Miss Witch Doesn’t Want to Become a Songstress

Following a group of gang members, Hestia boarded the return vehicle and re-entered the vertical elevator she had used earlier.

Not long after, the elevator reached the top, bringing her back to the secluded bar. It was already 1 a.m. The chilly night wind greeted her as she walked the streets, her mind still lingering on the scenes she had witnessed underground. Although life for residents in the lower layers of Arpeggio City was tough, it hadn’t reached the point of being entirely unlivable.

The cacophony of information and the constant comparisons and posturing had caused people to gradually forget the details of everyday life.

In the Federation, residents would not starve even if they lost all employment. Patrol kiosks equipped with riot-control robots dotted the streets and residential areas at regular intervals, maintaining public order. The pervasive surveillance left little room for criminals to escape law enforcement.

While corruption was rampant in many areas of the Federation, it wasn’t so blatant as to force people into absolute desperation.

The progress of the era and the unprecedented surge in productivity had made the basic food and resources needed to sustain a person extraordinarily cheap. A minuscule fraction of the massive industrial system sufficed to provide for these needs.

But human desires grow. When everyone has access to something as universal as air, nobody sees it as a remarkable privilege.

“Isn’t it natural to have it?” people think, turning their focus toward pursuing what sets them apart from others.

Hestia strolled through the dim and deserted streets, arriving at a vertical elevator. She stood quietly, waiting.

She didn’t mean to say this pursuit was wrong. Everyone has the freedom to chase their ideals and dreams without being judged or criticized. It’s just that the comfort present at the very start had made people forget how hard-won the peace before them truly was.

The elevator doors opened. Hestia stepped inside and pressed the button for her residential floor. As the elevator ascended, the passing light and shadows from each floor flickered across her coat.

Time flowed quietly, and the era steadily advanced. Past suffering had disappeared, but new anxieties arose.

Never satisfied, never ceasing comparisons—this was the source of human pain and the ladder to progress.

With a light sigh, the girl stepped out of the elevator when it reached her destination, returning to the familiar streets and sights.

“Forget it,” she thought to herself. “No need to dwell on these far-off philosophies every day. I came back this late tonight, I hope I can still get a good night’s sleep. I have work tomorrow.”

“If only I didn’t have to work someday,” she silently wished.

…

In the Underground World: The Headquarters of the “Zhenshan” Team

“Luther, are you ready?” Yang Che stood at the center of the corridor, firing continuously at the incoming monsters, a mix of humanoid and beastlike creatures.

“All set, boss!”

A loud explosion followed, and a large hole appeared in the cave ceiling.

“Good. Keep blasting. There should be an exit up there.”

Using the scanner, they had discovered a massive hollow space above this area. It seemed to connect to several other locations, providing an opportunity to escape the relentless pursuit of these flesh-and-blood monsters.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the underground world, Qiao Long was chasing a hidden figure. Although the target was invisible, the sound of footsteps provided clues to their position and direction.

In a noisy surface environment, this wouldn’t work, but here, it was just him and his opponent.

“You bastard. You’ve killed so many of us. It’s time to pay with your life!” Qiao Long fixed his gaze on a spot in the cave, speaking to provoke the figure. Though usually quiet, he employed tactics common in underground conflicts.

“Hiding here—are you scared? Or are you ready to surrender?” He lightened his steps as his voice rose and fell.

Still, there was no response. Qiao Long didn’t hesitate any longer, crushing a blue crystal in his hand. A mist of blue spread rapidly, filling the area.

In the glowing mist, a humanoid silhouette finally appeared—a male figure, by the looks of it.

“Got you.” With a kick, Qiao Long propelled himself forward, creating a whooshing sound as he shot through the air.

His punch shattered the rock wall behind his target, but the figure evaded once more.

“Damn!” The man cursed under his breath, turning to flee as the chase resumed.

The pursuit didn’t last long, as the ground suddenly trembled. Amid the cracking sounds, the earth split open, revealing a pit. From below, gunfire echoed.

“It’s open, boss!”

Luther shouted excitedly at the sight of the breached ceiling. Yang Che began leading the injured teammates away while covering their retreat.

“What’s this?” Qiao Long frowned, puzzled by the appearance of these people. The mist-covered figure leaped into the pit without hesitation.

“Capture him! He’s the mastermind behind this chaos!” Qiao Long didn’t know the figure’s exact identity but realized they were the enemy’s enemy.

“Who are you?” someone below shouted, startled, as they noticed the descending shadow.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Blue streaks of bullets pierced through the dim light, hitting the fleeing figure. One missed, another struck the chest, and a third hit the shoulder.

The figure’s special gray-black suit shimmered before fully revealing itself. The suit, crafted from a unique material, granted invisibility but was now partially damaged and ineffective.

Dodging nimbly, the figure dove behind a massive rock pillar to evade further gunfire.

Boom!

Qiao Long also leapt into the pit, advancing steadily toward the hiding figure.

Just as the tense standoff continued, a flute melody echoed from behind the rock pillar, muddling everyone’s minds. Some lower-ranked members began to feel dizzy, swaying on their feet.

“This isn’t good.” Luther clutched his head, staggering and pounding his skull to stay conscious.

Apart from him, only Qiao Long and Yang Che remained unaffected. The others collapsed to the ground, writhing in pain as if their heads were being sawed apart.

The psychic attack not only disoriented those present but also attracted distant flesh-and-blood monsters, which resumed their assault.

Yang Che had to redirect his firepower to fend off the incoming creatures, while Qiao Long quickened his steps toward the pillar.

Amidst the chaos of gunfire and howls, he rushed to the side of the pillar, only to be greeted by a bottle of milky-white liquid.

The glass shattered, releasing a peculiar milky fragrance. The liquid blurred Qiao Long’s vision, preventing him from striking his target once again. The strange substance, reminiscent of milk, created a buzzing sensation, like countless mosquitoes droning in his ears.

This wasn’t just any potion but a concentrated elixir with extraordinary effects, capable of inducing madness.

Drenched in the liquid, Qiao Long staggered as if drunk, his mind overwhelmed by a cacophony of voices and dazzling, chaotic lights.

In the haze, he seemed to see familiar faces—his master, childhood friends, teachers, people he knew, and those he loathed deeply. These were the individuals who had tormented him in the past, making his life a living hell…

With a thud, Qiao Long dropped to his knees, heat radiating from his body as his bones and muscles began to swell. Faint dragon scales emerged on his skin.

“Good, very good. Let me use you too,” the shadowy figure sneered before playing the flute again, further plunging the scene into chaos.