Chapter 14: The Greedy Adventurer
In the end, while starving.
Jima spent half an hour finally finishing the “Guide to Preaching.” She quickly closed the book and hurried towards the noisy bathroom, where only a white fabric curtain blocked the entrance.
The plan to sell meat was simple: pretend to have an urgent need and linger before the bathroom door. Then, accidentally slip and fall at the wet entrance. Sliding into the bathroom, once down, she would “coincidentally” expose something that shouldn’t be revealed.
Just like in the seductive anime.
She jumped up, standing in front of the bathroom door, gasping:
“Oops.”
Her body fell straight toward the curtain.
“Whoosh.”
The curtain flew open, and two large hands firmly caught Jima’s shoulders.
George was already dressed, steadying Jima, and said, “Be careful not to fall.”
Jima bit her lip silently, unable to lose her temper. Pretending nothing happened, she said, “You took a quick shower today.”
“Because I didn’t sweat much today, just some picking and choosing.”
How infuriating, but Jima wouldn’t give up easily. When it was her turn to shower, she deliberately forgot to take a towel. Halfway through, her fair arm lifted the curtain, yelling:
“George, George, I forgot my towel; can you help me get it?”
George’s voice came from behind the door.
“I’m busy in the room; you get it yourself. You should sleep early; we need to get up early tomorrow.”
“Come on, in the past, George would never be in the room at this time.”
In the end, Jima gathered very little, not even enough to fill her stomach.
She lay on her bed, her soft black hair spilling over the light-colored sheets. With both hands on her flat stomach, she sighed, “I’m having such a hard time.”
In the next room, the alchemical lamp emitted a faint yellow glow. The desk was piled with various educational books.
George sat in front of the desk, rubbing his sore eyes, having gone through a box of books without finding any answers.
“Teaching is so difficult.”
The next day.
Before dawn. The copper bell on Saint Hill had not yet rung.
Jima was pulled out of bed, along with George. Facing the chilly wind, they disappeared into a milky-white hall.
They donned their gear, waiting for the white-robed mage, who was dozing off, to prepare the magic circle.
George kept nagging beside her.
“Remember, never expose our identities. Otherwise, the mission is nearly a failure. Ever since I defeated the Demon King, good souls have gathered a bounty of 20,000 gold coins for me. I’ve heard the price is still rising.”
“Remember, our fake identities are traveling knights from the Kingdom of Barto; you are my attendant.” While George nagged, he hung a metal medallion depicting a war hammer in front of his armpit.
“I’m from the Great Hammer family, that is the truth.”
“Our primary goal is to reach Shalin City, to find an informant in the Fire Zone; he is the owner of a grocery store.”
“Never expose.”
Jima yawned. She had listened to the mission briefing over ten times and could almost recite it, “I’m about to memorize it; George, you are so naggy.”
“Then let’s talk about battle; you must not panic, prioritize your life….”
Jima covered her ears and buried her head between her legs.
Finally, amid Jima’s eager gaze, the white-robed mage finally illuminated the patterns on the slab.
“Ha~~.” The white-robed mage yawned, “Only two living beings allowed; don’t bring any pets. The distance is a bit far, and with arcane magic, a slight deviation is normal.”
“As long as it doesn’t explode.” Jima, with her heavy backpack, rushed onto the magic circle as if fleeing.
“What a lively child,” the white-robed mage said.
“As long as you don’t look through colored glasses, Jima looks more like an ordinary child,” George smiled as he stepped onto the magic circle.
After a round of polite blessings. With the white-robed mage’s incantation, a blue light radiated from the slab beneath their feet.
The space around Jima suddenly distorted, turning into a gooey mass. She lost her sense of gravity, and it felt like she was thrown into a vortex, swaying side to side with her head swelling.
A harsh sound echoed in her ears as everything around her pressed against her body. Jima felt as if she was a struggling cub inside a walrus mother’s belly.
A failed teleportation, am I really going to die here as a high-ranking demon lord? Before Jima could lament her grim fate.
A bright light shone before her, and the gray ground rushed toward her, grass blades brushing against her nose.
