A tremendous commotion shook District Twenty-One. Zhao Qingsnow and the others jolted awake, scrambling from bed. Phones checked—no alerts. Then Purple Lightning’s phone rang. The Black Market Boss.

They’d exchanged numbers earlier. In emergencies, they’d coordinate by phone to avoid chaos.

“A situation’s come up. Can you mobilize now?”

Scouts confirmed it: nearly all high-tier Order Keeper forces were gone. This was the perfect rescue window—miss it, and regret would last a lifetime.

Purple Lightning sprang up. Zhao Qingsnow gently massaged her limbs before rising slowly. Her wounds had healed slightly. *Please don’t fail me now.*

She’d considered waking Zhou Jiaxin—but what could Zhou do? She dropped the thought.

They raced toward the Order Keeper branch in District Twenty-One. Purple Lightning shot ahead like lightning; Zhao Qingsnow followed, slightly slower. Above, storm clouds swirled into a vortex. Moonlight poured freely through the parted gloom, stretching their shadows long. The distant battle still raged. No time to slow.

Unlike the underground Twelfth District branch, this one stood as a sleek office tower. Purple Lightning’s records had been purged—no iris scan would grant her entry.

Zhao Qingsnow alone couldn’t shatter the reinforced windows without a Magic Spell. Together, they smashed through. Outside, ordinary glass; inside, impregnable as a fortress.

Alarms blared the moment the glass shattered. Deafening. They sealed their ears with mana plugs.

“Where’s the Black Market Boss?” Zhao Qingsnow shouted.

Purple Lightning leaned close, shaking her head—couldn’t hear a thing.

“What? I can’t hear you—!”

Purple Lightning raised a mana barrier around them, pulled out the plugs. The alarms softened. Zhao Qingsnow followed suit.

“I said—where’s the Black Market Boss?”

They’d been moving half an hour. No sign of him. The Black Market was closer. He should’ve arrived first.

“He shouted at the gate to draw the guards away. Our job: get everyone out. Fast.”

Zhao Qingsnow nodded. They reached the corridor—a fortified zone, Purple Lightning had warned, laced with Magic Tools. Once, she could’ve disabled them calmly. Now? Only brute force.

Purple Lightning surged ahead, lightning frying mechanical traps. But the Magic Tools still triggered. Ceiling sensors locked on. Beams shot toward them.

The attacks mimicked laser cutters—mana condensed to a pinpoint, propelled with lethal precision. Obsidian Stone walls absorbed the beams harmlessly. Flesh would not.

A single beam? A Magic Layer from a Cantata Two could block it. But dozens converging? Their barriers wouldn’t hold.

Purple Lightning wasn’t worried. Speed would weave her past the first few. The dense net ahead? She’d break through.

Zhao Qingsnow’s ice refracted light—but this wasn’t light. It was pure mana energy. Her ice offered little resistance… though not none. It was mana-based too, after all.

“What if we combine efforts…?”

Zhao Qingsnow conjured ice to briefly halt the beams. Purple Lightning darted through the gap. Feasible—but the ice wouldn’t last. A foot-thick slab melted in seconds. To buy time, the ice—and its mana density—had to be perfect.

Zhao Qingsnow focused. Drew moisture to her palms. Poured mana, Magic Spell, and will into the Frost Fangs. No longer a sealed sphere—it became an arched bridge of ice.

Purple Lightning closed her eyes. Channeled every spark into speed. Opened them—irises glowing violet. She became lightning itself, slipping through the crumbling arch into the deepest cellblock.

Pressure settled on her shoulders—subtle, like two pounds of weight. Her mana dimmed. Deeper in, even a Cantata Two might lose all power.

This prison was built for the truly guilty. Over time, it became a cage for the innocent. The worst offenders stayed up top; the blameless were buried below. Purple Lightning rarely came here. Finding the Black Market group took precious minutes.

Lao En crouched in his cell, bitterness thick in his throat. He’d hidden well. At most, tax evasion. Yet here he was. His cellmate had said: once inside, no escape. Despair clawed at him. Elderly parents. Young children. What would become of them?

A thought sparked: *Break out.*

Illegal? Yes. But facing a lifetime here… was that living? If death waited either way—why not try?

Courage lifted him. He gripped the bars—never meant to bend them. His fingers found the keyhole. Advanced materials, archaic lock. But that prickly arc-shaped mana seal had to go first. A Magic Maiden’s work.

Lock repair was his family trade. Without it, he’d have starved long ago. He studied the mechanism. *I can pick it—if someone breaks the seal.*

You think he had no tools?

Far from it.

A wire, woven into his boot lining. Time to use it.

He slipped a hand to the heel, easing the wire free through a worn hole. *If only someone would help…*

Footsteps. He froze. Slumped down. Stuffed the wire back.

A figure emerged from shadow—purple hair, violet eyes. A Magic Maiden from District Twenty-One. The lightning wielder he’d seen on the battlefield.

“Are you with the Black Market?”

Lao En nodded—then shook his head hard. *Deny. Stay silent. Play dumb.*

“I’m here to rescue you!”

He shot her a skeptical glance. *A Magic Maiden? Not a shred of trust.* Had she seen the wire? Was this a trap?

Frustrated, Purple Lightning slammed her fist against the mana seal.

“Stop hesitating! I know you can pick locks—I’ve seen it. Open this door. Help me save the others!”

Alarms wailed. Lao En’s mind went blank. Yet his hands moved—wire into lock, click. He didn’t know if it was right. He just followed her. She shattered seals; he picked locks. In minutes, everyone was free—including the Old Woman.

The Old Woman whispered: Kaneko had been taken by the Magic Maidens. Purple Lightning relayed it to Zhao Qingsnow. Then led over a hundred toward the laser net.

With the Old Woman’s aid, the three forged a sturdy mana “shield.” The crowd rushed through. Then Zhao Qingsnow, Purple Lightning, and the Old Woman dashed across.

The moment they cleared the lasers—a Magic Cannon blast pierced a rescued prisoner’s chest and hurtled straight at Zhao Qingsnow.

The Old Woman threw up a mana shield. Blocked it.

They were free.

But the enemy had arrived.

Battle was inevitable.