Chapter 45: Something Seems Off
The goblins scattered in all directions, disappearing into various unexpected crevices and holes, leaving the crime scene significantly quieter.
The enormous headless body of the Niao Bear lay in the rubble, its head covered in dust. On the pile of debris, several goblin corpses lay scattered, with horrific wounds resembling silent mouths praising the terror of George’s weapon.
Liss looked at the monster corpses strewn across the ground, unable to suppress the urge to cover her mouth and nose, her face a little pale. She was deeply aware of the terrifying power George possessed.
It was sheer brute strength, devoid of any supernatural abilities…
Thinking this, she shot a discontented glance at the side, where Stout was getting up from the ground by himself, feeling somewhat disappointed; he was still the boastful brat he had been as a child.
Liss turned to George, her heart subtly stirred with excitement.
Meanwhile, the red-haired Stout was feeling quite embarrassed. He desperately wanted to shout at George, asking who exactly he was. He wished for George to take off his helmet in front of Liss, reveal his dragon horns, confess to being a dragon, and say: “Humans and dragons are different paths; Miss, give up on such thoughts.”
He clearly had done his homework; he had memorized the diaries of northern adventurers ten times and consulted his retired adventurer father, who had been hit by an arrow in the knee, studying for a whole month.
George’s armor and weaponry were violations of the adventurer’s taboos. He shouldn’t wield such a heavy sword or wear a bucket helmet; he should have been at a disadvantage. He wasn’t in the wrong at all.
But Stout stared at George for a long time, his lips moving for a while before he ended up biting them back.
Facts outweigh arguments. The more he dwelled on right and wrong, the more his standing in Liss’s heart would diminish.
So, who exactly was George?
Poet Disha tossed a rope down, and George climbed up, followed by Liss.
Liss didn’t have enough strength, so George half-kneeled, extended his hand to her, and gently pulled her up.
What steady hands; he even half-kneeled for me. Although he said nothing, he was as courteous as a knight in a bard’s tales… Liss’s heart raced, her cheeks slightly flushed as she stood beside him.
Unbeknownst to her, George had also helped Jima up in the same manner. At the same time, the red-haired Stout refused his goodwill, saying gloomily, “I can manage.”
He gritted his teeth and climbed up by himself.
Poet Disha gazed at the Niao Bear and the corpses below, plucking his instrument and saying:
“I seem to see the legendary strongman who killed a thousand warriors with a piece of donkey jawbone. Unfortunately, we can’t pull this monster’s corpse up.”
Wasn’t that the strongman who was tricked by a prostitute?
Jima fancied Poet Disha’s metaphor.
Just then, a noise of falling stones and goblin cries punctuated the air.
A squad of heavily armed soldiers rushed in, and upon seeing Liss exclaimed in surprise:
“Miss, are you alright? Old—”
Liss modestly raised her hand to silence him, saying, “Call Xiao Ruo over; my hair is dirty.”
After saying this, she looked at George, her eyes sparkling, and said, “There’s a true knight; I am very safe. He single-handedly killed a Niao Bear and rescued me from the conspiracy of Deepwater City.”
“They? How dare they?”
But the unmelted icy staircase and the corpses of the cloaked figures quietly refuted his words.
“Remember to pull the Niao Bear’s corpse up and make a specimen; that is George’s trophy,” Liss smiled at George, saying, “I hope you will like it.”
“I will,” George replied, “but where did they come from?”
Liss smiled, “I still have several gemstones to notify them and a protective charm my grandfather gave me.”
“Well then, Miss Liss, may I have the honor of knowing your surname?” Poet Disha smiled as he spoke.
Liss glanced at both Poet Disha and George, the corners of her mouth curling upwards as she said, “That’s a secret; you’ll find out when you attend my banquet.”
The red-haired Stout stood to the side, feeling quite displeased but unable to say anything.
Liss’s personal maids came over to help her wash the dust from her chestnut hair, tidy it up, and change her into a new outfit.
Before long, Liss reappeared before everyone, radiant once again. Her chestnut hair adorned with a jewel-studded net, she gently twirled before George, the ends of her hair swaying, and said:
“I can’t wait to look forward to the dance at the banquet.”
“Liss,” the red-haired Stout couldn’t help but say, “your mother—”
“Is much better than a boastful brat.”
Stout’s face reddened even more than his hair.
Seeing Stout’s humiliation, Jima felt quite satisfied. Ha, look at you looking down on kids.
She believed she had perfectly adhered to the “behind-the-scenes manipulator” principle, using Stout’s jealousy to annoy George while punishing the Stout she disliked.
When Liss appeared, the soldiers nearby gathered around to protect her safety.
Liss waved her hand to an officer, saying, “Please have your soldiers rest; I just want to experience the ordinary adventurer’s life for a while.”
