Chapter 21: Collision
“Eh, little girl, your name sounds a lot like the demon king Jima,” the old boatman chuckled.
Although Jima’s tail drooped weakly, she still smiled, revealing her small fangs. “What a coincidence.”
George remained silent, and the bucket helm made it hard to see his expression.
Jima was quite nervous for a while; seeing that George had no intention of slicing her in half and tossing her into the river made her secretly breathe a sigh of relief. She angrily noted the boatman’s appearance in her little black notebook.
The boatman rowed, and soon they reached the main river channel.
The broad main river channel was filled with boats. Each boat had small canopies above, and below were packed with various goods—typical little cargo boats. They formed a moving market where customers selected items.
“Oranges! Fresh oranges, just picked from the tree this morning!”
A cargo boat loaded with jars and glass bottles approached, and the vendor held up a glass bottle containing some unclear oil, calling out to George:
“Hunter’s oil! Apply it to your sword, smear it on your skin, and you’ll die! Taken internally, it’ll make your bed fall apart!”
Jima shot a fierce glare at the vendor, who laughed heartily; only when George waved his hand did the vendor leave.
Just as one boat left, another arrived.
“Here’s the treasure map of the demon king Jima! His lover said it herself. Strong warrior, wouldn’t you like a piece?” a dark-skinned woman called out enthusiastically.
Liar! I never said that, and I don’t have a lover—they’re all goddamn whores!
“My master isn’t interested,” Jima coldly replied.
The dark-skinned woman paid no mind, leaving only after George waved his hand.
Before Jima could enjoy even half a minute of peace, a tall bald vendor raised a jar containing a long object, apparently resembling a “little brother,” and shouted:
“Magically brewed alchemical liquor by demon king Jima! Just a drop, and you’ll be impressive all night! One cup can solve lifelong male problems!”
Several boats immediately sailed toward him.
Jima couldn’t help but grit her teeth, secretly noting the bald vendor’s appearance.
“Jima seems quite interested,” George suddenly remarked.
“Of course, I’m… you know.”
Jima hinted, but George mistakenly thought she was referring to her being a slave of Jima.
“Want to take a look?”
“Ah?” Jima looked surprised as her eyes darted to George’s battle skirt, her face revealing an understanding expression. She quickly waved at the bald vendor, exclaiming loudly, “Hey, my lord wants it all! Also, paddle quickly; don’t let others buy first! Three copper coins as a tip.”
“Sure thing!”
“Bang.”
George’s finger struck Jima’s head forcefully.
“Ow~~,” she whimpered, looking pitifully at George with misty eyes.
“Don’t shout recklessly.”
“It’s not that…”
People from the neighboring boats cast curious glances toward George.
“Not that,” George held up two fingers, “Add twenty more—.”
Jima hurriedly interrupted, “Hey, hey, stop paddling; quickly return. My lord doesn’t need this. Here’s one copper coin for you.”
“Thanks a lot.”
The old boatman adjusted the boat and rowed toward the other side.
They passed through the bustling boat market, making their way to the exit.
“Are there this many boats in Shalin City every day?” Jima asked.
“No, today is market day, and it just happens to be the ‘Rainbow Festival’ of this city,” the old boatman sighed. “You came at just the right time. A few days ago, it wasn’t as lively as now.”
“What a coincidence.”
Jima liked the last and most climactic day of the Rainbow Festival. For fifteen years, she had arrived on time every year. On this day, the best slaves were auctioned in Shalin City, naturally including the most beautiful and the best, referred to as the flower of Shalin.
Jima’s “garden” contained quite a few of the most beautiful flowers from Shalin City. When they were past their prime and no longer vivid, she would buy them.
“Perhaps there won’t be this festival in the future,” the old boatman lamented.
“Why?”
“Ever since that demon king Jima died, the big customers are afraid of being murdered by the temple. I’ve also heard that Shalin City was under Jima’s protection; now that he’s dead, will Shalin City fare better?” the old boatman sighed. “Anyway, in the past six months, fewer and fewer guests have come to Shalin City, and it’s becoming more chaotic. Do you see the bodies piled by the city gate? Those are the remains of rebellious slaves.”
“Heh.” George let out a cold laugh.
“That doesn’t mean it’s so bad,” Jima felt it was a pity.
Shalin City has a good geographical environment with developed waterway transportation, a unique slave industry, and an exceptional source of slaves. The nomads from the vast grasslands would sell captured slaves here.
“Shalin City relies entirely on the slave industry and competes with Deep Water City across the river. Those little brats hire pirates specifically to rob Shalin City’s boats; life just keeps getting worse.”
The old boatman continued, “Our great benefactor, in order to revive the industry, declared early on that this year’s flower of Shalin is the most beautiful flower in history. Only in Shalin City can the best slaves be bought.”
When he reached the latter part of the sentence, the old boatman’s tone was laced with pride.
“Disgusting,” George commented.
The old boatman, seeing George’s large sword, chose not to argue.
