Chapter 8: The Case is Solved
Jima wasted no time, balancing Leansy Cat on her head, turning around and running away. While running, she activated her “Imitation” ability to enhance her flying capability. She spread her wings, pushed off the ground with her right leg, and flapped her wings, leaping into the air.
One hand tightly grasped her ankle, as if it were chained to the peak of a mountain.
Jima flapped her wings with all her might, her dark hair swept away by the gusts, but she couldn’t fly a single centimeter higher. She looked back to see George below her, his azure eyes emotionlessly gazing at her.
A surge of resentment filled her. She folded her wings back, stripped away all pretense from her face, crossed her arms, and maintained a blank expression.
Ivy Frostleaf arrived very quickly. She glanced at George and asked, “What’s going on?”
“The author you’re looking for is in my hands.”
“Which author?” Ivy Frostleaf fell into thought, completely forgetting that she had come out to find the author of the book that slandered the reputation of the Elf Queen.
George: …
“Hey, paladin. You’re more invested than the Elf Queen’s daughter.”
Ivy Frostleaf reflexively replied in a cold and monotone voice, “I have no blood relation to Her Majesty the Queen.”
It sounded like she had repeated it many times.
“So, can you let go of my foot?” Jima said, standing on one leg. “Though I am a promiscuous succubus and wearing tight pants today, it doesn’t mean you can be rude and force me into such an inappropriate posture. Do you think I would be foolish enough to try to run away in front of you?”
George released his grip.
At this moment, Ivy Frostleaf finally remembered her purpose for coming from the High Elf Island. She looked at Jima and asked, “Did you write it?”
Jima glanced around, curious holy soldiers were all looking in that direction, and patrolling soldiers were intentionally walking this way. Gossip is human nature; if it weren’t for George’s authority, they would have surrounded them already.
“This is not the place for a conversation.”
Ivy Frostleaf frowned slightly and asked, “Was it you?”
Jima looked at her and smiled slightly, “So, are you eager to complete your mission and go home? That would be fine.”
Ivy Frostleaf thought that if she publicly revealed that Jima was the author of “The Misfortune of the Elf Queen,” the elf maid would probably excitedly pack her bags and return to the island, far away from George.
Thinking this, Ivy Frostleaf pursed her lips and remained silent.
Hehe, don’t think I don’t know you’re interested in that scumbag George. Damn, beautiful women these days are really getting more and more blind.
Jima took the initiative and said, “Let’s go to the tent and have a good talk.”
After saying that, she walked confidently toward the tent.
George also tacitly accepted the decision not to publicly disclose Jima’s identity and started walking with her.
Jima, who had originally taken the lead, was supposed to be taking the “lead” role, but her strides grew shorter, lagging behind George, and without hesitation, she turned and ran away.
After running three or four steps, just as her feet left the ground, Ivy Frostleaf nudged George and said, “She’s run again.”
George turned around, jumped two meters high, and caught Jima at her waist. Upon landing, he asked, “Didn’t you say only foolish people run?”
Jima retorted confidently, “What if I can escape?”
George was both amused and exasperated. He grabbed Jima’s dark horn and walked toward the tent, finding it quite suitable, though a bit small.
Jima could only lower her head as she walked, lying, “Ouch, ouch, I feel like my horn is going to be twisted off my head. Be gentle, be gentle. The horn is connected to the brain; if you pull, I’ll turn into an idiot.”
George strode toward the tent, “Full of lies.”
“Meow!!!”
Leansy Cat, feeling anxious, rushed up and bit George’s finger, but George was wearing iron gauntlets and felt nothing at all. Leansy Cat refused to let go, hanging on to George’s hand.
Thus, George held on to the noisy Jima with one hand and the orange cat with the other as they reached the front of the tent.
One man and two women took off their shoes and entered the tent. After the tent door closed, Jima’s spell blocked the sounds inside.
George finally released Jima’s horn. The irate succubus removed Leansy Cat from George’s hand, cradled it in her arms, and knelt on the blanket.
With the clattering of armor, George knelt down next to her and sternly asked:
“Did you write ‘The Misfortune of the Elf Queen’?”
“Yes, my pen name is White-haired One.”
“The book has spread so widely—”
“That’s right, I used my extraordinary abilities to help it along.”
“For a period of time, you didn’t complete the assignment I gave you—”
“Yes, I was busy typing at that time.”
“You’ve caused a great disaster. The high elves have sent people to find the truth—”
Jima interrupted for the third time, “Yes, yes, boss. If I’m not mistaken, nearly every high elf has a copy, and the Elf Queen was furious enough to want to chop off my head.”
She displayed a completely nonchalant demeanor.
Ivy Frostleaf, kneeling next to George, asked, “Why?”
“Very simple, she insulted me, and you were there at the time,” Jima explained. “So I retaliated.”
“Is that all?”
“I didn’t expect the high elves to realize how much their arrogance deserved a beating.”
George said, “Jima, you should show a better attitude of repentance.”
“Deliver me to the elves to be executed, or chop off my head on the spot; it’s up to you.” Jima said, “The Elf Queen sent such a beautiful long-legged woman over, you must be very eager, right?”
“Jima, you misunderstood me. I didn’t mean that—.”
Jima interrupted for the fourth time: “So you can say whatever you want as long as it’s the truth.”
George looked somewhat pleased: “You’re very angry; are you jealous?”
“Thinking too much.” Jima said, “I’m just mad that you put me in danger.”
Ivy Frostleaf said, “This is very serious.”
George said, “I hope you can show some leniency.”
“If it’s reported, they won’t agree to that.” Ivy Frostleaf said, “What would the Paladin think?”
“Jima can find the location of the demon king’s extraordinary materials.” George said, “Jima, are you the Black Devil?”
“No.”
“You’re lying.”
“Alright, it’s me.” Jima shrugged, feeling a headache, “I pretended to be a ghost, originally intending to scare you off.”
“Where did you see the swarm and the iron city?”
“Secret.”
Ivy Frostleaf softly chanted: “I am the Wing of Death, the Destiny’s Doom-bringer, the Ender of All Things. Unstoppable, unresistable, I am the Great Cataclysm!”
Her voice was cold yet resonant, with a rhythmic cadence reminiscent of her tone that day.
This made Jima involuntarily recall her earlier bout of delusions, becoming pretentious and hot-headed, personally dubbing with a male voice, her ears reddening in embarrassment.
This proud elf must be quite the schemer.
“You don’t need to worry; that was all fictional and a deception,” Jima said. “There are no insectoids, and nothing called the Wing of Death.”
George said:
“I’m very curious; a person cannot imagine things they have never seen. Although these are fictional, they possess an internally coherent and complex logic. This fictional work must be built on a real society, and this society is completely out of place with this world, entirely different.”
George paused and asked: “What is that society like? How do you know? You’re not a simple succubus less than two weeks old.”
