Chapter 97: Chapter Ninety-Seven: Ji Ma Was Definitely Not Injured
Upon returning to the Dream Palace, Ji Ma, who was invigorated from successfully bullying others, couldn’t hold on any longer and slumped weakly onto the ground, her plump backside cushioned by the pure white clouds.
Lying back on the clouds, Ji Ma let out a feeble sigh.
The lightning that struck her left an enduring pain etched into her bones, lingering for a long time. Although it wasn’t severe enough to warrant being taken to Zhenna for emergency treatment, it was certainly not as easy as she had initially appeared.
As she lay on the fluffy clouds, the clouds quickly carried her toward the alchemy workshop.
The wind tousled Ji Ma’s black hair, and she didn’t have the energy to tidy it. She glanced once more at her personal system, where a row of neatly lined blood-red debuffs displayed before her.
Though numerous, they weren’t too troublesome, and Ji Ma was confident she could resolve them in a couple of hours, recovering most of her state by tomorrow.
A pulsating pain stung her like a centipede, biting through her bones and drilling out, creating a passage in her flesh with its venomous fangs.
Perhaps I should go find George, or ask that proud masochist… never mind.
The thought of showing her weakness in front of others brought an instinctual resistance to Ji Ma.
Having learned to hide her injuries from her experiences in the Demon Realm (and possibly from her memories), Ji Ma had developed a good habit of concealing her wounds. Aside from that, she avoided revealing her weaknesses.
In the Demon Realm, the weak are at risk; becoming weak, be it from injuries or anything else, causes the “blood” from the “wounds” to attract a horde of hungry, toothy sharks.
The door to the alchemy workshop swung open, and Ji Ma flew inside. A plethora of bottles and jars leapt toward her as she propped herself up and lay back on the cloud, which had transformed into a sofa, reclining like a dead salted fish, completely drained of strength, with only the faint rise and fall of her chest indicating she was still alive.
The bottles and jars moved independently in the air, pouring potions into containers, tossing herbs into stone bowls for grinding, lighting candles, and igniting incense. Alchemical tools and materials danced together in a complex choreography.
The golden hue of Ji Ma’s eyes reflected the hovering bottles and jars, while a throbbing pain pulsed at her temples. Using her mind to precisely control this “dance” was taxing on her magical energy, which in turn triggered the lingering pain.
However, Ji Ma could barely stand; she didn’t trust her own hands enough to concoct a suitable alchemical potion.
As time passed and the “dance” concluded, Ji Ma applied a light-colored ointment to her smooth skin and lay atop a steaming barrel, where the medicinal liquid simmered below. The steam penetrated her muscles, gradually eliminating the poisonous effects embedded in her bones.
“Fizz, fizz, fizz.”
The ointment on her fair skin suddenly boiled, producing black bubbles as the blackness spread within the pale substance. The layers of ointment covering her skin turned completely black, bubbling like boiling asphalt.
The pitch-black ointment dripped down Ji Ma’s neck and arms, as she closed her eyes, enduring the searing pain in her bones. It felt as if hydrochloric acid was being poured into the holes made by centipedes in her leg bones, attempting to kill the centipedes lurking deep within.
Only after the last drop of asphalt-like ointment fell did the pain significantly decrease, replaced by the corrosive agony of hydrochloric acid eating away at her “bones.”
Ji Ma staggered to her feet, feeling somewhat better than before.
The steaming barrel gurgled, and when Ji Ma looked down, she saw the asphalt-like ointment floating atop the greenish medicinal liquid, not dissolving. Beneath the “surface,” something seemed to be writhing; perhaps it was her imagination, mistaking the waves for water snakes.
With a thought, Ji Ma summoned the “branch spear” from the armory, while all materials in the alchemy workshop automatically fell into a box, moving to another place.
The “branch spear,” blessed by the Blood God, had a tendency to taint any materials it touched, making them bloodthirsty.
Before the spear could arrive, Ji Ma felt as though a hand was crawling up her esophagus, clutching at her throat. She gagged and, clutching her stomach, expelled a jet of black blood containing chunks of flesh, splattering directly into the barrel atop the asphalt-like ointment.
Suddenly, the liquid surface roiled, and several flat-headed, shiny black poisonous snakes shot out from beneath, darting toward Ji Ma’s face, their triangular heads opened to reveal white, curved fangs.
Ji Ma raised her hand, and a hole was torn in the wall. The branch spear flew through, transforming into a crescent blade. Ji Ma grasped the blade with both hands, shouting as she swung it at the snakes, cleaving them in half from head to tail as they fell back into the barrel, writhing in mid-air, spraying black blood, yet not a single drop landed on Ji Ma.
With the snakes dead, the barrel returned to tranquility.
Ji Ma looked at the barrel, scoffed, and raised her middle finger, saying, “Trying to play tricks on me? Too young for that.”
However, Ji Ma had to admit that the opponent was more skilled in cursing; she hadn’t thought of such tactics beforehand. After “solving” the poison spell, one would instinctively relax, and Ji Ma hadn’t previously noticed anything unusual about the asphalt ointment.
At that moment, a sneak attack could reap great rewards; both strength and timing were essential.
Her adversary was undoubtedly powerful, at least a level higher than her. Even if only at the diamond level, the strength they displayed had already surpassed that of diamond-level extraordinary beings.
Ji Ma lay on her bed, curled up with her aching body.
If only Xiao Li were here to massage her.
She began to yearn for Liyasi’s increasingly adept massage techniques.
Yet she did not extend an invitation for Liyasi to come over.
One must always be cautious of others.
After lying in bed, dizzy and resting for four and a half hours, an irritating alarm rang.
Irritated, she lifted her head and spread her fingers toward the alarm. It flew toward her, and she grabbed it, attempting to smash it to bits.
The alarm screamed, “You need to see Zhenna now, you need to see Zhenna!”
She shook the alarm, and it transformed into a jug of cold water, splashing over her head, making Ji Ma much more awake.
Right, she had planned to invite Zhenna at this time to discuss the situation.
She couldn’t afford to miss it, lest she expose any slip-ups…
Thinking this, Ji Ma jumped up from her bed and waved her hand. The full-length mirror flew over, floating in front of her. The face in the mirror looked pale, as if recovering from a serious illness.
Ji Ma intended to apply some rouge but feared it would be too obvious. Instead, she utilized her acting skills to move the aching muscles of her face, displaying a past smile to the mirror.
After a series of subtle adjustments, a rosy complexion appeared in the mirror, revealing Ji Ma with a mischievous smile, looking playful and a bit troublesome.
Satisfied with her transformation, she nodded, dressed, and headed to the palace to invite Zhenna.
Ten minutes later, Zhenna arrived, showing no sign of anything being amiss. She informed Ji Ma that the army was on the march, aiming to meet with the dwarven supreme king and occupy a high hill at the Obsidian Pass before the green-skinned orcs arrived.
As usual, Ji Ma teased Zhenna, and once Zhenna left, Ji Ma’s facial muscles relaxed, instantly appearing as if she had aged significantly. She felt exhausted, dragging her weary body back to her bedroom to continue resting.
Tomorrow, she would enter the city and encounter Cardinal Gregory. She needed to get a good night’s sleep.
After lying in bed for ten minutes without falling asleep, she couldn’t bear it any longer and drank a potent sleep potion that was red tea-colored, before finally succumbing to slumber.
