Chapter 66 Chapter 65 Saving People
George gripped Jima’s “branch axe spear,” his brows slightly furrowed: “An evil weapon, I can feel its thirst for blood and slaughter.”
“Blessed by the Blood God,” Jima said, “If it doesn’t suit you, then never mind.”
Saying this, she reached out her soft white hand toward the branch axe spear.
“It’s fine.” George handed the sword to Jima, “Take good care of it.”
Jima took the heavy, dual-hand sword, a genuine smile appearing on her face: “Okay.”
George turned to lead the way.
Jenna, standing beside them, spoke up: “I will guard your spirit.”
George chuckled, “I don’t think it’ll be that troublesome.”
He remained so proud; if he were to fall… a white armor bathed in blood, piled skulls, we will hunt together.
Thinking this, Jima’s heart thumped loudly.
If George fell, it would be truly charming. I wouldn’t have to toil all day for that troublesome bunch of weaklings, nor would I have to be on edge.
But reason told Jima that giving George the “branch axe spear” would make the possibility of his fall roughly equal to her being unable to defeat a single goblin.
She only hoped the Blood God would notice him, painstakingly working to make him his champion warrior.
George hoisted the “branch axe spear” and began to run, his iron boots sinking deeply into the trolls’ footprints. His entire body jumped several meters high, landing and then jumping up again on one foot, leaving a series of deep footprints on the ground, his speed comparable to that of warhorses, as he chased after the trolls with his comrades.
Jima flapped her wings and took to the sky.
Not far away, more than twenty clever survivors were watching. They were not frightened away by the approaching troll army. Some, however, were running madly, shouting as they fled, not caring about their direction.
“You are very clever.” Jima descended from the sky, “So you can survive. You are also very fortunate; we have decided to save as many as we can. Don’t worry about being caught by the trolls, as we have prepared a refuge in advance.”
A few dirt-covered women exchanged glances, smiles appearing on their faces as they tightly held their children. Among the survivors, there were mostly women and children.
They said, “Then please, black-horned and compassionate warrior, take us to the refuge quickly.”
“My child is about to succumb to the cold; the ugly trolls stripped him of his clothes.”
“He will be a powerful warrior in the future.”
They spoke in a flurry.
“Don’t worry.” Jima removed her veil, revealing her delicate face, which radiated extraordinary charm, attracting all eyes that could see her.
“I have some food here; you can eat it to fill your stomach first.”
Jima took out some leftover white bread from her dimensional bag, which had become hard, marked with her bite marks.
She took a couple of bites but found it not soft enough, so she switched to another piece of bread.
However, the ones about to be handed food didn’t know, as Jima hid the bitten part facing herself, tearing off a piece from the bread and asking, “Who wants to eat?”
Six mothers grabbed their children’s hands.
“It’s fine; I have plenty.” Jima tore the bread into pieces, ensuring everyone couldn’t see that the distributed bread was her leftovers.
Once one piece of bread was distributed, she took out another piece. A hungry child almost choked while eating, so Jima brought out some leftover cold milk.
The child’s mother was moved to tears, repeatedly thanking her in a heavily accented common tongue. A large man even cried on the spot, saying, “I thought we were all going to die; finally, we’ve met a good person.”
As the other hungry people looked at Jima with longing eyes.
Jima spread her hands and said, “The food on me is all gone. To get more food, we can only go to the refuge, but there’s one condition…”
“What condition?”
“To hold a multi-person ceremony to get the food.” Jima said, “So you all need to help me, calling those cowardly ones who only know how to run. It’s just right; I want to save people, and you also want to save your fellow townsfolk, right?”
One woman looked towards the dense mass of trolls in the distance, then at the child crouching at her feet, wolfing down his food, saying, “The trolls are catching up; they run faster than warhorses. If there are too many people, the speed will slow down.”
Another woman said, “Most of them are panicked deserters.”
Almost all the men among the twenty-five survivors lowered their heads.
Jima remained unmoved; she knew they were lying. She lied back, “The multi-person ceremony requires at least two hundred people. Coincidentally, my task is to save as many people as possible. Don’t worry; I will protect you.”
After saying this, Jima flapped her wings and flew into the sky.
The survivors understood clearly that even if they escaped momentarily from the trolls’ clutches.
