Chapter 5: Chapter Five: Crisis

"Be careful of the residual beasts tonight?"

Those words left Lin Yun restless for the entire afternoon's work.

The reason was simple: the information contained in that message was far too much for him to dismiss it as a simple prank call or nuisance.

His daughter being a magical girl—this fact, aside from himself and Hong Siyu, should not be known to anyone else; as for his own past as a magical girl, perhaps only a handful of people even knew. Moreover, he was certain that anyone who knew these details would be either his current or former allies.

Could this call have come from Hong Siyu?

It was possible, but what reason would she have to play tricks, make an anonymous call like this? Hong Siyu, as an official, had solemnly promised him she would keep an eye on his daughter—this topic could easily be discussed openly.

Adopting the attitude that it was better to believe it than to ignore it, he sent Hong Siyu a message:

【Did you call me?】

【?】 was her reply.

It wasn't her.

Several names flashed through his mind, only to be dismissed one by one; Lin Yun still found no clue.

Was it just a lucky coincidence—a prank call?

This possibility was actually quite high, even considerable; after all, these days many scam calls follow this exact pattern: rambling nonsense, but with enough targets, someone will inevitably believe it for some reason.

Lin Yun tried to convince himself of this, yet his heart remained unsettled.

By evening, his subordinate, who had worked alongside him for years, noticed his burdened demeanor and asked if he was facing any trouble; Lin Yun shook his head and did not share this delusional-sounding topic with him.

Riding the train, he didn't return home until dark; with worry, he glanced at the shoe cabinet by the entrance—and his heart eased, for his daughter's shoes were already there. Passing through the living room, he saw the dishes already washed in the kitchen sink; walking to his daughter's door, he saw light seeping from under the door—all signs confirmed Lin Xiaolu was still at home.

This eased Lin Yun's breath slightly.

Even if dangerous residual beasts appeared, as long as his daughter was home, her safety was assured.

Besides, if residual beasts had appeared, Hong Siyu had no reason not to inform him.

Carrying an odd feeling, Lin Yun finished dinner, entered his study, and began handling unfinished work from the office. Between tasks, he kept a watchful eye on his daughter's room, ensuring she hadn't slipped out without his knowledge.

Until midnight, he noticed nothing unusual. When the clock struck twelve, exhausted from the day's labor, Lin Yun could no longer stay awake; after a long wait, he lay down on the bed and fell into sleep.

In a daze, he didn't know how long had passed.

Then, at some moment, he seemed to hear an odd sound.

In the darkness, Lin Yun jolted awake.

His heartbeat quickened inexplicably, his breathing grew rapid; he couldn't recall if he'd been dreaming, but upon waking, his mood had darkened sharply.

Fumbling in the dark, he grabbed his phone; the screen lit up, showing 2:10.

He had just woken, yet after grasping the situation, he felt an intensely strong premonition rising within him.

This premonition was so powerful it felt familiar—so familiar that in an instant he remembered when he'd last experienced something like this.

—The day his wife died.

"... That can't be possible, right?"

The words left his lips, carrying an uncertainty he could hear even in himself.

Lin Yun got out of bed, rushed to open his bedroom door, and stared toward his daughter's room. No longer caring for caution or hesitation, he sprinted to her door and knocked.

Nothing happened.

Lin Yun did not give up; he knocked again and again, louder each time—the hollow echoes rang through the dark hallway, yet still received no response.

"That can't be possible," he repeated again.

Glancing at the door and the faint, blurred note stuck to it, Lin Yun gritted his teeth and twisted the doorknob.

Creak.

The door was locked.

He didn't know whether his daughter usually locked her door—he'd never tried opening it before—but now, this situation forced him toward grim thoughts.

Had she slipped out alone?

He picked up his phone and dialed Hong Siyu—but received "Call not answered."

He opened a search engine and typed keywords: "Fang Ting City," "residual beasts"—yet found nothing, like searching for a needle in a haystack; even last week's incident had been buried under new trends, vanished without a trace.

In an instant, all coincidences converged—he lost every lead on the residual beasts in Fang Ting City.

Naturally, he also lost all control over his daughter's whereabouts.

He tried to calm himself, telling himself that no one answering the door didn't mean his daughter had slipped out alone to deal with residual beasts; perhaps she simply still resented him, and at this hour refused to respond to a neurotic father banging on her door—this explanation was far more reasonable than the wild guesses now swirling in his mind.

Yet he firmly believed the premonition inside him.

So he looked at his call log, second page, third from the bottom: the sudden, completely unfamiliar number that had called at noon.

His finger hovered over the entry for a long time; filled with hope, he pressed it.

It connected.

His breath froze.

Every second of the dial tone felt like a century; listening to the long "beep—beep—," Lin Yun gripped the communicator tightly.

Then, the other end answered.

"Sssss."

Still heavy static.

As if the signal was severely disrupted, the voice crackled intermittently, battering Lin Yun's eardrums—until, at some point, all the noise vanished completely.

"At the outskirts, Wetland Park."

Just those few words—and the call ended.

Silence returned to the surroundings, as if it were still just an ordinary night.

Putting down the phone, Lin Yun turned toward the living room, where faint moonlight painted the floor with a hazy white glow—serene, pure, calm, peaceful. It seemed like another image, another voice deep within him, whispering at this moment: "Don't go."

Once he stepped out of this house, everything he had sacrificed so much to preserve would vanish forever.

To Lin Yun, however, such a decision was meaningless. When a child's safety was placed on the scale, the stakes on the other end no longer mattered.

Striding forward, he rushed out of the house at nearly his fastest speed.

Opening the door of his long-unused SUV, he jammed the key into the ignition. Then, amidst a roar, he surged onto the highway with horsepower far exceeding the city's driving speed limit.

"I must go."

As if instilling some concept into himself, he muttered these words to himself.

Now, he could even feel the flow of his own blood, rushing straight to his brain with a buzzing sound.

The car's speed kept rising; he pressed the accelerator to the very limit of control, driving at a speed comparable to street racers, running through countless traffic lights, and speeding along. Whether it was traffic violations or car accidents, these risks were insignificant at this moment, because he knew that no matter what, he had to reach his daughter first.

He brought along the Heart Flower that had already fallen silent. Although he had tried before and failed to transform into a magical girl, he still harbored some unrealistic hope.

Or rather, some vague thought told him that this time, he could make it.

The clutter in his mind had long since become a chaotic mess; he could not clearly describe his current state. Confused emotions, memories, and extreme physiological tension made his thinking utterly illogical.

The only clear thought was: "I do not want my daughter to come to harm."