Chapter Three: Proposal
The Eternal Chosen One, Jima, launched a surprise attack on White City. The brave and fearless Pope George, who did not even wear armor, stepped forward to subdue her, successfully breaking the conspiracy of the Eternal Chosen One, and even made her recognize her gold coins. What a delightful event!
Now, the people of White City could sleep peacefully at night.
However, the high-ranking members of the church were troubled, gathering together for a meeting under the starry night sky, still discussing matters.
The Cardinal, who had served for many years, was particularly exhausted.
Pope George, in his nineties, was considered a living legend by the Cardinals who had already witnessed two generations pass. Those from his era either died in battle, from illness, or simply from old age. There were rumors that he had grown too close to a succubus and was generally thought to have fallen from grace, but his performance in the decisive battle against the Eternal Chosen One cleared his reputation.
Thus, the others felt that George’s name should come with some additional phrases, more tests to prove his worth.
As soon as the Cardinals from the other dioceses took their seats, George began to speak:
“Recently, the Eternal Chosen One has become a huge problem…”
Despite being over ninety years old, his voice was strong and resonant, lacking any sign of age, and his eyes sparkled with vitality. His family preferred to believe he was strong-bodied due to his unwavering faith.
Everyone present fell into contemplation. The newly arrived Cardinals, after reviewing the documents, also sank into thought.
It was very troublesome. Not only could the Eternal Chosen One resurrect, but more importantly, she continuously emitted corrosive energy everywhere, all year round. Therefore, the decision to seal the body of the Eternal Chosen One back then could only be made with the help of high elves, who transported her body to a dragon ship, guarded by a fleet.
The fleet constantly moved at sea to avoid the corrosive effects spreading in the area. According to the high elves’ statistics, if the fleet stayed in one place for ten days, visible signs of corrosion would appear; if they stayed for twenty days, fractures would likely occur.
The demon race was always watching the body of the Eternal Chosen One, hoping to reclaim it to obtain the Demon King’s crown and ascend to kingship.
One Cardinal said, “Now the Eternal Chosen One Jima is barely trustworthy; as long as we open the city gates and let her leave…”
“What if she leaves? For a demon like her, who is nearly immortal, changing her mind is easy. We cannot be afraid of short-term sacrifices; we cannot throw away a ticking time bomb and let others bear the consequences.”
After a round of debate.
Pope George listened to everyone’s opinions before he spoke first:
“The Eternal Chosen One Jima has an evil character, deriving pleasure from the suffering of others…”
The Cardinals standing on the monitoring and purging side perked up their ears to listen to the Pope’s remarks.
“She must never be released lightly.” Pope George proclaimed: “I am willing to resign from the papacy, wield the holy sword, and supervise her for eternity.”
“Clap, clap, clap.”
A few Cardinals applauded.
George, seasoned in battle, was trustworthy, and his personal strength was impeccable. He had slain the out-of-control Eternal Chosen One with a single sword strike, bringing a satisfactory conclusion to the apocalyptic battle.
But it required a sacrifice on his part.
“Your spirit of sacrifice will be remembered by future generations.”
“Please resign now.”
George’s face was resolute: “I hope to hold the position temporarily; the longer the Eternal Chosen One Jima stays, the more corrosion there will be.”
Everyone unanimously agreed.
George personally removed the triple crown from his head and placed it on the table.
…
Lord Pope, if you don’t come soon, all the chickens in White City will be eaten by the Eternal Chosen One.
In the ceremonial dungeon, the lights were bright. Jima leaned against a comfortable chair, enjoying a roast chicken. She turned her head and spat out a bone, which landed on the pile of chicken bones on the table. Lillian, who was eating heartily, had a big belly and was sound asleep on the table.
“I’m no longer the Pope, sister.”
“Hey,” Jima said, clutching the remaining half of the roast chicken, “Is the Lord Pope here? Want to come and have some fun?”
Several battle brothers behind George couldn’t help but tighten the holy emblem in their hands, hoping that their faith would resist the seductive power of the Eternal Chosen One Jima.
It was terrifying; she clearly only had her charms directed at George, yet her very presence could still enthrall others.
George stepped into the dungeon and announced the decision of the holy church.
“You’ve worked hard,” Jima said, glancing at the plate, her eyes searching for another roast chicken.
All the men present turned their backs to Jima, while only the female priest faced her. One of the female priests, wearing a golden emblem on her chest, pushed a plate holding another roast chicken into Jima’s sight.
“So now I’ve resigned from the papacy.”
“Oh,” Jima said, both hands holding the roast chicken on her knees, pushing it away: “You should be honest; you’re over ninety years old. Can you really handle this job? Are you responsible for feeding this king?”
George reached out: “Give me one.”
“Sure.” Jima handed over the half-eaten roast chicken, “I’m almost full anyway.”
After handing it over, Jima wiped her greasy hands on George.
