Chapter 44: Deception
Jima sat on a stone, crying like a child. Her little nose sniffed, and tears fell incessantly. She didn’t do it intentionally; the pain from her forearm wound was real.
But to establish a good image in George’s mind, the pain was worth it.
If George saw her holding a goblin laborer, and even had its fingers chopped off for safety, he might not say anything, but he’d definitely feel distant toward her. How could she still engage in her usual teasing with a sense of disconnection?
George’s iron gauntlet glowed with a warm light and gently touched the wound on Jima’s forearm. A wave of familiar warmth diluted the pain, and the wound suddenly vanished. Jima squeezed her forearm; there was truly no trace of injury left.
George asked gently, “Does it still hurt?”
“No, it doesn’t.”
“Is there anywhere else that hurts?”
Jima bent down, untying the pouch on her little shoe and gently pulled out her foot wrapped in white silk. Her ankle was swollen like a small bun.
“It hurts, very much,” Jima said, her eyes brimming with tears.
George knelt down and slowly reached out his hand.
The delicate, fair fingers crawled along the beautifully shaped calf, gently rubbing the ankle, producing a sound like silk rubbing against skin.
George’s gaze grew warm, and Jima could feel it. She flicked her tail tip lightly against George’s iron gauntlet and timidly said, “Can you take off the iron gauntlet? It’s too hard, I’m afraid it will hurt.”
George replied, “It’s just a touch; the iron gauntlet won’t hurt.”
“But…” Jima’s eyes sparkled with tears as she looked at George with a pitiful expression.
Even the hardest armor can be softened.
George sighed, “Alright.”
As he spoke, he removed the funnel-shaped gauntlet, revealing his rough, calloused hand. Jima, without permission, placed her little foot in his palm. Through the thin silk hose, she could feel the roughness of his palm.
A bit of an itch came from the sole of her foot. Jima’s little heart couldn’t help but quicken its beat.
George’s palm glowed white again, and a warm stream flowed into her delicate sole. It felt warm and ticklish, and Jima’s belly warmed up; she couldn’t help but recall how George treated her after spanking her that day.
That was truly embarrassing.
Her ears flushed a soft pink, and she bit her lower lip slightly.
I… I will definitely make your backside sore. Jima thought, her face turning rosy.
The pain in her ankle dissolved, leaving only a healing itch. Jima couldn’t help but straighten her foot, her sole rubbing against George’s rough palm, tickling her heart.
But George retracted his hand in time, showing no lingering attachment to Jima’s foot.
The warm white light extinguished. George stood up, like a block of cold steel.
“Does it still hurt?” His tone was calm.
Jima suddenly snapped back to the cold, dark cave and immediately calmed down, realizing something felt strange about her body; why was her calf so… sensitive?
She didn’t answer but sniffed the air. Sure enough, there was a wonderful peach blossom scent, not as strong as she had imagined, but enough to fill her stomach and the taste wasn’t bad.
Jima’s mood brightened, and she wanted to say: It still hurts; you should hold my ankle to treat it more thoroughly.
But she feared this lie would provoke George’s aversion. So she lifted her pink little face and said, “It doesn’t hurt anymore.”
She bent down and put on her shoes. Her feet still had that sensation—a bit ticklish and warm. She wiggled her toes, secured the straps, and stood up, humming a slightly off-tune melody as she picked up her backpack from the ground and put it on.
Some straps of the backpack had been torn, revealing a few openings.
“Did the goblins steal this backpack?” George asked while holding an oil lamp, “I saw a group of goblins fighting each other on the way.”
“I hurt my foot when I fell,” Jima tightened her grip on George’s sword and said intermittently, “They… they scented my smell and chased after me, so I… threw down the backpack and hid aside; they were stabbing each other for gold coins.”
Jima felt a bit nervous; she didn’t like this topic. If George was lying, he would surely dislike her, and all her previous efforts to be cute would be in vain. She couldn’t lie either.
“Then how did you get Stron’s short sword?”
Jima was silent for a moment, her face showing an expression hard to recall, and said, “It… fell on the ground, so I took the chance to pick it up but couldn’t bear to leave the backpack…”
She couldn’t continue; saying more would expose her lie.
But George thought Jima’s previous experience was hard to endure.
The goblin was cunning; it must have begged for mercy, and Jima, unwilling to harm it, let it carry the backpack. But unexpectedly, it just sought an opportunity to ambush her, and because its finger was severed in fighting, it tried to bite Jima.
The more George thought about it, the more frightened he became. If he had come a little later, he might have only seen Jima’s corpse.
However, he was also puzzled. Just for a backpack of gold coins, goblins would fight each other until only one remained; that seemed a bit too far-fetched.
But seeing Jima’s expression of hardship, he didn’t ask.
This child, at such a young age, bore the darkness and bloodshed that didn’t belong to her age. It was better not to provoke her.
George stroked Jima’s head and said, “I understand.”
Understand what?
Jima’s tail nervously swept back and forth behind her legs.
“Everything has passed; just keep looking forward.” George struggled to think of some encouraging words, “Don’t think so much; the future is bright.”
Is that supposed to comfort someone?
Jima sighed with relief and nodded, “Hmm.”
After reuniting with the tool-man George, the journey became much easier.
