Chapter 38: Fanning the Flames
Ji Ma did not want to experience a make-believe adventure. Adventuring was tiring and could lead to injuries; it was better to stay at camp.
Yes, she did want to stoke the flames. But instead of doing so during an adventure, it was better to stay in the camp, make some arrangements, find a few eager youths, and provoke them to target George.
“Sister, I’m still a kid.”
Lis grinned and said, “A squire should fight alongside a knight. Besides, without you, George would have no one to talk to on this journey; it would be so boring.”
It seemed she was not satisfied with the fights between the sycophants; fine, she liked that.
Ji Ma glanced at George, who replied, “It’s inconvenient.”
The red-haired Stronzo originally wanted to say that this wasn’t a picnic and that bringing a little kid along was unnecessary. But upon seeing George’s disapproval, he immediately said:
“You can’t even protect a little girl, can you?”
Ji Ma whispered to George, “I can take care of myself.”
“Don’t force it.”
George nodded and silently put on his bucket helm.
The red-haired Stronzo found it amusing. To him, George was a complete novice at adventuring, filled with ridiculous notions from knight novels. Relying on his mount and flashy armor, he had attracted Lis’s attention.
Now he was burdened with a drag. The frantic manner in which he would handle things would surely shatter Lis’s unrealistic fantasies about a knight in shining armor.
It would be particularly fun then.
The five of them rode on four horses, preparing to set off.
“I’ll say one more thing,” Lis said, taking a gemstone that emitted a soft glow from her waist. “If we encounter any danger, I will use this to call for reinforcements, and the adventure will end. I actually dislike this; it feels like playing with ants in the backyard, but my father insists on having soldiers follow me.”
“I believe everyone will successfully eradicate the evil goblins.”
The subtext was clear: whoever fails to contribute and makes this adventure unhappy for her would be out of the game.
Ji Ma thought this over, but she didn’t care who won or lost. She actually hoped to linger longer in Shalin City, level up more. What could be happier than watching her enemy suffer losses?
Finally, the five of them on four horses set off, their horses treading along the increasingly narrow dirt path deeper into the mountains.
A young lady in a light golden dress, a little girl in a tulle skirt, and a poet in extravagant clothes with no defensive capability.
The poet, Di Sha, smiled and said:
“We are the first-ever leisurely adventurers in history.”
“It’s you, not us.” The red-haired Stronzo straightened his chest so that his battle-worn armor would stick out more. “You should be on stage singing at the theater, and you, bucket knight, should be performing ‘The Knight and the Windmill’ on stage. You two are a perfect match, and with your squire, you can form a theater troupe.”
George ignored him, keeping his gaze focused ahead.
Di Sha countered sarcastically, “You really are an experienced adventurer; I almost thought you were an old man with gray hair, nearing seventy, but you really don’t look that young.”
“When those nasty little things tear your handsome face to pieces, you’ll know you were wrong.” The red-haired Stronzo continued, “You don’t take goblins seriously at all; you only know they are weak, but you don’t know they are far more cunning and vicious than they appear…”
“Hahahaha.” Lis covered her mouth, her laughter ringing like silver bells, “Where did you hear that joke?”
“The upper class of Deepwater City is a joke.” The poet Di Sha was enjoying the conversation with Lis.
The red-haired Stronzo realized that the poet had long ignored his boasting. He tried to interject a few times, but the eloquent poet gave him no chance to cut in, leaving him green with envy as he stared at the poet enjoying himself with the object of his affections.
He clearly considered himself the main force in this adventure—what an unashamed pretty boy.
He pondered how to reclaim center stage. He attempted to interject again, but Lis clearly showed no interest in Stronzo’s adventuring lessons and liked Di Sha’s humor more.
At that moment, only two people were talking in the whole group.
Red-haired Stronzo repeatedly tried to boast to George, but George remained as unresponsive as a statue. Frustrated, Stronzo huffed, saying:
“When things go wrong, you’ll come crying to me for help.”
With that, he turned his head back to think about how to win back his heartthrob.
So boring, George was like a stone… Ji Ma tugged on George’s cloak and whispered, “George, aren’t you going to teach him a lesson?”
George replied, “There’s no need; it’s better to meditate.”
What a stone devoid of any fire.
Even the stone couldn’t ignite a flame.
