Chapter 65 Chapter Sixty-Five Pregnant
The two of them passed through the entrance of the Dream Palace together, arriving in reality. This process was very magical, slowly waking up from a dream; the person remained blurred for a few seconds before realizing they had come to the real world.
The entrance was behind an old tree on the hillside, and Jima and the saintess Jenna walked down the slope toward the wounded area below. Jima followed behind Jenna, greatly satisfying Jenna’s psychological need for being the main consort.
George, wearing dented armor, stood at the bottom of the slope waiting. Seeing the two women approach, he went up to them and said:
“It’s been a long time, Jenna.”
Jenna did not show her usual gentle smile but lightly huffed and said:
“George, now is not the time for pleasantries.”
With that, she did not pause her steps and headed straight for the wounded area.
George looked at Jenna’s back and sighed, “Jenna is still as compassionate as before.”
“Mm, that’s great.” Jima stifled a laugh and asked, “What about Frostleaf?”
“She went back to her tent; she said there’s no need to trouble anyone, she has her own healing potions,” George replied.
After finally managing to ignite the fire, how could Frostleaf not make an appearance with everyone here?
Jima said, “Let’s have Jenna take a look at her; after all, she’s a professional and knows much more about how to use medicine. The fact that we managed to defeat the enemy today is also thanks to Frostleaf holding back a huge number of horned beasts behind the scenes.”
“Um, that makes sense, but I still have things to attend to. Are you free?”
“Forget it; I don’t have a good relationship with Frostleaf,” Jima said. “You know her better, so you should go.”
“Alright.”
George nodded and walked toward Eve Frostleaf’s silvery white tent.
Jima’s long tail rolled excitedly behind her, but on the surface, she appeared calm.
Jima was very patient, holding Lianxi Cat, rubbing her chin and belly, and patting her head, quietly waiting.
Saintess Jenna was in the wounded area, prioritizing help for those in critical condition. She carefully unwrapped the dark red bandages, and the horrendous wounds glowed white under her palm, healing automatically, bringing hope to many desperate injured.
This miraculous healing scene naturally attracted onlookers, and Jima was among them, though she was there to watch a different excitement.
“Hang in there; wait for me to remove the arrowhead so I can heal your wound,” Saintess Jenna reassured, using the surgical tools she carried to perform surgery right in front of everyone, and the wounded bit down on towels, their faces turning pale.
Saintess Jenna placed her fingers on the man’s shoulder, and a pale white light fell onto the horrifying wound, visibly causing fresh tissues to grow and scab over.
“Done.” She removed her fingers from the scab. “Although the wound has been purified, there might still be some infection. Don’t catch a cold; you should be able to hold on.”
Purification likely refers to sterilization, while disease may refer to infection?
Jima pondered.
The wounded man loosened the towel and weakly said, “Thank you, thank you, Saintess.”
After that, he managed to stand up on his own, moving around to ensure most of the pain had left him, his face full of gratitude.
Saintess Jenna was efficient, and she hardly wasted any time; in less than twenty minutes, she had saved nearly half of the wounded, all severely injured could now stand and walk on their own, though they could not carry heavy objects.
Jima was watching intently when she suddenly thought, why hadn’t Eve Frostleaf shown up yet?
Jima stepped back a few paces, looking around, and spotted a silvery figure. Eve Frostleaf had exited her tent; she was watching Saintess Jenna save lives from a distance, and George was no longer beside her.
It seemed that Eve Frostleaf intentionally avoided Saintess Jenna.
Jima felt anxious; she wanted to see the women fight.
Where had that guy George gone?
Jima inquired and learned that George had returned to his own tent. She walked to George’s tent, pulled back the flap, and saw George’s back. He was still in armor, holding a piece of cloth in both hands, next to him was a box of spoils filled with various documents.
Jima recognized at a glance that it was loot found beneath the lake goddess’s church.
George was focused on the parchment, and Jima’s curiosity piqued. She asked, “What are you looking at?”
Then, at an incredibly fast pace, she ran to George, placed her hands on his shoulders, leaned over to take a look at the cloth, and realized it was written by a mother. Jima had seen it too, but she had forgotten the specifics.
George put down the cloth and casually closed the nearby diary, saying, “A piece of cloth filled with the prayers of a sorrowful mother.”
“Oh.” Jima bent down, looking at the diary, reaching out, saying, “I want to see.”
With that, she reached for the diary.
George directly grabbed Jima’s wrist and said, “Personal privacy.”
“I’m just curious.”
“No.”
“I bet it’s just drawings of your dream lover for self-pleasure,” Jima said. “I understand, don’t be shy.”
“It’s not.”
“Really? I don’t believe you.”
“I’m not lying.”
“No choice,” Jima retracted her hand, “who told me to be considerate of others.”
The air was filled with George’s scent: iron, holy oil, sweat, and a hint of peach blossom fragrance. It wasn’t exactly pleasant, but Jima’s body began to heat up gradually, the butterflies in her lower abdomen fluttering slowly, stirring a vague impulse.
“Jima, could you move your chest away from my back?”
“What’s wrong? Are you disgusted?”
“Now is not the time; let’s save it for tonight.”
