Shanghai International Airport.
"Passengers for Flight GJ76 to Beijing, please proceed to Gate D4. Departure in 20 minutes..."
"Passengers for Flight AK88 to Tokyo, please proceed to Gate D3. Departure in 30 minutes..."
"A suitcase has been left unattended in Zone B7. The owner may claim it at Service Desk A2..."
"For any inquiries, consult customer service via your WD..."
The electronic announcements echoed through the bustling yet orderly terminal. Travelers wheeled luggage of all sizes beneath impossibly high ceilings. Yan Lingxuan sat among the crowd in the departure lounge, his heart fluttering with excitement. Beside him, Bai Lingyue, Katherine, and Shan Xi blended seamlessly into the sea of passengers.
Yan Lingxuan carried only a small suitcase—just spare clothes, a few family photos, and his precious notebook. Katherine had scoffed at the "obsolete relic," but it held years of irreplaceable data. Last night, Bai Lingyue had discovered his most treasured possession: an album boldly labeled *Sister’s Growth Diary* in rainbow marker. After flipping through pages filled with digitally altered swimsuit and lingerie edits—complete with his notes like *"Striped panties suit her innocent vibe"* and *"Her C-cup curves demand black lace lingerie"*—she’d incinerated it on the spot. Her contemptuous glare had sent an unexpected thrill through him. (*Was he inching closer to criminal territory?*)
Now, only the notebook remained. He’d defend it with his life.
Watching his sister’s casual long pants today, he felt a pang of disappointment. *Damn. Why trousers?* He’d need to curate her wardrobe later. Katherine’s outfit, though—*that* was perfection.
As if sensing his gaze, Katherine deliberately crossed her legs. Black-stockinged thighs flashed beneath her low-cut top, drawing his eyes like magnets. His body tilted 30 degrees toward her. The creamy swell of her cleavage was hypnotic—*no, he wanted to bury his face in it*. The memory of last night flooded back.
Katherine and Bai Lingyue had stayed over at his place. Yan Lingxuan had tidied his room with hopeful anticipation, dreaming of soap-opera tropes. But by 10 PM, nothing happened—Aunt Lian had assigned them to Jiajing’s room instead. Restless, he’d "checked in" on them around 11 PM. Their translucent chiffon sleepwear had nearly made his nose bleed. *Good job, Aunt Lian.* Yet no further developments occurred before Shan Xi arrived to crash in his room.
*My pillow defiled by another man!!!*
Bai Lingyue’s scornful stare snapped him back to the present. He instantly wiped the lecherous grin off his face.
Though the trio carried no visible luggage, Yan Lingxuan knew their belongings far exceeded his. *Compression space?* Their personal items were stored via spatial magic—compressing matter into quantum states for storage. Visually, it mimicked multidimensional space, though physics remained three-dimensional. Much like the Big Bang theory: if the entire universe could compress to atomic size, shrinking fifty kilograms to a fingertip was trivial.
But maintaining such pockets required constant magical pressure—draining and impractical. Hence science intervened: the *Pocket-kun*. A lighter-sized device using microwave tech to lock entropy. With sufficient power, it could store up to 100 terajoules and preserve item data for perfect restoration.
*(Example: A 100-pound human releases ~0.003 terajoules. A lightning bolt carries 1–100 terajoules. Don’t ask why it’s called "Pocket-kun"—blame the developer!)*
"Shouldn’t there be no direct flights from Zhonghua Region to Atlantis?" Yan Lingxuan asked. The terminal clock read 8:50 AM. Their chartered flight was due at 9:00. *Only ten minutes left?*
"Correct. It’s a private jet. Only our four seats are authorized."
Before he could reply, WD alerts chimed simultaneously on Bai Lingyue, Shan Xi, and Katherine’s wrists.
"Atlantis-bound charter has landed on Runway G4. Proceed to Gate D9 for boarding."
Alice’s voice remained utterly flat.
"Let’s go," Bai Lingyue said.
The quartet headed toward Gate D9. Yan Lingxuan followed his sister with light steps, half-excited, half-anxious. To calm his racing heart, he scanned the terminal—and froze. The atmosphere had shifted. Dozens of sunglass-clad security guards and soldiers in uniform now patrolled the area.
Snatches of conversation reached them:
"—terrorist attack!"