Instinctively, she wanted to spread her wings, but her wings, tightly bound by fabric, moved the material.
Thud! She slammed face-first onto the grass, her face stinging, the backpack on her back nearly suffocating her.
Fortunately, she was on grass and didn’t get hurt.
“It hurts.. it hurts.”
Jima struggled to prop herself up, gritting her teeth. Internally, she silently added the dozing white-robed mage to her blacklist.
“Boom!”
A helmet fell and hit Jima’s head; she covered her head and collapsed back to the ground. Looking at the helmet that bounced on the ground, it was George’s bucket helmet.
Jima gritted her teeth and silently added another crime to George’s account. Lying on the grass, she saw a bright blue vortex in the sky. At that moment, the ground was in pitch darkness, making the blue light especially conspicuous.
Quickly, she looked around, realizing she was in the wilderness. She relaxed; if she had been spotted right after teleporting, their mission would be doomed.
George fell from the vortex, about three meters high, crashing straight down towards Jima. Although clad in heavy armor, his body was agile; he spun in mid-air to avoid Jima and landed on the grass.
George bent down to pick up the bucket helmet, glanced at Jima, who was covering her head, and reached out to touch her head, saying, “Does your head hurt? Let me treat it.”
With tearful eyes, Jima said with difficulty:
“Can you first move your foot? You’re stepping on my tail.”
George quickly lifted his iron boot. Jima held her reddened tail and blew on it, silently swearing that she would eventually kick George’s tailbone.
“This teleportation deviation is too big; we were supposed to arrive in a secret basement,” George said, with his resolute face illuminated by the blue light of the teleportation portal. “I’ll treat you; let’s hurry and leave before the blue light attracts attention.”
The vortex above slowly extinguished. George rubbed Jima’s head.
“In this desolate place, where so many—
“George, don’t treat me; someone is coming.”
Jima quickly put on her hood.
Surrounded by sparse trees, the grassland was dark before dawn, with faint starlight. But both of them could see in the darkness and noticed six fully armed figures emerging from the treeline.
Jima took a closer look; they were six adventurers. They were putting on their armor as they walked, forming a battle formation as they approached the two, hurriedly yet remaining vigilant.
What a coincidence; they had just teleported next to a group of adventurers camping. Adventurers in the wild were extremely alert, always on guard against night raids. If something happens nearby, they’d definitely come to check it out.
“George, they might have seen the whole process of our teleportation.”
As Jima spoke, she pulled out an oil lamp from her backpack, stirred the alchemical oil inside, and the lamp lit up.
“Time to see your eloquence,” George said.
“I’m saying, really, have you considered killing them to cover up?”
The yellow light fell on Jima’s cute face, making her seem somewhat cold.
George shook his head, saying, “That’s not conducive to your moral education.”
“I’d rather copy 120 pages of books to cleanse my guilt from witnessing bloody scenes than waste my breath with them.” Jima complained.
“No way.”
Even though Jima was filled with thoughts of killing to cover up, the master’s orders were paramount. She sighed, saying, “You must cooperate with me during the ‘moral education’ later.”
The six adventurers drew closer. Each had an oil lamp hanging from their chest, leading the way was a warrior. He wore a plate chainmail; this type of armor added iron plates to chainmail for strength. It was nearly as heavy as plate armor but didn’t offer as much protection.
Its only advantage was being cheap. The expensive price of full plate armor discouraged many adventurers.
Moreover, although this plate chainmail had been meticulously cared for, it still bore a lot of rust.
Jima instinctively categorized them as minions, a sense of arrogance subconsciously rising within her.
They stopped fifteen paces away. Jima’s adorable face did not cause them to relax; on the contrary, they became more nervous, the crossbow bolts drawn tight, bowstrings taut, and the sword in the plate chainmail warrior’s hand pointed directly at Jima’s face.
“Who are you? Humans? Or monsters?” the plate chainmail warrior asked in a heavy southern accent, his voice coarse.
“Passing by,” Jima said, “we don’t want to cause trouble; how about we part ways amicably?”
