Chapter 116 Chapter 117 The Elves
Afternoon.
On a dirt road in front of a village, passersby curiously looked at a strange sight.
Six men were panting heavily, drenched in sweat, each step causing drops of sweat to fall from their chins as they strained to lift a wooden frame. On the frame was a horse, along with a beautiful dark-haired girl riding it. Seven other men followed behind, ready to take over at any moment.
The onlookers pointed and discussed this unusual scene:
“Why carry a horse when you have one to ride? Have they lost their minds?”
“Look at the girl on the horse, she’s beautiful. Although she’s dressed oddly, she must be a lady from some family insisting on this.”
“A bunch of fools.”
These comments trailed like shadows behind the small group.
The man without a straw hat was gasping as he carried the frame. The person next to him said, “Boss, they’re saying… we’re stupid.”
The straw hat man began to feel foolish himself but did not want to admit it. He replied, “Don’t… don’t mind them. Just concentrate on carrying… you won’t hear them.”
“…Makes sense…”
Relaxed on the horse’s back, Jima spoke out upon hearing this:
“No, they’re the foolish ones. They don’t know the truth, only seeing the surface, unable to perceive the wisdom behind it. They don’t understand that carrying separately is much more troublesome than together, revealing their ignorance…”
“…Makes sense…”
“.The lady is so great…” The straw hat man felt touched, even though he was struggling to breathe, “…to come up with such a labor-saving idea…”
After taking a comfortable sip of water from her canteen, Jima said:
“Know this: truth is always held by the few. The wise are often misunderstood by the ignorant masses. Do you see any ability for independent thinking in them? Most are just foolish followers.”
Suddenly, facing the pointing and whispering of passersby, the straw hat man felt a sense of intellectual superiority, and the mocking laughter only underscored his feeling of their low intelligence.
He couldn’t help but proudly straighten his chest. He looked over at his brothers, who also puffed out their chests with pride sparkling in their eyes.
Thus, the fourteen robbers strolled forth, heads held high, carrying a person and a horse toward the village, under the gaze of the onlookers.
Under everyone’s gaze, even Jima couldn’t help but cover her face and laugh.
“Miss, what are you laughing at?”
“I laugh because there are so few intelligent people and so many fools in the world.”
The straw hat man said proudly, “You’re right, truth is in the hands of the few.”
Jima recalled a survey she had seen in her past life online, asking whether people believed that truth is held by the few. Eighty percent chose ‘yes.’
As the village drew nearer, even Jima, with her thick skin, couldn’t hold back and said, “This is fine. Thank you all for your help.”
The frame was set down, Jima dismounted and pulled the horse out from the frame. Behind her, the group of laborers leaned on their knees, exhausted.
“So tired.”
“We’ve been carrying all day; our hands are blistered.”
The straw hat man raised his head and asked, “Look, my brothers are so tired; can you at least buy us a drink, or give us some compensation?”
“I’ve already rewarded you.” Jima looked at them seriously and said, “Take a closer look.”
“Did you?”
“Did I forget?”
The robbers patted their pockets, searching for the nonexistent coins.
Jima tapped her finger on her head and said, “The reward is in your minds; the understanding you just gained is worth more than any money. I know some people are born with poorer conditions, not smart enough to comprehend the truth. I’m pointing this out: lifting the frame is a great opportunity to exercise both body and will. Few can persist; you’ve held on, and both your mind and body have gained valuable training.”
The straw hat man clapped his hands and said, “Makes sense.”
The others displayed looks of dawning realization, afraid that if they took too long, they’d be thought of as naturally dim-witted.
“Although I’m as tired as a dog, I’ve never felt so fulfilled inside.”
“This is truly the best reward.”
Jima’s mouth curled up, “It would be even better if you could say thank you.”
“Thank you!”
“What about goodbye?”
The group waved farewell to Jima, saying, “Goodbye.”
Jima pinched the brim of her straw hat with one hand while waving goodbye to the hatless straw hat man with the other, “See you next time.”
The group of robbers departed cheerfully, sharing their insights as they walked.
Onlookers pointed and said, “Look, there go those fools carrying a person and a horse.”
Upon hearing this, the robbers proudly straightened their chests and marched on.
“A bunch of idiots.”
