Chapter 469: Reaction

She took a deep breath, turned, and strode toward the shop door.

"You." she said without turning her head, "Come out for me."

Yan Feng calmly set down the kitchen knife, wiped his hands, and followed behind her.

San Yue Qi hurriedly picked up the gem on the counter that Lin had knocked down, and also went out.

The shop door was pushed open.

The door curtain rose.

Sunlight from outside poured in—

Lin's steps suddenly halted.

San Yue Qi almost collided with her back.

"... Eh?"

San Yue Qi let out a single syllable full of confusion.

On the street, the crowd wove like fabric.

Suit‑clad office workers with briefcases hurried by, students with backpacks walked in small groups, and housewives pushed shopping carts chatting at the convenience store entrance.

A bus let out a "creak" as it stopped at the platform, passengers boarding and alighting in a line.

The characters on the sign were all upright.

The convenience store's door stood wide open, and inside the cash register's "beep" and the scent of fried chicken drifted out.

San Yue Qi stood dumbfounded in place, mouth forming an O shape.

Lin remained motionless.

Only her twin ponytails fluttered gently in the breeze.

"........"

Lin was silent for a very long time.

Then she turned her head, moving extremely slowly, and looked at Yan Feng Qili standing at the shop entrance.

Yan Feng wore an expressionless face.

But his eyes clearly wrote:

So what exactly were you two just saying?

Lin's fist clenched.

Then relaxed.

Then clenched again.

San Yue Qi dared not even breathe beside her.

At that moment—

"Gururururu—"

A startlingly loud rumble erupted from Lin's abdomen without warning.

Lin's body went rigid.

Her cheeks reddened at a visible speed, from the base of her ears down to her neck.

Yan Feng Qili lowered his head, looking toward her stomach.

Then he lifted his head, looking at her face.

Then he spoke, his tone as calmly as always:

"Want to eat?"

Lin: "..........."

Ten o'clock in the morning, the sunlight was perfect.

English class.

At the podium, Fujimura Dahe wielded his pointer with a vigor that seemed to set his life on fire.

Her voice was so loud it could pierce three walls, and the chalk in her hand struck the blackboard with a "pop‑pop" sound; each grammar point she taught was accompanied by an exaggerated gesture, looking like a tiger on the hunt.

"So! What's the key to this subjunctive mood?! It's a hypothesis opposite to reality! It's a situation like 'if I were you,' which could never happen! Not the daydream you imagine where I don't have to take exams!!!"

She slammed the board hard, and chalk dust floated like snowflakes.

Below the stage.

Bai Hang rested a hand on her cheek, her azure eyes watching the "tiger" on the podium, a slight twitch at the corner of her mouth.

She quietly shifted her gaze from the podium onto herself.

A white shirt, a dark‑blue pleated skirt, a bow at the collar—standard female high‑school uniform.

In the mirror she had checked countless times, no Fox Ears, no fox tail.

She was completely an ordinary human girl.

Yet only she herself knew she was not ordinary.

Three bright red Command Spells were hidden on the back of her hand.

The servant she summoned was the Divine Strategy General of Xianzhou Luofu — Jing Yuan.

As for herself, she was merely a "ordinary person" who had lost her original power and possessed nothing in this world but her mind.

(No way.)

Bai Hang clenched her fist silently in her heart.

(Although Jing Yuan is formidable, he cannot stay by my side twenty‑four hours. If an emergency arises, I need the ability to protect myself.)

So the question arose—what does self‑protection require?

A weapon.

But the weapons of this world…

She recalled the information she had searched on her phone last night:

A small knife? Too short, only usable for close‑quarters melee. She's a flyer, proficient with ranged bows, not strong in close combat.

A crowbar? Too ugly, and inconvenient to carry. She can't go to school every day with a metal rod on her back.

An electric gun? Seems to require a license; she doesn't have time to get one.

A kitchen knife? Even worse; that's a kitchen utensil.

Bai Hang's eyes suddenly lit up.

Gun.

Yes, gun!