The plate chainmail warrior’s eyes were bloodshot. His gaze scrutinized Jima and George’s bulging backpacks, staring intently. In the wild, there were no laws. Adventurers were keen to temporarily experience the life of robbers.
Jima was quite looking forward to them playing the role of robbers; that way, she wouldn’t have to say much, and George could solve these six minions with a few sword strikes.
“Bah.” The plate chainmail warrior spat, “In a wilderness like this, two people carrying backpacks full of good things. Just passing by? Are you kidding a child? You’re breaking the rules.”
“Oh? What rules? Is this piece of land your territory?” Jima smiled. “Should we pay a toll for passing through?”
“Little brat, don’t play dumb,” the plate chainmail warrior scoffed. “Everyone in Shalin City’s knows about Demon King Kima—”
“It’s Jima, not Kima.” Jima corrected his pronunciation.
“What does that have to do with you? Teaching me, you little slick.” The plate chainmail warrior shot her a glare, “We already divided the land; whoever finds the treasure entrance owns it. Are you trying to break the rules?”
Jima’s tail instinctively stopped, staring at the plate chainmail warrior. If she wasn’t mistaken, her treasure’s location was a secret; how did it become an open secret?
“Who sent you to look for it?” Jima asked.
“Tsk, pretending to be clueless and actually good at it. Who besides the great benefactor can afford to offer so much money for the bounty on the treasure entrance?”
Jima’s heart sank. Great, now there were more competitors for finding the treasure. When she was the demon lord, the great benefactor was also her drinking buddy, and he successfully crossed a financial crisis relying on the money she provided for buying maidens.
Now, he had set his sights on her “inheritance.”
“Keep pretending; do we all look blind? Didn’t we see the blue light of teleportation?” the plate chainmail warrior said. “Either open the backpacks and share with us, or I’ll teach you what ‘rules’ mean.”
George’s face turned cold, and he gripped the hilt of his sword tightly.
He squinted his eyes and continued, “It’s your luck to encounter a reasonable person like me.”
The sharp arrows aimed at Jima’s face corroborated his words.
Jima turned her head, shrugging at George, indicating she tried her best. Luckily, George was not a person to fuss; he shook his head, drew his two-handed sword, and tossed the sheath aside.
The atmosphere grew tense.
“Who do you think you’re intimidating?” The plate chainmail warrior waved his hand, and his teammates aimed their crossbows at Jima, at a fifteen-step distance; arrows were much faster than swords.
“Take a step closer, and I’ll turn your little brat into a porcupine—”
Before he could finish, George rushed in front of him, slamming the hilt against his mouth.
The plate chainmail warrior turned his head, his dazed eyes staring at his bloodied teeth. He didn’t even realize what happened; years of experience told him that fifteen steps was a safe distance, and his opponent was an armored warrior.
Before the adventurers could react, the second shield-bearer was knocked down with a single punch. Only then did they realize.
“Ah!”
The crossbowmen cried out in fright. They hurriedly shot at George, arrows grazing past him.
George charged through, seasoned adventurers falling like dominoes. When the last bowman pulled back the second arrow, he was horrified to find his teammates all down, and George was striding toward him.
The bowman released his arrow, hitting George in the chest, breaking on impact, shards flying everywhere. George simply raised his fist and delivered a solid punch to his face.
Jima shook her head in disbelief. Later, George would most likely give the adventurers a chance to reform, rather than just killing them to cover up—how wonderful, truly a saint. But considering George was the one who defeated the minions, Jima refrained from directing his actions.
At that moment, a voice asked from the woods, “Who is it?”
Jima turned to look, and the adventurers poured out of the forest like goblins, a dozen of them. They all had oil lamps hanging from their waists, and behind them, in the darkening woods, faint lights began to glow.
“They have the Demon King’s treasure!” the plate chainmail warrior shouted with his toothless mouth.
His voice echoed in the quiet woods like a drop of blood falling into a group of sharks. The adventurers stirred, closing in on this side.
Well then, it was too late for killing to cover up.
