Chapter Seventy-Six: The Chosen One
Inside the Nightmare Palace. Jima lay on her side on the bed, a thin blanket covering her alluring body. At the end of the blanket, her two small legs were intertwined and stretched out, “black and white distinct.” One of her small legs had a tear in the silver thread, revealing skin fairer than frost and snow.
Jima’s chest was filled with the breath of Yifuluye, washing over her skin. She loved it, adhering to the thin layer of skin covering Jima.
It was a lazy resting time after the great battle.
The butterfly in Jima’s lower abdomen, struck by a thunderous blow last night, had tattered wings and was long past moving.
Thus, she glanced at Yifuluye’s skin and thought that her skin was indeed beautiful, truly like ice and jade, with only very faint red marks on it, and that was all; she couldn’t be bothered to do anything else.
The bathroom door opened, and George emerged after freshening up.
Jima felt the warmth in her lower abdomen and said, “You’re in such a hurry.”
“I must keep to the schedule. Do you remember what I mentioned last night?”
“What do you think?” Jima propped her face up with one hand, lying on her side, and with the other hand wrapped around Yifuluye’s back, covering her chest lazily, “How about you reenact it with me?”
“From the Empire’s intelligence, an elite army composed of various demons is moving south across the river, possibly to join the siege of Tarabek City, or they might be coming south to eliminate you. To the demon race, you are just a rebel.”
“Mm…” Jima said languidly, smelling a hint of peach blossom fragrance from George’s serious face.
The Hell Knight Order’s Grand Knight — Reena, was ordered to follow her. She was a cold, cruel, and exceedingly spiteful person. If possible, I hope you do not kill her; she is extremely valuable to the Empire.
“What? You wouldn’t be taking a liking to her, would you? She should be a woman, and quite beautiful, right?” Jima slightly lowered her head, extending her long tongue to lick Reena’s rosy lips.
Jima was sure that she and the elf formed an irresistible spectacle in front of him, as the peach blossom fragrance in the air became even stronger.
“No,” George said, “Having one evil woman like you is enough.”
“Ah, what a pity.” Jima said, “How about I use some seduction techniques to torment her?”
“I do not wish for you to do that.” George said, “Also, is this difficult for you?”
“I don’t know; the battlefield has no constant conditions; we’ll see how it goes.”
“At least let me know what kind of troops are on the other side,” Jima said, “However, there’s a female prostitute in your family who is forcing her husband to serve in the military. I’ll tell you, I’ve brought lots of… strange beasts from the subspace.”
“So?”
Jima’s tongue ran along Yifuluye, her nearly translucent long ears quivering like willow leaves in a gentle breeze.
“So I’m very confident; if we can’t win, we can run.”
Yifuluye slowly opened her drowsy green eyes.
With a seductive smile, she opened her mouth and used George’s voice to say to Yifuluye:
“Dear, give me a good morning kiss.”
Saying this, she leaned in and kissed right in front of George.
At first, Yifuluye didn’t realize. As she gradually awakened in George’s golden scent, she discovered it was Jima, leaned back, and expelled Jima’s tongue.
The peach blossom fragrance in the air grew denser, but evidently, someone who knew Jima’s past life was not pleased.
Before Jima could show Yifuluye a mischievous smile, the hot bath tightened, and with a hum, her head and chest sank into the blanket.
George stepped forward, completely killing the butterfly, half-destroyed yet still restless in Jima’s lower abdomen, knocking her out cold.
When Jima opened her eyes again, the two had already left. On the bedside table lay a notebook written by George.
She didn’t look at it; she just propped herself up on the bed, the soft blanket sliding off her shoulder, making a soft sound.
She pondered, thinking about her relationship with George and his woman. Contemplating simple movements of words, why do they convey different feelings in different contexts? In the end, she pondered the significance of these movements.
Why was she so obsessed with it?
And why did Yifuluye love this game so much?
How strange.
The soldiers’ bells rang.
Jima tugged at the bell.
The door opened, and the maid Lianxi pushed a food cart in, stepping over a crumpled black stocking, arriving by Jima’s bedside, whispering, “Master, breakfast is served.”
At this moment, through her thoughts, Jima had found an answer.
Unconsciously, she said the answer out loud: “What a pity, Jenna couldn’t make it.”
Master?
Oh, Jima used the pot lid on the dining table.
There were two different breakfasts; Jima made her choice.
The first was a carbohydrate combination, containing hot rice porridge covered with a thin film, beside it was a plate of sour radish with chili.
Without hesitation, Jima chose the first option.
She glanced at the notebook written by George, snapped her fingers, and the notebook floated up, even standing in front of her. Jima looked at it while observing the contents.
The notebook contained highly confidential material, all pertaining to the high-level secrets of the Empire’s military. George had undoubtedly committed a particularly serious crime.
The pages hadn’t been turned; the top page displayed an imperial map currently in the Empire’s possession.
“The Empire is going to be reduced to ashes.”
Jima mixed the porridge, biting down on the crisp radish.
Beside her, Lianxi munched on roast pork knuckle and egg tart, making Jima’s breakfast appear sour and simple. She opened her mouth to say something but held back, not wanting to disturb Jima.