“Tsk, you’re so narcissistic.” Jima said, “Who said I wanted something? I just want to flirt a little; is that not allowed?”
George grabbed Jima’s arm, pulling her down; she sat on the blanket in response, inhaling a few breaths of desire and casually mentioned:
“Ha, by the way, why isn’t Sister Frostleaf treating anyone? I see her just watching from the side.”
“Oh, she said she would wait until Jenna finished treating the others before coming over.”
“I see.”
Jima felt a bit disappointed, a disappointment like setting fire to a mountain but not catching flame.
Thinking of it this way, the primary task is to heal people and administer medicine, and they must race against time because Jenna only has an hour; when time is up and she can no longer maintain her presence, she will disappear from this place.
George’s blue eyes turned to Jima and asked, “Why do I feel like you seem a bit disappointed?”
“Well…”
Jima’s heart skipped a beat.
Damn, how does George sometimes have such sharp insight?
She cast a glance at George’s diary, which was very close to her.
“It’s simple because… I want to divert your attention!” Jima exclaimed suddenly, lunging for George’s diary, opening it up and just happened to see a line of big letters in the title that shocked her, and she exclaimed: “’Three Stages of Pursuing Jima’… Pregnant?! Ah!”
George grabbed Jima’s horns, which had grown thicker, and pressed her head against the blanket.
“Let go quickly.” Jima said, “Turns out you not only crave my body but want to use this vulgar method to trap me—ah! Why are you hitting my butt?”
George moved his hand away from Jima’s swaying hips and said, “You snooped on my privacy, at least you should have some remorse.”
“Sorry, is that okay?”
“Insincere.”
George released the horns.
Jima jumped up and looked at George, saying, “I’ve never seen anyone break down such things into plans and take step by step. You people from the lawful camp are truly terrifying.”
George awkwardly put away the notebook and said, “Jima, I’m worried that you might start to dislike me because of this.”
“Not really.”
Compared to me plotting to get someone else’s wife, his plan was certainly not as rational or detailed. Jima said, “But I want to ask something—what does the word ‘pregnant’ mean?”
“I don’t want to discuss it.”
“I understand; you must be wanting to get me pregnant so I’d have no choice but to marry you, you’re really good—don’t lay your hands on me!”
George grabbed Jima’s horns again, pushing her down onto the blanket.
“This is my personal privacy; don’t yell it out, please.”
“Fine,” Jima said, “unless you promise me something, I want you to give me a commitment; otherwise, I’ll spread it everywhere.”
George held his head, he had thought Jima would feel shy, afraid, or even dislike him. But unexpectedly, she shamelessly turned around to blackmail him.
“… Don’t you have any shame?”
“Can shame fill your stomach?” Jima said, “Anyway, you’re a holy warrior; you want your face, I don’t care. What’s that saying? Good people should be threatened with a knife.”
“Are you not worried I might get angry and execute the plan right here?”
Jima felt a little guilty; she knew George might really do that. He wasn’t the kind of good man who was timid and seemed like a heavenly eunuch.
She said:
“I’ll tell you a secret.”
“Speak.”
“I can digest your bodily fluids,” Jima said, “So don’t bother trying to get me pregnant; it’s useless. As long as I don’t agree, it’s all in vain, no matter how many times you try.”
George let go, and Jima crossed her legs, sitting up and grinning triumphantly, but George was not happy at all.
“By the way, I still didn’t expect you to think of such a malicious plan as getting pregnant.”
George remained silent, simply tearing a page from the diary and handing it to Jima.
It just happened to be the page with the words “pregnant” written on it.
“… After analyzing, I think Jima’s aversion to the marriage proposal stems from two reasons: one is her free spirit and unwillingness to be constrained, and the other is her complete distrust of me, always fearing that I might kill her… If she were to get pregnant and have my child, perhaps it would reassure her, at least I wouldn’t kill the mother of my child.”
Now it was Jima’s turn to feel awkward.
“Ah, misunderstanding, misunderstanding.” Jima laughed, “I’ll take my leave first.”
Just as Jima moved, her tail was caught.
“You at least need to say you’re sorry.”
“Sorry.”
“Insincere.”
“Can’t be helped.” Jima shrugged, “I’m just that shameless; it’s hard for me to sincerely feel I’m wrong.”
“Then you must answer me a question.”
Jima originally wanted to say she would see how she felt, but given the circumstances, she decided to comply: “Sure.”
“Your previous words inspired me.” George said, “Is your digestion experience active or passive? In other words, can it be used while your consciousness is hazy?”
Jima’s smile froze on her face.
“Is it a yes or a no?”
A sudden puff of smoke appeared, and Jima vanished into the smoke, leaving behind a poorly made puppet.
Jima teleported outside the tent, running quickly: “Damn, this guy is truly terrifying.”
The wounded had already been healed; everyone was joyful, thanking Saintess Jenna profusely while she packed her things and prepared to leave. Jima’s spirits dropped to rock bottom, the fire ultimately didn’t catch on.
“Jima.” Saintess Jenna said, “Do you know where Eve Frostleaf’s tent is?”
Jima perked up and pointed to Eve Frostleaf’s tent, saying, “It’s over there. I’ll take you.”
