Panic swarmed him; the fat man yanked the trigger.
The heavy machine gun spat azure sparks, like sea fire.
Seven‑millimeter rounds tore out at over eight hundred meters per second, sonic ripples shredding the air toward Little Rose.
Ratatat!
But every round slammed into Little Rose’s defense and died.
Water Wall!
A curtain of water stood in midair; liquid skin and surface tension swallowed their energy in a blink.
Shards fell like crushed eggshells to the floor. They couldn’t even scratch Little Rose.
Damn it!
Seeing that, the fat man dropped the gun and drew his field knife, bright as a boar’s tusk.
But Little Rose’s strike came on cue, like a falling comet.
Her red magic broom snapped into a long gun.
A long stock, a heavy trigger, lacquer in gold and crimson, roses carved along its skin.
A rifled musket, crafted like art, spat a deadly ray from her hands.
Wrath of the Red Rose!
What—!
A sharp red beam speared his chest in a blink.
He barely twitched; his eyes went round, and he crumpled like a felled bull.
Speak! Why are you in this factory, and what are you planning?
If you won’t talk, I’ll smash your skull to pulp.
The little witch leveled the rifled gun at his head, frosty and imperious.
If he kept silent, she’d send him off with a second shot.
I—I…
The fat man lowered his head in terror, disbelief fogging over his defeat.
You, what you? You’re just a five‑hundred‑thousand, a pebble under my boot.
…
Little Rose, move! Danger!
Yue Liuyi felt it—mana’s dark current gathering, all sluicing into the fat man’s body.
His body swelled, then shrank, then burst like an overripe fruit.
Pop!
Blinding violet light billowed out of him like a poisoned dawn.
The blast was fierce; it pulped him and tore his two lackeys to scraps.
Facing him head‑on, Little Rose caught the brunt of it.
Thank the moon, Yue Liuyi had pulled her back and raised a shield of wind.
Even so, the wave flung the two girls back like leaves.
They skidded two or three meters before their feet held.
Smoke spread, blood spattered, and the quiet warehouse foyer became wreckage.
Steadying herself, Yue Liuyi felt anger rise like a storm tide.
She hadn’t expected such black‑clad cruelty—poisons to stain the land, and malice for their own.
Little Rose, you okay?
Mm… little angel, I’m fine… ugh… what was that?
The red‑haired great witch shook her head, mind crawling back from the blast’s afterglow like a moth from flame.
Details later. The real enemy’s on his way.
Huh?
Rest a bit. Leave him to me.
As Yue Liuyi expected, when the glow thinned, the swaggering leader strode out, a cigar clenched between his teeth.
How’s the taste of a human bomb?
No mask, just shades; the curl at his mouth held a thin, mocking smirk.
Yue Liuyi set Little Rose behind her like a guarded sapling and spoke, her voice sharp as wind.
Are you the leader of this pack? Why poison the land? Why murder your own?
Wrong. Not comrades… They’re just my tools.
He snuffed the tip and flicked the butt to the floor like a dead firefly.
He moved as if pressing the fat man’s self‑destruct, cool and unhesitating.
I get it. Filth like you needs no trial—just die.
Even facing Wan Han, Yue Liuyi had never felt disgust like this.
The man in shades made her want to erase him, like wiping grime from a mirror.
Mana gathered like thunderheads, but at the sight of her poised strike, he laughed with contempt.
Ha… our great World Tree Maiden, and you’re not even running?
Huh… you…?
That blast carried a sedative brewed just for the World Tree Maiden… ah‑hahahaha!
He stared at the petite blue‑haired girl and let out a feral, crooked laugh, like a jackal at dusk.
