Chapter 171 Chapter 169 Taking Medicine
The process of redeeming slaves went exceptionally smoothly.
Firstly, everyone believed that with George’s arrival, slavery would surely collapse, especially since the slave revolt had frightened them to death.
Secondly, no one was bargaining or trying to exaggerate their slaves’ worth, claiming they were foreign princesses or daughters of the sea.
After hearing George’s judgment, the citizens of Shalin City realized that slavery was an enormous sin.
Not really.
That was because George could discern lies.
“Holy Paladin, this slave—ah no, this young man from the desert, is actually a prince of the desert tribes. Just look at his unruly eyes, those scars on his brown, oiled skin, they are the marks of glory from many years of bloody battles…”
The brown-skinned boy, who was a head shorter than him, was trying hard to widen his eyes to make his puffy eyelids look more imposing. There were crossed whip marks on his bare arms.
George’s expression was unchanged as he interrupted, saying, “What’s the offer?”
“Thirty—what I mean is thirty tens of gold coins, that is… um… three hundred gold coins!”
Jima had a new understanding of the situation.
“You’re lying.”
“Holy Paladin, how could I dare to lie in front of you?”
“Second lie.” George pointed to the wooden sign standing beside him, which read: “… Lie three times, slaves are freed on the spot, and the owner is hanged for display.”
The man became agitated: “But I’m an honest—”
George interrupted him with a gesture, pointing to the people hanging on the gallows nearby. Their hands were bound, and they hung helplessly on the gallows; due to the sheer number of liars, there were too few gallows, and each one had at least five people hanging, stacked together, faces pressed against faces, cheek to cheek, uncomfortably close.
“What… what did they do?”
At this point, the crowd turned, and the wooden boards hanging around their necks pointed at the man, with the words written on them: “I lied three times.”
George asked, “How much did you actually spend to buy this slave?”
“One silver coin! That was the discounted price.”
“Good, your money.”
Another bill of sale was presented.
Jima expressionlessly watched her savings diminish by one silver coin.
By evening, the bills of sale had piled up into a small stack, and Jima’s heart had long since died, numb to the core.
George had sat in a chair all day without resting, and when he stood up and stretched his body, he took Jima and got into the carriage to leave.
Jima removed her semi-transparent veil, revealing a pale face due to anemia, her whole demeanor lifeless, her golden eyes devoid of any spirit. She sat in the chair with her legs together, looking like a delicate doll.
“Jima,” George asked, “is your heart still okay? Does it still hurt?”
“It’s numb now.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll definitely help you resolve this aftereffect.”
“… That’s not what I meant, it’s not physical heartache…”
“Jenna has extensive knowledge of healing magic. Although she seems hard to get along with, she actually has a good heart and will surely do her best to help you heal your emotional wounds.”
Jenna? Isn’t she that beautiful, big-chested saint?
Jima perked up and said, “Then thank you very much!”
At the same time, memories of many touching films revolving around doctor-patient relationships flooded her mind.
Seeing Jima’s eyes regain their sparkle, George was relieved; he leaned against the back of the chair, tiredly looking out the window. Outside, laborers, under the foreman’s direction, were working together to salvage the burnt boats from the river.
Jima initially thought to use her own money for the rebuilding of the city but then reconsidered. She thought that the foolish virgin had handed over his childhood sweetheart, creating an NTR opportunity.
She praised, “This city is heading towards rebirth.”
“It’s difficult.” George took off his bucket helmet, revealing a fatigued yet serious face. “The freed slaves have received some living expenses, but they will flood the labor market in this city, and many workers will struggle to compete with these freed individuals, leading to a decline in living standards.”
“Please pay attention to this matter in Deepwater City; they also lack labor, and you’re essentially paying them to raise labor wages.”
“I cannot guarantee that Deepwater City will execute this effectively, nor can I ensure that it won’t lead to worse consequences.”
“Really?” Jima said, “Do you think helping an old lady cross the street means you have to solve her entire pension issue for the rest of her life?”
“It’s different; I don’t want my good deeds to harm others.”
“By the gods.” Jima rolled her eyes, mimicking George’s tone, “I don’t want helping the old lady cross the road to mean she avoids being run over by a carriage, only to live on and endure life without a pension. The residents of Shalin City, if they aren’t all killed by angry slaves or die in anarchy, then that’s already quite fortunate.”
The carriage fell silent.
It wasn’t that George was rendered speechless by Jima’s words, but he understood that continuing the “discussion” was pointless. Neither of them would convince the other.
Once the carriage reached the port, George finally spoke:
“Later, when you prepare the potion, if you decide to drink it, please let me know; I’ll keep an eye on you.”
“This time it’ll be fine, I will definitely not lose control.”
“Last time?”
