Chapter 68 Chapter Sixty-Seven White Saved
Time passed second by second, yet George had still not arrived.
The people below were shivering from the cold, huddled together for warmth, looking from above like a circle of livestock.
Jima raised her eyes to check the time in her “Personal System”; George was already over an hour late from when he was supposed to return.
Could something have happened?
Jima stared at the hilt of George’s sword, blinked, and used it as a medium to perform a quick divination.
No information popped up; she felt her divination power had hit a wall.
This was not surprising; George had divine protection, and his extraordinary level was a step above hers, making it difficult to read.
However, George should have sensed her divination power and would allow her to read him.
Jima blinked again, and George’s information surfaced on the hilt.
“Name: George Status: Good Health: Moderate Injury.”
He was actually injured.
Jima’s heart sank. He was wearing thick armor, moved quickly, had divine protection, and healing abilities. Who could have hurt him? A demon? Or someone from the demon race?
She stood up, her tail anxiously swaying back and forth, then coiled the tail in her pocket to pull out a “glass marble” and held it up to her eyes.
Countless future visions overlapped, resembling a kaleidoscope. The “glass marble” could be capricious; sometimes it would reveal future scenes, sometimes it wouldn’t, with no pattern at all. Jima also couldn’t choose how far into the future it showed.
But this time, it obediently presented an image. In the snowy landscape, three people led by George walked on the snow, carrying someone, followed by a few short figures, indistinguishable in the snowfall.
The perspective was from Jima’s position, looking out beyond the shelter.
“Whew~~.”
The howling cold wind swept in again, stealing away the little warmth left in everyone’s bodies. This time it was harsher than before, with snowflakes mixed in, stinging their faces.
A snowflake struck Jima’s cheek and melted.
Since it was snowing, it meant they were coming back. Jima glanced at the survivors below; there was no windbreak in the shelter, and they huddled together, trembling in the cold wind.
George would not be pleased when he returned.
Jima stretched lazily, then jumped down, spreading her wings to float down. First, she registered those who could serve as guides—there were many, a full thirty-two, but thirty of them looked like housewives rather than hunters capable of surviving in the Norska Mountains.
Cold can make people lie.
But Jima didn’t care; anyway, George could discern lies. She tied red cloth around the arms of each “guide.” Then she declared that her magical power had recovered enough to hold another ritual, bringing food and warm items from an ancient and distant land.
Everyone instantly perked up, and under Jima’s orders, they completed a set of calisthenics before she timely opened the exit to the Dream Palace, providing them with positive feedback, causing a cheer from the crowd.
Jima slipped into the “Dream Palace.” The area near the exit was already piled high with firewood, tents, blankets, and quilts, but Jima was too lazy to throw them out piece by piece; the supply needs of two hundred people would keep her busy with hard labor for a while.
Fortunately, Lianxi had “logged on.” Jima directed her to toss supplies into the exit while she went to prepare ingredients for a warm meal for the returning team.
While handling the ingredients, Jima’s scheming little mind began to churn, plotting the next step.
Once George and the others returned, she could find the real guides among a bunch of lying cheats, and then they could continue searching for the crown fragments.
Would it go that smoothly?
Just look at the large number of people outside who couldn’t even withstand the cold.
With George’s foolish personality, these three kind-hearted camp members would likely want to settle them safely out of goodwill.
At this rate, the crown fragments would slip further away from me.
But then Jima thought, given the current situation, the “savior team” didn’t have the capacity to accommodate two hundred people; there were hordes of trolls outside who could at most provide them with supplies, point a way out, and leave them to fend for themselves.
There didn’t seem to be much to worry about.
However, she couldn’t let her guard down. If those people looked too miserable, it would trigger the infinite sympathy of those three kind-hearted individuals. George might make an irrational decision.
Should she just lure trolls to come and slaughter them all?
No, that idea was downright stupid.
Jima squinted her eyes and thought of a good countermeasure.
As long as I make them look happy and content, everything will be fine, right?
I’m so clever!
Jima smirked.
Ten minutes later.
“Master, are you really going to throw out this whole box of ham?”
“Throw it!”
“And this bacon too.”
“Also throw it.” Jima said with righteous indignation, “There are two hundred people outside lacking clothing and food, starving and in need; as a partner of justice, how can I stand by and do nothing?”
Lianxi looked pitifully at a box of ham disappearing into the “Dream Palace exit,” knowing it was high-quality ham.
“Master, it might be better to throw out some bread instead,” Lianxi said. “These are too expensive.”
Jima’s face was filled with compassion: “I have money; these are poor souls who barely escaped from the trolls. Let’s give them something good to celebrate.”
