Chapter 127: The Glamorous Jima
At the celebration banquet, Jima was undoubtedly the center of attention. She had just finalized the sponsorship deal with the emperor, her mood light and wearing a charming smile as she gracefully walked toward the gentlemen.
Dozens of hearts raced in unison. Aggrieved wives tugged angrily at their husbands’ ears. A red-haired noble lady bit her lip and glared at Jima, unknowingly tearing her silk fan in half.
The gentlemen were not any better off. Even the young knight who had experienced life and death at the Obsidian Pass couldn’t help but fix his gaze on Jima.
Whether intentional or not, Jima happens to walk right past the gentlemen, scanning them with her eyes as if she were selecting lovers, causing many to puff out their chests or look away, fearing they might offend her and pretending nothing was happening.
This provoked the ladies across the way, who harbored resentment, with some young women secretly fantasizing about slashing Jima’s face a few times.
Unfortunately for them, Jima did not stop but continued to walk past, with several gentlemen standing up to invite her to dance. She simply smiled, waved her hand in rejection without saying a word, and turned away mercilessly, leaving countless young elites of the empire in sorrow.
“Rip.”
Another fan was torn apart. To many ladies, Jima’s actions seemed like a provocation, openly declaring, “The men you like? I don’t even look at them.”
Some noble ladies lamented in low voices, “Those men act like a pack of little dogs.”
But there were also sturdy gentlemen.
A young man with neatly cropped golden hair arrogantly turned his head away as if he hadn’t seen Jima, demonstrating that he was different from those who only had eyes for the beautiful temptress. Of course, more importantly, he had just planned to invite a brown-haired noble girl.
The brown-haired girl looked at him proudly and whispered to her friend, who had just torn her silk fan in half, “Look, my crush doesn’t even glance at her.”
Her friend raised her head and said, “Don’t celebrate too soon.”
At that moment, Jima was walking towards the short-haired young man, the last male on her path. The brown-haired girl held her breath; the short-haired young man also held his breath.
He stubbornly turned his head away, secretly pleased.
Sure enough, the succubus was attracted to a man who was not charmed by her beauty; his stubbornness had paid off. Yet, he worried that Jima might not see through his pride and thus would not invite him. He contemplated whether he should soften his expression so as not to scare her away.
But Jima did not stop and walked past him, causing the short-haired young man’s heart to drop momentarily. He finally couldn’t hold back and turned around, reaching out to Jima, saying:
“Your beauty leaves me unable to forget. May I have the honor of inviting you to dance?”
Jima smiled and waved her hand.
The brown-haired girl tore her fan in half out of frustration as Jima finally stopped in front of her.
The brown-haired girl glared at her, feeling that the smiling succubus was utterly detestable and must have come to mock her.
How infuriating! How could she be so beautiful, possessing a kind of magic that captivated my eyes…
She was filled with jealousy.
“Your beauty leaves me unable to forget,” Jima repeated, extending her hand, “May I have the honor of dancing with you?”
The brown-haired girl dropped her torn silk fan and coldly looked at Jima’s outstretched hand, rebutting:
“Did you come here to mock me? Dream on.”
Jima directly grabbed her hand, pulling her up with force. The brown-haired girl let out a startled cry, and before she could react, Jima wrapped her arms around her waist, leaned closer, and softly pleaded, “Please forgive my offense, but I also really want to dance.”
The brown-haired girl felt dizzy, unsure if it was due to Jima’s bright, captivating golden eyes or something else. She vaguely responded, and before she knew it, Jima had led her toward the dance floor, where they began to dance before the stunned short-haired young man.
When she returned to her seat after dancing with Jima, her face was flushed with charming embarrassment.
Her friend exclaimed, “Did you really dance with her? She’s a woman of loose morals, and even the old noble ladies were driven away by her.”
“It’s not like that,” the brown-haired girl retorted anxiously. “She couldn’t help it; who told her to be so beautiful? She told me she loves to dance. She could have easily picked any gentleman, but everyone is hostile toward her, so she could only dance with women.”
At this, the brown-haired girl felt maternal instincts welling up and said, “How pitiful.”
Her friend waved her hand in front of her face, saying, “By Sigma, you must have been charmed by her.”
The brown-haired girl shook her head, saying, “People can’t choose their origins. Why obsess over this?”
Her friend vowed, “You’ve been tricked by her.”
At this moment, a pure white hand reached out to her in front of her; it was Jima, who repeated, “Your beauty leaves me unable to forget. May I have the honor of inviting you to dance?”
“Okay.”
Thus, Jima, in front of the gentlemen, drew one after another of their beloved women into the dance floor, dancing until the end of the banquet.
As expected, the young women who had hated Jima the most before the banquet now generally felt sympathy for her afterwards.
Jima returned accompanied by the saintess Jenna, who spoke in a half-reproachful tone, “Jima, you didn’t even invite me to dance tonight.”
“There wasn’t enough time. Besides, you were already in the bowl, so why not eat more from the pot?”
