My Superpower Is Piloting Magical Girl Corpses?

Lin Guang took a deep breath, then exhaled.

It seemed this kind of micro-crystal could enhance magic power to a degree that was already a qualitative leap for ordinary people.

Although he had anticipated this outcome and had already reaped the benefits of the 【Precision Operation Engine】, which allowed this body to vaguely progress toward a higher level,

Still…

He never expected that just four days would bring such massive feedback, letting him step into the supernatural stage.

Lin Guang couldn’t help but sigh:

“I have to admit, this magical girl business does have its merits. I confess, when I first saw the quest, I badmouthed it way too loudly.”

“I promise never to badmouth it again.”

He took a few more deep breaths, quickly calming his mind.

He had originally prepared for a long war of attrition, expecting no gains until the quest was settled. But the appearance of this crystal meant he could “sustain the war through war itself”—while clearing the dungeon, his main body could gradually come into contact with the supernatural.

Still, it was a bit of a shame to absorb this crystal so hastily.

It would have been better to keep it for research or to test its unique properties.

But then, that emotion just now…

Lin Guang suddenly fell silent, his expression turning serious as he struck a pose.

“Smile, perfect score.”

“Fighting spirit, one hundred percent.”

“…”

( ＜ゝω・)～☆

After completing the entire routine, nothing happened.

That emotion just now seemed like an illusion.

Lin Guang let out a long sigh.

Good. It was probably just an emotional residue, not a soul possession.

Master, I pass on all my cultivation and memories to you… That kind of trope wasn’t rare in novels.

After settling his mind, Lin Guang picked up the old-fashioned phone with keys worn down to the lettering, looking at the date.

—Four days had passed in reality since he first entered the game.

In those four days, his daily routine hadn’t changed much. He just replaced his usual class time with gaming, reviews, and analysis. The rest of his time was the same as always—sleeping, eating, and light exercise.

Those less than twenty sessions, each lasting only a minute or two, were backed by countless calculations and simulations. The effort spent was no less than fighting for his life inside the game.

To ensure nothing interfered with the strategy, Lin Guang hadn’t even touched his phone these days. Now, a pile of missed calls and messages had accumulated. It was time to check them.

The phone screen lit up, and several unread messages popped up.

From his homeroom teacher:

[Lin Guang, feeling any better? I approved a week’s leave for you. If you still need more, take a few extra days. Health is the foundation of everything!]

Lin Guang was an absolute top student—not just academically excellent but also frequently winning in various sports competitions (for the scholarship). He never skipped class without reason, so his leave request had faced no resistance.

There were also a few concerned messages from classmates, probably anxious because they couldn’t copy his homework.

But the majority came from one person.

[Hey! Why aren’t you replying?]

[Still alive?]

[You didn’t actually get into trouble, did you?]

[If you died, I’d come to your house for the funeral feast!]

[Ugh, reply if you’re home. I can see your lights are on. No way you’d waste electricity like that, you cheapskate.]

[Have you gone crazy? Four days without buying groceries. How are you even surviving on that little food you bought last time?]

[I ordered takeout and left it at your door. Remember to eat!]

The last message was sent half an hour ago.

Xia Yao was still as noisy as ever, with a strong vibe of surveillance—either lurking downstairs or having people keep tabs on his movements. She even knew whether he’d left the house or not.

Opening the door, he found a rather high-end insulated takeout bag sitting outside.

Lin Guang casually picked up the takeout box left at the door and brought it inside, opening it.

The packaging was a thick, insulated bag. Inside was an extremely understated yet exquisite three-tier wooden lunchbox, the kind that looked like it came from an old-school private kitchen restaurant that required reservations and queues.

Lifting the lid, a wave of steaming fragrance hit his nose.

The first layer held glossy red braised pork belly with abalone, drenched in a rich, oily sauce that glistened under the light. The fatty part trembled slightly, looking like it would melt in the mouth.

The second layer was a simple stir-fry of asparagus and lily bulbs, vibrant green and tender white.

The bottom layer was a pot of aged chicken soup, the broth clear and pristine, without a single speck of oil.

Lin Guang touched the edge of the soup pot.

It was still hot.

Next to it was a box of rice.

“…"

On a normal day, Lin Guang chose boiled chicken breast and broccoli because they were cheap and quick, providing most of the nutrients he needed.

He wasn’t into bodybuilding or physique training, so his body fat requirements weren’t strict. Excessively low body fat actually reduced athletic performance in various areas, so he had no guilt about indulging occasionally.

He picked up his chopsticks, took a piece of braised pork belly, and put it into his mouth. The soft, sticky, sweet flavor exploded on his tongue instantly.

A slight smile curled at the corner of Lin Guang’s mouth. Without any hesitation, he dug in with gusto.

After a few bites, he seemed to remember something. Setting down his chopsticks, he pulled a small notebook with his markings from his pocket.

He flipped to the “Xia Yao” page.

The page was covered in dense pencil marks, a shocking sight—eight complete “tally mark” groups plus one horizontal and one vertical line, all neatly arranged, representing forty-two “hero saves damsel” incidents.

The last mark had been made when he saved her in that alley.

Lin Guang picked up his pencil. With a blank expression, he added another stroke to the incomplete tally group.

Forty-three times.

Lin Guang didn’t have many enemies. He mostly settled grudges on the spot. So, the tallies in this book were overwhelmingly records of favors owed to him.

Although the “hero saves damsel” thing was purely one of Xia Yao’s twisted interests, Lin Guang’s “rescues” rarely carried any risk and didn’t warrant such generous payments. Not to mention she often arranged for those supermarkets to run regular discounts just to get him out of the house, saving him quite a bit more.

Regardless of Xia Yao’s motives, it had genuinely helped Lin Guang a lot—even though he had his own income channels, they involved some shady dealings that were both dangerous and troublesome.

From an emotional perspective, a woman with a scrambled brain was indeed a pain. But if she could issue 【High-Value Quests】, that was a different story.

Lin Guang tapped the screen and sent a message:

[Alive. Not coming to school for now. Busy. Don’t worry.]

By his standards, a text over ten characters that simply reported he was safe was already far more than usual.

After replying, Lin Guang continued enjoying his hearty lunch.

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!