Chapter 142: Birthday Gift (Part 2)
“Boom!”
The ceiling of the palace dining hall shattered, creating a large hole. George, enveloped in a faint white light, leaped up with Jenna on his back. As he landed, Jenna cast another buff on George, a soft glow radiating from above his head.
At the same time, Eve Frostleaf lightly landed to his left.
At this moment, Jima’s tail was about to disappear around a corner.
“Four o’clock direction!”
Eve Frostleaf pointed, a brilliant fireball shooting from her fingertip, swiftly heading towards the corner.
The fireball was non-lethal, solely for guidance. In battle, accurate, quick, and easily understood information exchange was essential for the team. This meant George and the two women were already treating Jima as an enemy.
George’s eyes shifted, his azure gaze flashing white as he said, “It’s fake.”
“There!”
A beam of white light illuminated another empty wall.
In less than five seconds since they jumped up, this heroic trio had seen through the illusion set by Jima.
The three were about to give chase when Lianxi, brandishing a short spear, stepped in front of George, the spear trembling yet firmly aimed at him.
“Don’t come any closer! If you do… ah!!!”
George didn’t stop at all, rushing past Jenna, colliding with Lianxi’s shoulder. She spun around a few times, dropping the spear which clattered to the ground. She fell dizzy, mumbling:
“Master, I’m sorry.”
“Boom!”
The white wall shattered.
The explosion sound chased after Jima from behind.
“Can’t believe you’re chasing me so fast.”
She was in an invisible state, dashing towards the terrace.
Jima’s escape plan was simple: directly exit the palace, use other dream seeds, and rush into the opponent’s dream, all at a blinding speed.
The silhouette of the terrace’s balcony pillars came into view, and Jima’s wings naturally exerted more force.
A bright beam landed on her, illuminating her as if a fugitive in the dark, directly outlining her form, making her invisibility disappear at a visibly rapid pace.
Jima’s heart sank; the God of Dawn’s divine power included “revealing and restoring truth,” exactly the nemesis of her abilities.
She pushed off the ground with her long legs, flipped mid-air to glance back, nearly scared out of her wits.
It was Jenna illuminating her, with George less than twenty meters away.
This was well within the range of “Charge of Light.”
Jima immediately deduced that George hadn’t used “Charge of Light” because she wasn’t fully revealed yet, so she seized the last moment before being visible to make the most appropriate response.
“Rise!”
Responding to her will, a large cloud of white mist appeared in the air around her, concealing her form.
This was her “Dream Palace,” capable of rivaling half a god; the reason it was half was that she still couldn’t freely control the environment around powerful extraordinary beings. Otherwise, she would have already opened a one-thousand-meter pit beneath George’s feet to finish off that petty man.
Jima had reached the terrace, her feet in white stockings pushing hard against the railing, raising her right hand, tilting her head up toward the sky, desperately searching the false night sky for the “dream seed.”
Found it!
Her will, transmitted through her fingertip, grasped the dream seed. Everything went smoothly; it was plentiful, like a battle-hardened cowboy roping a tree stump.
A force pulled her body through the ethereal lasso, and she began to accelerate.
Freedom was just ahead!
“Whoosh!”
A raging wind howled from behind, scattering her waist-long black hair.
It was Frostleaf! She could disperse the mist!
Jima’s heart chilled as a surge of light illuminated her back; two arms stretched from under her armpits, tightly embracing her chest, the force so strong that her ribs slightly deformed.
Jima turned her head, just in time to see George, transformed from light back into human form, and she gave an awkward smile.
The force pulling her from her fingertip vanished, and as a succubus, Jima’s mobility was largely nullified while being held, preventing her from even flying as George embraced her from behind.
Gravity took effect, and both Jima and George fell from the fifth floor.
The stone path below expanded rapidly.
With memories of the demon king’s leap and the associated psychological trauma, Jima felt her heart nearly leap out of her throat. She tightly coiled her tail around George’s waist and gripped his hands desperately, screaming:
“Ahhhhhhh!”
George spun in the air, his back facing downward.
“Thud.”
The impact of hitting the ground was not so terrifying after passing through George’s body; as an extraordinary being, Jima could fully bear it.
She just felt a sharp pain in her tail.
“Hurts so much!” she said, reaching out to the night sky’s dream seed. “As long as… as long as I can fly.”
“Jima.”
A cold voice came from behind her, causing Jima’s legs to go weak. A rough hand grabbed her slender wrist, the force so strong that red marks appeared on her fair skin.
George continued, “You can’t escape.”
With one hand, he seized both her wrists, allowing his other hand to roam around her body, searching for suspicious items.
“George, can you be a bit more honest?” Jima looked toward Eve Frostleaf, who was peeking from the terrace. “Frostleaf is watching; it’s embarrassing.”
This reminded George; his previously honest hand immediately turned insidious. This place was very much like where Jima hid things, considering her shamelessness, and she even tried to deceive him with words to prevent him from touching those areas.
A strange sensation arose from her legs; Jima squeezed them tightly together, her ears turning pink as she said:
“You’re really too eager, George.”
After saying this, Jima suddenly giggled, “You’ve been fooled! Is this what you’re looking for?”
Her smooth tail was wrapped around a poorly crafted puppet, proudly dangling in front of George’s face.
George was startled and quickly reached out to grab the puppet.
The seductive succubus vanished from his arms, transforming into smoke, leaving the puppet standing on his chest, its face painted with a smile in lipstick, with a crooked universal language inscription below:
“You bastard.”