Jima leisurely watched George diligently clearing out goblins in front. She increasingly felt that a succubus should be this way, tricking a fool into doing work for her, carefree and relaxed. On the surface, it appeared she was George’s slave, but in reality, he was being commanded by her.
How delightful.
“Jima, come over and wipe the sword.”
“I’m coming.”
Jima jogged over, skillfully pulled out a cloth, and carefully wiped the bloodstains from the sword, smiling as she handed it back to George.
“I wonder how Miss Lis is doing?”
George continued to lead the way in front, with an oil lamp hanging from his chest.
“It doesn’t matter if she was kidnapped,” Jima said, “As her companion, we can leverage the opportunity to provide clues and build some connections in high society.”
“What I worry about is her safety.”
“Can’t you see that she called you here just to enjoy watching suitors fight each other for her? It’s like watching dog fights, but the ones fighting for her are three sycophants.”
“Jima, you always tend to think the worst of people,” George said, “She’s just vain.”
“I wonder whose young lady she is.” Jima had actually vaguely guessed Lis’s identity.
“Great benefactor?”
“I hope the great benefactor doesn’t know what you look like, but…” Jima said, “According to Gregory, if we don’t use a teleportation portal, we will be detected the moment we leave the White City. His intelligence is so good; he likely knows what you look like.”
George frowned, unwilling to give up this rare opportunity, and said, “I often wear a bucket helmet, and few people know my appearance. Through verbal description alone, he might not recognize me, and since there are many participants at the banquet, we just need to be careful not to run into him.”
“Alright, you decide.”
Jima didn’t mind; with George’s current golden strength, he could take her out of the banquet without concealing his identity.
The familiar hole reappeared in front of the two.
Rubble fell from above, piling up into a small hill. Goblins crawled all over it, along with a type of humanoid monster that was taller and larger than goblins.
They looked like goblins, stout in body but taller than most adults, nearly as wide as two adult men. Dressed in sturdy armor, they held shields in one hand and heavy battle axes in the other, roaring barbarically.
These were the big goblins, also called bear goblins. Such creatures are far more lethal than common goblins, and as mercenaries, they learned combat skills in their line of work, coupled with their inherent brute strength, raising their lethality level several notches.
Unluckily, it was Lis and the red-haired Stron who were besieged by the big goblins and regular goblins; they were forced to flee from their hiding place among the stone pillars.
“Capture her! She is our target! Don’t worry about injuries, just keep her alive, even if she’s on the brink of death, I have healing potions.”
The man in black stood on the edge of the hole, excitedly gesturing. He seemed to be enjoying the rare opportunity to speak.
A bear goblin charged at Lis, roaring as it waved its axe from the little hill toward her.
Lis was stunned, staring blankly at it. The wand in her hand unconsciously came to a stop.
“Be careful!”
Red-haired Stron knocked over several goblins blocking his path, slamming into the side of the big goblin and knocking it down, stabbing his sword into its neck, the blade ignited in flames.
He shouted, “Surprised, aren’t you? I prepared two swords!”
“Be careful!” Lis cried out.
An axe swung toward Stron. He instinctively raised his small shield to block, but it wasn’t enough, and he was struck by an axe on his side, toppling to the ground.
The big goblin ignored the red-haired Stron and charged directly at Lis, raising its powerful arms.
Then, it died.
George rushed over, his sword deeply slicing through its neck, then swung again, cleaving through one big goblin, both its arms and head split in half.
The tide of battle suddenly turned.
The goblins wailed and fled, the big goblins charged, but no one could withstand several of George’s strikes; it looked like they were rushing to their deaths one after another.
When George stabbed his sword into the sixth big goblin’s heart, no one dared challenge the sword in his hand anymore; the surviving goblins disappeared into the dark cave.
Red-haired Stron stared blankly at the corpses surrounding George.
“Where did you pop up from?” the man in black shouted from the edge of the hole, “I advise you to watch your steps; you’ll regret narrowing your path later.”
“Are you trying to escape?”
Jima’s voice rang out.
The man in black turned his gaze toward the sound, seeing Jima cowering behind George, proudly giving him the middle finger.
George charged forward, bending down to pick up a short spear, and threw it fiercely at the man in black. The man in black waved his hand, and a curtain of water surrounding him deflected the spear; he pulled again, and the water turned into an ice staircase. He quickly ran up the stairs, shouting as he went, “Just you wait; we’ll meet again—”
Before he finished speaking, an arrow shot out from a corner, piercing him beneath the chin and entering his brain. He stared wide-eyed, his lips trembling as if he was trying to finish his sentence with all his might.
The man in black’s corpse tumbled down the ice stairs into the hole.
A figure approached the edge of the hole; it was the poet DeSha.
He jumped down into the hole and walked towards everyone. A gold coin rolled between his fingers, flipping from his thumb to his little finger, and with a flick, it soared into the air. He caught the falling coin in one hand, bent down to apologize to Lis, saying, “Miss Lis, I’m very sorry I couldn’t save you in time. It’s a crime to let a beautiful lady be chased by these cruel and disgusting little monsters. I’ve avenged you; I hope you can accept my apologies.”
Lis’s face immediately blossomed with a radiant smile, saying, “Please don’t take it to heart; it’s all a despicable plot of the Deepwater City.”
Jima could only whistle. Clearly, the poet DeSha understood the essence of this adventure; being able to fight wasn’t important, but being able to curry favor was.
