Chapter 67 Dinner
Just past noon.
The army had regrouped, lightly armed, and under George’s leadership, left the hideout filled with the corpses of beastmen.
Most of the loot was stuffed into Jima’s Dream Palace. Initially, Jima was quite pleased. The closer one is to wealth, the easier it is to get rich. However, upon seeing George present a meticulously detailed list of the spoils written in a whole book, she shot him a glare and extended her hand, saying:
“Storage fees, magic consumption fees, extraordinary fees, and emotional distress fees.”
“I can understand the first three, but the fourth one is?”
“You discriminate against me and hurt my feelings,” Jima replied. “I need shiny gold coins to soothe my pain. I’m serious.”
“That wouldn’t be because you found there was no room for embezzlement, would it?”
Jima clutched her chest and said, “You bad person! Time and again, you discriminate against me, causing irreversible damage to my spirit.”
“Just answer the question. If it’s no, I’ll apologize and compensate you.”
Jima immediately perked up: “Hmph, boring. You have no sense of humor.”
“However, you will get ten percent of the value of the loot, as long as it’s stored in your Dream Palace,” George said, “if you can sell it for a good price.”
The loot stacked up in the Dream Palace was literally a mountain, including armor, weapons, alchemical potions, boxes, and wine… If it weren’t for the need to leave quickly, Jima would have even wanted to recover the arrows stuck in the wooden walls and extract all the nails from the lumber. Unfortunately, the army had to hurry, leaving only an hour to clean up the battlefield.
A smile returned to Jima’s face. According to the agreement, her reward was only “advancement to platinum,” and the rest of the loot had nothing to do with her.
“Thanks, you do have a little bit of humanity after all.”
George corrected her: “A literal management fee. Without your extraordinary ability, the army wouldn’t have been able to carry so many items.”
“I know that I can get a share because I’m an extraordinary being with an irreplaceable role,” Jima said. “But why do you have to be so eager to distance yourself? Selfless George, can’t you flirt a little by rephrasing it?”
George looked at her somewhat strangely.
“What’s wrong?” Jima looked around; they were ahead of the group, far from the soldiers, speaking quietly. She glanced at her own clothes.
There was nothing wrong; the tight leggings were snug, but they didn’t reveal anything inappropriate.
“Are you hungry?”
“A little. Is that strange?”
“A bit. You used to just tell yellow jokes; today…” George said, “I feel like it’s either hunger or some conspiracy.”
“Tsk, why have you suddenly become a virtuous gentleman? It’s so dull.” Jima said, “Jenna, Eve Frostleaf, and I agreed to hang out in the Dream Palace when it’s safe, wanna come? I heard Jenna learned some great culinary skills in the halfling city. Even her teachers said she’s amazing.”
Previously, Jenna didn’t forget to bring her letter along.
George nodded: “In your Dream Palace, can’t you make anything happen, change the landscape, create all kinds of items?”
“Exactly, so when the three of you enter my Dream Palace, you’ll all be fish on my chopping board.”
George discerned this was a lie, “I have a favor to ask you.”
Jima extended her hand: “Money.”
“Sure.”
“Really? That’s great! What do you need?”
“Can you make a really big iron hammer?” George pointed at his dented bucket helm and pitted armor, “I need to maintain my armor; a repair hammer can only handle minor dents.”
Typically, to repair plate armor, small dents can be hammered back, while bigger dents require hot forging. But clearly, with the thickness of George’s armor, a larger hammer and a professional extraordinary being would be needed for repair.
“Poor thing, pushed out of the power center,” Jima looked at the armor on George, “better send it back to the Sanctuary and let the extraordinary craftsmen there repair it. This is not the iron tin armor of mortals.”
“I want to try it myself first.”
“Okay.”
Thinking about the genuine hellscape tomorrow night made Jima cheerful, as she said, “If you perform well tomorrow night… do you remember our agreement?”
“Agreement?”
Jima revealed a charming smile:
“I said, you only know how to use brute force, just charge in. You have no experience, clumsy techniques, and all that raw strength. Now we can have a little competition, so you can experience the terror of technique and also let you lose hope. Want me to get pregnant? Dream on, young man.”
Blood rushed to George’s head. The saintly knight, who was always very serious, couldn’t help but feel his face flush.
Enjoy while you can, cad. Once the harem catches fire, your expression will surely be priceless.
Jima chuckled lightly, kicked the horse, passed George, and moved forward.
The army returned along the original route.
Jima divined every hour until evening, confirming that the beastmen reinforcements had just arrived at the hideout.
That night, Jima went to scout and found that the enemy had no intention of pursuing at all. The hideout was filled with beastmen corpses, which left them too intimidated to chase down a small army of only over fifty men.
The next day.
Still no beastmen army in pursuit, the morale of the army was high, and many people breathed a sigh of relief, finally able to confirm that they had escaped the terrifying battlefield—at least they could be temporarily away from war.
