Chapter 139 Chapter 140 The Sage’s Time
Jima covered her face, turned her head away, and giggled a few times. A pair of iron arms tightly embraced her shoulders, and George’s face was buried in Jima’s hair, his hot breath falling on her neck. The barrel helmet that had fallen there slowly rotated half a circle on the ground, the grass blades obscuring the emblem of the cathedral on the helmet.
George whispered in Jima’s ear, “Jima, I miss you.”
A hint of impatience flashed across Jima’s face; she had already eaten her fill and was quite averse to George’s intimate gestures. She pushed away George’s armor. When George saw her face again, it wore the ambiguous smile she had previously.
“Your armor is too hard and poked me.”
A beam of sunlight pierced through the leaves, landing warmly on Jima’s head. She looked up and noticed the dark clouds had scattered, revealing a clear blue sky.
So George’s mood improved; what a poor child, completely deceived by me.
She glanced around, and under the bright sunlight, the forest appeared unexpectedly beautiful. The leaves were a vibrant green, the clear river shimmered in the sunlight, and the grass seemed so soft, evoking an impulse to lie down.
“They say dreams reflect a person’s subconscious,” Jima said as she surveyed the surroundings, “It’s a great place for field combat; are you thinking about that?”
George, the former warrior who faced dragons without flinching, felt his face flush, then expressed his desires through action.
Jima suddenly felt herself lifted off the ground as George swept her into his arms, heading towards a clearing by the river, under a tree’s shade.
Jima burst into laughter, “Hahaha, silly, did you forget? This is a dream; you can’t just do what you want.”
George came to a halt.
Jima jumped out of his arms with a mischievous grin, “Why do I tease you so much? I’m full; goodbye.”
With that, she dramatically spread her wings and leapt to run away.
George grabbed her tail and pulled her back, saying, “Since you’re here, won’t you sit for a moment?”
“Let go of my tail.” Jima freed her tail from George’s grip and continued, “How have you been recently?”
The underlying ambiguity in the air dissipated significantly.
George’s expression turned wooden again as he replied seriously, “Not really good.”
“Back to that deadpan face, like a statue.” Jima had a profound impression of George’s face; he wore that same expression when pierced by the holy sword, “Let’s find a place to sit and talk slowly.”
They sat by the river, Jima perched on a rock, playfully splashing water with her toes, the water dampening her stockings and clinging to her calves, vaguely revealing her fair skin.
“I’ll go first.”
Jima looked at George, secretly observing his brows, as she had come to gather intelligence—the first task was to determine whether George could detect lies in dreams. She planned to speak sentence by sentence, inserting a lie among them.
“I traveled with Sister Jenna. She always warned me to be careful of her family because her father is a miser who likes to morally blackmail extraordinary individuals.” Jima said, “The butler tried to pry into my abilities several times…”
“I gave him a good show and deceived him…”
“Hee hee hee, to this day he is still in the dark.”
George said, “Although he offended you beforehand, that doesn’t justify you defrauding him of a large amount of gold coins.”
“Do you dislike it?”
“Yes,” George said, “Why not be frank about it?”
“Because I don’t get paid; using extraordinary abilities to bully others is quite enjoyable.”
The two quarreled for a while; George remained gentle in tone but firm in attitude, persuading Jima.
Jima casually replied, “Hmm, I hear you,” while paying attention to his brows. His brows were not furrowed, indicating he didn’t frown when annoyed.
“And there’s one more thing,” Jima said, “I met a ‘mongrel’ on the way, a girl with cat ears and a cat tail. I felt sorry for her; her stomach was growling, so I took her home. She’s very grateful to me and decided to become my servant.”
There were two lies in that statement: the cat tail and “I felt sorry for her.”
“Good deed,” George said, his brows still unfurrowed.
Jima felt a surge of joy; he couldn’t detect lies in dreams, which also suggested that paladins couldn’t perceive lies in dreams.
After obtaining valuable intelligence, Jima felt cheerful and chatted with him about other topics. She found that when discussing “military,” they clicked well, both speculating that the empire’s emperor employed a strategy of surrounding and attacking, using small forces to besiege Marin City while the main force lay in ambush.
Jima timely asked, “By the way, have you encountered any trouble recently?”
“Recently,” George said, “We fell for the dark elves’ trick, and I was pulled away from the cathedral; an elite unit attacked the inner city of White City and stole important treasures from the treasury.”
“What important treasures?”
“The extraordinary substances belonging to Demon King Kima.”
Jima’s tail, lying on the grass, involuntarily perked up.
If consuming extraordinary substances was akin to repeatedly violating an irascible bull, then using substances already consumed was like moving a gentle plow ox out of a pen.
However, the premise was that one had previously violated this bull. Jima was the only person in the world who met this premise. If she obtained the extraordinary substances once possessed, she could do many things: forge powerful extraordinary items, use her previous life’s extraordinary abilities, and compensate for her weak direct combat capabilities.
She could even truly be reborn, transforming back into her former self—the Demon King Kima.
Did she really want to go back?
This was undoubtedly a choice she had longed for, how much she yearned to live that previous life, even if just for a day.
But she was astonished to discover that, unknowingly, this choice had become incredibly difficult.