Jima led the horse away quickly, wanting to avoid being dragged into their plight.
“Truly, I’ve never seen such a heartless woman.” A female voice came from behind Jima, “Such a waste of a man’s body, what a fickle woman.”
Jima stopped and turned to see a woman in a black cloak with pale skin and red eyes, tall like George.
It was Litith; she approached without reservation, measuring Jima’s height with her hand, “Only up to my chest, still a shortie. Where’s your boyfriend? Don’t tell me he dumped you for being inadequate?”
“Who are you?”
“Ah? You don’t recognize me?” Litith moved aside a corner of her hood, revealing her long ears. “Your bed teacher.”
Jima looked her up and down and said, “Sorry, but I really can’t recognize you with clothes on, Litith.”
“Your words are quite slick.” Litith glanced behind Jima, “Where’s George? Did you really break up?”
“We never dated.” Jima walked alongside her, “We were just together… doing some pleasurable things.”
“Really? He saved you single-handedly; I wish I had a capable man like that.”
“This is more of a spiritual pleasure thing; George is very fond of such activities, including persuading prostitutes—encouraging the wicked to turn good. Just as I enjoy physical pleasures.”
“What a pity, I prepared so well.” Litith opened a corner of her cloak, revealing her fair body, with a bottle of oil tied to her waist.
“Can I say you really live up to your reputation?” Jima said, “But frankly, a person like George would have the opposite effect if directly seduced.”
“I don’t like tall men,” Litith replied, “I’m thinking of his horse, that dazzling white horse, spotless, truly a fine steed. The oil is prepared for it. Do you know its name?”
Jima covered her ears and said, “I was wrong; I really shouldn’t chat with you. If we continue this, I’ll start developing eye styes. Your fetishes are genuinely abnormal.”
“Boring.” Litith closed her cloak.
…
…
One day, at noon.
The alleged owner of the land at Le’an Port, a knight lord, was eyeing the long legs of a silver-haired elf. Although she wore a scaled combat skirt, the outline of her legs exposed through the skirt was enough to incite imagination.
“Bang!”
A servant next to Yves Frostleaf slammed her hand on the table.
“Mind your eyes.” The elven maid admonished, “Before you is Her Majesty’s envoy, Lady Frostleaf.”
The knight lord retracted his gaze and coldly said, “My chivalry requires me to listen to your request.”
Yves Frostleaf’s face was icy, or rather, it always was. She placed a piece of paper on the table and said, “Read this.”
The knight lord picked up the letter, saw the first side filled with elegantly written elvish script, and snorted, “Proud high elf, I won’t look at a request I can’t understand.”
Yves Frostleaf raised a finger wrapped in a silk glove, “Turn it over.”
The knight lord flipped it to the back, glanced at it a few times, his face flushed, and he ripped the paper in half, saying:
“This is too much! How can a guard for a merchant convoy be over three hundred? This is clearly an army, and you expect it to enter the city?”
He stood up, gripping the hilt of his sword, and his guards immediately drew their swords, lowering their spears to surround the two.
The burly elven maid drew her runic silver sword and said, “Do you humans wish for your doom?”
Yves Frostleaf remained seated, her expression unchanged.
The knight lord lowered his helmet, “This is the territory my ancestors passed down to me, and I won’t allow any foreign army to strut down the street. You all should leave.”
Yves Frostleaf took out an old paper from somewhere and said, “Some matters about your grandmother.”
The knight lord took the paper and noticed his family crest on it, watching his expression change.
“My lord, bad news!” A messenger hurriedly burst through the door, “A vessel claiming to be a merchant ship from the elves has invaded the port, and the deck is full of fully armed soldiers!”
The knight lord raised his visor, threw the paper on the table, and shouted at the messenger, “That’s a caravan guard, here for trade! No need to overreact.”
Then, he shouted at Yves Frostleaf, “Get out of my castle! Is living long such a great achievement?”
But he found Yves Frostleaf had already stood up, taking a few steps to the door, ignoring his words.
The burly sword-wielding maid picked up the paper and said, “Poor short-lived race; at least you’re tougher than your grandfather.”
Saying this, she chased after Yves Frostleaf, calling, “Lady Frostleaf, please wait for me!”
