Chapter 141 Chapter 142 A Chilling Thought
In the outskirts of Le’an Port, inside a tent.
The dreamcatcher gradually stopped swaying, and Mr. Dongdong on the bed looked pale, his lips trembling.
The elven maid was still complaining softly that the blanket given by the temple was too small, forcing Eve Frostleaf to deign to lie close to George. Such proximity to a human was truly nauseating.
The gray-robed priest glanced at the blanket shared by the brave man and the elf, which was the largest available. It was enough for two people to roll around for two and a half turns, yet they insisted on sleeping together; what could be done?
But he wisely ignored the grumbling elf maid.
“Ah.”
Eve Frostleaf let out a light exclamation, suddenly sitting up from the blanket, revealing an unusual panic on her face.
“Lady Frostleaf!” The elven maid quickly approached, looking at George with suspicion while assisting Eve Frostleaf to move away from him.
Although he was wearing armor and bundled up securely, the elven maid couldn’t shake the feeling that he would crudely tarnish Frostleaf.
Eve Frostleaf did not resist; her eyes lost focus as she allowed the elven maid to help her walk to the entrance of the tent.
The elven maid felt something was off. In the past, Eve Frostleaf would have already given her a fierce look. She waved her hand in front of Eve Frostleaf’s eyes and asked, “Lady Frostleaf? Are you alright?”
Eve Frostleaf murmured, “I wish it were just an illusion.”
At this moment, George also stood up, his expression unchanged, placing a bucket helm atop his head.
Eve Frostleaf pushed away the elven maid and asked, “Did you see it too? Deathwing, the Swarm…”
George replied, “I saw it.”
“It must be fake,” Eve Frostleaf said. “How could such a thing exist?”
“The possibility of it being an illusion can be almost eliminated,” George stated. “A person cannot imagine something that does not exist, especially not a detailed fantasy. It looks like a memory of hers, something she witnessed with her own eyes. But this is just a preliminary analysis. We still need to conduct a test.”
This test was simple: both parties would independently express what they saw through writing and drawing to ensure that the illusions experienced by both were the same.
Many illusions stimulate the human brain, causing the victim to imagine illusions on their own. This is far more terrifying than the spellcaster inserting a prepared illusion into the target’s mind.
Half an hour later.
Inside the brightly lit tent, illuminated as if it were midday by the suspended light orbs.
George and Eve Frostleaf sat facing each other, each with a piece of paper in front of them.
George glanced at Frostleaf’s paper, breathed a sigh of relief, and said, “This is just an illusion created by one’s imagination.”
Eve Frostleaf exhaled in relief, saying, “I can’t believe I was deceived.”
After saying this, her curiosity was piqued. Everyone’s imagined illusions were different; she asked, “What did you see?”
“A world-destroying dragon, named Deathwing.” As he spoke, George handed his paper out. It depicted a massive iron dragon, with a huge iron jaw, crouching on the city wall, roaring at someone outside the drawing, while statue heroes toppled, creating an imposing scene.
“It looks exactly the same as what I saw.”
“How is that possible?” George pointed at Eve Frostleaf’s drawing, “Isn’t that a wild duck?”
On the paper in front of Eve Frostleaf was a poorly drawn creature resembling a wild duck, and something barely discernible as wings, with tufts of feathers falling from them.
George’s finger was pointing at the round head of the “wild duck.”
Eve Frostleaf’s face seemed even colder as she said, “That’s a simplified representation; it’s the dragon’s head.”
George pointed at the beak resembling a duck’s mouth, “Isn’t that a duck’s beak?”
“It’s a metallic jaw.”
He pointed to the tufts dropping from the wings, resembling a wild duck suffering from alopecia, struggling to fly to the sky, and said, “What about this?”
“That’s the flames falling from the wings,” Eve Frostleaf crossed her arms and coldly replied. “You simple-minded creature, this is a high art technique called abstraction. Considering your short life and lack of experience, I’ll forgive you for now.”
The elven maid snickered nearby. Lady Frostleaf despised others judging her artistic skills; it seemed this fool would never have a chance.
George withdrew his finger and said, “Then you might as well label it with words.”
Eve Frostleaf said nothing, taking out a second piece of paper on which drew a street full of round-headed dogs, crowding around a larger dog, leaping towards a pile of round-headed soldiers. Rather than tearing the soldiers apart, it appeared the dogs intended to lick them with their tongues.
“I saw squids falling from the sky, landing on the ground, and inside the squid were swarms of loathsome monsters. These jumping bugs shall be called jump bugs,” Eve Frostleaf wrote the words “jump bugs” above the little dogs.
“That’s a woolly mammoth.”
George said, “Did you see this scene?”
After speaking, he handed over his second drawing. It depicted a steel giant bird falling from the sky, transforming into a small giant, bravely facing a charging woolly mammoth while spewing flames from two Gatling guns.
“I did, it was a valiant warrior,” Eve Frostleaf stated. “But he was quickly defeated.”
She then pointed at the steel giant bird, “It’s all steel, yet it can fly to the clouds, swifter than a giant eagle, and flies higher too. It can land in mere seconds and transform into a fire-breathing giant.”
George produced a third piece of paper, depicting a burly man clad in round, heavy armor, holding a steel lance. He said, “I also noticed that if there’s a human inside, his armor is thicker than mine, so I speculate this armor possesses some mechanical drive.”
