Chapter 13 Evening Conversations
Evening.
After lying down in Eve Frostleaf’s tent, Jima once thought this was a rare wise choice.
Eve Frostleaf’s tent was in great condition, with a white canvas decorated with a blue sea dragon, clean and tidy, unlike the tents of other humans, which were more or less stained with yellow mud and dirty.
Of course, compared to the beautiful tent itself, the scenery inside was even more intoxicating for Jima.
She was lying sideways on the blanket, hugging a plump orange cat in her arms, with her golden eyes wide open, watching as Eve Frostleaf took off her stockings, revealing her smooth long legs, and gathered her damp silver hair.
Admiring her powerful, slender legs, rounded shoulders, and her green eyes that sometimes shot icy glances.
Jima loved this feeling of keeping everyone in the dark, a kind of secretive joy. Even if Eve Frostleaf grew several more brains, she would never suspect that the alluring demon girl in front of her desired her body, not as a rival.
Eve Frostleaf turned off the alchemical lamp, and in the dim light, her translucent green eyes glimmered like cat eyes.
Jima, who could see in the dark, continued to brazenly observe her figure, her gaze tracing the curves of her legs and persistently drilling between them.
The air became a bit colder, and the fluffy orange cat instinctively snuggled closer to Jima’s arms.
Without looking up, Jima understood that Eve Frostleaf was trying to drive her away with that cold stare, but this tactic had no effect on an old rogue like her.
That silly woman still thought she was provoking her.
A chilling female voice suddenly broke the silence: “Are you feeling proud?”
Jima didn’t answer, allowing Eve Frostleaf to imagine a dramatic scene of jealousy.
“You should be proud, demon.” Eve Frostleaf, usually taciturn, spoke more than usual, “In the past, he had a pure heart, firm beliefs, and only wanted to eradicate the world’s evil. But now, he has fallen and degraded into an ordinary person. The Holy Sanctuary has already abandoned the idea of cultivating him, merely giving him a hundred-man squad and throwing him out to wander in the wilderness for months. The task is important, but he’s only responsible for the leftovers; the main force completing the task is not him.”
“I didn’t know I was that impressive.”
“Very interesting,” Jima said, “continue.”
“Today I am very disappointed. George is no longer the hero he used to be.” Eve Frostleaf said, “If it had been the old him, upon learning that you were involved with the innocent people of Marlin City, he would definitely have raised his great sword against you. But now, he not only self-hypnotizes, claiming you are overreacting in defense, but is also very friendly towards you, afraid that being too tough would drive you away…”
“He has already forgotten the original intention of saving you. He was supposed to follow a righteous creed, but now he has become tainted by love and desire, grappling with insecurities…”
Jima yawned and said, “You say it as if it’s true. You think he’s not steadfast enough, while I think he’s too rigid, lacking any humanity. Just wait and see who he prefers.”
“In the months from then until now, I have indicated my attitude towards him through actions and words.” Eve Frostleaf’s tone was quite mature, “I have tested him and have concluded that he is almost like his mount—a stallion that enjoys spreading his seeds everywhere.”
“Are you regretting it?”
“I just hope he can go to my homeland to cultivate his sentiments; there, he won’t be used by any demon exploiting his compassion, corrupting him.” Eve Frostleaf said, “It’s such a pity for a rare human hero to finally degrade into an ordinary person. I merely wish for him to go to my homeland out of this pity.”
“It seems like your view of heroes is problematic.” Jima said, “In your eyes, a real hero should be a eunuch. Why must a brave man who fights evil to the end be a pure soul, only pledging himself to one woman and unable to enjoy love?”
Eve Frostleaf remained silent, wanting to hear Jima’s opinions.
“I have always found it strange why the morals of your society like to meddle in other people’s business. Shouldn’t a paladin be a eunuch?” Jima said, “George’s virtues are already tightly bound by moral chains; I just gave him a little looseness so he wouldn’t be so repressed, and a whole bunch of people popped up to shout that George has changed, that his virtue has surged. How terrible… He’s been repressed long enough; at his age, not knowing how to relieve himself is quite pathetic. What’s the point of being a hero?”
“A sophistry.” Eve Frostleaf said, “Clearly, you have polluted and corrupted George, turning him into what he is today. Those who care for him can see that something is off with him right now.”
“What’s off?”
“He already has a fiancée.” Eve Frostleaf said, “Yet he didn’t distance himself from me to avoid suspicion, nor did I intend it.”
“How amusing.” Jima chuckled, “It seems that among so many who claim to care for the hero George, some care about his reputation, his future, or his sanity, but the only one who genuinely cares about him is this demon here. He has been suppressed for so long, only daring to draw beautiful women on paper and add tails to them. This tiny hobby he needs to hide well, regularly burning a batch as if doing something terribly rebellious.”
