Chapter 304: Jenna’s Choice
The corpses piled high, flames burning fiercely, and the fat body of the plague doctor looked like a lump of black carbon in the raging fire, with black smoke rising into the sky.
After negotiating with the Sigma Church, the plague doctor’s thick, mysteriously crafted leather notebook lay before Jenna.
The book was open, with one hundred thirty-seven pages facing up, the letters resembling green caterpillars. At first glance, there seemed to be no issues. But once you delved into reading it and pondered the meanings behind the words, problems began to emerge.
Jenna rested her forehead on her hand, glancing at a cup of green, gooey potion beside her, and sighed, “I really need to taste the components with my mouth.”
Such a beautiful body, wasted.
Jima also sighed.
“Trust me, Jima.”
Jima did not reply, only carefully polishing the blade of her axe, her gaze fixed on Jenna’s fair neck.
If Jenna fell, Jima would unhesitatingly command “Bald Qiang” to chop off her head.
If the statuesque Jenna became a pile of rotten flesh, in Jima’s eyes she would have lost all value. Jima had always coveted Jenna’s body, her original intentions unchanged, which could be called pure.
But if we’re being honest, that might hurt feelings.
So, Jima decided to set up a monument.
She said, “I want to tell a story. Once there was a golden-haired prince who loved his country and his people. One day, he was responsible for tracking the undead plague, which turned those infected into mindless zombies. He pursued the contaminated wheat but forgot one step, and outside a great city, he smelled the smoke of the fire that carried the scent of the undead plague.”
“He was very young and excited, demanding an immediate massacre of the city, resulting in his teacher being scolded and his girlfriend’s proposal rejected.”
“The massacre went smoothly, many innocent people died, but the true mastermind remained undiscovered. He could not forgive himself and feared he had made the wrong decision. Defying orders, he led his troops alone, crossing the sea in pursuit. Soldiers complained, and he burned ships, deceiving his men and blaming others.”
“He heard tales of a sword that could kill the mastermind. Some advised him against it, but he could not forget the day of the massacre when many thought the prince had come to protect them, only to have him order their deaths. So, he drew the ‘Husband Slayer,’ a cold sword.”
Jenna could not help but interrupt, “Isn’t the Husband Slayer the legendary sword locked away in the Kane Temple of the high elves?”
The Husband Slayer was originally forged as a weapon for the high elf god of murder, Kane. While granting immense power, it also came with a terrible curse that would spread to everyone around. The first dark elves were high elves cursed, cruel and bloodthirsty.
“You misremembered; I think it’s called the Great Cry of Ice. The name doesn’t really matter,” Jima said. “Unsurprisingly, this sword was a trick of the mastermind. He drew the sword and immediately fell from grace, leading an army of the undead to slaughter his allies, kingdom, and father.”
Jenna chuckled slightly at the name of the sword and asked, “Are you trying to say we must always remember our noble intentions?”
“No,” Jima replied, “What I mean is simple: young people need to have a sense of reality, not always think their hearts are strong. If that prince believed he was right after the massacre and simply returned to hold a funeral celebration, would it leave so many other issues unresolved?”
“Also, don’t be stubborn, especially young people who always want to be unique. When everyone says there’s a pit ahead, they still insist on stepping in, and after they do, they stubbornly refuse to reflect, trampling all the way to the end.”
Jima’s youthful, pure face, with its cherry lips, spouted wisdom from the older generation, which felt jarringly out of place.
Jenna’s lips twitched as she asked, “Jima, aren’t you barely two years old this year?”
“I should be two.”
“You should be classified as a—” Suddenly realizing this would land George in trouble, Jenna quickly corrected herself: “Let’s say you’re a young person like me.”
Jima, with her collagen-rich face, tried hard to show an expression of maturity: “An experienced young person.”
Jenna smiled at Jima, “Thank you for your concern, but I’m prepared. If I fall, please remember to personally deliver my will to George.”
“Your will is quite thick.”
“Because there are many letters in it, for my father, my siblings, and for you.”
Jima turned her head away and said, “Drink up quickly.”
With that, she tossed her axe and spear, clapping her hands. Bald Qiang appeared out of thin air, grabbing the axe and spear.
Jenna tipped her head back, closed her eyes, and drank a cup of thick green soup.
Not far away, Pastor Sigma was chatting with a knight from the Radiant Sun Knight Order.
“If the Blessed One’s domain of honesty isn’t mistaken, then who spread the Black Death?”
“Who knows? I heard from the Blessed One that the Black Death is primarily spread by rats,” the knight joked. “Perhaps it’s the legendary rat people? After all, rats can always circumvent our quarantine measures, so who else but the all-powerful rat people could achieve it?”
——
——
In the sewers of Oli City, rat people were packed tightly.
“Yes, yes. The expeditionary force has run far away, and the city is full of the Black Death we’ve spread. This owes much to my undeniable great leadership, and a little help from the plague clan.”
The rat warlord, standing on a platform made of wooden crates, was excitedly gesturing with his hands and wagging his tail.
Below, the crowd of rat people fussed, occasionally letting out howls—those unfortunate rat people assassinated by their kin. The plan was going very well; the humans above were like a pile of easily obtainable achievements, with fewer rats competing for credit.
Chuan Luo, holding a dimensional stone staff and with several green dimensional stones hanging from his chest, gave the rat warlord a dissatisfied glance.