The knight lord, having removed his steel gauntlet, slammed it on the table angrily, saying, “Those damned merchants! They barely pay any taxes and cause us so much trouble!”
Half an hour later.
Inside Le’an Port.
Yves Frostleaf rode on a silver steed, walking down the street, her silver hair cascading down to her waist. Her beauty drew the attention of passersby.
The burly elven maid also rode her horse, trailing alongside, speaking in elvish, “Lady Frostleaf, are we being too ostentatious?”
Yves Frostleaf slightly shook her head.
“Though we’re not green-skinned, coming so openly to capture the one who slandered Her Majesty would surely disturb him, wouldn’t it?”
Yves Frostleaf didn’t move her head, giving no response.
Seeing this, the burly elven maid noticed Yves Frostleaf was engrossed in reading “The Misfortunes of the Elven Queen,” her emerald eyes glued to the page.
The book had two large words on it: “Genuine.”
“Lady Frostleaf! How can you read such a book that slanders Her Majesty in public? If other elven princes or princesses hear it, it won’t end well.”
Yves Frostleaf looked up and shot a glare at the maid, saying, “I’m looking for clues.”
A voice rang out selling goods:
“Genuine books, genuine books! Well-bound, clear printing, beautiful illustrations. For each purchase, the down-and-out author can eat well and write the second volume!”
Yves Frostleaf pulled on the reins, lowering her head to look in the direction of the voice.
A boy was waving “The Misfortunes of the Elven Queen” and ran up to her, saying, “Would you like to buy one, pretty big sister?”
Pointing to a nearby bookstore, he continued, “They’re all genuine books here.”
Yves Frostleaf dismounted, tossed the book back to the burly elven maid, and strode toward the bookstore, followed closely by over a hundred armed elven soldiers.
The boy asked, “Is the big sister here to buy a book?”
Yves Frostleaf nodded.
The boy asked, “Are the ones behind coming along too?”
Yves Frostleaf nodded, lifting her hand to signal the elven soldiers behind them to follow.
The boy happily jumped up, saying, “Big sister, can I say I brought you here? That way, I can get a commission.”
Yves Frostleaf replied, “Sure.”
“Thank you!” The boy ran ahead, bursting into the store, shouting, “Boss! Boss! I brought a lot of customers to buy books; remember to give me a commission!”
The understanding Mr. Dengdeng behind the counter wore a professional smile, raised his head to respond, but upon seeing Yves Frostleaf behind the boy, his gaze fixated on her silver hair, her translucent long ears, and the densely packed elven soldiers behind her.
His smile abruptly froze.
The boy bounced in front of the counter, shouting, “Boss! I brought at least a hundred people!”
Yves Frostleaf added, “One hundred and twenty people.”
“See! You can ask this big sister; I brought them! Don’t try to default, boss, answer me!”
Yves Frostleaf nodded, “Yes.”
Mr. Dengdeng, as if losing his soul, stood frozen in place.
Behind her, an elven soldier’s tall pointed helmet bumped into the door frame, having to lower his head to fit into the bookstore, and soon a circle of heavy-armored, shield-bearing brutes surrounded Frostleaf, their half-sized shields adorned with images of sea beasts.
A cold sweat dripped down Mr. Dengdeng’s cheek, and he stammered, “…You… aren’t here to buy books, right?”
“I only want the genuine ones.”
“Did you hear that?” The boy impatiently rapped the table, “Boss, don’t play tricks.”
Mr. Dengdeng was now dripping with sweat: “I… I actually don’t have genuine ones here.”
Yves Frostleaf said, “Recite it.”
The boy shouted, “Genuine books, genuine books! Well-bound—”
Yves Frostleaf interrupted, “The second half.”
“Every purchase, the down-and-out author can eat well and write the second volume!”
Yves Frostleaf nodded, “Good boy.”
Mr. Dengdeng was on the verge of collapse: “I… I don’t know who the author is; actually, I’m selling pirated copies.”
Yves Frostleaf made a gesture.
With a whoosh, spears fell, their gleaming tips aimed at Mr. Dengdeng; one tip was nearly touching his nose.
Mr. Dengdeng instantly collapsed to the ground, shouting, “I’ll say whatever I know! Spare me!”
The boy scratched his head in confusion, asking, “So are we buying the book or not? Adult world is really strange.”