"—happened near Cloud Gate City..."
*Cloud Gate City?* Yan Lingxuan’s stomach dropped. *No way.*
"—Second High School in Cloud Gate City. Waste Law Society mages involved..."
Yan Lingxuan halted abruptly. The others stopped too.
Bai Lingyue’s brow furrowed. "Alice, status on Second High."
Alice responded instantly, as if anticipating the query:
"At 8:01:44 AM, Waste Law Society executive Bernie Butterworth seized the school broadcast room. At 8:02:24, three trucks carrying 158 armed militants breached campus grounds. Gunfire ensued: 33 students, 2 teachers, and 1 principal sustained minor injuries. One militant killed. By 8:18:28, all 1,663 occupants—1,554 students, 88 staff, 21 workers—were confined to the auditorium as hostages. Hostile forces: 7 Waste Law Society mages and 157 armed civilians wielding AA5 assault rifles. 86% probability of ransom demands or prisoner exchange."
*Atlantis’s quantum AI sees everything.* But Yan Lingxuan felt no awe—only dread. Relief washed over him that no one had died. Faces flashed in his mind: Su Fangwen, Jiang Lehao, Wang Dongping, Ma Zhixiu, homeroom teacher Zhang Yuhua. He wasn’t a hero, but he couldn’t ignore friends in danger.
"Alice," he demanded, voice icy, "why weren’t we notified immediately about Second High?" He instantly regretted his sharp tone.
"The Association’s directive is clear: board the charter to Atlantis. This incident falls outside our jurisdiction. Without a formal request from the Zhonghua government, intervention violates sovereignty protocols."
"So Atlantis mages can’t act?"
"Correct. Simulation indicates diplomatic fallout from unilateral interference. Action is inadvisable."
Alice’s emotionless reply silenced him.
Bai Lingyue watched her brother’s clenched jaw. She wanted to rescue those hostages too—especially after meeting friends there yesterday. But Alice was right: mages couldn’t cross borders without permission.
"Boarding commences in 2 minutes, 5 seconds. Regrettably, we lack authority to intervene."
*War. Screams. Blood.*
Yan Lingxuan was thrust back ten years—to that blood-red day when he’d abandoned his sister to save himself. A lifetime of regret. *Would he run again?* He glanced at Bai Lingyue, pain flickering across his face.
"Hey, Alice," Katherine asked softly, "without our help... can Second High’s students be saved?"
"The Zhonghua government has mobilized a 15-mage counterterrorism unit. Estimated arrival: 11:00 AM. Best-case scenario: 66% hostage survival rate. Worst case: zero survivors."
"How accurate is that projection?" Yan Lingxuan pressed.
"Margin of error: under 4.63%."
"Understood."
Bai Lingyue watched her brother’s grim expression melt into a relaxed smile.
He dropped his suitcase. "Don’t wait for me," he said, apologetic yet bright. "Seems I won’t make it to Atlantis after all. What a shame—Valhalla Academy’s heavenly campus was almost in my grasp. And living shamelessly with my sister? *Alas.* I could weep..."
Golden light erupted around him. In one fluid motion, he shot upward, shattered the glass dome overhead with a wave of his hand, and vanished into the sky.
Chaos erupted below—glass rained down as security and soldiers swarmed the panicked crowd.
Before Bai Lingyue could process his departure, Shan Xi launched himself after Yan Lingxuan.
"What are we waiting for? He needs backup."
Shan Xi streaked through the opening.
"Wait for me!" Katherine cried, soaring after them.
Bai Lingyue watched the three disappear. Her eyes held no hesitation now.
Flying at top speed through the sky, the wind was sharp, stinging his skin with a faint, persistent ache. His ever-present square-framed glasses had long been blown away, revealing Yan Lingxuan's cold, stern gaze.
Squinting against the wind pressure, he could have used Magic Power to form a shield—but Yan Lingxuan didn't. He focused solely on speed. Three nights ago, he'd tested his limits: his top flight speed reached over 160 km/h! At that pace, rushing back to Cloud Gate City from Shanghai—over 120 km away—would take about 45 minutes.
Just now, Yan Lingxuan could have asked Alice whether the hostage's rescue probability would change if he went. But he didn't ask. He felt it would be pointless anyway.