George, in front of Jima, ate the roast chicken she had had. “Are you full?”
“I’m stuffed.”
George pointed at the pile of chicken bones next to Jima, taller than her, and asked, “How could you eat so much?”
“Oh, it was delicious. You just eat until you’re sick of it,” Jima said. “Besides, we’ll set off tomorrow at the latest. We might as well eat early. By the way, I won’t be paying.”
“I’m treating you.”
“Hey, bring me ten more roast chickens for the king.”
After finishing, Jima rested her chin on her hand, looking into George’s blue eyes, saying, “How about we just leave now?”
George straightened up, already dressed in black: “Alright.”
“Xiaoli! We’re leaving.”
“Hmm.”
Lilian was in the bathtub, someone was bathing her. Upon hearing, she squirmed, shaking her body and splashing water everywhere.
The two walked side by side, Jima sauntering along, gazing at the stars in the sky, which shone brightly, accompanied by the sound of George’s armor clashing as he walked. It had been a long time since she had walked alongside George like this.
Walking on the stone path, which was covered in frost-like moonlight. The road felt increasingly familiar to Jima; she lifted her head and pointed at a crossroads, saying, “Your house was over there, right?”
“Right, it’s still there.”
“A poor temple.”
“Jima.”
Hmm?
Nearby was a town nicknamed Wheat, surrounded by endless fields of wheat. George said, “Then let’s go.”
If we walk, it will be noon by the time we arrive.
“I understand.” Jima spread her arms wide: “Come here, old man, let me hug you.”
Jima embraced George, clutching his heavy body, her wings fluttering like the wings of a milo, lifting George into the night sky, crossing over the walls of White City, and landing on the moon.
The Holy Chosen One Jima and former Pope George vanished at the intersection of the night sky and the forest.
The town nicknamed Wheat perfectly matched the stereotype of pastoral villages. Outside the town, there were vast fields of wheat, followed by lush grasslands where the grass blades drooped in slumber. On a small hill, a windmill turned in the night breeze.
Strolling on the gentle slope, Jima breathed in the night wind, stretching her arms wide, letting the night breeze lift her fiery red silken horns and brushing against the blades of grass.
“You did well as Pope.” Jima looked at a nearby church and a large open grassland and asked, “What do you think this place is suitable for?”
“For children to play, to fly kites.”
“Suitable for weak soldiers to charge, using bright lances, firing iron formations, launching their formations down the slope in a thunderous charge.”
Jima twirled around: “That scene would be very stunning.”
George took the opportunity to grasp Jima’s wrist. He knelt down, and in his iron hand, he pulled out a golden ring, saying, “Jima, marry me.”
Jima looked at him; in the moonlight, his armor shone with silver light, his deep blue eyes filled with focus as he sincerely gazed at her. His face still looked almost as young as it did seventy years ago; she remembered the first time she saw George when she hatched from her egg. She didn’t know how to respond. Anyway, her body acted on its own, her face flushed, and in a moment of impulsiveness, she found herself saying, “Okay.” By the time she realized, the golden ring, reflecting the moonlight, was already on her ring finger.
Did we just get married like this?
Jima murmured, and when she gathered her thoughts again, she found herself holding a Chinese cleaver, chopping scallions, while the ring on her ring finger reminded her, this isn’t a dream. Jima put down the knife and looked at the ring on her finger, asking, “When’s the wedding?”
The Holy Maiden Jenna, who was washing vegetables nearby, said, “Tomorrow, we just finished the wedding dress today. You’re quite satisfied with it, aren’t you, looking as if your mind is elsewhere?”
“I am not elsewhere.”
Jima touched her neck; George had cut his neck fiercely; it was indeed brutal. Jenna, could it be that we are marrying him just like this today?
A gentle smile appeared on Holy Maiden Jenna’s face: “Jima, we waited so long for your resurrection to hold this wedding.”
Jima suddenly grabbed her hand: “Jenna, it turns out you and George are meant to be together, making you a third of him. You must be somewhat dissatisfied with his affections, right?”
Jenna fell silent for a moment.
And Frostleaf, I know you’re eavesdropping. You’ve always wanted to maintain a lover’s relationship with George, but as my wife, you must be somewhat displeased, right?
Jenna said, “Jima!”
Sister Jenna, you shouldn’t keep accommodating everyone anymore.
Jima said, “Didn’t he want me to wear his wedding dress, holding hands together, or holding flowers to marry him? What a dream! Let’s show him some color, how about that?”
But—
It wouldn’t affect anything; that could still count as completing the wedding, albeit in an unusual manner.
Okay.
A smile finally appeared on Jima’s face.
At that moment, footsteps were heard outside the door, and Jima quickly released Jenna’s hand and continued chopping scallions.
George came in, carrying a bag of freshly cleaned potatoes. Jima, with her back to him, wore a sly smile.
