Chapter 98 Banquet
After Jima used Lianxi to temporarily quench her thirst, she opened her eyes and looked at the duouff in her personal system, realizing it would take a long time to recover fully.
For the first time, she regretted awakening too quickly after hearing the beautiful woman’s call, which stirred the dampness in her heart and caused her rapid revival and recovery.
As Jima pondered her options, she continued to drag herself along.
The Vanguard Legion was temporarily entrusted to the strategist Minotaur, but eventually, she would have to show herself and reveal the fact that her strength had diminished, which would inevitably lead to trouble.
In the demon realm, strong individuals were always revered.
Things were manageable with the Vanguard Legion; if necessary, she could call George and the others for support.
But what about George’s side?
As time passed, the Emperor of the Empire would return to the Riek Territory, and if all went as expected, the final battle would erupt.
Many destinies would be judged in the Empire’s capital, Adolf. All grievances would be understood in Adolf.
Every moment of peace before the final battle was precious. It was vital to enjoy life while everyone was still alive; once the decisive battle arrived, no one could guarantee their survival, let alone protect the ones they loved from dying.
The banquet had to be held; it was just… better for her to be absent.
Jima thought to herself.
That night, she sent a letter to George in her dream, written by Lianxi, stating that Jima’s strength had recovered and she was in good condition, having just devoured three roasted chickens, five pounds of braised beef, and eight plates of red-cooked pork.
Lianxi wasn’t lying; she genuinely believed that.
This would avoid triggering George’s detection awareness.
Afterward, Jima wrote at the end of the letter that the ingredients were ready and that everyone should gather for a good meal that night.
She also had Lianxi add:
“Dear, I guess you must be worried about the Empire’s military supplies. I know with your temperament, it must be a headache for you. No worries, there’s plenty of food in my dream palace—at least ten tons of it. It won’t suffice to feed a hundred thousand soldiers, but it could at least pacify them.
Finally, Jima thought for a moment and felt she still needed George’s magical power:
“There are some things I’m not convenient to discuss with others, for reasons I cannot disclose. I might not be able to attend the banquet.”
“Aren’t you disappointed, dear? I know you love me dearly, and I forgot my taste, hehe.
“I need to meet you alone, and the situation might be a bit complicated, so don’t be too curious. You’ve heard similar stories, right? In those tales, husbands seldom listen to their wives, venture to open the deepest doors or spy on their wives at midnight, and the outcomes are never good—either the wife transforms into a monster or flees.
“By the way, prepare your mana potions; taking food out of the dream palace is very taxing on magic, and the more you expend, the better. Don’t worry; I’ll leave some for you to take to the public rations.
“Your wife, Demon Lord Jima.
“PS: Can you please stop thinking about the wedding all day? It’s not like there’s anything to gain from it; you end up with a pile of irrelevant people screaming and making a mess, while everyone just stands around laughing foolishly, uttering useless blessings.
“It’s clearly a matter for just a few people, yet a ton of unrelated folks are drawn in, as if everyone is getting ready for bed.”
The next day,
Waking up early.
In the dream palace, Jima called for Lianxi to prepare the ingredients.
Lianxi knew the dishes were meant for that man but felt no reluctance.
She focused entirely on washing the vegetables at hand, her gaze fixed on every suspicious black spot resembling dirt, meticulously cleaning them.
The vegetables came from the home of high elves, Osuan. As Lianxi washed them, she momentarily lost herself in the vegetable stems, dreaming they were her master’s delicate white legs.
Involuntarily, Lianxi pressed the vegetable stem against her lips.
She understood that her master did not love her that much. Her master preferred her orange cat form over her human appearance. If that could be called love, then it was merely a drop of water. Yet her master’s affection for that stinky man named George was like an ocean.
But oh, how much she truly loved her master.
After realizing this, Lianxi doubled her efforts to clean and prepare the ingredients. There was little else she could do, hoping her master could feel the love she poured into them. But how was that possible? It felt so insignificant, like a speck of dust.
For reasons unknown, a few tears fell onto the green leaves of the vegetables.
Lianxi rubbed her eyes, feeling greedy for having gained her master’s affection while wanting too much. With this thought, she worked even harder on the ingredients.
Time passed.
As the sixth chime echoed throughout the dream palace.
From the outer layer, the falling leaves, and the pearls,
Their figures appeared within the dream palace.
