Chapter 297 Chapter 295 The Plague Rages
“Can you hurry up and let me help?” Acanis said, “I can’t shake the feeling that that weirdo Velin will sneak in one night and defile me.”
Jima recalled Velin’s appearance, a member of the blood clan, and suppressed the urge to slap Acanis out of the palace.
“Maybe in three or four days.”
“Then during your free time these few days, can you at least get to know Velin and cultivate some feelings?”
“No.” Jima replied, “I need to gather intelligence for battle.”
As soon as she finished speaking, a white mist-like force of pain appeared in Acanis’s chest in Jima’s view.
This guy really hates Velin. It’s hard to understand why someone would dislike a beautiful woman who throws herself at them.
“I see.” Acanis said with a bitter face. He stood up and said, “Then I guess I’ll just have to endure for a few days.”
Jima stared at the white mist-like pain force in his chest and said, “Actually, my reconnaissance won’t take long.”
“Then why don’t you help me first?”
“Because I’m lazy.”
Acanis exclaimed, “What?! Aren’t we best friends?”
A few strands of pain energy radiated from him towards Jima, making her feel sweet inside, this happiness alleviating the pain in her heart.
“Yes, so we help each other.” Jima said, “Helping each other is naturally voluntary.”
Acanis braced himself against the table and threatened, “Well, then my help is also voluntary.”
Jima rested her chin on one hand, her black hair flowing down her pale arms:
“The better a friend helps, the more I will care. Think about it: where else can you find someone capable and loyal, willing to charm a dangerous ancient blood clan for the sake of friendship?”
“How infuriating!” Acanis slammed the table, cursing several times.
In Jima’s eyes, Acanis was engulfed in mist, the symbolic white fog of pain drifting towards her. Joy bubbled up from her heart, her smile becoming more beautiful, and the pain in her chest completely vanished, as if she had always been healthy and unmarred by dark pasts.
Acanis stared at the smile on Jima’s face and asked, “Are you doing this on purpose to annoy me?”
“Ah? No way!” Jima showed a look of shock on her face. “I’m just speaking the truth. There’s no way around it; being around the people from the Holy Hall for too long has made me not want to talk.”
“I know that, what’s it called, you marry a dog and become like a dog, you marry a husband and become like a husband.”
Jima clapped her hands, saying, “Alright, since we’ve finished talking, you should be able to leave now. Goodbye.”
“No, I don’t want to leave.” Acanis said, “I want to be a guest.”
But Jima vanished first. Acanis was very dissatisfied, muttering a few words before vanishing too.
A minute later.
Jima reappeared in the dream palace, sitting on a cloud, flying into the treasure vault of the dream palace.
As the gilded vault door opened, piles of gold coins glimmered with golden light, cascading onto Jima’s face.
Jima hummed a tune off-key as she walked to a pearwood table. On the table lay several extraordinary items, including a blood-stained horn cup.
Jima picked up a blood-stained songstress wooden carving, which was an extraordinary item she had spent money to acquire, along with a tragic love story—one that was quite cliché, featuring lovers of unequal status, yearning for each other but ultimately meeting a tragic end.
It wasn’t very useful; it could record the songs in the user’s heart and sing them according to the user’s will, and the generated song was highly infectious, though its source was difficult to trace.
The downside was that the wearer would inevitably feel the urge to sing.
The blood-stained songstress was an entertainment-type extraordinary item that wasn’t much good for fighting. Others used it in combat, merely providing a background score.
But Jima believed it was extremely useful to her.
Her big move was summoning “Bald Strong,” and maintaining his existence and casting skills consumed a lot of magic power. Excessive magic consumption would trigger soul injury.
Therefore, every bit of magic power was precious, and resolving battles quickly meant saving energy.
Considering Bald Strong’s abilities mostly revolved around instilling fear, if she could plant the seeds of fear in her enemies’ hearts, wouldn’t that yield double the results for half the effort?
Jima tightened her grip on the “blood-stained songstress,” preparing to test her hypothesis. She delved into her memories, recalling scenes from horror movies, echoing those spine-chilling background scores.
The blood-stained songstress warmed up in her hand.
A sinister score filled the entire vault.
Jima suddenly felt that the vault was too cramped, making her uncomfortable, and the large door looked like it might close on its own at any moment.
She quickly leaped backward, escaping through the vault door.
Just then, a chilling score echoed through the corridor. The shadow-covered corners of the walls seemed poised to unleash a white-faced little girl crawling on all fours.
The dark door gaps on either side of the hallway seemed ready to stretch out a black hand, gripping her ankle.
Sure enough, my guess was right. The horror music can greatly enhance the atmosphere of terror. But for me, it’s of no use since it’s merely the voiceover from the horror movies I watched as a child.
Jima gripped her axe-spear, bending slightly at the waist, determined to conquer her childhood fears as she walked step by step down the corridor.
At that moment, her throat itched, and she couldn’t help but start singing.
“Hey呀呀, the river flows forward, the stars in the sky… the stars in the sky are like the Northern Dipper, black duck, black duck.”