In this season, they could not escape from the blood-soaked jaws of this land; hunger and cold would kill them all.
For whether men or women or children, they exerted all their strength to call out for people along with Jima.
Jima flapped her wings, moving at an incredible speed, flew to the east to gather those who were escaping, then flew to the north, using charm and lies to make the terrified, speechless people listen to her.
In less than twenty minutes, the crowd finally gathered, noisy and chaotic. With the trolls approaching from afar, they could potentially scatter at any moment, like a pile of cow dung with a lit firecracker stuck in it.
Jima used her lies to stabilize the morale of the crowd, leading them towards the pre-prepared refuge.
As the trolls ran, the crowd became increasingly panicked. Some started to fall behind; some ran faster, the entire group stretching like an elongated rubber band. There were always people screaming out of fear, hurried shouts echoing as if regressing, panic spreading throughout the group.
Jima worked hard to maintain order, even though she gritted her teeth in anger, fantasizing about wielding a giant axe and slaughtering the cowards in this frightened crowd. But she remained patient, using her lies and extraordinary abilities to keep the group together.
Jima flew over the crowd, shouting, “Trust me, once we reach the refuge, we will be safe.”
Down below, someone shouted in panic: “They will follow our footprints… chase! They are closing in!”
Someone realized, “Split up—”
Jima’s curse took effect; they opened their mouths, tongues trembling, but found they couldn’t say anything.
A silent curse.
Jima sighed in relief; thankfully, she had cast the curse in advance.
But the silent ones had body language. She went madly waving her hands, escaping from the group, as if the group was filled with trolls.
Jima understood that humans, as a social species, have a tendency to follow the crowd; she had to nip the problem in the bud and set an example.
In a split second, she gave up on using her extraordinary ability to directly kill the opponent and dove directly down, clutching George’s exquisite dual-hand sword, aiming the weighted ball at the back of an escaping woman’s head and smashing down fiercely.
“Crack.”
She lunged forward, lying on the snow, a dent forming in her skull.
Stepping on her body, Jima shouted loudly: “I said, follow me, and you can survive; otherwise, you’ll end up like her!”
The crowd, filled with fear, submitted readily.
Thus, they smoothly escaped to the refuge—a small ravine, a place chosen in advance. Jima had used the “power of lies” to disguise the ravine’s entrance, making it look like an unremarkable snowy slope.
After she activated the tranquil secret barrier and ensured everything was in place, she leaned against the stone wall and said, “Everyone is safe now.”
The trolls indeed followed the footprints but were lured away by another set of footprints, leaving with heavy and anxious panting.
Everyone breathed a sigh of relief, some exhausted and hungry, collapsing directly on the ground.
“Good person, good person.” Someone shouted, “Have some charity, quickly perform the ceremony and distribute food and water; he can’t hold on much longer.”
Jima, however, ignored her, for she had noticed the weight ball on George’s dual-hand sword had been stained with a touch of filthy black blood, which fell into the sacred runes engraved on the ball.
After carefully wiping it clean with a cloth, she then performed the so-called ceremony—opening the entrance to the Dream Palace.
——————
I recommend a book that has disrupted my schedule: “We Live in Nanjing,” a hardcore sci-fi romance from Qidian. The author’s storytelling ability is outstanding. Facing the challenges of sending letters twenty years into the future, planning, unexpected events, and more planning… it’s written in a gripping fashion, unraveling mysteries layer by layer.
The characters are well-developed, with the female protagonist’s cheerful and vibrant image vividly coming to life. It’s impressive; now when I recall it, I can almost see the female lead in front of me.
Many details are very realistic, including how the main character proves to their elders that they can communicate with people from twenty years in the future. Many authors, including myself, often gloss over such plots; as the saying goes, “It’s easy to draw a ghost, but hard to draw a horse or dog.” This kind of scenario requires deep skill; otherwise, it can easily pull the reader out of the immersion, but the author successfully achieved it.
Moreover, there’s no need to worry about watermarks since this book will conclude around five hundred thousand words, so updates come every two days, and the pricing is also doubled.
The only thing that leaves me dissatisfied is that the author’s desire for expression seems too strong, liking to break the fourth wall and disrupt the reader’s immersion.
In summary, I highly recommend it.
