Chapter 117 Chapter 118 Mixed Breed
Mr. Dongdong’s shop was truly overflowing with people. Every elf soldier wanted to squeeze in to see the excitement, and every elf soldier who managed to get inside brought weapons with them. Thus, Mr. Dongdong had the fortune to admire the elven rune spears up close, with more than twenty shiny spears glaringly close to his face.
The spears were so long that, in order to save space, some elf soldiers could only draw their long swords from their waists to support the front lines.
Under the “influence” of the high elf war artifacts, Mr. Dongdong was “moved” to tears, his legs weak and needing to hold onto the edge of the counter with both hands to prevent himself from falling. He leaned his head on the table, looking up in terror at Eve Frostleaf.
Eve Frostleaf pushed aside one spear tip next to her long ears, took out a piece of paper, and tossed it in front of Mr. Dongdong.
When Mr. Dongdong unfolded the paper, it was densely written with questions:
“Who is the puppet master? Who is the author of this book? Who made you publish this book?…”
Mr. Dongdong asked, “…May I ask, my lord, will my words spare my life?”
Just then, a burly elven maid emerged from the crowd, pushed aside a spear, drew her long sword, and pointed it at his neck, demanding, “Did you slander the great elven queen?”
Mr. Dongdong shuddered and cried, “I understand, I understand, I can only confess, please be merciful, I was coerced, I have a family to support.”
Mr. Dongdong wept as he confessed for nearly half an hour. Eve Frostleaf listened and took notes, and once she finished, she furrowed her brow.
The puppet master had never shown their face, and just mentioning the puppet master made Mr. Dongdong tremble.
After confessing, Mr. Dongdong’s tears and mucus had already soaked half of the counter, and he asked, “Can you spare my life?”
Eve Frostleaf slowly wrote a line on a notebook, tore out a page, and passed it to the burly elven maid, and she read the words on the note:
“All copies of ‘The Queen’s Misadventures’ are to be burned.”
Mr. Dongdong choked out, “Thank you! Thank you!”
The burly elven maid took a breath and pointed at Mr. Dongdong:
“You are to be imprisoned.”
Mr. Dongdong suddenly imagined branding irons, whips, and the hungry dogs waiting outside the cell, and his face turned ashen:
“What! I’ve confessed everything. I am innocent!”
Having said that, he collapsed to the ground like a puddle of mud.
“Deserve what you get.”
The burly elven maid said in elven, but realized that Eve Frostleaf’s position beside her had disappeared.
Frightened, she quickly turned around and saw Eve Frostleaf already at the door.
The burly maid hurriedly called out, “Lady Frostleaf, wait for me.”
Eve Frostleaf stepped out the door, where she encountered a human boy whose small face had turned pale with fear. Although he didn’t know what was happening, it was clear it wasn’t anything good.
She walked over, and the human boy screamed and tried to run back. Eve Frostleaf took out a shiny silver dragon coin, the elven silver coin sparkling. It immediately conveyed her goodwill to the human boy’s heart.
Eve Frostleaf said, “This is your commission from the shopkeeper.”
“Thank you, big sister!”
The human boy cupped his hands and accepted three silver dragon coins, happily turning to run away.
The burly elven maid hurriedly jogged and finally caught up with Eve Frostleaf, who was mounting a horse. She asked:
“Lady Frostleaf, do you believe him?”
Eve Frostleaf shook her head.
“Then let’s capture all the booksellers in the city and interrogate them together.”
“Too much hassle,” Eve Frostleaf shook her head and said, “At the temple, there are more professionals.”
It was rare for her to say so many words.
This unusual behavior immediately alerted the burly elven maid, her ears perked up like a wolf’s, and she said:
“There are many interrogators skilled in questioning in the navy, and there just happens to be one on the ship who borrows some methods from our dark cousins.”
“No, that would anger the Kingdom of Barto.” Eve Frostleaf spoke softly, “If the dark cousins incite further, it will cause unnecessary conflict between the two races.”
“Do they dare?”
“There are many in the war council who are dissatisfied with the queen.” Eve Frostleaf’s tone was firm: “To the temple.”
“Lady Frostleaf, we only need the ‘Realm of Honesty’ at the temple and won’t involve any personal cooperation.” The elven maid climbed onto the horse and said, “I believe we shouldn’t trouble the high combatants of the temple and jeopardize our friendship with them.”
Eve Frostleaf said, “Understood.”
But the burly elven maid wasn’t entirely reassured, as all along, Eve Frostleaf had been looking to the east, which was the direction of the temple.
The elven maid always suspected that Frostleaf was focusing on a certain monkey’s figure. Just thinking that she might be constantly thinking about some monkey, the elven maid felt a heavier responsibility from Her Majesty the Queen.
She silently vowed: “Your Majesty, I will not let you down.”
…
…
In the Kingdom of Barto, in a rural village.
In a dimly lit room, a girl with black horns growing from her head and black hair, Jima, was sitting cross-legged on the bed, counting the gold coins on the bed.
“One thousand and twelve, one thousand and thirteen…”
Jima picked up little stacks of gold coins and tossed them aside, sweeping her tail to push them onto a bigger pile of gold coins.
At this time, a children’s rhyme floated in from outside: “One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten! The witch digs your head to make a west…”
“One thousand and… how many was it again?”
Jima’s tail irritably slapped the coin pile, “Never mind, it’s over a thousand one hundred coins anyway. Plus sixty-eight silver coins and five copper coins.”