“Last time, it was just…” Jima hesitated, “I just dreamed of the past; there was a demon that hasn’t let go of me yet.”
“You seem to be less than two months old.”
“Yes.” Jima said, “But clearly my memories are not just two months long.”
“Can you tell me about them?”
Jima gave George a mysterious smile: “That’s a secret, Sir George.”
George didn’t press further.
Jima felt relaxed. Ever since she had gambled her life to break the slave contract, she could clearly sense George’s trust in her; he wouldn’t interrogate her. As long as she didn’t do anything foolish like revealing her secrets herself, she wouldn’t have to worry about her identity being exposed.
…
…
That night.
Jima was in the dedicated alchemy room on the ship, concocting the potion.
In the glass flask, there was a mass of liquid glowing with seven colors. Jima gently shook it, and the seven-colored liquid quickly changed. It turned into the raw materials: a string of purple foxglove, the corpse of a chameleon, and several pieces resembling the colorful wings of dragonflies, all packed into the bottle.
It seemed like the potion was not concocted properly at all.
Jima began to doubt that her memory of making the potion just now was an illusion.
She lifted the glass flask to her eye, inspecting it closely. She found that the contents of the flask were still the raw materials, exactly as they had appeared before her memory of potion-making.
Could it be that her memory of concocting the potion was indeed a figment of her imagination?
Jima opened her personal information system and found a file titled “Potion Making Process” in the information column. She believed that a good memory isn’t as useful as a poor pen, so she was in the habit of recording the process each time she made a potion; if it failed, she would look for the reason.
The document read:
“… It has been heated for thirty minutes, and I saw the purple foxglove was indeed melting…”
“.. The potion should be ready.”
Jima realized and smiled slightly, muttering to the potion in the bottle: “Little brat, do you think you can deceive me? Don’t think I don’t know that potions exhibit the main characteristics of their profession and have a certain level of activity.”
With that, Jima shook the flask again; inside, the wings of the floral fairy wobbled in the liquid, while the chameleon stared with dead eyes at her… showing no sign of change, as if trying hard to convince Jima that everything that had just happened was an illusion, and the potion hadn’t been processed yet.
Jima reached out to touch the flask; it was icy cold, devoid of any heat.
Swallowing the raw materials directly would be very dangerous.
Jima pulled out the cork and tilted her head back to gulp it down.
In an instant, she saw the purple foxglove and the wings of the floral fairy melting into a shining seven-colored liquid.
The steaming potion poured into her mouth, flowing down her throat, burning her tongue slightly. Jima savored the last drop of the potion before placing the empty flask down, sitting in the chair, and beginning to answer the lies with the truth.
She said, “Obviously, I can lift this ship with one hand.”
Immediately, Jima couldn’t wait to respond, “No, I can’t; I’m still weaker than a well-developed adult human.”
As soon as the words left her mouth, Jima couldn’t help but burp; she felt something crawl out of her throat. Three pairs of wings glowing with seven colors appeared before her eyes, attached to a little green-haired woman’s back.
Jima’s eyes widened as she watched the “little person” emerge from her mouth, skillfully flying out in a figure eight, flapping her wings and hovering in front of Jima.
Jima observed closely and noticed that the little face resembled her own. It might have looked exactly the same, but Jima wasn’t sure because she hadn’t looked in a mirror for a while; she only knew that her face was very attractive, and even George, that stiffhead, had recently begun to show interest in her.
“Who are you?” Jima didn’t wait for the other to answer and named her, “Let’s call you Dragonfly Girl.”
“I am clearly a fairy.”
“You’re lying. You should be called Floral Fairy; that’s your name. Besides, the appearance of a fairy is similar to that of a human, just with sharper ears and slightly taller.”
“In the past, the common language referred to our kind as elves, but that group of long-eared giants took our name after communicating with you humans.”
Jima furrowed her brow, vaguely recalling this unknown secret history, and asked, “Hmm… Is that true?”
“Absolutely!”
“Surely, that’s a lie.” Jima said, “I remember that on Earth, thanks to ‘The Lord of the Rings,’ when people say elf, the first thing they think ofis a tree-loving creature with pointy ears, not little ones like you flying around in flower bushes. You’re using my blurred memories to deceive me.”
The Floral Fairy neither denied nor confirmed it.
Jima continued, “So this is what they call answering a lie with the truth? This is quite easy.”
The Floral Fairy began to laugh, flying a circle around Jima, and suddenly asked:
“Jima, actually, up until now, your soul is still that of an ironclad man, and you have no affection for George, right?”
“That—”
Jima instinctively wanted to answer, but her little mouth immediately shut.
The Floral Fairy hovered in front of her, blinking her golden eyes, and said: “Quickly answer me, is that right or wrong?”
Jima, annoyed, wanted to swat her away, saying: “Give me some time to think it over!”