Her singing was extremely off-key with incorrect lyrics, but the more Jima sang, the more confident she became, her voice growing louder and clearer.
“Hehe, the Northern Dipper, a bowl of wine for life and death friends.”
Her singing echoed throughout the corridor. She didn’t notice that the blood-stained songstress had a pained expression, and the volume of the ominous background music dropped drastically.
“… seeing injustice on the road, I shout; when it’s time to strike, I strike.”
Crack.
A crack appeared on the porcelain on display in the hall.
Jima felt more confident, walking with grand strides, her stance exuding a provocation for someone to beat her up.
At the same time, the blood-stained songstress had stopped struggling, the volume had completely diminished.
Jima also lost her boldness for singing. She carried her axe-spear and walked to the balcony, glancing back at the corridor behind her.
She muttered to herself, “As expected of the hero’s song, I sing so well, brimming with heroism, unafraid of any vile spirits.”
Feeling fully confident, Jima decided she would make a stunning impression at the next gathering, singing and dancing to amaze everyone.
…
…
After Acanis left the dream palace.
In the hazy distance, he seemed to hear someone softly whispering his name, like a lover’s sweet murmur. His scalp also felt itchy, as if someone was scratching it.
His body was awakening. He felt as if he were leaning against someone’s arms. He wanted to open his eyes, but his eyelids felt incredibly heavy, and no matter how much effort he exerted, he couldn’t open them.
After a long struggle, he managed to pry open his eyes, revealing a delicate little face above him. Her features were exquisite, and her expression was gentle, looking very comforting.
Her voice was soft, “Acanis, did you have another nightmare?”
“Mm.” Acanis then realized he was lying in her arms, which felt cool against him, and the hot summer heat made him instinctively snuggle closer.
“Keep sleeping.”
A small hand smoothed down Acanis’s eyelids. He closed his eyes, his breathing gradually calming. Her hand scratched his scalp, and Acanis began to emit a soft purring sound like a cat.
Silver-haired Velin gazed affectionately at Acanis’s face, unable to help but lower her head and extend her cool tongue to lick the artery on his neck, feeling the warm blood flowing within. That warmth was comparable to her love for Acanis.
She couldn’t resist, opening her small mouth to gently kiss Acanis’s neck.
Acanis’s hand shot out, the Blade of Shadows piercing through his ribs, accurately entering Velin’s chest and piercing her heart.
But Velin merely lifted her head, looking at Acanis with a smile and said, “Found you.”
Having said that, she transformed into a wisp of black smoke, disappearing without a trace.
Acanis was startled, clutching the blanket and huddling in a corner, panic-stricken, and finally shouted:
“By Sigma, the vampire snuck in!”
“I almost got defiled by her!”
His voice echoed in the basement of Sigma Cathedral.
Above ground, one kilometer away from Sigma Cathedral.
In a mansion, the doll-like Velin opened her eyes as she lay on a bed draped in red silk. She lifted her head to look at a nearby glass window and saw the spire of Sigma Cathedral, touching her lips with her fingers and revealing a blissful smile.
…
…
The Olith Territory, located in the northern-central part of the Empire.
Its capital, Olith City, is the most prosperous city in the entire territory. But now the entire city is sealed off; the river forces have blocked the waterways, and the provincial army has sealed off all main roads. Anyone seen on the road without permission is immediately shot.
News of half a legion affected by the plague made the provincial army soldiers fearful and ruthless in their actions.
On the roadside, bodies pierced by crossbow bolts and arrows piled up. Many corpses were not infected with the plague; it was hunger and fear that forced them to leave the city.
The plague spread within the city, hunger and disease struck the populace, threatening the unstable order. The stationed imperial legion ruthlessly suppressed another revolt, securing the docks.
Now, the docks are nearly the only supply point left in this city.
In an emptied red brick warehouse near the docks, wearing a mask, Jenna watched as the thirty-second patient of the night shivered on the bed, then vomited black blood from their mouth and eyes before dying.
Jenna raised her head in frustration, realizing she was the only living person left in the entire warehouse.
Next to her, a table was piled with opened thick books, containing priceless knowledge of diseases, but not a single word could help her overcome this strange illness.
This was a new plague, which Jenna named “Black Death.”
Disappointed, Jenna looked at the thick books on the table. It was the first time she encountered a situation where divine techniques failed. She felt exhausted and walked to the warehouse door, thrusting it open.
Above her, the sky was a starry expanse, and not far away on the playground, row upon row of bonfires burned, some brightly, others flickering, and the stench of burning corpses wafted up into the night sky with the acrid smoke.
A wave of despair washed over Jenna. She covered her face with her hands and shouted loudly in the street, pleading for help, hoping someone could assist her.
Distant imperial soldiers remained expressionless or hurriedly fled from this mentally broken saintess.
By the time Jenna regained her composure and returned to the warehouse, thirty-two dead patients lay within, all lifting their heads to ask: “Poor child. Were you looking for help just now? I can help you. I can give you all the knowledge of diseases.”
