.  

As a girlfriend, she’d be top-tier. Song Wuli, in his male form, had definitely entertained the idea of pursuing her.  

Any guy who didn’t would need a hospital visit—serious issue, treat it early.  

Old Song never denied being a double-standard jerk. 

He’d thought about wooing her, but that didn’t mean he was cool with being wooed.  

Now, the idea of pursuing Jinluan was doused with ice water—sobering.  

Holding the new phone, he stared at the lone contact: Xia Shiyao.  

A shiver ran through him.  

Jinluan eyed the double-handed staff by the bed. 

“Not reverting? Maintaining transformation drains mana, bad for recovery.”  

Yinlin, coolly: “This tiny drain counts as consumption?”  

Sustaining her magical girl form used negligible mana—nothing for Yinlin.  

She could eat and sleep to recharge, potentially staying transformed forever.  

This was the truth, not just persona play.  

Jinluan sighed deeply, fists clenched.  

Yinlin’s mana pool was absurd; no one could compare.  

She could use her magical girl body casually, her reserves more than enough.  

Others couldn’t.  

Jinluan pressed: “Even with your mana, isn’t maintaining transformation a waste?”  

Yinlin leaned into her persona: “Does big sister find eating and drinking tiring?”  

Keeping the magical girl form was as effortless as eating or drinking.  

Jinluan dropped it, not overthinking, and let her be.  

After brief instructions, she left to recharge her mana.  

She was likely hiding her true identity, keeping “Xia Shiyao” from regular folks.  

Only a few probably knew her real self.  

With Jinluan gone, the deluxe VIP ward held just Diamond and Yinlin.  

A nurse came minutes later, swapped IV bags, and continued the drip.  

The nurse and Diamond exchanged glances; she playfully reached for Diamond, who dodged.  

The nurse smiled and left.  

Diamond curled up by the bed, locking eyes with Yinlin.  

“I want to see the Contract Goddess,” Yinlin said, scheming.  

“Didn’t you just see her?”  

“Missed her.”  

“Fine.”  

Diamond guided her, acting like a GPS to locate the Contract Goddess’s coordinates.  

In the hospital, calming her mind was harder, taking longer to enter a soul-projection state. She slipped through a rift to that mysterious realm.  

Her soul felt intact, uninjured, and moved freely.  

Seeing her feminine soul-body, she wondered: was this really a soul? It felt like a projection, a virtual avatar of her current form.  

Pinching it, she felt sensation—less like a projection, more like a tangible body.  

Looking up, she saw the towering tree dripping ominous black sap.  

No matter how you sliced it, it screamed “wrong.”  

Suddenly, tentacles burst from the ground. The octopus-like monster wasn’t just standing there this time—it slithered toward her, playing for keeps.  

Yinlin bolted, shouting: “Stop messing around! Let’s talk business!”  

No reply. 

She knew the Contract Goddess could hear—those tentacles weren’t some auto-defense system, right?  

She kept running, the octopus chasing.  

Her soul-like avatar had five senses, including a stamina limit.  

After a bit, she was nearly spent.  

She yelled: “Keep this up, and I’ll spread lies about you—green tea slut, whatever. 

Don’t blame me for slander!”  

That worked. The tentacles slowed, stopping.  

She halted, panting.  

“Is this really a soul? Why’s it got such vivid senses? Why’s running so taxing? Shouldn’t souls float?” she gasped.  

“Got business, spit it out. Otherwise, scram,” the Contract Goddess’s voice echoed, deliberately cutesy.  

Honestly, kinda… adorable.  

But imagining her as a thousands—or tens-of-thousands-year-old hag? 

Goosebumps. Some ancient granny acting young?  

“You don’t seem thrilled to see me,” Yinlin probed.  

“Think I didn’t hear you badmouthing me with hot takes?” The Goddess referenced the other night.  

Exhausted, Old Song had been joking with Diamond about hot takes.  

Like: “The Contract Goddess is my grandson.”  

Yinlin grinned awkwardly, about to explain.  

The Goddess cut in: “I know what you’re thinking. 

You trashed me to test how much I can monitor. 

As you see, I know everything about you.”  

Yinlin: “How? Got cameras in my house?”  

Goddess: “You’ll find out later.”  

Yinlin: “This makes me uneasy. You’re like a villain, scared I’ll slip your grasp.”  

Goddess: “Can’t tell you now. You’ll know eventually.”  

Yinlin: “If you won’t say anything, why bother talking?”  

Her tone held a hint of irritation. Even facing the revered Contract Goddess, Yinlin showed little deference.  

She was fishing, tugging for more intel, refusing to play along blindly.  

“No need for tricks—I see through you,” the Goddess said, voice chilling. 

She sounded annoyed too. “Two things you should’ve asked last time but didn’t. You’re too guarded.”  

Yinlin: “Contract beasts adore you, treat you like a god. My trust in you is near zero. Why would I spill everything?”  

Goddess: “We’ll build trust over time. No rush. Ask what you want.”  

Yinlin: “If you know me so well, do I need to ask?”  

Goddess: “White.”  

Yinlin blinked, caught off guard. “Second question.”  

Goddess: “Also white.”  

Yinlin: “Third question.”  

Goddess: “Age is a secret.”  

Yinlin: “Fourth question.”  

Goddess: “Yes.”  

Yinlin: “Huh? Male or female? Who?”  

The Goddess went silent, the air growing tense.  

Yinlin switched gears: “Seventh question.”  

Goddess: “Not mind-reading. You’ll find out later.”