Chapter 43 Forgetting the Original Intention
About twenty minutes later.
After their intimate encounter, Jima downed two glasses of iced cola to cool her heated mind. She then excused herself from the hall, saying she needed to use the restroom.
How did it come to this?
Jima crouched down, supporting her face in her hands, pondering why things had gradually changed.
Though it was quite embarrassing, the situation seemed to be more than just a physical issue.
No, no, I must remember to seek revenge.
Jima strained to recall the memory of being pierced by George’s sword back in the bedroom.
He gripped his sword tightly, his azure eyes calm and focused behind the observation slit of his helmet.
Not too bad.
Jima shook her head, realizing she couldn’t muster any hatred, so she opened her personal system and browsed through her blacklist.
She found the text “Revenge on the Virgin” that she hadn’t touched in a long time, with a word count of a full forty thousand words. George’s enmity towards her was truly overflowing.
“Today, that damn, knife-eared hero stabbed me… (omitting over three thousand words of profanity)”
“Ha ha, this thick-headed virgin, still being fooled by me. One day, I will make him beg me to spare him, like the snot-nosed slug he is.”
“Today in the transmission, the virgin didn’t secure his helmet properly. It fell on my head, and it hurt! I must kick his ass. Damn it, stepping on my tail, remember to kick his tailbone hard.”
That was when we were together in Shalin City, such fond memories.
“How dare he smack my ass! One day, when I get stronger, I will smash your ass to pieces, then cover it in honey and dump a colony of ants on it.”
This one must be remembered; sometimes during bed activities, he smacks too—what a scumbag.
“The so-called paladins aren’t much better than this—wagging their tails and flaunting flesh, then suddenly becoming tender-hearted.”
I even miss when he was earnest; I thought he was a complete gentleman back then.
Jima kept scrolling, a smile unwittingly appearing on her face.
It was only when she reached the bottom of the text that she realized she had unconsciously turned her blacklist into a couple’s diary.
What a failure.
After wiping her hands, Jima stood up, her legs numb and almost toppled over. She exited the restroom, sat on the couch, and snapped her fingers. A blank-faced maid appeared, bending over to mechanically massage her numb legs.
She then grabbed the obedient Lianxi cat, gently stroking the soft creature while she pondered.
Though she was reluctant to admit it, her revenge plan was most likely doomed to fail. It was like the ambitious fitness plan she wrote at the beginning of the year that turned out to be a complete flop by year-end.
Alas, it happens.
Staying by George’s side was quite comfortable. Over time, her initial ambition faded, and she had forgotten her original intent.
Jima stretched lazily on the sofa, nonchalantly kicking the ineffective puppet maid aside, making her vanish.
It might be nice just letting this guy live.
As soon as this thought crossed her mind, Jima shook her head.
Don’t be fooled by George’s sweet words. If he found out my secret…
A vivid image flashed in her mind: a blood-smeared George, gripping a massive sword, looking at her with a mix of sorrow and determination.
A dull ache gripped Jima’s chest.
He would definitely strike; is there truly a lie that can forever remain hidden in this world?
Maintaining the current relationship was quite good.
After coming to this resolution, Jima hugged the cat and rode her cloud through three corridors and two corners back to the hall.
George and Eve Frostleaf were discussing something, with George sporting his familiar gentle smile. As soon as she entered, Eve straightened up, turning her head and resuming her icy beauty pose.
Jima sat across from them and said, “Let’s talk business. It seems our harassment plan isn’t going very smoothly, tough work.”
George replied, “It’s fine; it’s just Eve Frostleaf who got injured.”
“How long did you run?”
“I carried Eve Frostleaf from noon until evening.”
“Here, good job.” Jima grabbed her cold, half-eaten roasted beef leg and handed it to George. “You need to replenish your energy.”
George accepted it gladly, looking at the bites taken out of the beef and asked, “Jima, did you bite it to check if it was done, like the last roasted meat you gave me?”
Jima didn’t answer, patiently waiting for him to take a bite before saying:
“No, it’s just that I couldn’t finish it, leftover.”
George frowned slightly but said nothing, quickly devouring most of the meat.
Eve Frostleaf watched, feeling that Jima was asserting her dominance and began regretting her lack of culinary skills—after all, she had always been served by others. She thought to show off a little and carelessly twirled her hair, exposing her snow-white neck.
“I’ll cook for you later; you both better hurry and rest. I can only offer you a maximum of seven hours of sleep,” Jima stated, “because I can sustain my dream palace for only another seven and a half hours.”
George swallowed his roasted meat, intending to summarize the day’s battle report.
Eve Frostleaf said, “We chose the wrong ambush site. I charged in recklessly; George saved me, and I got injured, but I’ll be fine by tomorrow.”
Jima snapped her fingers, and a sand table appeared on the table along with a pile of chess pieces resembling beastmen standing beside the map.
“How many casualties? What’s the enemy’s composition…”
The two of them exchanged information.
Jima quickly drew a conclusion.
“There are no minotaurs, but many lesser horned beasts, as well as horned beasts and great horned beasts, in significant numbers.”