“But—”
“With George here, it will be very safe.”
The officer glanced at the Niao Bear’s corpse, where fifteen burly men were straining to pull it up, their faces flushed, and nodded.
Once the five emerged from the goblin cave, indeed no one followed them. They walked through the wilderness, leaving the commotion behind.
“George, who on earth are you?” Liss voiced the question on everyone’s mind, “If you were a dragon, I would definitely keep your secret.”
The red-haired Stout immediately perked up, trying hard to catch the word dragon.
George removed his bucket helmet and said, “I, George Hammer, was born in the beautiful Barto.”
After saying this, he shot a glance at Jima.
Jima continued, “My lord, having committed excessive bloodshed in the Chivalrous War, was cursed by the gods and thus relinquished his territory, embarking on a long journey to seek monsters to fight. Through adventures, he honed his body and spirit, hoping to earn the favor of the goddess.”
Suddenly, Poet Disha asked, “Since you are a knight from Barto, why have I not heard you praise the goddess?”
George remained silent; it was simple—because he did not worship the goddess but the God of Dawn, a fabricated lie that needed Jima’s assistance. He continued to gaze at Liss, accustomed to maintaining eye contact with his conversational partner.
“Because I can only say 140 words a day,” Jima replied, “If I praise the goddess too much, my lord would run out of words before noon.”
Under George’s slightly oppressive, focused gaze, Liss’s face reddened once more.
I understand; this is just an excuse. She thought, since meeting you, I haven’t heard you praise the goddess even once; is it because you’ve found the goddess?
Thinking this, a multitude of romantic chivalric novel plots surged into Liss’s mind.
Bards delight in praising the traveling knights of Barto. In their songs, countless traveling knights who seek the lake goddess all fall beneath the skirts of earthly goddesses (and they are both handsome and skilled).
Liss cradled her flushed face, her spirits soaring. She just wanted to ride a fast horse back home to boast to her girlfriends. A knight strong in skills and handsome as if he stepped out of poetry was pursuing her.
They would surely widen their eyes in disbelief. When that moment came, she would definitely invite them all to the banquet and bring out the Niao Bear trophy; they would certainly be envious.
“So, George, what color dance skirt do you like?” Liss asked.
George pondered seriously and said, “Anything.”
Wow, how considerate! I’ll wear my favorite dance skirt; ah, so he meant it this way but was just too shy to say it.
Liss thought, a sweet smile forming on her face.
The red-haired Stout turned his face away. Poet Disha smiled silently, saying nothing.
Jima gradually sensed something was off.
Could it be that Liss was infatuated, seemingly ready for a roll in the hay at any moment? No, she was supposed to roll in the hay with George; asking about the color of the dance skirt, wasn’t the next step to ask about the wedding dress?!
Jima snapped back from her fleeting sense of victory, realizing she had made a colossal mistake.
She recalled her actions since the adventure began and wanted nothing more than to slap her own face.
This wasn’t about adding salt to a virgin’s wounds; it was clearly helping him win over the girl! I instigated Stout’s foolish provocation and got slapped in the face, which only highlighted George’s virtues.
So frustrating; it was bad enough not being able to engage with the girl right in front of me, but I also had to watch him woo her, and worse, I had a hand in it.
Suddenly, Jima’s expression turned sour.
Liss was chatting happily with George when she noticed Jima’s worsening expression. Looking again at Jima’s dusty dress, she smiled slightly.
Thinking: Jealous, are we? I hope you realize the reality; no one would like a dirty, lowly maid.
While talking with Liss, George suddenly stopped speaking. Liss looked at him curiously as George pointed to his mouth and shook his head.
“Ah, sorry, I almost forgot; you’ve used up your precious words on me,” she said, finally looking directly at Jima, fixing her eyes on her dusty little face, and said, “I want to know more about George.”
George shot Jima a knowing glance, prompting her to lightly cough and say:
“My lord still preserves his virginity for the goddess, even though he has a pure and noble lady who has played with him since childhood. He also has a tall, beautiful high elf ranger friend.”
Jima continued, “The three of them have adventured together, sleeping together every night. They infiltrated an evil little country and jointly killed its ruler. He also has an unwed—ow.”
George snapped his fingers, interrupting Jima.
The red-haired Stout perked up, saying, “Who would have thought? You are actually a flirtatious knight.”
Liss’s expression remained unchanged, only smiling happily as she said, “It’s only natural that someone as charming as George would be popular with young ladies.”
No way; even if my head is smashed, this demon king will still break this twisted bond today! Jima clutched her head, internally shouting; I can’t shame myself, and neither should you!
She innocently looked at George, blinking her big eyes and asking pitifully, “Master, did I say something wrong?”
“Cough, cough, cough.” George immediately cast a warning glance at Jima, telling her not to use that title again.
