In Mr. Zhang’s mind, witches were mysterious and elegant beings—perhaps still dressed as they were centuries ago: black robes, pointed hats, their power drawn from enchanted wands and potions.
And just as he imagined, the maid’s combat style truly revolved around wand and potion.
The wand was carved from huanghuali wood. The potion? None other than Lady Witch Lilith’s blood.
Jiang Jiu reached into the void and drew forth her Enchanted Wand. Her pitch-black pupils had narrowed into slits, radiating a faintly fierce aura.
She casually weighed the wand. For some reason, this familiar little stick suddenly felt unreasonably light.
Lilith once told her: witches are spirits blessed by the world—each unique, each wielding distinct powers. How to use that power? Every witch finds her own way.
Research. Experiment. Induce. Summarize.
Most follow the academic path. A rare few trust instinct alone, believing brute force works miracles.
Jiang Jiu? She relied on imagination—colloquially dubbed the “I-reckon” power.
Right now, feeling the wand too light yet brimming with harvest-like joy after drinking Lady Witch’s blood, she tapped its tip gently and whispered:
“Grow. Grow. Grow.”
The wand had no mouth to chirp “Roger, roger, roger,” but it obeyed. Starting no thicker than a signature pen, it swelled instantly into a short rod—a meter long, as thick as a one-yuan coin.
Thinner at the tip, thicker at the grip, like a baseball bat. Jiang Jiu flipped it, gripped the slender end, swung twice through the raindrops. Satisfied.
Mr. Zhang stood utterly dumbfounded.
He’d guessed her witch identity the moment she drew the wand—but never imagined she’d wield it like a baseball bat.
It was like a mysterious witch calmly discussing potion recipes one second, then pulling the Ruyi Jingu Bang from beneath her skirt the next, eyes blazing: “Where do you think you’re going, demon?!”
All his romanticized notions of witches shattered into dust.
Yet he still dodged.
The wand slashed through air with a sharp *crack*—hitting nothing, yet shattering some invisible barrier. Ripples of shockwave spread silently.
Jiang Jiu had swung fast enough to create a sonic boom. But missed.
A full-force strike landing on void should’ve jarred her. Yet she felt nothing. At peak velocity, she halted the wand dead still.
Enchanted with indestructibility, it endured any strain. Truly, a near-perfect weapon.
The maid nodded, face solemn:
“Must a wand only cast spells to kill? Is it so inconvenient a tool?”
She glanced up at Mr. Zhang, frozen midair, then smiled with elegant grace:
“The human body… quite fascinating, isn’t it?”
Mr. Zhang stared blankly, mind empty. Words failed him.
Meanwhile, Jiang Jiu advanced through the ruins, dragging the oversized wand like the Grim Reaper—calm, deliberate.
Lightness spell. Body enhancement. Sharpness. Vibration. Hardening enchantments.
Basic spells piled on relentlessly. A faint glow haloed her form. Pressure on Mr. Zhang rose like the tide.
She looked like a goddess of war.
Though he knew physical blows couldn’t harm his current form… for some reason, retreat whispered in his heart.
He wanted to flee.
Too late.
One moment she walked the ground. The next—ghostlike—she appeared behind him, swinging the wand in a full arc straight for his head.
*BOOM.*
The wand passed through his body, trailing stardust down to shatter the concrete beneath. The shockwave pulverized rubble to dust.
Visibly, the Stardust-formed shell dimmed.
“Huh. Physical attacks work just fine.”
Mr. Zhang heard her casual remark.
Then—he trembled.
His last defense collapsed. Like the Maginot Line in WWII: once deemed unbreakable, now a hollow joke.
He tried to disperse, to escape—but swirling mists crushed him back into human shape.
Jiang Jiu looked up at the mist-bound Mr. Zhang. *Lilith always brings thick fog wherever she goes… almost her trademark. So why “Silent Witch,” not “Mist Witch”?*
Like wife cakes having no wife… was the Silent Witch not silent at all?
She narrowed her eyes, puzzled by witch-naming rules.
True, Lilith had been aloof at first. But once familiar? Surprisingly easy to talk to… and, well, tease.
*Pick the soft persimmon*, Jiang Jiu mused. Wise words.
Leisurely, she neared Mr. Zhang, pondering what title she’d claim as Archwitch someday, while slowly erasing the Stardust from his form.
The glow faded.
Like death by a thousand cuts. Like King Zhou’s dripping torture—slow, cruel.
She expected rage. Curses.
But Mr. Zhang stayed eerily calm.
His blurred face twisted… almost smiling.
“We allied with a witch, thinking ourselves invincible… Never imagined Anning… never imagined *she’d* find a witch ally too.”
“So… what was the meaning of all our efforts?”
The Stardust figure gasped like a beached fish—though he had no lungs.
Mr. Zhang lifted his head, voice low, bewildered:
“In the end… human or monster… what are we to you witches?”
The maid paused. Thought carefully. Shook her head.
“I don’t know.”
She turned toward the thick mist nearby—toward the other witch who’d smiled and watched since the beginning—and asked softly:
“What do *you* think?”
[To be continued]