In other words, Jima used a puppet substitute technique, teleporting a short distance away to become invisible, while creating a perfect illusion of herself, both her and the illusion flying up into the air, one left and one right.
As expected, a beam of intense light swept from the terrace, like a spotlight.
Confronting Jenna, George, and Frostleaf was far more troublesome than she had anticipated.
Jima exhaled, producing a golden “Lucky Ring,” wearing it on her finger and rubbing it with her clothing. The engravings glimmered with a soft glow. Now her luck value had risen sharply, with the cost only being that her usual luck would not be as good afterwards.
This cost was negligible, at least that’s what Jima thought.
The strong light first scanned the illusion, and after a short while, a net of light descended upon the illusion.
The Lucky Ring was incredibly useful!
Jima felt ecstatic in her heart, taking advantage of the brief time the illusion bought her, she flapped her wings vigorously, starting to accelerate.
By the time Jenna noticed one illusion caught in the net and manipulated the strong light to reveal Jima’s form.
Jima had already soared to a height of at least one hundred meters, grasping the distant “dream seed,” turning back to wave at George below and saying, “Goodbye.”
A silver flash darted through the forest; it was Eve Frostleaf.
“Whoosh.”
A wooden bow spiraled, chasing Jima at high speed. She instinctively changed direction, but the wooden bow homed in on her like a smart missile, directly striking her forehead.
“Yow!”
Jima’s head rang as she hugged her head, plummeting towards the forest below, crashing through branches.
She landed hard on the ground, her rear already sore, and cried out, jumping up from the grass.
“Forgot that long legs could shoot bows!”
Jima steadied herself, preparing to escape, when ten meters ahead, George emerged from behind a tree, his face dark, holding Jima’s substitute puppet, which was now severed at the neck.
“Ha ha.” Jima, instead of panicking, crossed her arms and said, “Do you really think I’ve been pushed to a dead end? As a cunning succubus, I still have backup plans.”
She quickly searched her personal system for a backup plan. At that moment, a red fruit fell from a branch, hitting her on the head; Jima had awful luck, and the fruit struck the bump on her head.
This made her grimace in pain.
George tossed aside the severed puppet and approached Jima step by step.
“Wow, coming closer? Aren’t you afraid of traps?” Jima shrugged, bending down with a long black leg in front, poised to sprint, “I can escape!”
George’s muscles tensed, his eyes locked onto Jima, watching to see what trick she might pull next.
Jima lunged at George, who instinctively bent forward. Suddenly, Jima dropped to her knees, clinging to George’s thigh, her face pressed against his leg, shouting, “I’m sorry! I really made a mistake!”
George, with a heart of stone, grabbed Jima by the horn, pulling her away.
Seeing his grim face, Jima panicked and said:
“I swear I will be a good fiancée for you, really!”
George finally spoke, coldly asking:
“Do you have any means of escape left? Yes or no?”
“No! Ah! What are you doing?”
With a ripping sound, George directly tore Jima’s clothes. She screamed, clutching the fabric over her chest.
“I’m looking for any remaining escape items on you.”
“Stop! Jenna and Frostleaf are watching.”
Jenna, who had arrived, said, “I agree with George. Jima, you’re really too bad.”
Frostleaf nodded in agreement.
George said, “Just hold on to the fabric in front of you.”
After saying this, he ripped more, exposing Jima’s smooth shoulder.
Minutes later.
Jima, dressed in tattered, hole-riddled black stockings, knelt on the ground with her hands pressed down, bowing her head and saying, “I’m sorry!”
“I no longer trust you.”
“Let’s make a contract.”
“Alright.”
After about ten minutes, Jima gritted her teeth, pressing her bloodstained thumb onto the contract. Accepting the contract wasn’t as bad as being defeated by the demonic tribe; it was merely about being George’s wife and fulfilling a wife’s duties. Plus, George was on the good side; how bad could it get?
“Okay, now apologize to the others.”
Jima bowed, “I’m sorry, Frostleaf.”
“Ha.”
Frostleaf ignored Jima.
“Jenna, I’m sorry; please give me another chance.”
Jenna’s oval face broke into a gentle smile, saying, “Sure…”
Jima felt a rush of emotion; indeed, silly Jenna was the easiest to forgive people, far better than the sour-faced silver-haired tall girl.
“… but it must be tit for tat.” Jenna pulled out half a bottle of milk, the very one Jima had given her, the cowbell ringing as it was raised. “Equal retribution is an ancient law.”
Jima’s expression changed, finally recalling that Jenna was not the pushover type; back in Marlin City, she hadn’t easily forgiven Young Master Is.
Jima stepped back, “No, please don’t.”
George grabbed her horn, Jenna stepped forward, using one hand to pry her mouth open and ram the bottle top into her mouth.
Jima raised a hand to her chest, trying to resist, but this little resistance was naturally futile.
The milky white liquid dribbled down the corner of her mouth, soaking her black stockings.
“Ding ding.”
The milk was finished pouring.
Before Jima could catch her breath, her arms were seized.
Jenna smiled, “Don’t forget tonight’s original plan, Teacher Jima; tonight, I will sincerely thank you for your teachings.”
“No, no, don’t drag me…”
More than ten minutes later, Jima was tossed into her own bedroom.
Fuming, she stepped back a few paces and plopped down on her bed, standing up on the mattress:
“Don’t go too far, you guys!”
“This is my battlefield.” Jima stomped her foot, declaring, “The legacy of thousands of years of succubus memory is not a joke.”
With that, she transformed into her “Demon King form,” extending four-meter-long wings, lifting her chin and saying, “You’re seeking your own death!”
