Chapter 70 Chapter 71 The Cause
One day ago, in the evening.
In front of the castle near Lean Port, a knight tournament came to a close as the day ended.
The grass was filled with tents from various knight families. At the top of each tent, silk banners fluttered in the wind, each embroidered with the distinct crest of different families.
A few tents stood away from the cluster, at the edge of the tent area. They appeared like reclusive individuals, forming their own circle.
A knight wearing a pig-faced helm approached this secluded cluster alone, without any attendants.
The tent flap was lifted by a tall and robust figure named Sam, who scanned the area behind the pig-faced knight with vigilant eyes, making sure no one was following, then asked, “Good evening, sir, may I ask who you are?”
The pig-faced knight whispered, “Long live the white-haired ones.”
Sam’s initial suspicion dissipated immediately as he exclaimed, “Eighteen mighty orcs?”
The two mouths spoke in unison: “Half wailing, half the high tide of a soprano…”
“You’re also a fan!” Sam replied enthusiastically, extending his hand.
The two large hands, clad in iron gloves, shook each other vigorously.
The pig-faced knight lifted his visor, revealing a smiling face, and said, “I heard there’s another match tonight.”
“You’ve arrived just at the right time! Did you buy the thing?”
“Bought it, but haven’t used it yet.”
A manly grin appeared on Sam’s face as he said, “You must be careful; Her Majesty the Queen’s… it can end the fight very quickly the first time around.”
“What do we compare?”
“Come on in, we’ll talk inside, my good brother,” Sam said, pulling the pig-faced knight inside the tent. They walked through the dimly lit space and exited through a “back door,” eventually arriving in another large tent.
Inside stood sixteen knights quietly, each holding a delicate box.
The pig-faced knight was astonished: “So many people?”
Sam replied, “I was just as surprised; I didn’t expect so many enthusiasts. I found out everyone came to buy the limited edition.”
The pig-faced knight said, “No wonder there were so many knights in the tournament today.”
Some knights laughed: “The count thinks it’s because he was a brave warrior in his youth and became famous. Just look at how happy he was today.”
“He’s a family of cowards who don’t want to fight. Have you heard? It’s said his son is also a waste, who was choked to death in bed by a mistress he brought in from outside.”
“I see.” The pig-faced knight said, “They also said it was a sudden death. But if the rumor is true, why don’t they put a bounty on the mistress?”
“It’s embarrassing enough for a knight to be choked to death by a woman in bed. A woman who can’t even catch a rooster,” said another knight. “Does he still have the face to publicly say that?”
“Alright, alright, let’s stop talking about this.” Sam said, “There are exactly eighteen of us, just like the plot in the novel. Let’s quickly start the fourth competition.”
The pig-faced knight asked, “What exactly are we comparing?”
Sam smiled and said, “Just like the daytime equestrian tournament: whoever can last the longest on horseback, or surrenders the earliest, loses. Oh, and we have a tradition.”
“What tradition?”
“We chant a code while we compete, which is ‘Half wailing, half the high tide of a soprano…’ that line.”
“Strange.”
“It’s to wish for the author’s long life and speedy updates.” Sam lifted his drink and proclaimed, “Before the competition, let’s bless the author.”
Eighteen cups clinked together.
They spoke in unison: “May our hated and annoying author live a long life!”
“Long life, cheers!”
After a while, the temperature in the tent gradually rose.
Different voices echoed in the tent.
“Half wailing, half the high tide of a soprano…”
“Half wailing, half high…”
“Half enthusiasm, half cake…”
…
…
The suspicious soprano echoed from the tent, sounding like a disturbance. It felt as if a woman was being suspended inside.
Isn’t this just a scene from the chapter of my book?
Jima immediately thought of the ending of her book.
In her story, the plot halted at the moment when the elven queen was suspended in the tent, facing the eighteen mighty orcs.
Jima recalled that the last line seemed to be, “The tent echoed with the elven queen’s half wailing, half the high tide of a soprano…”
Upon reflection, this soprano sounded almost identical to the description in her book.
But why did the lie materialize in this part? If George found out…
Jima felt a faint pain in her backside.
Perhaps her hard-earned money from selling her little yellow book and merchandise would be confiscated, which would be minor. George would definitely report it to the church; the church wouldn’t cover it up, and the elven queen would surely investigate. In the end, wouldn’t she face serious trouble?
Jima was instantly frustrated.
She had initially thought this mission would be a relaxation and vacation—just hanging out behind the strongest tool person, having fun, and getting into trouble.
And yet it turned out like this.
George brought down the tent with a sword, and the torturous screams finally ceased, bringing the night back to tranquility. He turned to Jima and said:
“Now I understand why the greenskins hate you so much.”
“Oh.” Jima remained unfazed, as if it had nothing to do with her, saying, “I know, even greenskins need to sleep.”