It was like being trafficked to a mountainous area, giving birth to seven, eight, or even ninety beautiful children, and accepting her fate. One day, several police cars arrived at the village entrance, and a policeman shook her hand, saying, “You’re free; hurry home to inherit millions.”
Yet, she didn’t dwell on her dilemma for long; choices were hard, but choices were necessary.
Ambition burned like a wildfire in her chest; her mind was filled with thoughts of “extraordinary substances she once possessed,” wanting to grasp them tightly, something that couldn’t be taken away.
She maintained a calm demeanor, her face serious, and stopped playing with the water’s surface, saying, “So, does that mean Demon King Kima might be resurrected?”
Her voice trembled at the mention of Demon King Kima, and she couldn’t help but hug herself in “fear.”
George sympathetically patted her head.
“I’m not a child anymore; thank you,” Jima pushed his hand away and said, “Did you catch the dark elves?”
“The enemy is clever; they replaced the container holding the extraordinary substances and interfered with prophetic magic, so we can’t locate them…”
Even though Jima’s innate talent for acting allowed her to perfectly control her facial expressions, her heart raced uncontrollably.
Whether it was prophecy or divination, there was an iron rule: if one possessed an item closely related to the target of the divination, they could obtain the target’s information; the closer the item, the better the effect, and the harder to be disrupted.
What could be closer than her past possession of the extraordinary substances?
Jima firmly believed that her divination would surely find the location of the extraordinary substances.
“Right now, there’s only one clue…” George, detecting the sound of Jima’s rapid heartbeat, said, “Your heart is beating so fast; is something wrong?”
“Ah…ah… it’s nothing…” Jima felt George’s suspicious gaze and sighed, “Demon King Kima, he… did something to me.”
She meant the unfortunate reincarnation in the succubus.
George, however, thought it referred to being used as a human-shaped key and perhaps other manipulations. He wrapped an arm around Jima’s shoulders and said, “Don’t worry; I will protect you.”
Jima found it difficult to push him away, saying, “Thank you. What was the one clue you mentioned before?”
George placed both hands on Jima’s shoulders, turning her to face him directly, saying, “Look into my eyes.”
His focused and intense stare made Jima feel a bit guilty.
“Let’s be honest with each other; I hope you’re not the culprit, but much of the evidence points to you, and I can’t ignore reason…”
Oh no, did I slip up somehow?
She turned her head away, “Why are you being so strange all of a sudden…”
“Next, I want you to tell me the truth,” George held Jima’s horn with one hand, steadying her face, saying, “We’ve confirmed that there is an extraordinary individual with similar dream abilities to yours…”
Jima’s tail quivered, nearly causing her to wake from the dream and return to reality, feeling like she could run.
“I must ask you a question; otherwise, I won’t be at peace,” George’s blue eyes became more intense, asking, “Are you colluding with the dark elves to take Demon King Kima’s extraordinary substances? Yes or no.”
Huh? Is that it?
Jima felt a surge of joy and said, “Of course not.”
“Really?”
“Really!”
George sighed in relief, letting go of Jima, saying:
“I’m relieved; you’re the biggest suspect. They even think you might have been cursed by Demon King Kima and are wholeheartedly trying to obtain his extraordinary substances to resurrect him. I simply can’t refute that.”
“How is that possible?”
“Many spells can implant the caster’s will into the victim’s mind, making the caster believe it’s their own will,” George explained. “For instance, if you were cursed by Demon King Kima, you’d strive to resurrect him, but you’d think you were merely pursuing power and trying to obtain his extraordinary substances. If you got your hands on his extraordinary substances, a mysterious ritual would appear in your mind, and you’d perceive that ritual simply as a way to strengthen yourself.”
…
“That’s terrifying,” Jima said, “But you deliberately chose that route, didn’t you? Many would definitely think I have ulterior motives, perhaps I was with Demon King Kima from the outset.”
George was silent for a moment and said, “You’re right; they don’t believe me.”
And they guessed correctly.
Jima said, “Are you in charge of recovering Demon King Kima’s extraordinary substances?”
“Yes.”
Jima sighed in relief internally. This indicated that the team handling “The Troubled Tale of the Elf Queen” was a different group.
As long as George wasn’t around, everything would be fine; encountering this guy always felt like meeting a sworn enemy.
Jima and George chatted for a while longer, both feeling happy. Jima found an opportunity and left.
She decided to enter Mr. Dongdong’s dream, but before going, she must first return to change her clothes; she couldn’t just rush into someone else’s dream wearing black stockings.
…
…
George had a pleasant dream, his expression relaxed with a faint smile on his face.
“Short-lived, short-lived!”
Someone was pushing him.
George opened his eyes to see a plump silver-haired leg hanging above him, along with a familiar, frosty face—it was Eve Frostleaf, who was impatiently pushing him with her foot.
The elf maid behind her said, “Lady Frostleaf, it’s rude to push others with your feet.”
“I’ve taken off my shoes,” Eve Frostleaf said, slipping her foot back into her boot, her gaze fixating on the bulge in George’s groin, giving a slight click of her tongue.
George explained, “I had a wonderful dream.”
“Hmph, disgusting.” Eve Frostleaf seemed even angrier, not waiting for George to get up before turning to leave the tent, saying as she walked, “Someone has already entered the merchant’s dream; you better hurry and join me in the dream.”
“Lady Frostleaf, don’t forget me.”
“Go away; quality over quantity.”
