Chapter 103 Chapter 104 New Objective
Action is better than intention.
Jima immediately added a task in the taskbar: “Get rid of the label of being weak,” with the content:
“It’s time to reclaim half of the extraordinary substance extracted from my body from the Holy Hall. Nothing is more intimate than my soul connecting with it. I should be able to use it to recreate my previous glory as a mighty warrior.”
Jima thought that the extraordinary substance obtained from the Fear War Demon in Shalin City also belonged to her. After assassinating her, the Holy Hall gave half of the extracted extraordinary substance to a mysterious partner as agreed.
Later it was discovered that the mysterious partner was the Demon King Marus, an extremely arrogant show-off with a title that spanned over a thousand words. Every time there was a gathering, all the demons had to endure a ten-minute recitation of his title by his servants.
Jima nicknamed him Emperor Long Aotian.
The Demon King Marus elevated the extraordinary substance extracted from her to the Fear War Demon. After his death, the extraordinary substance fell back into the hands of the Holy Hall, so strictly speaking, the Holy Hall should possess six-tenths of the extraordinary substance.
Jima contemplated changing “half” to “six-tenths.”
After setting up the task, Jima deleted several tasks she had completed earlier. The only task she wasn’t sure whether she completed was making George believe she was kind, providing strength to the lie, thereby deceiving the Holy Hall’s detection system.
Jima reflected on her actions.
“The essence of kindness is altruism. I’ve been altruistic enough. I commanded the Dragon-slaying Battle and called for reinforcements. George doesn’t know this yet; I should find an opportunity to talk to him. I must leave my name when doing good; I can’t make a loss.”
As she said this, she looked down at her slightly heaving chest and slender wrists, sighing: “Now I’m already at a loss; I missed the physical growth period after leveling up. My thin legs and arms are tiresome to look at.”
In Jima’s aesthetic, thin legs and arms were inferior. A loli figure was as unappealing as barren saline-alkali land.
If this couldn’t move George, it could only mean he was cold-hearted and inherently cruel, at least towards her.
After devising the task, a wave of hunger hit Jima, who was sitting on the stone. An insatiable itch spread from her lower abdomen, and she couldn’t help but shift her hips and rubbed against the slight protrusions on the stone.
She forced herself to stand up from the stone, removed the surrounding concealment spells, and let the cool night wind brush against her face, which calmed her down somewhat.
It was better to go find George for some food; today was a joyous occasion, and I could be considered his secret lover… no, that won’t do.
Her rationality told her that she relied too much on George’s food; it was not a good omen.
Only omnivorous animals could thrive; she should try to accept a broader variety of foods. Otherwise, when the time came to confront him, wouldn’t she be tortured by withdrawal symptoms?
This soon escalated into a “food security” issue.
Jima felt the gravity of the situation and added another task:
“Addiction Breaking: Free myself from the addiction to George’s food to avoid being unable to leave him in the future.”
That was all for today’s summary.
With a clear goal, Jima walked towards the banquet. As she passed the hill, the firelight from the banquet was somewhat blinding. There was a large pile of empty wine barrels beside the banquet, and the drunken knights held each other’s hands, dancing on the long table in their heavy armor, singing:
“Hey George, give me a piece of dragon meat!”
While singing, their iron boots stomped loudly on the table, torturing Dru’s ancestral long table quite a bit.
Among the half-crazed knights, Jima found George. He was squatting by the bonfire, resting his chin on his fist, staring intently at the blazing fire, seemingly pondering some philosophy.
Truly a Holy Knight of the Hall, being drunk was so distinctive for him.
As Jima walked past a table full of drunken knights enjoying themselves, a knight named Sam drunkenly raised his wine glass and said:
“Cheers to the damned white-haired one!”
“Cheers to his longevity!”
After downing his drink, Sam drunkenly declared, “The sequel should be out soon! If I knew where he lived, I’d definitely lock him in a little dark room.”
Jima couldn’t help but pull up her hood to conceal her profile.
Haha, after making money, continue writing rubbish? If I keep writing, I might attract the attention of the elves, and that wouldn’t be good.
She bypassed a knight who was lying on the ground pretending to be a warhorse and neighing at the evil dragon, making her way towards George.
As she mentally prepared to elegantly mention her achievements to George, she got closer to him and saw him casually reading a book with one hand.
As expected of him, even drunk he was still reading.
Jima leaned in to take a closer look at the text.
The writing style didn’t seem like it belonged to this world; it became more familiar the more she read. Huh, the protagonist seems to be an elven queen? Oh, it’s about to start a 3P. Tsk tsk, didn’t expect George to be a scumbag who reads smut. Wait, that seems a bit familiar. Damn, that’s something I wrote.
Feeling guilty, Jima slapped George’s shoulder and sternly asked, “George, what are you reading?”
George turned his face, showing no signs of panic; instead, he displayed a certain righteous demeanor that made Jima feel a surge of guilt. Could it be that he deduced from the text that the author was called “the white-haired one,” but was actually a “black-haired one”?
George said, “They recommended this book to me; it’s quite interesting.”
“Indeed, this page is all about building up some sensual stuff,” Jima replied, “It seems that although the protagonist is struggling, soon she’ll be cornered by the jailer and the pot-bellied steward. You actually like reading this kind of book? Tsk tsk, so lewd.”
“The most interesting part is,” George closed the book, and its colorful cover glimmered in the firelight; it was the illustration of the elven queen he had drawn himself, embellished with a blush and a suspicious puddle, “I’m very familiar with this cover.”
“Wow, to see this painting here,” Jima exclaimed, while observing George’s expression. Although he had the flush of drunkenness on his face, his tone was calm and rational, “It seems the merchant who sold the painting had impure motives.”
“Indeed.”
Jima secretly rejoiced that she had cleverly used the name of a well-informed gentleman to buy this painting; otherwise, she would be exposed now.
Who would have thought George would say, “But I always feel like you wrote it.”
A bead of sweat trickled down Jima’s cheek as she feigned anger and said, “How can you slander someone out of thin air like that?”
“I feel ashamed of this thought,” George said, “I know I’ve hurt you with my bias time and again, but I can’t help but think my intuition is correct.”
That was too accurate. Ah no, to be precise, as long as one is smart, one will definitely have some doubts.
As Jima was racking her brain, trying to figure out how to brush it off.
Drinking heavily, George set the book down and tightly hugged Jima. The scents of holy oil and honey wine enveloped her, and George’s face was pressed against hers. Jima could even feel his rough fingers touching her butt, scratching at the base of her tail.
A wave of softness. Trembling sensations coursed up her spine, making her entire brain shake.
What… what is he going to do?
————
There will be another update at six o’clock in the evening.