“By the way, there’s also wine! Since I’m in the hole anyway, I might as well give it to them for free.”
Less than an hour later.
The entire cold valley was filled with warm firelight, a large pile of logs gathered together, bursting into flames that melted the cold in their limbs.
Each survivor held a large string of ham, huddled around the fire with satisfied expressions, eating the meat.
When George and his group arrived at the shelter, they were astonished to find that it was like a paradise.
Under Jima’s direction, people held hands and gathered around the bonfire singing songs, wrapped in new blankets, while several women clumsily twisted their bodies amid laughter.
George paused for a moment, trying to discern if this was an illusion; he could barely recognize these people who, just in the morning, had been a bunch of miserable souls, their only purpose for surviving being to serve as spare food for trolls.
Seeing George standing at the entrance with minor dents in his armor, dust and blood obscuring the shining metal, Jima stood up, showing him a joyful smile, and dashed over, regardless of the dirt on George, and leaped into his arms, saying,
“I thought you had kicked the bucket out there.”
“I ran into some unexpected events.” Once they released each other, George handed the “branch axe spear” to Jima, and they exchanged weapons.
“Did you split it into that troll’s ugly face?”
George said, “Its head was cleaved in two.”
“That’s wonderful.”
Jima turned to look at the two women, first glancing at Jenna, whose white robe was only slightly dirty at the edges, but her shield had a few dents.
“Are you all okay?”
Jenna smiled, “No harm done.”
Eve Frostleaf said coldly, “We unexpectedly encountered a walking rock.”
A string of dwarves following George had dark expressions. Hearing what Eve Frostleaf said, they looked up and glared at the high elf Eve Frostleaf, each dwarf keeping as much distance from her as possible.
There were a total of twenty dwarves, each wearing heavy armor, looking like walking iron piles, the kind without waists. Some dwarves lay on stretchers, while a few were shirtless, only wearing pants.
Jima squinted her eyes, guessing the identity of those shirtless dwarves might be “butchers.”
Dwarves loved to wear armor; it protected them while also showcasing their craftsmanship.
Only a dwarf who was truly despairing would take off their armor to fight for their honor. And in dwarf society, those seeking death should not be too numerous. Because dwarves naturally harbored grudges and were one-track-minded, they often turned to butchery to wipe away shame.
Considering the past comprehensive wars that erupted between high elves and dwarves, which killed countless, ending with a dismal victory for the dwarves—where the chief of the dwarves beheaded the elf king and picked up the blood-stained crown, declaring it the high elves’ compensation to the dwarves.
Now, that crown still lay in the dwarf king’s treasury. For the proud elves, there was nothing left but humiliation.
“I’ve prepared food for you.” Jima smiled. “Come eat, dwarf friends; I have plenty of strong liquor.”
The liquor immediately caught the attention of the dwarves.
Jima led them to an empty bonfire nearby, where there was alcohol, meat, and bread. The dwarves thanked Jima, saying that there were indeed good demons in the world, and happily began to eat.
Meanwhile, the dining table Jima had prepared was only ten meters away from the dwarves’ bonfire.
Everyone sat down, eating and chatting, and Jima learned about what had happened.
It turned out that George and the others had chased after the blessed trolls and encountered a group of dwarves coming out of the Norska Mountains who were engaged in battle with a few trolls, and they were on the verge of victory. (Jima interrupted George curiously, asking how the dwarves planned to kill the trolls.)
However, just as George and his group arrived, a horde of trolls appeared behind them, putting the dwarves in a precarious situation.
Out of morality, George couldn’t just turn his back and leave. He fought alongside the dwarves, breaking through the encirclement, and when they clashed with the troll army, George charged into the troll horde and got a good beating from the troll leader.
Ultimately, thanks to Jenna’s extraordinary ability—summoning dazzling orbs of light that enveloped a two-mile radius—they managed to break through.
“It’s good to be back,” Jima said. “I found the guides, but a group of people is lying; we can rest tonight and tomorrow head to the Norska Mountains to search for the crown fragments.”
“Okay,” George said. “Let’s discuss how to settle these homeless people.”
Jima immediately threw out what she had prepared, emphasizing the importance of the mission and trusting the people, telling them they would have five days’ worth of food and could find their own way.
After some discussion, they eventually agreed with Jima’s proposal.
Jima breathed a sigh of relief, wiping nonexistent sweat from her forehead, feeling as if everything was under control.
But what she didn’t expect was that after George inquired about the guides, he informed her:
“There are only two hunters.”
“That was expected.”
“They haven’t made it deep into the Norska Mountains,” George said. “Which means there isn’t anyone among these two hundred people who can be our guide.”
So didn’t that mean they were saved in vain?
