Chapter 149 Chapter 148 Finding Someone
“Ow, ow, ow…”
Jima lay on the sofa, her wings spread out and resting on the nearby table.
Jenna’s gentle hands moved away from the base of Jima’s wings, shaking her head: “You’ll take some time to heal.”
“Can I fly?”
“You can, it’ll just hurt.”
“Sister Jenna, please, what kind of medicine or divine technique can you use?”
“If it’s an external injury, it would be manageable; you could use a divine technique to stop the bleeding and heal with time,” Jenna shook her head, “but unfortunately, it’s a serious muscle strain. You flapped your wings too hard and were carrying too much weight, which caused the injury.”
Damn George, why did he have to be so heavy?
Jima felt the burning pain coming from the base of her wings, gritting her teeth, she asked: “What if I want to heal faster?”
“I heard you have a supernatural item that allows for regeneration.” Jenna said, “You could cut off your wings and grow a new pair. But I wouldn’t recommend treating your body that way.”
“How long until it gets better after applying the ointment?”
“Two or three days.”
Just thinking about these days, not being able to fly up to the rooftop to enjoy the “beautiful scenery” of the masses shivering in the cold wind, Jima couldn’t help but sigh: “Why is it always us women who get hurt?”
“Jima, as a non-combat extraordinary being, you need to be a bit more careful.” Jenna’s tone was filled with curiosity, “Can I ask how you injured your wings?”
Jima recalled how she had transformed into a black butterfly and lied: “George was too violent.”
“Really? George is always very gentle.”
“That means he hasn’t reached the point of emotion and still has his senses.”
“Jima… I’m starting to feel jealous.”
“Hey, as your teacher, I have some secret techniques. Would you like to learn them?”
What responded to Jima was a series of departing footsteps and the sound of the door closing. A voice came from behind the door:
“By the way, Jima. The ointment on the table should be applied once a day at the base of your wings.”
“Got it.”
The footsteps receded.
Jima quickly retracted her wings back into her back, sitting up and complaining:
“A silly girl can only be deceived once before she cannot be fooled again.”
After retracting her wings, she felt much better. The pain from her wing strain was replaced by a vague burning sensation in her legs, from the inside out.
She squeezed her legs together, habitually rubbing them a little, feeling somewhat relieved.
Recalling the battle from yesterday, which had escalated to the point of nearly becoming an aerial fight, Jima felt much better knowing that she had held the line and not lost completely.
It seemed that as long as she didn’t take on more foes than she could handle and didn’t use weapons, there was no chance of failure—perhaps.
“Today is the deadline, I should send someone to find a writing implement.”
Jima stretched lazily, “Since I’m injured, I should just rest well today. There’s nothing that suits the cold winter better than a warm bed.”
Lying down and being cared for was indeed comfortable.
Ever since she deleted that main quest and stopped pursuing the Demon King Jima’s extraordinary materials, she had fewer worries and didn’t feel as exhausted.
All she needed was to sleep in her warm bed, take naps, dream, and cultivate rumors in her dreams. She could sit back and watch novels come to life, harvesting pain.
Even leveling up slowly wasn’t that big a deal. After all, she had a long life ahead of her and a diamond-tier strong husband to protect her.
Jima jumped off the sofa, ready to burrow into her bed and become a lazy good-for-nothing.
Suddenly, a hurried set of footsteps approached, and the door banged repeatedly.
“Ms. Jima, Ms. Jima.”
“What is it?” Jima poked her head out from the bed, impatiently saying: “If it’s another absurd delivery of love letters, tell him I’ve got a bun in the oven. I’m busy nurturing my baby!”
“What?! Ms. Jima, you’re pregnant?”
“Don’t say nonsense.” Jima was sure the maid would make a scene, which was her intention: “Get to the point, what is it?”
“Owen Green, he… he’s gone missing.”
“Missing?! Did that guy run away?”
“I don’t know, you should go check.”
Jima jumped out of the bed, unconsciously unfurling her wings, a tearing pain shot from the base of her wings.
“George! You bastard!”
Jima cursed, cursing George’s weight as she pulled in her wings, “Quick, prepare a carriage for me.”
“Yes, Ms. Jima.”
Jima quickly dressed in formal attire and took her “branch spear” with her, fully armed.
As she rushed downstairs, the carriage had just arrived from the stables.
The servants were doing their best, the charm was evidently working very well.
Jima hopped into the carriage, quickly heading towards the Scholarly Publishing House.
“What’s going on?”
The maid stammered, unable to answer anything.
Jima was very disappointed, realizing how slow this backward and primitive mode of transportation was, making her anxious.
She pulled open the window, looking at the street scene outside.
The streets of the capital, to put it nicely, were bustling, but to put it bluntly, they were a mess.
Both people and animals were walking on the road, with no traffic lights and no sidewalks.
How primitive, I, a platinum-tier formidable being, still have to use this original mode of transport.
Well, I can fly. But that guy George is really too heavy; it’s ultimately still George’s fault.
Jima leaned her elbows on the car window, resting her head and thinking.
The carriage slowed down.