In this world there is an organization called the "Metropolitan Police Department," similar to Luofu's Earth Balance Office or the Ten Kings Office, responsible for maintaining public order and arresting criminals.

Such a place must have a weapons storage, right?

Handguns, rifles, maybe even submachine guns and the like!

Although firearms are considered by Xianzhou people to be "primitive to the utmost," they still have great deterrent power for the humans of this world.

At least they're far stronger than a small knife or a crowbar!

(Let Jing Yuan sneak in and grab a few, it shouldn't be hard, right?)

The more Bai Hang thought about it, the more feasible the plan seemed.

(With Jing Yuan's strength, infiltrating such a mortal organization is a piece of cake. Get me a few guns for self‑defense, then slip away silently—perfect!)

A slight smile curled her lips, and her azure eyes glittered with a "I'm so clever" light.

(After the next class she'll ask for leave. Quickly escape this hell and carry out my grand "Arming Myself" plan!)

Her thoughts drifted farther, already picturing herself wielding dual guns, looking dashing and heroic.

Meanwhile—in the back row of the classroom.

Fujimura Lixiang stared at the ceiling, her gaze vacant.

In her mind, last night's "Fantasy Night" was looping:

Being chased by a terrifying beauty with dark‑blue hair.

Being rescued by a Magical Girl in a pink dress.

Being summoned from a Magic Array by a knight girl in golden armor.

Learning that the legendary Arthur Wang is female.

Being told she must join a seven‑team brawl called the Holy Grail War.

Then she woke up this morning—

The three red marks on the back of her hand were still there.

In the living room, the knight lady sat upright, asking what she wanted for breakfast.

The silver‑haired little sister named Ilya and her Magic Staff had already formed an "Alliance Agreement" with her.

It wasn't a dream.

It was all real.

Lixiang buried her face in her palm, her shoulders trembling slightly.

(Who can tell me why an ordinary high school student has to join some magical war overnight?!)

Last night she briefly discussed with Ilya, Saber, and the pretty older sister called Robin, deciding to first "stay calm, observe the situation, wait for a chance"—which really meant they had no idea what to do, so each went home to look for their own mother.

Saber followed her home in a "spiritualized" state (she had no clue what spiritualized meant, only that the knight lady said, "Master, rest assured, I will guard you"), then she lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling until three a. m., finally drifting off half‑asleep.

Now sitting in the classroom, she only felt her eyelids fighting, her mind a mush of paste.

But—

She suddenly thought of a question.

Since the Holy Grail War has already begun, and she is a Master, should she… uh… do what?

Investigate other Masters? Look for clues? Protect herself?

But how can she ask for leave?!

She has always been an exemplary student, never having taken a leave.

How should she write a leave request? What reason should she give?

And the Head Teacher is her sister Fujimura Dahe—she can't just say, "Sis, I'm going to join a magical war, I won't attend class today," can she?

Lixiang fell into deep turmoil.

Ask for leave, or not?

That's the question.

On the other side of the classroom.

Yuanban Ying's gaze occasionally drifted toward an empty seat—that was her sister Rin's spot.

Since this morning, that seat had remained empty.

Yuanban Ying's brows furrowed slightly, a trace of worry appearing in her violet eyes.

(Sister… are you okay?)

She recalled the scene from last night's parting.

Rin said she would investigate the Holy Grail War together with San Yue Qi sister, and let her go home to rest first.

She knew her sister didn't want her to get involved, but how could she not worry?

And…

Yuanban Ying subconsciously lifted her hand, gently pressing the left side of her chest.

Since last night, this place has been throbbing faintly.

It's not a sharp pain, but a feeling like something is gently scratching.

Very light, yet it persists.

(Probably just didn't rest well…)

Ying tells herself this in her heart.

But that lingering unease never fades.

(Should I… ask for leave to find my sister?)

She hesitates.

The back row of the classroom, the corner by the window.

Jiantong Shen'er lowers his head, the English textbook spread before him.

But if anyone were to look closely, they'd notice—

His eyes aren't on the book at all.

Those eyes stare fixedly in a certain direction, the eyeballs slightly protruding, pupils swirling with a chilling fervor.