“Could it be that a very strong person is inside?”
“Impossible,” George replied. “Not everyone can be strong, but if everyone wears this armor, it suggests the requirements for the wearer are not high.”
Eve Frostleaf felt a wave of astonishment surge within her.
Every soldier was clad in armor thicker than George’s yet could move freely; it was hard to comprehend the power of their nation.
Eve Frostleaf said, “That’s impossible. Even if the armor has a mechanical drive, it must bind a trained soul to enable the armor to be intelligent, allowing it to share the burdens of its master.”
The race recognized as the most adept in magic were the high elves, among whom the White Tower stood out as a top place for cultivating arcanists.
According to Eve Frostleaf’s knowledge, the mages of the White Tower derived inspiration from golems, hoping to create a kind of powered armor that could shoulder the burdens of its master. That way, they could wear thicker, more terrifying armor.
However, they failed; they could not resolve how to make powered armor aware of its master’s movements and react accordingly, and binding souls with dark magic proved ineffective.
Eve Frostleaf added, “This is theoretical; no one can create powered armor.”
George said, “I think a nation that can build flying iron giants the size of a city exists. Their level of power has surpassed our understanding.”
Eve Frostleaf recalled the steel giant ship that fell from the sky, and with just a slight recollection, she felt goosebumps creep up her skin.
“Even if that flying vessel only has powered armor soldiers on board, it could conquer…” The proud Eve Frostleaf thought of the high elf capital’s towering walls and arcane towers, shaking her head, she said, “…every city in the world.”
“It should be said, all of them,” George remarked, “I have no doubt it could conquer every city in a month… or even a fortnight.”
Eve Frostleaf lowered her head, softly voicing a chilling fact: “But this iron nation is still overwhelmed by the Swarm.”
The entire tent fell silent, a deathly quiet settling over everyone, the weight of pressure bearing down on each heart.
George said, “On the bright side, perhaps that demon has only witnessed it, not experienced it firsthand.”
“Is that possible?”
“I have a familiar feeling about it.”
——
——
Outside Marlin City, inside Jima’s alchemy workshop, in Lianxi’s room.
Lianxi lay on her bed, leaning against the wall, hugging her knees, curled up into a ball, letting out faint snoring sounds.
Suddenly, a shadow appeared next to her; it was Jima.
“I’m going to die! I’m going to die!” Jima covered her face, staggering back a step and falling onto Lianxi’s bed.
Lianxi jumped up from the bed like a startled kitten, her cat ears folding back, transforming into airplane ears.
Jima simply covered her face on the bed, rolling around and mumbling incomprehensible things that left Lianxi puzzled:
“Why him?”
“I’m too ashamed to face anyone!”
“How am I ever going to live after this?”
After rolling around for a while, Jima, breathing heavily, gradually calmed down.
A weak voice came from Lianxi’s side: “Master, are you okay?”
“I’m not dead,” Jima said, “but you could say I’m nearly there.”
“Master, please don’t die.”
“I’m still alive,” Jima took a deep breath and removed her hands from her face.
Lianxi opened her eyes and, illuminated by the moonlight streaming through the window, carefully scanned Jima up and down, relieved to find she had no injuries.
“It’s great that Master is okay.”
However, Jima suddenly realized that she could not possibly evade this issue. Even a fool would recognize her problems.
Jima made an effort to shove the earlier incident from her mind, got off the bed, cleared her throat loudly, and returned to her authoritative demeanor. She worried that without this, she wouldn’t be able to keep Lianxi in check.
For all servants not bound by a “slave contract,” Jima held no trust; she spoke in an authoritative tone:
“You must not tell anyone about this. I can tell you that I have some extraordinary abilities; what happened earlier was an extraordinary event. After one instance, there will be more—second, third…”
Jima carefully disclosed only appropriate information, knowing that revealing too much without anyone else knowing would only provoke the curiosity inherent in human nature.
“In other words, after you fall asleep in the future, I might appear in your room out of nowhere.”
“Out of nowhere?” Lianxi exclaimed in delight, “Master, you’re an extraordinary being… umm!”
Jima hurriedly covered Lianxi’s mouth and said, “Lower your voice! Don’t tell anyone else.”
Lianxi’s eyes sparkled with admiration as she nodded, “I swear.”
“Good.”
Jima released her hand and walked out of the room.
Being wary, she recalled characters in numerous cultural works always finding a reason to betray.
If only there were a slave contract, it would save so much trouble.
Jima took a few steps back, holding onto the door frame, and said, “Even if others can keep secrets, you must not speak of this. Furthermore, you cannot utter it to trees, stones, or anything; in conclusion, it must not be spoken or written.”
Lianxi replied promptly, “Understood, Master.”
Only then did Jima feel relieved as she returned to her bedroom, yawned, crawled into her tent, stripped down to only her black stockings, lay on the cooling mat with a feather pillow, and closed her eyes.
Suddenly, she covered her face and kicked her legs:
“No way, that’s too fucking embarrassing.”
George should be in the temple, so why is he here too?
This cringing sense of embarrassment in front of someone familiar filled Jima with an urge to die, even to kill to silence anyone.
If her identity were revealed, she might as well die.
Jima writhed in bed like a squirming maggot for nearly half an hour before falling asleep again.
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Up to ten updates, with each one three thousand words.
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