The rat warlord immediately said, “There’s also the great support sent by the council, and Chuan Luo’s great contributions.”
Only then did Chuan Luo turn his head in satisfaction.
“Now I order that by midnight, no humans may be seen.” The rat warlord jumped down from the crate, raised his weapon, and shouted, “Kill any human who dares to resist, leave those who can be slaves in good health, and kill the rest, reclaim our ground.”
The rat people roared with enthusiasm: “Humans, die, die!”
On this day, the sky was overcast.
Oli City on the surface was suffering painfully from the plague, and people’s hearts were scattered.
The army was stuck at the docks, and after Jenna took a group of expeditionary forces away, the imperial army experienced another minor split. The healthy soldiers gathered on the eastern side of the docks, distancing themselves from the general.
Due to a decrease in numbers, the imperial army gave up on maintaining order within the city. No one was left to drag patients out of their homes to the quarantine area. People used wooden boards to seal off the houses of the sick directly.
The soldiers stared at the river, hoping for reinforcements or a retreat order, passively passing time until night fell, the darkness thick as ink.
Swordsman Saint Henry suddenly opened his eyes, waking on his own, not due to any ominous premonition, but because his ** was faintly aching.
He muttered a curse about Jima. Little did he expect that the black-haired girl, despite being youthful and beautiful, had a malicious mind, and the potion she provided made his stomach churn and burned his rear. It had already been nearly five days, and sometimes there would still be a burning sensation.
Without feeling sleepy anymore, he got up, opened the door, and decided to take a walk. Military discipline was lax at the camp now, and going for a stroll was harmless.
He stepped out, casually shouldering his great sword, and walked outdoors. The dark streets revealed only scattered points of fire from the torches under the watchful eyes of the sentries.
Swordsman Saint Henry shook his head; according to military regulations, there were too few sentries, and no hidden watchers. But the situation was different now; people’s spirits were scattered, and they only needed to guard against mobs after food.
Now there were very few people.
He heard there were fewer than thirty on the walls, all mounted. If any cultists were spotted attacking, they would ride their horses to the docks to send word. Soon after, the entire army would surge onto ready ships and flee this plague-ridden city.
Although this plan was supported by many soldiers, allowing them to endure in this cursed city, Saint Henry felt deep disappointment; this was not the military life he had envisioned. He missed the emperor terribly; had the emperor been present, would it have come to this?
With the great sword in hand, Saint Henry wandered restlessly down the street.
The sounds of scurrying rats grew ever more numerous.
A voice came from above: “Hey, Swordsman Henry.”
Saint Henry looked up to see a wooden watchtower on which a torch had been planted, with a person standing under it. But it was too dark for him to see the person’s face.
“Come up and chat,” the sentry said. “Can’t sleep?”
“Always on guard,” Saint Henry felt embarrassed to mention the matter regarding his **, “Seeing military discipline in disarray, I can’t restrain them since I’m not the general; I can only lead by example.”
The sentry respectfully replied, “No wonder you’re an imperial hero awarded by the emperor himself.”
Swordsman Saint Henry climbed the watchtower and casually remarked, “Doesn’t it seem like the rats are getting bolder?”
“A lot of people have died these past few days, and fewer have been cremated. The rats are going wild,” the sentry said. “I started to miss the Death Blessed One; although she couldn’t keep many people alive, if she were here, things wouldn’t be so dire.”
“I’m having bad luck and have diarrhea,” Swordsman Saint Henry sighed. “Otherwise, I’d definitely join the expeditionary forces; that’d be better than staying here—wait, did you hear something?”
On the night wind came the sounds of battle, cries, screams, pleas for help, and the clash of swords.
The sentry tiptoed, peering into the distance, where flames flickered.
“It’s nothing,” the sentry said. “Probably just a riot in the residential area.”
“Is there not enough food?” During this time, the imperial army stationed at the docks continually placed food at the front of the military camp, letting the townsfolk come to take it; this was all they could do.
“There’s always someone who thinks there’s not enough food,” the sentry said. “There have been several riots at night, but this time the scale is larger. As long as it doesn’t start a fire, we don’t need to worry.”
As he spoke, flames ignited in another direction.
The sentry whistled, “City-wide riot.”
“What if the mobs assault the camp?”
“The mobs aren’t that foolish,” the sentry said. “If they were really stupid enough to attack the camp, the sentries would notify us.”
In the distance, a strange “thud thud thud” sound faintly echoed.
“What’s that sound?”
“Who knows?” the sentry said. “Maybe someone hit a broken gong.”
Saint Henry, feeling anxious, decided to return first, stepping down the stairs.
The sentry asked, “Swordsman Henry, where are you going?”
“Going back to put on my plate armor,” Swordsman Saint Henry replied. “I need to build muscle.”
The sentry said, “As expected of a swordsman, so diligent.”
When Swordsman Saint Henry was alone, dressed in plate armor on his chest and thighs, and wearing his helm, he walked outside and saw the sentry leaning against the watchtower railing, seemingly asleep. He approached and called, “Hey, wake up! Are you that tired?”
As he got closer in the darkness, Swordsman Saint Henry saw blood flowing from the sentry’s neck.
Almost simultaneously.
From within the darkness beside him, a pair of red eyes suddenly lit up, a poisoned dagger thrusting towards his side: “Human! Die, die!”
Swordsman Saint Henry was caught off guard.