Jima smiled, saying, “I was afraid it would set a bad example; if you danced with me, you wouldn’t be able to refuse those men’s invitations anymore.”
“Are you worried that my resolve isn’t strong enough?”
“Speaking of which, doesn’t that man George stamp on people’s feet while dancing, like a big clumsy bear?”
“No, he dances very well; there are always a bunch of women pestering him.”
“Actually, the reason I didn’t invite you to dance today was for another reason.”
“What reason?”
Jima smiled and gestured toward the peaks, “Tonight’s practical lessons; I was afraid you’d get tired.”
Saintess Jenna blushed, and the two of them giggled.
Just when the succubus Jima was feeling confident and enjoying life,
At night, between the Empire and the Knight Barto country, separated by a mountain range called the Gray Mountains.
In the mountains, dwarves excavated the bodies of the mountains to build an underground fortress called Breezewood, serving as the city of the dwarves.
The furnace blazed brightly, illuminating the copper rings attached to the dwarves’ bearded braids.
The runic blacksmith, who had worked in the empire for many years, was stimulated upon seeing the masterwork—George’s Super Gothic Armor—and decided to return and continue honing his skills under a master.
He took the heated blade blank off the runic anvil, placed it in oil to cool, and wiped the sweat from his forehead.
His teacher directly fished out the finished blade blank from the oil, looked at it, and nodded in satisfaction, saying:
“Not bad; it’s perfectly straight this time. You’ve made great progress.”
The runic blacksmith couldn’t help but ask, “Teacher, I have a question, but I’m afraid you may think I’m being impatient, so…”
“Why are you talking so circuitously like a long-eared rabbit after spending so much time among humans? Just say it.”
“How far do I still have to go to create armor as good as the Super Gothic Armor you made?”
“Super Gothic Armor?” The teacher played with his beard, saying, “Have you seen my work?”
“Yes, in the Empire. A human banker hired me to assess its value; it’s truly beautiful and very durable.”
“Empire? Bank? I remember I made that piece for a paladin on the other side of the Gray Mountains. At that time, he even came to measure his size in person.”
“Maybe he was short on funds?”
“Or perhaps it was stolen. That kid had a great love for armor and could chat with me a lot, plus he was exceptionally talented. It’s a pity he’s already a paladin; otherwise, I would have taken him as my apprentice and trained him to become a runic blacksmith.”
“Really?” The dwarven runic blacksmith was astonished. Dwarves collectively believed that humans were hopeless in blacksmithing, like patients lying in bed.
And for runic blacksmiths, the difficulty of becoming proficient was high; one couldn’t succeed solely by relying on books and self-exploration but needed the old runic blacksmith to guide them personally.
“Yes,” the teacher said. “I need to write a letter to ask him.”
That night, using the glow of the firelight, the teacher held the pen with his thick fingers and wrote in Dwarven script.
When the letter was stuffed into the envelope and sealed with wax,
Jima, entirely bare, was lying contentedly on her bed, while Jenna lay beside her, curled up like a shrimp, her legs trembling as she asked:
“Jima, how many points did I score this time?”
“32 points, you’ve made progress.”
“Only… only 32 points?” Jenna buried her head even lower, feeling upset about her poor exam score.
Jima comfortingly rubbed her head, saying, “You’ve worked hard, and your mind isn’t slow. It’s just that such things get better with practice; it’s not like the temple’s examination.”
“But I miss George, I miss his embrace.”
“Jenna, hang in there; don’t you want to see the surprised look on George’s face?”
“You’re right; I can’t give up halfway.”
“I might be able to give you a few extra points.” Jima said, “I see you have no confidence in the exam anymore.”
“That’s just self-deception.” Jenna tightened her grip on Jima’s hand, saying, “You’ve really worked hard, Jima, I can see you’re all sweaty.”
“It’s nothing, for everyone’s happiness in the future.” Jima opened her mouth, saying, “But there’s a shortcut that could add fifteen points—forget it; shortcuts are not the right way; let’s pretend I didn’t say that.”
However, this only piqued Jenna’s curiosity, saying, “You’ve already mentioned it.”
“It’s really too embarrassing; I’m afraid you would find it disgusting.”
“Jima! How could I?”
“I have a kind of potion that, um… how to say it, it’s harmless to the human body and tastes like milk. It can… I can’t say it.” Jima leaned closer and whispered in Jenna’s ear.
Jenna turned crimson all at once, covering her face, saying, “That’s too… How did you invent such a potion, Jima?”
Jima said solemnly, “I saw many children on the streets, short and thin because they couldn’t drink milk, which is very expensive, so I researched a formula that could increase milk production in cows and sustain it over all four seasons. It’s just a pity it failed—really, it’s a heart in the right place but no power to carry it out.”
After saying this, she sighed.
Jenna comforted her, saying, “Jima, your kind heart is already commendable.”
“I guess I should destroy the failed products; they can easily lead to misunderstandings.”
“No, that would be too wasteful.”
Hearing this, Jima’s heart chuckled with delight.