“Most beautiful?” Jima recalled that she had bought at least eight of the most beautiful flowers. “Does anyone believe that? The one next to me is still selling the demon king Jima’s liquor.”
“When the great benefactor announced it, the sissies from Deep Water City immediately said they didn’t believe it,” the old boatman said. “Guess what happened? The great benefactor invited them into a room, which contained a cage made of gold, inlaid with rubies, covered with silk cloth.”
“He gently pulled, and a tiny leg was stretched out. I don’t know how beautiful that leg was, but everyone who came out believed it. Some said it was the princess of the forest spirits. Others said it was a fallen queen. Still, others said it was the little princess of a mermaid from the deep sea.”
George scoffed, “Even if given a hundred chances, he wouldn’t dare sell that.”
“Who knows?” the old boatman said. “Whatever it is, as long as it keeps Shalin City going, that’s fine.”
“This city will eventually be destroyed,” George said.
“As long as there are no meddling heroes, we’ll live quite well,” the boatman replied.
Jima deeply agreed.
Fifteen minutes later, the boat sailed into a narrow channel. Both sides were lined with charred buildings. Countless small workshops were situated here, and Jima saw a tightly pulled leather hide by the river. The tanner was throwing hides into pigeon droppings, and the smell was indescribable.
“This place once had a plague; the great benefactor ordered the army to quarantine it. Later, a fire broke out and burned all the buildings inside. Fortunately, the great benefactor had preventive measures in place, digging canals to isolate it, so the fire didn’t spread throughout the city.”
As the old boatman spoke, the small boat stopped at the breakwater.
“Outsiders, arrive. Remember to watch your wallet; there are a lot of thieves here; every day they contribute a row of hanged ghosts to the dock area!”
“Thanks for the reminder.”
Jima hugged George’s sword as they stepped onto the upward steps together. The steps were narrow, and a shallow sewage channel flowed next to it. Upon reaching the street, despite it being daytime, the charred walls gave a feeling of being in darkness.
Illegal buildings greatly reduced the width of the street; the road could only accommodate four people walking side by side. Sewage flowed across the street, and Jima tried her best to ignore the moist filth on the ground, avoiding the animal droppings.
The air was even harder to bear. The smell of coal dust floated from the left, while the foul smell of soaking hides dripped from the right, mixed with the stench of urine.
Jima felt uncomfortable all over, wishing she could sprout wings and fly out of this filthy fire zone.
Originally, she hoped for the mission to go poorly so that she could have time to grow stronger. If she abolished the contract too soon, she would probably be locked in a cell at the temple.
Now, she just hoped to find the grocery store smoothly. She wanted to leave this cursed place as soon as possible and stay at a nicer inn, where she could take a good bath.
After walking for twenty minutes, the two arrived at a wide road that spread from the dock area, encountering theft four times along the way. They then slipped into a narrow alley next to the road.
George suddenly stopped.
“Lost?” Jima couldn’t help but ask.
“No, we’re here.”
Jima’s gaze scanned the sign of the charred red brick building, searching back and forth. She found no grocery store; the only notable feature was a half-faded red sign.
“It’s that one,” George said.
“Finally, hurry up, hurry up,” Jima quickened her steps towards the dark shop entrance. “I’m about to rot in the stench!”
Inside the grocery store, a long wooden counter served as the cashier and a surrounding wall. The goods were all behind the counter, where the light was dim, and several figures seemed to be moving things around inside.
The counter was too high for Jima to see clearly. She stood on her tiptoes and knocked on the counter, “Is anyone there?”
A tall man suddenly stood up from behind the counter. He wore a leather hat and a suit of armor stitched from leather, adorned with iron plate, and very finely made. A horrifying white scar ran down his cheek, and his small eyes glinted like a viper, coldly examining the two.
He replied, “There’s someone.”
Jima recognized at once that he was a lackey of the great benefactor, an official force in Shalin City.
Without changing her expression, she asked, “Do you sell yarn?”
The scarred man did not answer but looked over Jima and the George who had entered behind her, then turned his head and shouted, “Come here.”
“What’s going on?” someone poked their head out from the back of the store.
“Bring the brothers out,” the scarred man said just as he finished speaking.
From the back of the store, ten young guards poured out, vaulting over the counter. They wore uniform armor, brandishing long swords and crossbows. One of the swords was stained with blood; evidently, the informant had met a gruesome end.
“What do you want?”
Jima sensed a faint smell of blood in the air. George swiftly drew the giant sword from Jima’s embrace.
“Be honest; drop your weapons. Don’t think I’m a fool,” the scarred man pointed his long sword threateningly at Jima. “Two suspicious outsiders have come to an inconspicuous spy den in the fire zone; who are you trying to meet? Let’s go to the bureau for a chat and a search. If you’re innocent, you’ll be released.”
In Jima’s backpack lay a set of “homework.” In George’s backpack were rolls of “mission details,” the emblem of the god of dawn, and a bag containing a statue in a different dimensional space. If they were discovered, even a blind person would recognize their close relationship with the temple.
Except for idiots.