So, Ji Ma turned her attention to the poet Di Sha and Stronzo. Unsurprisingly, the broad back of the red-haired Stronzo had a large pink aura of jealousy, more prominent than the surrounding auras. A smaller light green aura symbolized rage.
She guessed right; he probably wanted to kick Di Sha off his horse.
Ji Ma directed her gaze at the poet Di Sha, her eyes narrowing.
Contrary to her expectations, Di Sha was not jealous; the largest aura was not a purple lust vortex but a burst of anger.
Ji Ma blinked, confirming she wasn’t seeing things.
The green aura, representing anger, was larger and a deeper shade than Stronzo’s.
But he wore a smile, showing no sign of anger whatsoever.
He wasn’t coming to harm anyone, was he? It wouldn’t make sense if he held a grudge against Stronzo; perhaps against Lis?
At that moment, while talking to Lis, poet Di Sha seemingly turned his head as if he had eyes in the back, smiling at her, “Little sister, what’s wrong?”
The seven-colored aura on his back faded.
Strange.
Ji Ma pretended to shyly turn away, seemingly deceiving poet Di Sha, and soon the cheerful chatter resumed.
Could he be an assassin sent by Deepwater City, disguised as a bard to carry out an assassination?
As this thought crossed her mind, Ji Ma suddenly found it amusing. Perhaps he was someone who had been harmed by Lis in the past, coming to seek revenge after a makeover. Besides, even if he were an assassin, it had nothing to do with her.
Ji Ma turned her focus back to the red-haired Stronzo, looking for an opportunity to stoke the flames.
An hour later, the opportunity arose.
The mountain path grew increasingly difficult, and everyone prepared to dismount and rest as they got closer to the goblin nest, making final preparations.
Lis was still joking and laughing with poet Di Sha. The red-haired Stronzo watched as his thick neck reddened, becoming more and more like a bull. Meanwhile, George remained Buddha-like, quietly kneeling on the ground, palms together in silent prayer.
Ji Ma secretly peeked at Stronzo; his ears were red with anger as he desperately tried to snatch his crush away from the poet, completely ignoring George.
Ji Ma aimed at his jealous pink aura and quietly provoked him.
Suddenly, red-haired Stronzo found himself cooling down, and the cheerful laughter between the poet and Lis didn’t seem so bitter anymore.
He had an epiphany. His advantage lay not in his words but in his adventuring experience. During the upcoming adventure, he would be the one on stage; by that time, this short little pretty boy would surely fumble, and Lis would abandon him in disgust.
The red-haired Stronzo’s flushed neck gradually returned to normal; he distanced himself from them and focused on checking his equipment with utmost seriousness.
Lis noticed that aside from poet Di Sha, no one was paying attention to her. She suddenly felt that the jokes from poet Di Sha had lost their charm. She politely interrupted his endless words, glanced around, and asked:
“Alright, we’re about to reach the goblin nest. Who’s leading?”
“I am!”
“I am!”
Both poet Di Sha and red-haired Stronzo spoke almost simultaneously.
“I have plenty of adventure experience, so of course it’s me,” Stronzo stated.
Di Sha quipped, “Oh, I’ve wiped out the underground gangs with a dagger before, and I even destroyed the secret base of the Heartstealer.”
George remained unfazed, still bowed in prayer, and Ji Ma followed suit. This duo stood out conspicuously among the arguing pair.
Lis turned to George and asked, “George, what do you think?”
“None.”
Straightforward and to the point.
Red-haired Stronzo also looked at George; he originally intended to shift his gaze from George to compete with poet Di Sha for leadership.
Ji Ma subtly tugged at his little finger.
A surge of unnamed anger rose in Stronzo’s heart.
He focused on George, clad in silver armor, growing increasingly irritated by George’s seeming pretense, riding a silver horse and accompanied by a beautiful little girl, truly thinking himself a princely figure.
He secretly yearned for Lis’s affections but pretended to be indifferent, drawing her attention to reap the rewards quietly.
Red-haired Stronzo felt all the more that George harbored base intentions and was a potential rival. As for poet Di Sha, he was no threat. A brilliant idea struck him.
Pointing at George, Stronzo said:
“Do you know how I can tell he’s a novice? Can you tell what’s wrong with him?”
Poet Di Sha replied, “Nothing wrong, so what?”