“It’s going to be over, it’s going to be over,” she remarked while judging, “Unless there’s an epic victory, it will be impossible to turn the situation around. But even three epic victories, Sigma II wouldn’t be able to achieve.”
The situation of various countries was more complicated than she had imagined.
The northern part of the central mountain range had already fallen, with only Nord Castle left standing in resistance. The Empire’s troops stationed in Hawk Territory were actually remnants, and it wouldn’t be long before they became a salient. With merely a magical wind tower passing by, they would surely be annihilated. The Southern Fire World army could cross into the territory of Nucheng and directly attack the capital Adolf. Meanwhile, the troops that could rescue the Empire were still locked in a standoff against the Fire World’s Chosen army in Hawk Territory. In short, Jima judged that the Empire now seemed to have had an arm and a leg chopped off, with the surviving thigh stabbed. It was bleeding profusely and quickly dying. She suspected that given the current situation, even if she swayed the Fire World’s Chosen, the army would lose its common leader, turning against each other, making survival for the Empire amidst this chaos difficult. That is, the world might remain unscathed, but the Empire would not. Her violent nature flared up, and she even thought about knocking George out with a kiss, pulling him down into the depths, but the slight burning pain in her lower abdomen extinguished that thought. Jima looked toward the Fire World’s Chosen Legion in Hawk Territories. She only hoped it could hold on until a miracle occurred. Otherwise, even if a miracle did happen, it would be beyond saving. The Chosen Legion… The Chosen Legion… The Chosen Legion… Jima whispered a few words, her gaze finally shifting from where George stood, leaving the broader picture of the Empire to focus on Tarabek Territory. Jima didn’t care. She only wanted to know how many legions the Fire World’s Chosen had dispatched to eliminate her as the instigator. Two, or three? It shouldn’t be too many. After all, she knew all too well that the thrill of pretending to be innocent while devouring the tiger felt delightful. The pot in her hand had already reached the bottom; Jima extended her long tongue to roll up the last bit of porridge in the bowl. She intended to use the army’s mobility to gradually consume the incoming troops. Having finished breakfast—although the real breakfast was eaten long ago with George’s help, consuming mundane things was merely a pleasure for her. Jima selected a draft combat plan she favored in a system, landed on her feet, plopped down, and then stood up, her waist and abdomen felt soft, unconsciously forming an eight-character stance, her legs pressing against each other, her body swaying slightly. “Bad man,” Jima complained, calling forth a somersault cloud, hopping on it, she went into the bathroom, after freshening up. Now standing upright, she stood upon the floating dust, directly reaching the command room, taking her seat to handle official duties. Approximately two hours later, she stood up, noticing nothing unusual, began gathering her legions, presiding over a magical wind ritual aimed at the transformed magic. She pointed towards Tarabek Territory, saying, “I want to change the magic wind, let it flow into this province.” “Yes, Your Majesty.” “I also want to gather and store more magic wind.” “Your Majesty, we don’t have a competent battlefield mage.” “There are some.” “Yes, Your Majesty.” The magic wind changed. A dying psychic or sorcerer murmured. The Scarred Sword Saint Henry was bleeding profusely, staggering over to him in silence, striking off his head with a broken great sword. The Scarred Sword Saint Henry was not incapable of saying much. He propped himself up, looking toward Kellen, who was burning black shields, and this wood elf was not faring much better, the bandages soaked in blood. She said, “There are no enemies left.” On the ground lay either the corpses of imperial soldiers or those of cultists. The Scarred Sword Saint Henry couldn’t care less; he simply sat on the ground, gasping heavily. Originally, this should have been an easy battle. With the assistance of Walker soldiers, each of them should have easily eliminated the cultists occupying this burned village, killing the wild sorcerers trying to summon demon kind. But… the Scarred Sword Saint looked at the figure kneeling on the ground, surrounded by at least twenty corpses of imperial soldiers. He was wearing sturdy iron armor marked with demonic symbols. The four deep dents were left by the dwarven butcher engineer’s handiwork. A super heavy long-handled axe lay beside him, the head of the axe was a yard long, and the vibrant red axe handle was slowly fading. The Scarred Sword Saint still remembered that he had only needed one swing to cut an incoming imperial knight in half. “Is this the Chosen One?” He asked, troubled. In the end, there were only a few of them left, despite the numbers being heavily in their favor. He had heard that the Chosen of the Fire World had countless chosen ones, causing him to worry. The Chosen’s iron hand suddenly twitched. “Attention!” The Scarred Sword Saint Henry raised his head, seeing the nearly decapitated Chosen, letting his head dangle and picking up his black giant axe once more. “Damn it! Sigma’s*!” He shouted, grabbing his great sword. Before he could get up, an axe swung down; fortunately, the Scarred Sword Saint Henry reacted quickly and didn’t die. The dwarven butcher engineer opened fire, at that moment, he truly fell. — The college entrance examination is coming. I don’t want to say anything about its importance, just that it’s like teaching a lesson to people. All I can say is, I suggest you maintain a calm mindset; there’s nothing to fear, and there are many paths ahead. I have it all sorted; the industry I’m currently in has nothing to do with my major.