Having said that, she leaned down to merge the two piles of gold coins together. She pushed with her hands, trying to make it taller.
Many people’s lifetime wealth couldn’t compare to this pile. But compared to the mountain of gold in her own treasury, this small pile was pitiful enough to bring tears.
Jima continued stacking coins high while muttering to herself, “If I hadn’t given that dead pervert a hundred gold coins, it could be even higher! Look at her lazy appearance, always thinking about sex; I wonder if she can still find that damned place.”
Jima withdrew her hands and tail, trying hard to admire the uneven pile of gold coins in front of her; this was all her wealth. The horse had already been sold, a retired warhorse that had brought in nearly a hundred gold coins.
Jima tried to encourage herself:
“Be more positive. Farmers walking by the roadside, even if they work day and night, might not accumulate so much wealth in five hundred years. In comparison, in my last life, working like a dog in a company, I might not have earned as much gold.”
Jima forced a smile: “And this stuff won’t explode, won’t betray you, won’t go to great lengths to dig out your secrets; you can just say whatever you want.”
Jima took a deep breath, feeling somewhat better.
Although that little money could only buy a high-quality maid in Shalin City, and after buying a good pair of black silk stockings, she wouldn’t have money left. Investing in the extraordinary market, it would be tough to buy even a low-tier extraordinary item with significant drawbacks.
If it were for full plate armor, she could order a set. If she had a good relationship with the craftsman, she might even get a maintenance set thrown in.
“Alas~.” Jima sighed and tilted her head, “Damn George, it’s all his fault. If he had been with me and I charged for it, based on market value, being as beautiful as I am, at least I would start at ten thousand gold coins, and that’s only for one time.”
Jima lay back on the bed, continuing to spiral into her thoughts, “…I should maybe continue writing those little yellow books to make money. Mr. Dongdong already knows how to sell books; it would be great to find him and make money together. I’ll find him when I have time in the future.”
Outside the window, another children’s rhyme echoed:
“Three times seven is twenty-one! The witch speaks a spell, giving birth to a big-headed ghost!”
“Why is it those kids again?” Jima jumped up from the bed, the rhyme had already caused her to miscount the gold coins several times, “The words are filled with discrimination against witches; this ignorant rhyme must be banned! I need to educate those little brats and correct their ignorant perceptions.”
Jima stored the gold coins, and as she walked out of the courtyard door, she casually broke off a branch from the tree in front of the door, waving it with both hands, nodding.
It was perfect for education. If the children’s parents weren’t around, Jima decided to use the branch to whip them hard, driving out their discrimination against witches from their minds – it must have been instilled by those ignorant farmers.
This is not called child abuse, but rather teaching children about truth, goodness, and beauty.
Jima looked left and right, discovering nearly all the village’s children were singing the rhyme by the roadside, each one with flushed faces. It seemed quite strange; Jima considered herself a golden deity and didn’t take it seriously.
Beside the children squatted some villagers.
Jima regrettably tossed the branch aside and walked up to ask, “What’s going on?”
The villagers were stunned for a moment and replied with friendly smiles, “Beautiful lady, living well, I presume?”
“Answer my question.”
The villagers, enchanted by Jima, had no objections to her rudeness, and one said, “There’s a witch in the village who gave birth to a mixed breed.”
“Ah? You have a witch in your village?”
“Yes, it’s not too serious; her mother didn’t want to drown her, so she raised her up and married into our village,” the villager said. “Originally thought it was no big deal, but today she gave birth to a mixed breed.”
“And what does this have to do with a bunch of children singing rhymes?”
“Don’t understand; it’s some custom, that’s what the village chief said.”
The children sang their rhymes along the ridge, while adults piled firewood in the fields, and beside them, a woman in bed held a blood-stained quilt, wailing.
Most likely, a scene of burning a witch was about to unfold. Jima didn’t expect to see this in such an openly-minded village. Villages in the countryside were usually closed off, wary of outsiders, which, of course, didn’t pose an obstacle for Jima.
Jima asked, “Are they going to burn her too?”
“Poor thing.” The villager nodded, “Their bed was just made last year.”
“I’m asking about the person.”
“Only the mixed breed and the bed are to be burned.” The villager said, “The witch herself will not be burned.”
Just then, among the children’s nursery rhymes, three short, stout farmers came over, one pulling the “witch” out from under the covers, while the other two grabbed the blood-stained bundle that was struggling.
The two farmers couldn’t hold onto it and let it break free, falling onto the bed, and it turned out to be a chubby baby, covered in blood, with a head resembling that of a cow, appearing to be a hybrid of man and cow. After leaving the mother, it let out a piercing cry, banging its arms against the bed with a thud.
The three farmers quickly lifted the bed together and tossed it, baby and all, onto the pile of firewood, setting it ablaze.
The baby’s cries were especially piercing in the fire.
The witch’s mother crawled on the ground, grasping at the weeds, crying in heart-wrenching anguish.
Jima couldn’t help but turn her head away; amidst the cries, she vaguely heard the witch’s mother shouting, “The bed! The bed! My good bed!”
The corners of her eyes twitched; it seemed that as soon as the “mixed breed” was born, no one liked it.
The children continued to sing their nursery rhymes as they surrounded the blazing pile of firewood.
Jima felt they were performing some ritual, and she worried a magical creature from her homeland would jump out of the fire, so she stood up and returned to her house, closing the door tightly.