“You didn’t even argue.” George, behind his helm, locked his cobalt-blue eyes on Jima’s small face.
The intensity in his gaze made Jima feel a lot of pressure.
She responded with silence, maintaining a calm expression.
But inside, she was frantically searching her personal system, quickly looking up the “Response to Perverted Tail-Controlled Lie Detector Registration Spring Edition.” Rows of Chinese characters that only she could see rolled before her eyes. There wasn’t a single backup plan that could be applied to the current situation.
She could only improvise.
“Why should I argue?” Jima said. “Have I done anything evil? I didn’t summon the greenskins.”
“Jima, relax, relax, I’m not interrogating you.”
“Tsk, it’s no different from an interrogation.” Jima said, “Don’t say anything; if I have a clear conscience, I’m not afraid of being public.”
George removed his helmet, saying, “You have secrets, very dark ones, and I know that. This might relate to your dark secrets. I won’t insist on digging them out.”
“Then I’m really glad.”
George frowned slightly; it was a lie. He continued, “I just want to confirm one thing; you only need to give me one answer, and I won’t investigate anything else.”
“Confirm?”
George nodded seriously: “Confirm.”
He was so serious, making it feel like…
Jima, sensing the heavy atmosphere, couldn’t help but say, “Um, you don’t need to worry; I’m not pregnant.”
George immediately cleared his throat: “Ahem… what I want to know is whether you would obstruct this mission. Would you bring us any unknown difficulties?”
“Of course not.” Jima affirmed, “I originally planned to come and relax, just to watch the show from the sidelines. Why would I create trouble for myself?”
Once George heard the truth, he believed her, saying, “Very well, Jima.”
Jima also relaxed.
It was that easy to pass, doesn’t that prove I’m good at deceiving? With that thought, her tail proudly perked up. George, who had just seemed so imposing, quickly devolved in her eyes into a fool who would believe anything.
Next, George burned the catapult.
The fire burned brightly, leaping three yards high, and the wood crackled in the flames.
Jima watched with great delight.
How much fun would it be if they threw goblins in to burn?
Jima turned her head to look at the two goblins tied together on the ground, secretly wriggling and trying to escape.
They whispered, “You move to the left.”
The other replied, “No, to the right! You’re on my hand.”
“The long-legged person is looking over here.”
The two goblins thought Jima’s gaze was very terrifying and immediately became motionless.
Jima went up and couldn’t help but kick one, satisfying her desire to bully the weak.
The goblin that wasn’t kicked immediately said:
“Goat.. goat-horned person, we’re hurting, pity us.”
“How about you go into the tent?”
The goblin wanted to speak, but Jima interrupted, “Are you going or not?”
“Going, going, going.”
Under Jima’s supervision, the two goblins wobbled to their feet and crawled into the collapsed tent.
Jima immediately kicked them inside, squatting down to wrap the tent around them, trapping the two goblins. She then dragged the tent toward the fire.
Under the tent, the two goblins squirmed.
Seeing this, George asked, “Jima, what are you doing?”
“Burning—I’m purifying the evil greenskins.”
“You want to burn the goblins?”
“Right, such a huge fire, it’d be a pity not to burn something.”
As soon as she finished speaking, the goblins under the tent began to cry and howl.
George shook his head, stopping Jima’s “purification” endeavor.
Jima complained beside him that George was double standard, allowing Gregory to burn people but not letting her have fun.
Amid Jima’s discontented shouting, George held a brief trial, sentencing the goblins to death, executing them on the spot, and throwing the headless bodies into the fire.
As for the tent, he chose not to burn it and left it behind.
He said, “Better to keep it for those in need.”
After doing all this, the two rode back to town.
Jima’s sweat had dried, and her hair clung to her forehead.
She pushed her hair aside and said, “I still want to take a good bath and then sleep. What about you?”
“There are many injured; I need to help St. John and Jenna treat the wounded.”
If that’s the case, going straight to sleep would not be good. But she was so tired and wanted to sleep in… let me see if they are busy; if they are, I’ll help out.
Determined, Jima asked absentmindedly, “What happened to St. John’s injured eye and face?”
“To turn the tide, they formed a suicide squad, and a vampire stabbed him with a dagger filled with negative energy, which grazed his cheek, causing this.” George explained, “He doesn’t like to talk about it because only three members of the suicide squad survived, all injured, and he was the only one who pulled through.”
“Oh.” Jima said, “Don’t you find it strange?”
“You mean St. John?”
“No, not that.” Jima said, “Why do the greenskins think it’s me causing trouble? Who told them I’m the culprit? If it’s a frame-up to incite the greenskin invasion, why me? I’m far away from here—it barely connects. Hey, don’t look at me like that; I said I’m not the mastermind.”
At least I didn’t summon the greenskins here.
Jima felt a bit guilty, afraid she might have lied.