When the army passed the previously destroyed village, Jima specifically went to the temple of the Lake Goddess, bringing along a white beastman’s head—interestingly, this head had already fused with the white flag Jima had crafted by hand.
In other words, the pole could no longer be extracted from the head.
Extraordinary material overflowed from the batch of white, granting the head and the white flag an extraordinary transformation. On the white flag, every character turned deep red, each stroke flowing with dried blood, making it appear even more malicious and horrifying.
Ordinary humans who stared at the white flag for a while would feel a slight sting in their eyes, along with faint sounds of beasts howling in pain in their ears. This wasn’t uncommon. Many extraordinary beings would create various extraordinary items after death, and their extraordinary abilities were often related to their personal experiences.
Jima believed the soul of the beastman whose head was used had become trapped on the white flag. Nothing could please the gods more than this.
She brought the “beastman white flag” into the temple, erected it on the headless statue, clasped her hands, and prayed earnestly: “Great and exalted Lake Goddess, the beasts who offended your temple have already been bravely…”
Jima flattered and babbled on for a while.
Unfortunately, the headless statue of the Lake Goddess in the temple showed no reaction before the “beastman white flag.”
Jima waited, feeling a chill in her heart, shaking the white flag in front of the statue, saying, “Do you see it? Do you see it?”
After shaking for three to five minutes, still no response.
Jima angrily said, “It must be because it has no head and no eyes, so it can’t see.”
She found a large rock and awkwardly drew facial features, but seeing it didn’t look right, she added a line: “This is the Lake Goddess.”
Ignoring George’s objections, Jima stubbornly placed the stone on the statue’s neck. She prayed and shook the flag for ten minutes, but there was still no reaction.
“Jima, it’s not good to anger the goddess like this,” George advised. “The Lake Goddess taking back her protection is already a reward for us.”
“Too little. The Lake Goddess is very generous. Not to mention the Cup Guardian, at the very least, she should send a passionate, fiery-haired Cup Maiden with long, thick legs wearing a high-slit skirt to come help.”
In the Knight Country of Bartol, the Cup Maiden has a special status, unbound by the social norms of extreme conservatism, and lives a liberal lifestyle.
“Do you think of the goddess as a human trafficker?”
“What? I have great respect for the goddess,” Jima said, slapping her forehead. “I almost forgot; to summon a Cup Maiden, you have to come along.”
With that, she handed the “beastman white flag” to George.
George found it both funny and frustrating, took the flag, and turned to leave.
Jima hugged his waist, saying, “Hey, wait a second! Don’t you want more beautiful ladies around you?”
“What does that have to do with anything?” George replied. “I’ve already received your sarcasm.”
“I’m not being sarcastic!” Jima insisted. “Hurry and shake the flag; shake it vigorously. Maybe the lake fairy will see you as a model knight and be in a good mood, summoning a pair of Cup Maiden twin sisters. Ouch! Why did you hit my head?”
“Stop joking around,” George said, gathering the flag and walking out of the church.
Jima followed George, “Tsk, no ambition.”
In the evening, everyone escaped danger and truly relaxed for the night.
Since Jima had talked about wanting to “clarify” things yesterday, she had been “playing dead,” not speaking to anyone, leaving the army alone under the pretext of patrolling, only returning at night.
Jima, following the elaborate etiquette of high elves, used her poor writing skills as an excuse to make George write a formal invitation letter, which she then gave to an elven maid to deliver to Eve Frostleaf.
With such a formal invitation, Eve Frostleaf had no reason to refuse.
Dinner time.
Inside Frostleaf’s silver tent.
“Good night, Frostleaf sister,” Jima called out to Frostleaf’s back, “We’re having dinner in the Dream Palace, don’t be late!”
Eve Frostleaf had her back turned to Jima, resembling a silent stone. She remained still, emanating an icy aura that warned strangers to keep their distance.
But Jima could see, amidst her seven pools of negative desires, a white emotion of pain, the size of a cherry blossom, slowly taking root.
Everything was under control.
Jima rubbed her feather pillow, covered herself with a thin blanket, and with Lianxi the cat curled up at her feet, she smiled sweetly and drifted into deep sleep.
Entering the black-and-white dreamscape, she arrived at the Dream Palace located in the sky.
Jima dove into the palace and, with her mind, arranged everything. It wasn’t long before the first person to arrive at the palace was Jenna.
She was specially dressed in a chef’s outfit, wearing an apron, and even brought Jima one, saying: “I heard this apron has magic; you should try one too.”
“Okay.” Jima tied the apron around herself, muttering to herself: “It would be fun if I took off all my clothes and just wore this.”
“What did you say?”
“Nothing, why do you have a pot, Jenna?”
Jenna put her hand on the handle of the frying pan, which only the head chef had the right to touch, and said casually: “I learned a few good dishes; let me make today’s meal.”
Jima assessed the situation.
The busty saintess was clearly having another moment of palace disease again.
“Is that okay?”
Jenna’s chest heaved: “No problem.”