The air carried the aroma of cooking.
Yves Frostleaf caught the scent of home-cooked dishes.
George detected the classic dishes of the Bartok Knight Kingdom.
“It seems Jima puts a lot of effort into her cooking.” George remarked as he stepped onto the staircase,
heading towards the dream palace where the dishes carried the flavor of his hometown.
“I thought she would make dishes from her own homeland.”
Though novel, nothing beat the taste of home.
Yves Frostleaf commented: “Good, there’s no one in my ear praising the Terrans every day, saying their civilization is advanced and their cuisine is superb.”
“I meant it sincerely.”
Hero George praised every nation he visited on Earth, no matter how different the systems and civilizations were.
Frostleaf responded: “Genuine compliments are the best flattery.”
Frostleaf, I understand your pride in your own race.
“No.” Yves Frostleaf said softly, “It’s more about disliking the feeling of being imposed upon.”
Imposed.
Yves Frostleaf continued, “Everyone feels their hometown’s cuisine is the best, and others must feel the same. They derive joy from the conventions of others. At its core, it’s about imposing preferences onto others. But Jima is not that type of person; she is smart, cunning, and perceptive.”
George replied: “From a politeness standpoint, what you said is impolite. Jima took the time to prepare delicious dishes for us, and you say something unpleasant.”
Yves Frostleaf explained: “Considering our close relationship, I can afford to express a little impoliteness for my small discontent to prove our bond.”
Is the etiquette of you high elves so intricate?
Yves Frostleaf remarked: “It’s only due to your upbringing, surrounded solely by elven etiquette, dear saintess.”
While they exchanged idle banter,
the two ascended the tall staircase, walked down the red carpet, passed through the long corridor, and finally arrived at a pair of doors, where they met the pig-eared maid Lianxi.
“You finally made it. Before coming, did the master wish to meet George alone?”
George responded: “I understand. Please lead the way.”
Lianxi nodded and led George aboard the cloud of arrows, arriving in a room.
Please. Lianxi gestured for them to sit.
George was filled with worry, vaguely sensing that something had gone wrong with the revival.
Speaking of revival, George couldn’t help but recall how Jima first used her resurrection ability because of him. She had grabbed his sword and thrust it into herself.
Recalling those heavy memories, George pushed the door open with one hand.
The room was dark, with a half-transparent veil hanging down, occupying half the space. The white light projected Jima’s curvaceous and mature silhouette sitting on a high-backed chair onto the curtain, her shadow clear enough to see her lashes and the tail swaying at the foot of the table.
George asked: “Jima? Is that you?”
“Of course it is.”
“What happened to you?”
“Hmm, I don’t want you to see my current appearance yet.” Jima’s shadow smiled and asked: “Did you catch the Magic Dragon Malvol? How well is she restrained?”
“Very well, she can’t escape. Before coming to the dream palace, I subdued her in advance. According to my estimation, she won’t wake for at least two hours.”
“You didn’t bring her here?”
“Of course not.”
Jima’s shadow slapped her thigh: “Why are you so foolish?”
“What’s wrong?”
“Catching her is already a huge surprise.” Jima’s tone implied: “If you knocked her out, what if someone—”
George straightened up, leaning forward: “Let her go secretly, releasing the tiger back into the mountain?”
“No, what if someone forced her?” Jima scolded: “Isn’t this a cliché green hat scenario?”
George leaned back in the chair: “I can’t believe I forgot you have this on your mind.”
“Yellow garbage.”
George did not object.
Did you try to tame her? With your innate equestrian skills.
“No.”
“Is she very unattractive?”
Jima replied: “I remember she was tall and a very strong beauty. To be honest, my jealousy of Urus was partly because of the Magic Dragon Malvol.”
I’ve always wanted to behead her.
“Alright, I understand you’re the victim of a major battle.” Jima’s shadow stated: “Let’s talk about serious matters.”
Is it about the unexpected incident related to your revival?
“Somewhat.” Jima said: “Dear, please stand up.”
And then?
Take off your hat, both hands on the gun, and start doing what you love to do to my shadow,” Jima said: “More, I need to replenish a lot of magic.”
George fell silent for a while: “Is there any other way?”
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m not very familiar with self-comforting techniques.” George said: “And I’m not used to doing such things in this environment.”
“Ha, I knew that for a life winner like you, those skills are utterly useless.”
