By the time the enemy drew near, their preparations lay in place like traps in tall grass. Watching the zealots chase the Witches, they stayed calm, waiting like hunters at dusk.

One hundred meters, ninety, seventy—the count dropped like pebbles in a well.

Witches on the ridge set their scopes, cold as moonlight on steel. Others primed charges like wasp nests, and some had already planted mines like teeth in the earth.

“Close enough,” Zhurong murmured, the words striking like flint.

Zhurong motioned to her crew, her hand slicing the air like a blade. They saw the boss’s sign and nodded like reeds in wind.

The enemy kept after the Witches, tireless as hounds on a trail. They never noticed the cul-de-sac, a canyon mouth like a wolf’s grin.

Step by step they fed into the valley like cattle into a chute, while the Witches slipped to the safe zone like water finding a hollow.

The moment boots crossed the line, hidden fangs bit—mines under dirt like coiled snakes.

Boom—thunder cracked the earth, a drumbeat in stone.

The outcome wrote itself, bodies flipping skyward like rag dolls in a gale.

“All units, fire!” The shout snapped like a whip in dry air.

Witches on the ridge raised rifles, and bullets swarmed like hornets. Charges rained down like hail, and blasts bloomed on the ground like iron flowers.

The enemy grabbed guns and spit energy like sparks, ready to strike back. Then they saw the high ground held the Witches like hawks on a cliff, while they floundered below like fish in a basin.

“Damn it, ambush!” The cry tore out like a strangled crow.

Too late to wake up—the barrage drowned them like a boat under a waterfall. Their fight was gone, beaten flat like grain under a flail.

The winner stood beyond doubt, a verdict carved in stone.

“Not bad. You’re good at calling a fight.” The praise landed like a hand on a shoulder.

Zhurong gave Yun Shi a nod and a smile, warm as campfire embers. She respects the respectable, iron answering iron; that’s how she moves.

“Just luck. If their commander were sharp, I’d be fresh out of tricks.” Her voice eased like rain thinning to mist.

Yun Shi said it tiredly, smoke after a blaze instead of pride. It wasn’t modesty; it was truth laid bare like bone. They lacked a keen hand on the tiller, which split a gap like cracking ice. Otherwise she’d have woven a finer web.

“Either way, we owe this to her.” The words sat heavy, a stone of credit.

Andrea holstered her weapon and glanced at Yun Shi, a line steady as ink.

“Mizuki, you’ve still got a lot to learn.” The reminder rang like a bell.

“Yes, I’ll give it my all!” Her answer sparked like flint catching tinder.

Mizuki said it brimming with drive, a runner coiled on the line.

“Annoying little pests… but not a bad job.” The grudging praise twisted like a grimace.

Teng Liu waved her people over, her arm sweeping like a broom, ready to clean the field.

This side’s foes were wiped out, victory bright as noon. Not long after the bodies fell, Rebecca led her unit back to camp, and found it hollow like an empty shell.

“Don’t tell me…” The thought crept in like frost.

A bad hunch pricked Rebecca, a thorn under the nail.

After any fight comes cleanup, like sweeping ash from a hearth. Yun Shi urged speed, her reason hard as flint: pull out before the enemy returns.

That’s why she drew them here, like channeling floodwater into a dry gully. It wasn’t only baiting a fight; she feared Rebecca’s returning unit would crash into it like a storm front. Lure them here, kill the pursuers, and dodge the coming wave.

“Alright, we pull back!” The call cracked like a flag in wind.

They’d smashed a hostile post, a hammer-blow ringing like a bell. Better to leave before a larger force rolled in like thunder, which was the right cut by the book.

As they moved to go, a shrill cry knifed from the valley like a hawk’s scream. Heads lifted as a monster-bird beat closer, shadow wide as a sail, a woman crouched on its back.

“Kananin Rin…?” The name trailed like a thread in wind.

Yun Shi froze in surprise, breath hitting snow. Why was Kananin Rin here, after she’d vanished like tracks in rain?

No time to think. The sky-beast shrieked and belched fire downward like a falling comet.

Boom—fire splashed across rock like molten petals.

Weaker than the mines, a lighter hammer, but the high arc punched down like rain through thatch, and ground defense felt full of holes.

“Damn it, what freak is this woman! I’ll have her torn limb from limb!” Teng Liu’s snarl cracked like ice on a river.

No one burned hotter than Teng Liu, who’d just won only to hit a nail in her boot.

“Form Four, Demon Eagle!” The call rose like a spell from the gut.

No one could reach the sky, so Mizuki didn’t hesitate. She had Elana shift into a Demon Eagle and bore her up like a sudden gust.

“A yokai? No—an Artifact Spirit, figures.” Her judgment cut clean as a knife.

At first, Kananin Rin found Mizuki’s Demon Eagle strange, a familiar sigil in another hand. Yokai arts were Kananin Family secrets, shut tight like a sealed box. She first assumed Mizuki used such arts, but that thought cracked like thin ice. Then she pegged it as an Artifact Spirit. Artifact Spirits hold unknown power, so oddities sprout from them like mushrooms after rain.

People watched two monsters duel in the sky, wheeling like kites in a storm. They smashed together midair, striking sparks like flint and steel.

Grounded onlookers could only watch, hands tied like stones. Then Kananin Rin banked her mount toward them and fired a shot like a streak of fire.

“What the hell is that madwoman doing!” The shout jumped like a spark to tinder.

“She’s Kananin Rin, head of the Kananin Family. She’s close with the Divine Ling Family and the Four Pupils Clan, so attacking us tracks.” The answer fell like stones in a bucket.

The monster-bird fired again, streaks like meteors burning air. They dodged like grass in wind, unable to return fire, anger swelling like a storm cloud.

Yun Shi caught a rhythm under the taunts, a hidden drumbeat. Each strike chased her position like a hawk shadowing prey.

“Could it be…” The thought flickered like lightning behind her eyes.

Her gut said the target was her, a cold arrow under the ribs.

She saw Mizuki slipping behind in the sky, a kite losing wind. Yun Shi moved.

She spun and ran for the valley mouth, a black fox cutting through brush, the move reading like a retreat.

“Hey, what’s she doing—running?” Confusion buzzed like a hive.

They soon saw Kananin Rin break off from Mizuki and veer after Yun Shi, a falcon driving on its quarry. Her aim was clear as daylight.

“You got my hint, Night Phantom. No wonder you’re the Underworld’s most infamous powerhouse.” Her sneer slid in like a cold wind.

Kananin Rin scoffed inwardly and gave chase, relentless as a hunting hawk. The black-cloaked girl burned her scant Mystic Power, blinking in short hops like a flickering star. Her intent was clear as arrow marks on bark: lure Rin to better ground.

Mizuki moved to pursue, but Elana checked her with a hand like a bar. “Don’t go, Mizuki.”

“But…” The word trembled like a plucked string.

“I’ve got a feeling she’ll be fine.” The assurance settled like a warm cloak.

Eyes followed the monster-bird chasing the girl, like crows tailing a kite. Then ranks of the Church marched from the valley, a tide of robes and steel. They couldn’t linger under that shadow, so they broke off and left like leaves on swift water.