It turned out to be a few young nobles on horseback, clad in silver-white armor, who blocked the carriage.
“Milady, I pay my compliments to your beauty.” One young noble rode up next to the carriage, pulling down his visor to bow to Jima, “Tell me your name.”
As he spoke, his young, proud face was filled with confidence.
Without a second thought, Jima raised her gloved hand, giving him the middle finger: “Get lost! I’m already married.”
“Being married is fine too.”
“Get off your horse!”
Jima cursed at him.
Suddenly, the young noble’s leg slipped, and he fell off his horse, landing in the mud.
The carriage moved on, laughter from outside resounded. The other nobles were mocking the fallen one.
Jima shouted out the window: “My name is Ms. Jima, a wild mage. Go back and ask your parents about me, or else I won’t be polite next time.”
Having shouted that, she pulled the window down, complaining: “What a hormonally driven kid.”
The maid beside her didn’t know how to comfort Jima.
Jima began to miss Liansi, far away in the Knight Bartu Kingdom, who could not only compliment people but also had soft, silky hair that felt nice to touch.
No matter how she thought about it, it was all that guy George’s fault.
After inexplicably shifting the blame, the carriage finally arrived at the Scholarly Publishing House.
Jima jumped off the carriage, taking a few big strides before frowning and changing to small steps, making her way to the room assigned to Owen Green.
The room was neither too big nor too small, enough to fit a bed, desk, wardrobe, and dining table.
The manuscripts on the desk had vanished, all the drawers were pulled out, clothes were scattered everywhere, and everything that could be taken for cash had disappeared without a trace.
The maid speculated: “Was it a theft?”
Jima narrowed her eyes, took out a silver coin from her pocket, and flicked it gently, envisioning the appearance of Arcannis while asking in her heart:
“Has Arcannis ever been here?”
The silver coin fell into her palm and, upon releasing it, showed heads.
“Yes.”
Jima inhaled deeply and said: “This wasn’t a theft; it’s an illusion set up by the other party.”
The maid looked at Jima in confusion, asking her to explain.
“It’s simple, a thief looking for money wouldn’t take useless written paper.” Jima said, “Even if it were a kidnapping for extortion, they would leave a note, but there isn’t one.”
The maid asked: “It could also be that the extortion note didn’t manage to be sent, or the paper was pressed under the pillow.”
Just as she spoke, a gust of wind swept through the open wooden window, and a piece of paper rolled in front of Jima.
Upon looking, the paper read: “The great writer has been kidnapped by me! Prepare a hundred gold coins by tomorrow, or I’ll fulfill the threat.”
The handwriting belonged to Owen Green.
Jima naturally extended her foot to step on this kidnapping note, pretending nothing was wrong, and said:
“It’s a simple reasoning. If the other party was really kidnapping, they would prioritize abducting a person, why waste effort searching for valuables? Even if they were taking valuables, why take the manuscript? What use does the manuscript serve? Can it be sold?”
“With ‘The Marvelous Adventures of JoJo’ being so popular outside, the original manuscript should sell for a good price, right?”
“Only after publication can fame convert to money,” Jima said. “Besides, Owen Green has only one-third of the manuscript on him, I carry the remaining two-thirds with me; what use is a fragmented original manuscript?”
“So, what is the truth?”
“The truth is singular.” Jima pushed her nonexistent glasses with her middle finger, “Eliminating all impossible answers, the only remaining answer must be the correct one, even if it sounds unreasonable.”
“What is it?”
“Owen Green has been kidnapped by a fanatical fan, attempting to obtain the complete manuscript in advance.” Jima narrowed her eyes, “Coincidentally, I know a good friend of mine who is not only a hardcore fan but also has the capability.”
“Who?”
“A man who is even shorter than me and a bit eccentric.” Jima squatted down, pinching a pinch of dust from the ground, examining the soil closely: “I found a clue; the soil in each block is different, and the soil left behind by the culprit’s shoes will be the key to solving the case.”
The maid was so astonished she couldn’t speak: “Ms. Jima, you’re just like a protagonist from a novel.”
From the results tracing back, to patting oneself on the back, anyone could do that.
Jima secretly glanced at the silver coin in her hand, recalling her divination regarding whether the maid next to her was a real maid.
It showed heads.
However, there wasn’t much credibility in that. If the maid were Arcannis in disguise, Jima didn’t think this offhanded divination would be able to expose the other’s disguise.
Jima pocketed the silver coin and said, “You go out first and tell the coachman to prepare for departure.”
“Alright, Ms. Jima.”
After the maid left.
Jima immediately tore the kidnapping note under her shoe into shreds, then rummaged in her other-dimensional space bag, pulling out a bunch of hair tied with a string, labeled with the tag saying: “Owen Green.”
It was indeed Owen Green’s hair. After Jima closed the door, she activated the “Hidden Tranquility Spell,” tying the hair to a straw man and began to divine to pinpoint Owen Green’s location.
The result came out, and Jima confirmed the location, slightly surprised.
If she remembered correctly, the location was at the famous workplace of female workers in Adolph—Moulin Rouge.
