"What 'yeah'? You almost scared me to death," Nangong Shiyu grumbled at Xia Zixin. She took a step forward, and the bullets hovering before her clattered to the floor with a dull metallic clang.

"So what? You’re still alive, aren’t you?"

"Why didn’t you tell me a god could do this?" Nangong Shiyu rushed up the stairs to Xia Zixin.

"What good would that do? You’d just jump in front of bullets for me?" Xia Zixin kicked the pistol on the ground, caught it mid-air, and pressed the barrel to Nangong Shiyu’s forehead. Nangong Shiyu nearly tumbled backward down the stairs.

"What are you doing?!"

"See? Even knowing you can defend yourself, you still flinch at an empty gun." Xia Zixin chuckled and tossed the Type 92 pistol back down.

Nangong Shiyu had to admit she was right.

Even knowing the weapon couldn’t harm her, the sight of the barrel still sent a chill down her spine.

"B-but even so… it’s better than you taking a bullet yourself, right?"

It must hurt terribly. Just seeing the bullet hole in Xia Zixin’s chest made Nangong Shiyu shudder.

"Eh, whatever. I won’t die even if my head’s chopped off—I’m a retired Thunder God, after all."

"Don’t say such scary things so casually…" Nangong Shiyu muttered weakly.

Xia Zixin’s words made her imagine the scene.

Two seconds later, she regretted it and vowed never to picture that again.

"Let’s go in."

This time, Nangong Shiyu mustered her courage, brushed past Xia Zixin, and stepped into the third-floor room. Instantly, the roar of two AK-47s erupted from inside. The gunfire shook the floorboards.

Just like before, Lightning surged from Nangong Shiyu’s body, catching every bullet mid-air.

"See? I’m actually brave. If you’d told me earlier, I’d have taken those bullets for—"

"Stop! Don’t move!"

"W-what?"

As Nangong Shiyu pushed forward through the hail of bullets, every captured round suddenly reversed direction. They shot back at the two gangsters faster than lightning. In a flash, the men were riddled with holes. They twitched once, collapsed into pools of blood, and lay still.

"…"

They were dead.

Nangong Shiyu froze, unable to take another step.

The blood spread wider. Her pupils shrank smaller.

She, Nangong Shiyu—

Had killed.

"Ah…" Xia Zixin sighed deeply behind her. She stepped forward, covered Nangong Shiyu’s eyes with one hand, and gently stroked her hair. "It’s okay. It’s not your fault. I should’ve warned you sooner. This is on me, not you." She whispered softly into Nangong Shiyu’s ear, trying to soothe the guilt crushing her heart.

"B-but I…"

"That self-defense magic program isn’t something you can control yet. You’re not to blame. I know you’re kind-hearted—you’d never take a life willingly."

"They’re… dead because of me…" Nangong Shiyu trembled. "I didn’t mean to."

"Mmhmm, I know. It’s alright. Shh, be good."

While comforting Nangong Shiyu, Xia Zixin scanned the room for the little girl’s brother.

Unlike the first floor, this level was well-furnished. Expensive impressionist paintings hung on the walls. Polished hardwood floors gleamed underfoot. Clearly, this was the gang’s office.

Soon, Xia Zixin spotted a pair of dress shoes peeking out from behind a desk. She guided Nangong Shiyu over. There sat a tall, thin man in a red Tang suit. His hands and feet were bound. His eyes were closed—he’d passed out.

Up close, he matched the girl’s description perfectly: huge nostrils wide enough for two fingers, rimless glasses, and a prominent mole under his left eye.

"Little Shiyu, I found him," Xia Zixin murmured.