That day, people once again remembered the fear of being ruled by aberrations.
It had been a long time since such a horrific event occurred—the last time was the Qianlong Island incident.
Even Lightning Man hadn’t caused this much chaos. Lightning Man only targeted magical girls, especially Yin Lin.
He didn’t cause massive damage to ordinary civilians.
But the severity of last night’s incident ranked just below the Qianlong Island incident in recent history.
After an all-night investigation: 26 people missing, 5 confirmed dead.
Why only 5 dead but 26 missing?
Because the remains of those 26 people haven’t been pieced together yet, and their identities remain unconfirmed.
Even the seasoned mortuary staff and forensic experts couldn’t handle the gory scene.
This kind of death—they had never seen before.
As for the security personnel on-site, they fared even worse—shaking, weak-kneed, needing support just to stand.
The families of the missing collapsed nearby in grief, some breaking through the barricade to move rubble, trying to recover remains.
With one pull, the body parts dissolved.
The family member fainted on the spot and was carried away by medics.
Some photos from the scene began circulating online.
Just as the authorities were about to mobilize to scrub the images, they found that the spread was already slowing down.
Even those internet users who usually loved gossip and drama couldn’t stomach the images.
They tacitly chose not to share them.
When Song Wuli arrived at the company today, he looked utterly drained, with noticeable dark circles under his eyes.
Huang Yijun had been chatting gravely with some younger colleagues, but seeing Old Song’s exhausted state, he walked over.
“What’s wrong, Old Song? You don’t look so good,” Huang Yijun asked with concern.
It was rare to see Song Wuli in this state—no matter how often he worked overtime, he usually looked fine.
Song Wuli turned on his computer and sighed, “Didn’t sleep well last night. Thinking about work.”
Huang Yijun sincerely offered a bit of advice: “Old Song, I don’t say this often, but you really should take it easy. Don’t overwork yourself. Take care of your health.”
Song Wuli genuinely considered the advice.
He didn’t nod or shake his head, but his resolve was wavering.
Seeing his silence, Huang Yijun patted his shoulder and started chatting casually:
“Old Song, did you hear about what happened last night?”
Song Wuli’s pupils instantly widened, and sweat broke out on his face, palms, and feet.
Even his breathing turned rapid.
“Y-Yeah… I heard. Pretty scary,” Song Wuli said, not acting—his voice really did tremble.
A month ago, he was just an ordinary office worker.
No different from any other human—maybe just more skilled at working overtime and getting things done.
But after becoming a magical girl, the first thing he did wasn’t helping find lost pets or delivering letters—
His first mission was to fight aberrations.
And in less than a month, he had already fought low, mid, and high-level aberrations, and even killed a cadre-level one.
What most magical girls couldn’t achieve in a lifetime, he did in a month.
Looking back on it all, it was nothing but a 34-year-old man relying on life experience to hold it together.
After seeing something like last night’s scene, even a 34-year-old couldn’t cope.
Maybe in a few decades, by the time he’s 64, he’ll be able to face it all with a straight face.
Huang Yijun, seeing his reaction, got curious:
“You watched those uncensored videos and photos people shared? You’re really shaken.”
Song Wuli didn’t dare tell the truth—that he had seen the scene with his own eyes.
“Any news about what happened?” he asked, hoping his magical girl-obsessed colleague might have picked up something, “It was such a mess last night—what caused it?”
Perhaps surprised that Old Song suddenly showed interest, Huang Yijun froze for a moment.
Then after a bit of thought, he said, “It was probably done by an aberration. That’s what all the civilian rumors say.”
Song Wuli: “No shit. If not an aberration, what, a magical girl did it?”
“Hey, funny you say that—there are rumors like that,” Huang Yijun suddenly laughed, a silly, honest grin on his face.
“Some say it was done by our Heavenly Father and Holy Maiden Yin Lin. Someone claims to have seen our Lord at the scene.”
Given Yin Lin’s terrifying destructive power, it was technically possible.
Still, few believed Yin Lin was the one who did it.
The crime scene didn’t match her methods.
If it were Yin Lin, fragile human bodies would have been vaporized, not left in pieces.
And the ground would show standard signs of explosions—not look like it had been flattened by a 50-meter-wide coin.
Song Wuli: “Do you believe that?”
Huang Yijun immediately answered: “Of course not. But the Human Alliance did say they want our Heavenly Father Yin Lin to cooperate with an investigation at the Public Safety Bureau. That might be why people think she did it.”
“Old Huang, there’s something I’ve been meaning to say,” Song Wuli looked at him calmly.
“What? Just say it. We’re close. No need to hold back,” Huang Yijun replied cheerfully.
Song Wuli: “When you talk, can you not always refer to her as your ‘Heavenly Father’ and ‘Holy Maiden’? I know she’s your Lord and Savior, but you don’t need to say it every time.”
Huang Yijun: “But if I don’t say it all the time, how will anyone know how devoted I am?”
Looking at his outfit—T-shirt and cap both printed with Yin Lin’s face—it was obvious who his idol was.
To anyone.
Song Wuli just found it embarrassing.
Not inspiring.
They chatted for a bit longer, with Song hinting more and more that he found Huang’s behavior annoying and should tone it down.
Huang promised he’d correct himself—he wouldn’t speak of the Heavenly Father anymore.
He’d keep her in his heart.
“Then I’m off to find Linlin,” he said next.
So that was his idea of correcting himself.
Back at his desk, he swapped out his offerings and started praying again.
Watching him obsess like that, Song Wuli became more and more worried.
If Yin Lin’s true identity were ever revealed, Huang Yijun might tear him apart in a rage.
The deeper the love, the deeper the hate when betrayal hits.
Work began.
Today, Old Song spent some time slacking off, looking into the official response to last night’s incident.
The Public Safety Bureau, in charge of the city’s peacekeeping, had indeed released a statement:
Magical girl Yin Lin was a possible witness and was requested to assist in the investigation.
No way Song Wuli was going—unless he wanted to get tased.
Then, around noon, Jin Luan sent him a message.
She said a bespectacled man from the Witch Faction had contacted her, asking about last night’s incident.
She even sent the guy’s chat contact info to Song Wuli.
Surprisingly, Song Wuli didn’t resist.
He used Yao Ruoning’s chat account to add the bespectacled man.
Thanks to the Witch Faction’s fierce opposition to various laws, most mobile apps didn’t require real-name verification.
In fact, there was even a bill saying real-name verification was illegal.
So using Yao Ruoning’s account to add a Witch Faction member wasn’t really dangerous.
It likely wouldn’t expose his identity.
After he added the contact, the bespectacled man’s first message instantly put Song Wuli on alert:
[“When you arrived, the target was already gone. You suspect the killer is intelligent—likely another cadre-level aberration, right?”]
Such confidence—daring to make assumptions.
And not far off from the truth.
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On my side I think the new guys could be behind this or have some link to this