Chapter 30: Escape
For a moment, Miss Lead Bottle thought she had misheard.
Before receiving Jima, someone had relayed Jima’s performance at the bank. Miss Lead Bottle believed that Jima or her master behind her must be anxious for money, and she was confident she could exploit Jima’s urgency, but she didn’t expect Jima to simply give up.
Jima stood up from the sofa and walked directly toward the door.
It took Miss Lead Bottle a moment to react, and she smiled, saying, “If you are worried about safety, our bank can immediately arrange security personnel for you; it’s a privilege for our highest-tier clients.”
Jima said, “No.”
Miss Lead Bottle blocked her path, “Why do you suddenly give up? Your master might not be happy.”
“Actually, I forgot to take out the paper with the password,” Jima replied, rummaging through her pocket and sighing. “Sigh, better head back early, or I might get spanked.”
With that, Jima bypassed Miss Lead Bottle.
Miss Lead Bottle quickly followed, her face plastered with a fawning smile: “Do you need a carriage?”
To pry into my hiding place?
Jima smiled and said, “Goodbye,” and then ignored Miss Lead Bottle, pushing open the door to leave.
“Please wait.”
“Goodbye.”
What a joke, what is there to wait for at this time?
Jima did not stop her pace and walked directly down the stairs.
Miss Lead Bottle had been inquiring about Jima’s “master” and her covetousness toward Jima, making Jima only feel that withdrawing money was a damned trap.
That white-eyed wolf of a benefactor must be desperately searching for my treasure, and it is normal for them to focus on my bank account, clearly already in collusion with the bank. Waiting for me to come and obediently open the vault… Miss Lead Bottle’s earlier probing must have been a sign that her backers wanted to know whether I—Demon King Jima—was still alive, to avoid offending someone they couldn’t afford to offend… Heh, just wait for me to kill all of you.
Jima coldly sneered in her heart, secretly vowing to kill the benefactor’s entire family, grind them up, and feed them to the cats.
“Please wait.”
Miss Lead Bottle ignored politeness, following Jima closely, repeatedly speaking words of retention. But Jima paid her no mind, treating her like air, walking leisurely.
Because Jima thought that Fren Brothers Bank would not dare to make a move against her without knowing her backer’s identity. According to Miss Lead Bottle’s words, they likely believed that the one coming to take out money was Demon King Jima; even if not, it was probably someone stronger than Demon King Jima. No matter who it was, the bank couldn’t provoke them.
If she appeared too anxious, it might wear on their courage.
They slowly walked down to the second floor. Just as they reached the lobby, they saw an unfortunate scene. The muscular man with glasses was being dragged by two guards, one on each side, “escorting” him out.
“You are alone, which is really unsafe; consider our bank’s carriage.”
“I appreciate your enthusiastic way of seeing me off,” Jima said, stepping over the threshold. “Tell your boss that banks as enthusiastic as this usually won’t last long.”
With that, she left Miss Lead Bottle, who was left with a face full of embarrassment, behind and strode away.
After successfully exiting the door, Jima blended into the crowd, using her shorter height to disappear among the masses. She feared that suddenly fifty muscular men would rush out of the bank and drag her back inside, subjecting her to severe interrogation. Fortunately, the coast was clear, with no hulking men and no unexpected events.
Everything on the street was just as it had been when she arrived.
But Jima did not relax. Even if it was perhaps her being overly suspicious, being cautious would never hurt. Even if they were careful and did not act directly, they would likely send people to follow her in secret, figuring out her “master’s” identity to assess whether she was soft or hard.
Soft means to be exploited, hard means to be feared. And right now, Jima was soft, the softest she had ever been.
Jima tugged at her hood to cover her face. Deep in the hood, a pair of golden eyes faintly glimmered as she maintained her “desire eyes” state, seriously feeling every desire targeted at her. However, she walked in the opposite direction for fifteen minutes without sensing anything.
Could it be that she was just too suspicious? Maybe Miss Lead Bottle was just a lust demon, greedily wanting to pinch her face?
Jima’s head ached; she realized her understanding of her own abilities was still too shallow.
She would use traditional methods to find her pursuers.
Jima pretended to casually look back, her keen gaze sweeping the crowd behind her.
No matter how she looked at it, everyone seemed suspicious. The beggar being driven off by the soldier in a yellow helmet had glanced at her just moments ago. The guards were the same, pushing the beggar along while glancing at her. There was no flower on her face.
And that donkey with long brown ears, its black eyes glittering with intelligence, had been staring at her the whole time. It might actually be a transformed druid.
After observing for a while, Jima reached an astonishing conclusion: everyone on the street were experienced trackers, all following her.
Jima took a deep breath.
No, it was me who was too weak.
After turning a few corners, the pedestrians on the road grew fewer. In the distance, the sound of bells rang out, marking noon. Jima furrowed her brow; according to her plan, she should have already arrived at the inn by now.
Suddenly, she stopped, slightly raised her head, and looked up at the seven-colored clouds formed by people’s desires. An idea formed in her mind as her finger extended from her sleeve, pointing toward the blue cloud symbolizing greed, and she beckoned.