Jima paused and said:
“As a man, wanting to embrace many lovers is normal. Jenna herself doesn’t mind; why do you care? Oh, I see, you want to marry him in a one-man-one-woman setup, right?”
Eve Frostleaf immediately said, “Nonsense; your words disgust me.”
After that, she turned over and closed her eyes.
Eve Frostleaf felt that the night was incredibly long.
Jima’s words echoed in her mind, becoming more and more nauseating.
No wonder she is a demon; she can corrupt others and speak about moral decay so righteously, without a shred of shame.
As a woman, does she not feel embarrassed at all?
Is it out of true love?
Eve Frostleaf’s mind resonated again with Jima’s remark: “The only one who genuinely cares about him is this demon…”
Sophistry!
She thought this way but couldn’t help wondering if this could be considered another form of love.
If Jima could hear her inner thoughts, she would definitely give a middle finger and say:
“Love, my ass. I’m just elaborating on my feelings.”
And that was indeed the case; Jima was merely venting her frustrations earlier.
So what if I have a harem? Why do a bunch of demon kin look down on me?
After silently complaining again, Jima sweetly drifted into a dream.
In her dream, she spread her wings and flew over the military camp.
Eve Frostleaf’s dream was particularly enchanting, like a cloud radiating soft light.
Jima wanted to enter the dream to explore, hoping to lure this “virtuously pure” proud elf into her bed. Under the tidal wave of her onslaught, she would succumb to her primal desires and no longer maintain her pride.
But she held back.
“The most important task now is to exert all efforts to prove my worth.” Jima muttered to herself, “First impressions are crucial, just like working hard for a new company.”
Jima flapped her wings vigorously and flew into the sky. She flew high and, using the distinctive peaks below to determine her direction, patrolled in the direction the army was about to advance.
Below her, the wilderness, outlined in gray and white, was swiftly receding.
Her gaze was sharp as an eagle’s, scanning the dense forest, leaving no potential dream unnoticed.
After flying intermittently for about forty minutes, Jima landed on a thick old tree, her tired wings drooping as she gasped for breath, feeling as if her lungs were wracked.
The energy spent in flying was even greater than running. Jima estimated the distance she could fly, optimistically equating it to about one and a half days of the army advancing at full speed.
Considering this, it seemed that she was not much better than an excellent lookout rider, and the lookout had the advantage of scouting during the day.
However, scouting had its own advantages; she flew high, observed widely, and could see everything in the forests along the way. Even if enemies hid in caves, Jima could see the dreams of the enemies through trees, soil, and stone.
She basically eliminated the possibility of the army being suddenly attacked.
“Alright, today’s reconnaissance ends here.” Jima stretched, “There aren’t many beastmen in the forest; it’s time to head back.”
She raised her hand and grasped the dream seed parasitic on George’s dream.
A powerful force pulled Jima, and in the blink of an eye, she flew next to George’s dream.
Jima initially wanted to return to her tent, but then remembered Eve Frostleaf’s words and involuntarily stopped.
Of course, it wasn’t because she felt guilty for gradually causing George to degrade into a so-called ordinary person. It was rather because of what Eve Frostleaf said about George’s future.
Had she not spoken, Jima would have thought that George was still a favored one of the Holy Sanctuary. The Sanctuary tolerated George’s small indiscretions, even understanding him. After all, demons were simply too cute.
“What if the long-legged elf is overthinking?” Jima shook her head, “I can choose not to believe her, but I must trust the exquisite court intrigues of high elves. Growing up in the elf court, she must have developed considerable political sensitivity.”
If George no longer enjoyed the favor of the Sanctuary, if the Sanctuary no longer trained him as a hero, then the resources invested in him would decrease, and he would not be entrusted with heavy responsibilities. Ultimately, this would indirectly affect her own interests.
Jima thought far ahead; she originally planned to use George to seek the shards of the Demon King’s crown. A George fully supported by the Sanctuary and a George abandoned by the Sanctuary had entirely different values of utility.
After contemplating, Jima decided she wanted to clarify George’s current situation. She walked towards George’s dream, reached out to touch it, and her entire being sank into George’s dream.
When she opened her eyes, Jima found herself in a forest under a fiery sunset.
“Mommy, Mommy.” Young George, dressed in old yellow linen clothes, ran along the dirt path in the woods, chasing the shadow of a woman.
But no matter what, he couldn’t catch up.
Jima bent down and extended her arms towards young George, saying, “Mommy’s here, come over, my good son.”
