“Come—let’s count your sins, one by one.”

The words slipped in like a Daemon’s whisper, cold mist brushing Xing Wuneng’s ear.

His whole body jolted like a river struck by winter. Fear surged first; his finger twitched on the trigger. The RPG on his shoulder whooshed off by accident.

Red flame shoved the missile out like a dragon’s breath. It streaked straight toward Ling.

Boom.

A mushroom of dust billowed, and a hot wave slapped their faces like desert wind.

“D-did… did we get her?”

Xing Wuneng didn’t notice his voice shaking like a broken flute; terror gnawed first, words stumbled after.

Everyone mirrored his fear; the room fell tense and silent, only the wet gulp of swallowed saliva rippling like raindrops in a pond.

By the old rule—lots of smoke, little harm—the haze thinned. A small figure still floated in midair, the one they least wished to see.

Ling drifted closer to Xing Wuneng on an open book, like a paper crane riding a quiet breeze. Invisible pressure spread over everyone like deep-sea weight.

Xing Wuneng took it worst. Others felt like they carried a grown man; he bore a living golden Buddha, heavy as a mountain. Chanting pounded his skull like temple drums. Mind and muscle buckled; his knees hit the floor, eyes went glassy, and even when the loli stood before him, he didn’t see her.

“I’ll ask once more—are you ready to tally your sins?”

The Daemon’s whisper threaded the air again. His brain froze; his mouth twisted into a broken smile. A stuttering click of sound crept out.

“I… I… I’m… ready…”

“Hehe.” Silver-bell laughter rang from the Daemon in a girl’s shape.

“I, Yufan Ling, in the name of the Chief Judge—Yama Hall, unfold.”

Ling couldn’t pull off some grand group teleport. So she pushed all nearby solids away with mana, like a tide clearing a shore, leaving only the tables and chairs before the crowd.

Still hovering where they had to look up, Ling gazed down at the audience, each head like a cute little bun.

“Arrogance without clue—that’s the third crime. Teasing a loli, blind to beauty—that’s the second. Insulting my name, knowing no better—that is the first!”

“In the Ledger of Life and Death at the Yama Hall, your names will be inked at once. Repent under the imps’ torment!”

Silence shattered into sparks. Panic first, pushback next.

“Damn you! Who gave you the right to judge us?”

“Yeah! Who do you think you are?”

Only the earliest rebel, Xing Wuneng, fell quiet, like a fire suddenly snuffed.

Ling’s eyes tightened; pressure rippled out like a storm front. The noise collapsed back into stillness.

“By what right do I judge? By existence itself. My word is truth. Whom I declare guilty is guilty.”

“I am this world’s sovereign. I permit. I judge. I rule this realm.”

She paused, reeling the edgelord flourish back like a blade sheathing. The Judge returned to the bench.

“Objections closed. Sentence begins.”

She set one hand to her chest. A green orb bloomed, no beam, just growth—then swelled and swallowed the room’s contents in a blink, like a whale gulping the sea. It vanished as if it had never been.

Ling stretched, a cat after thunder, a strange thrill purring inside.

So this is what flexing feels like? A bit forced, not grand—but gods, it’s delicious.

—

Next day.

News of a mysterious destroyer flattening the Adventurers’ Guild branch surged across the Imperial Net like wildfire. Shock crackled; theories buzzed. Some said it was a direct challenge—the Guild’s seventeen strongest were together yesterday, yet they were erased. If that’s not provocation, what is?

The mastermind, meanwhile, slept curled in her bed like a warm caterpillar, dreaming in soft silk.

Bang.

Alicia opened the door the way she always did—like a battering ram in a cathedral.

The thunder didn’t wake the caterpillar on the bed.

Alicia stepped to Ling’s bedside. One look at the loli’s sleeping face, and her gaze turned starry, like night over a lake.

She pulled out an Imperial-made camera.

Click, click.

In dozens of shutter-snaps, the loli met her new morning. (No idea why the door slam didn’t wake her, but the camera did. Ling: A woman must be camera-ready anytime—that’s an innate skill.)

“Mmm~~~~” Ling stretched, like a kitten in sun, and finally noticed Alicia.

“Morning, Alicia.”

“Wrong! Not Alicia—Sis Alicia!”

“T-that’s… so embarrassing…”

“Will you say it or not?”

Alicia wiggled her fingers, a tickle threat like feathers over bare skin.

“Ah~ fine, I’m sorry. Morning, Sis Alicia.”

“Ahh~~ that hits the spot.”

Watching Alicia drift back into fangirl haze, Ling hopped out of bed. “I’ll grab breakfast first, Sis Alicia.”

“Wait!”

Ling paused, puzzled eyes like clear spring water.

Alicia held the moment, lips parting like a red petal after rain.

“Was the Adventurers’ Guild incident… your doing?”

Ling’s body went still, frost before thought. Truth weighed first: she’d been here less than two days, but loved this life already. It felt vivid, like lantern light on real silk. Her feelings for Alicia had grown a notch—from simple curiosity about the harem experience to a small, honest fondness. The King’s care felt like home, not a dream she could only touch in her past life.

For the unlucky, even a small lucky thing gleams like dawn. That’s me, isn’t it?

She decided to guard this warmth, not let it slip a step.

Ling turned and gave Alicia a big, bright smile, sunlight after storm.

“If I say it wasn’t me, will you believe me?”

“I will.” The answer came almost instantly, clear as a bell. “So please trust me too. Don’t hide bad things from me, okay?”

Ling blinked. Trust hit like a sunrise under the ribs—soft heat first, then a sting of guilt. Two tides collided inside her chest; pain flared through her small body like ice cracking.

Tears gathered, slow as dew at the eye’s edge. Her throat snagged on unspoken words; a hiccuping sob ghosted out.

Alicia cupped Ling’s face, eyes meeting reddened eyes, voice humming like warm tea. “Sorry, sorry—did I say something wrong?”

Her slender fingers brushed away the loli’s tears, gentle as petals.

“Ling, no matter what, I won’t doubt you. I have this innate trust in you.”

“You can be willful, like a little child, but I know you don’t do things without reason. They must have done something to make you that angry.”

“So you’re a good girl, and my good little sister. Don’t blame yourself. Just… don’t use your power lightly, and don’t harm the innocent. That’s enough.”

The words slid into Ling’s ears like spring rain. Warmth wrapped her small frame like a quilt.

“Hey… is all of that true?”

“I won’t lie to you.”

With the answer she wanted, Ling hugged Alicia tight, like ivy to a warm wall. After eighteen years of cold, she felt the steadiness in Alicia’s arms, a hearth in winter.

Her eyes hardened with resolve, steel under silk.

No matter the method—even if the world burns—this warmth will belong to me alone.