“Then let me enlighten you.” Stronzo, aiming to criticize George and establish his position as the leader, said to George, “Let me see your sword, and I’ll point out the flaws; how about that?”
George opened his eyes, looking at him in confusion, not understanding how he got involved in this jealousy-fueled quarrel. He shot Ji Ma a glance.
Ji Ma raised her little face and said, “This sword has been used by my master since childhood, it’s seen countless battles, no need to trouble you.”
Stronzo replied, “That’s not acceptable; since I’m competing with Miss Poet and can’t determine who should lead, how can this adventure continue? Since you abstained, you should remain neutral.”
Ji Ma secretly whispered to George, “He may think you’re quietly benefiting from the situation.”
George nodded, indicating for Ji Ma to hand him the sword.
George didn’t think there was anything wrong with his sword. Before being bestowed with the Holy Sword, this sword forged from fine gold had always accompanied him.
Ji Ma held the heavy sword with both hands and handed it to red-haired Stronzo. Stronzo politely drew it and twirled it, looking strong and imposing, eyebrows furrowed as he shook his head.
Lis asked curiously, “It looks like a good sword.”
“The problem is major.” Stronzo became animated, holding the sword with both hands and passing it to Lis, “Feel it.”
Lis took the sword; it was a bit heavy, but she lifted it easily. If she had to point out any issue, it might be that it was overly plain, without gems or runes, just an ordinary sword without magical properties.
Lis asked, “Not enchanted?”
“No, too heavy.”
“Ah?” Lis raised the sword, confused, “Even I can lift it.”
Poet Di Sha watched with interest, saying nothing. Everyone’s gaze fell on Stronzo, who felt slightly smug. He cleared his throat and spoke in an authoritative tone:
“Killing requires only a little strength; weapons don’t need to be overly heavy. If they’re too heavy, swinging them will put enormous pressure on the wrist and won’t be conducive to sword control, greatly consuming stamina. Generally, a one-handed sword weighs just a bit over six hundred grams. The largest two-handed great sword is about one meter eighty long and weighs only about 3.6 kilograms, while the two-handed great sword used for rituals, not meant for actual combat, weighs only about 4.5 kilograms.”
He spoke so authoritatively that it was convincing.
As he continued, red-haired Stronzo pinched the thick sword blade with both hands, shaking his head:
“This sword weighs at least ten kilograms; it can only be used for sword dancing and practice. A true warrior wouldn’t take such an exercise tool to the battlefield. The scholar who has never touched a weapon loves to boast about their weight in books. It seems our knight friend has never been in real combat; otherwise, he wouldn’t believe the descriptions in knight novels and bring out a practice sword.”
Ji Ma found it amusing; Stronzo was not entirely wrong. But George was a transcendent being who had surpassed humanity; with great strength and stiff joints, such a heavy weapon was indeed suitable for him.
Though she found it amusing, she wore an indignantly drawn face, placing her hands on her hips, and ridiculed:
“Goblins must think that any weapon over half a jin can’t be wielded.”
Stronzo proudly replied, “You have no right to talk to me, Mr. George, am I right?”
George did not respond, signaling Ji Ma to take back the sword. Ji Ma huffed as she went to retrieve the sword, saying:
“You won.”
She hoped to provoke George, but he remained silent.
“I said only your master can talk to me.” Red-haired Stronzo stared at George, took the sword back from Lis, but did not return it, asking, “Silence is the greatest arrogance; speak up, did I speak correctly or not?”
George had no interest in competing for affection; he believed actions spoke louder than words. If he could lie, he would certainly smile and say, “Yes, yes, you are right.”
But as a paladin, he couldn’t lie; he could only say, “Completely wrong.”
“Ha, not a single chip on the blade.” Red-haired Stronzo treated George as a stubborn dead duck, returning the sword to Ji Ma.
George made no rebuttal.
Fine gold was so hard that it naturally wouldn’t show chinks.
Ji Ma huffed, accepting the massive sword back and handing it over to George.
With no objections, Stronzo became the leader of the small team. After directing everyone, the group officially set off.
On the way, George and Ji Ma fell to the back of the group.
George removed his bucket helm and quietly asked Ji Ma, “Do I look particularly punchable today? I feel like I’m being targeted for no reason.”