The chess pieces representing horned beasts, lesser horned beasts, and great horned beasts flew into the sand table, forming a company, “And there are about a hundred centaur beasts, with at least a hundred war dogs.”
The centaur beasts and war dogs also flew onto the sand table.
“A tough opponent.” Jima stared at the sand table. “Too many mobile units, and a lot of horned beasts.”
After finishing her words, she gazed at the sand table, seemingly envisioning a scene where an army of just over a hundred stood isolated in formation, facing a horde of beasts. Led by the great horned beasts, the furious horned beasts charged in alongside the lesser horned beasts, overwhelming the small formation, combined with centaur beasts encircling from both sides.
She shook her head; that scenario wouldn’t happen. Even if it did, she would have long since fled. She said, “Though you probably only killed thirty wild beastmen, it’s good that you enraged them. Where did you escape to?”
George pointed to a location on the sand table that was exactly opposite to the holy army, and his finger hovered over a faraway position, saying, “Here.”
“Quite a distance.”
But regardless, even though the casualties were small, they managed to draw the hatred of the beastmen raiding party far away.
The meeting concluded, and everyone planned to continue with the harassment plan. Optimistically, if things continued like this, the entire army could safely reach the Withered Tree Mountains.
Before dispersing, Jima specifically reminded George to bring back some skin and blood from the lead beast so that she could cast a curse on him.
After finishing their dinner prepared by Jima, everyone found their rooms to rest.
Except for Jima; she picked up a straight branch, sat on her cloud, and headed to the training ground.
The training ground in the palace was outdoors, resembling the Roman Colosseum, spacious enough for two hundred-man armies to battle. It was modeled after the training ground in the Demon King’s palace, where Jima, back in her demon days, liked to throw ferocious beasts and captives in to fight for her entertainment, with only the maids in the palace as the audience.
But now the training ground looked completely different. The previous skull decorations and blood god sculptures—those R-rated elements had disappeared entirely, to prevent George from making any real connections.
Jima stepped onto the training ground’s steps, and with a flick of her mind, a fiery hoofed demon warhorse with bone spines emerging from its mane appeared before her.
It wouldn’t do to be discovered.
Thinking that, she snapped her fingers, and the demonic warhorse transformed into a normal steed. Jima mounted the horse, preparing to practice.
Even though as a succubus her direct combat ability was around five, she couldn’t neglect training. After all, she couldn’t rely on never having direct combat; she didn’t want to end up like a logistics officer running behind George the moment a fight broke out.
One must always be prepared for future warfare.
Jima skillfully kicked the steed, dual-wielding the straight branch, which morphed under her will into a spear. A dummy appeared in front of the warhorse, and Jima thrust with both hands, hitting the dummy squarely in the forehead.
Just as the dummy fell, a wooden centaur beast appeared behind it. Jima switched to a crossbow and shot backward, causing the horse to lurch as the bolt grazed its target.
The centaur beast charged beside Jima, and as she wielded her spear, it transformed into an axe spear. Twisting her waist, she swung it down at the centaur beast’s chest, causing it to freeze before vanishing.
Jima stopped the horse and shook her head, “Not enough; I need to practice more.”
Just now was her tactical idea after contemplation. Relying on the “power of lies,” she utilized the straight branch as a basis, transforming it into various familiar weapons, like a fully-drawn crossbow. With her strength, she still couldn’t properly draw a bow while mounted.
Jima kept training, summarizing mistakes, and solving them. Until her dream palace was on the verge of collapse, she trained for nearly six hours before dismounting, taking a shower, fetching her cleaned clothes from the washing machine, waking the two, and leaving the dream palace.
It was already the early hours of the morning outside.
Jima crawled out from the entrance of the dream palace located at the bottom of a concealed hill.
Her magical power had diminished to five percent, yet only her head throbbed, and there was just a slight ache in her chest. If it were before, it would have hurt so much she couldn’t sleep, but thanks to Jenna, who was currently serving in the military, although it hadn’t fully healed her soul wound, it had greatly alleviated the symptoms.
The army was not nearby because the dream palace’s entrance could not move with the troops.
Jima yawned, hugging the cat, and crawled into the prepared sleeping bag hidden beneath the fallen leaves, closing her eyes and falling fast asleep.
The next morning.
The army advanced towards a village that had just been destroyed.
Sleep-deprived Jima yawned, riding on a chestnut mare, following the troops.
While it was still dimly lit, feeling paranoid, she thought she might get her throat slit by Jima during the night, using the army’s dreams to teleport and catch up with them.
This left her with less than six hours of sleep.
“I really need a good midday nap.” Jima yawned, “I envy the elves who only need to sleep four hours a day.”
“Stop! Halt!”
The entire army came to a stop. “Prepare weapons!”
The soldiers readied their shields, drawing long swords or warhammers.
“What’s going on?” Jima specifically halted beside the army priest to ask.
The priest, standing a few steps away from Jima, pointed at the ruins of the village ahead and said, “The army plans to go in and search for survivors, while also restocking supplies.”
“Oh, heavens, I shouldn’t have given you George’s battle report.” Jima muttered to herself, clasping her hands together. “I hope there are no survivors.”
—
End of update.