Jima felt a warm current flowing down her arm from her fingertip. The feeling of fullness gradually faded, while the blue cloud in the sky grew larger and larger.
She deduced that the other party might have been focused on tracking her, which is why their “greed” desire was absent. But if she intensified the greed in their hearts, it might lead them to fantasize.
A slight tingling sensation came from behind her, and Jima stopped her tempting gesture, feeling a slight heat in her head. She did not hasten to look back; instead, she pretended nothing was wrong and continued walking, heading toward the less crowded areas.
Because her “temptation” caused changes among the people around.
As she passed a clothing stall, the vendor was loudly arguing with a customer.
“What? You dare to sell a tattered hooded cloak for three silver coins?”
“This is sewn with the hair of a water sprite; I will sell it for three gold coins!”
Nearby, two originally friendly merchants had suddenly quarreled over the price in their contract. The whole street grew increasingly strange; as Jima passed a narrow alley, she saw someone threatening a passerby with a butter knife, demanding their purse.
A series of stinging gazes landed on her. Jima quickened her pace, rounding another corner; some of the stinging sensations faded, but there was still one sensation pursuing her.
That must be the tracker.
Jima pretended to accidentally look back, tracing the desires targeting her. When her gaze fell on the tracker, she froze in shock.
It was a donkey! A long-eared donkey that looked harmless.
Her worst fears had been confirmed. She gasped, her heart tightening.
Fren Brothers Bank really had teamed up with the benefactor.
As a former esteemed guest of Shalin City, Jima knew that the benefactor held a method of “cultivation.” It was called “Flesh and Blood Master,” skilled in altering flesh and implanting organs. They had previously researched creating super soldiers with two hearts and three lungs under Jima’s suggestion but had failed.
After all, they were better suited to perform cosmetic surgeries, reducing fat, enhancing breasts, and repairing membranes on female slaves…
They were also skilled in organ transplantation, swapping the heads of beasts with those of orphans to act as spies and trackers. After all, no one would pay attention to a passing beast, no matter how vigilant they were.
Jima continued forward, that slight stinging sensation acting like a thorn in her back.
This was far more terrifying than being discovered by George for returning late. If the benefactor couldn’t restrain himself and decided to take action, she wouldn’t even have the chance to run.
Jima’s scalp tingled; she suddenly realized that she was the best “auction item” right now. Succubi were scarce and hard to find, and she had gone to great lengths to obtain just one succubus on a bus back in the day.
If the benefactor managed to capture a virgin succubus, wouldn’t he laugh with pure joy, arranging the ten best trainers in the city for her to be jointly trained? Thinking of this made Jima’s tail tremble uncontrollably.
If she simply left the street, she would definitely be tracked; several beasts were waiting. She could not afford to seduce people from street to street.
Gritting her teeth, Jima plunged directly into an alley, hoping to use the complex small alleys to shake off her pursuers.
Unfortunately, the alley was not complicated; it had only one exit and no access to the sewers.
Jima faced the danger of being robbed as she stepped out of the alley, the familiar stinging feeling returned.
Persistence personified.
After walking a few steps, she darted into another alley, and the stinging sensation behind her vanished. Jima did not breathe a sigh of relief because this alley could be seen all the way to the end, and it had only one exit.
However, there were about a dozen children playing in the alley, surrounding a boy in the middle who was tossing small stones and catching them, singing as he threw:
“One second short, two seconds long, if you don’t run in three seconds, the noose will come!”
The boy tossing the stones noticed Jima, the unexpected guest, and his hand trembled, causing him to drop the stone.
The child next to him laughed, taking a piece of rope and wrapping it around his neck, shouting, “Locke has been caught! Caught!”
The boy named Locke opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue, looking just like a hanged ghost.
It seemed that the scene of hanging child thieves left a deep impression on them.
Jima felt a pang of discomfort in her heart. She approached the ragged child and said, “Kids, want a gold coin?”
A gold coin appeared in her palm.
Locke pulled off the rope, staring at the gold coin. Jima noticed that even without her temptation, the greed within the boy’s chest was surprisingly large.
“I would be happy to serve the little girl,” Locke said, “What do you want us to do?”
“Someone is targeting me.”
“Leave it to us.”
“This gold coin is the reward. This silver coin, kids always forget things; let it be forgotten.” She tossed a gold and a silver coin to the boy named Locke.
“How strange, how could I have so much money?” Locke grabbed the coins and winked at Jima.
Fifteen minutes later.
A group of hooded children streamed out of the alley, all about Jima’s height. They scurried away like a swarm of rats, disappearing quickly into the streets and alleys.
Half an hour later.
Jima, who was stuck in a barrel that reeked of foul water, finally couldn’t take it anymore, pinching her nose to push the lid open and climb out, her clothes covered in unpleasant stains.
“I must take a good bath when I get back.”
Jima frowned, hastily leaving the alley. She could only hope that the dog-headed people in the sewers could hold out a little longer.
She really didn’t like the idea of returning to the inn only to find the virgin sitting in a chair, waiting for her with a feather duster in hand.
