Chapter 71: Accidental
“New thermal insulation formula?”
After translation, the short engineer said, “Yes, strangely enough, after mixing three types of flammable materials together, they turned out to be highly heat-resistant and have excellent insulation properties. When used as the outer layer of a furnace, it can raise the furnace temperature by a notch.”
Jima seemed to hear the dark gods mocking her.
Back then, she was two meters tall, an ambitious bald man. She had dreamed of using modern knowledge to unify the world, punching empires and trampling high elves. She spent a fortune developing gunpowder and steam engines.
All of it failed.
She still remembered how, back in the day, she ground the three materials of black powder into a fine powder and mixed them together, but no matter what, she couldn’t get it to ignite. After losing a significant amount of money, she gave up.
The short engineer exclaimed, “I really admire the inventor; his mind is so open. If it weren’t for him, people might never discover such excellent insulation materials.”
Jima’s golden eyes fixed on the short engineer, and she asked, “Is the ratio of nitrate to charcoal to sulfur 75:12.5:12.5?”
Jima remembered it very clearly; she had memorized it in high school.
“Pretty close.” The short engineer was even more surprised. “You actually know this? The guild researched the best combination for a whole twenty years.”
Jima felt a pain in her chest, pressed her hand against it, and found it hard to stand, feeling as if fate were mocking her.
This wretched other world, with its different material properties from Earth, was unable to yield black powder, but here it was producing high-temperature materials—this was nothing short of mockery in her face.
George the Iron Hand steadied Jima and asked, “Jima, are you okay?”
Jima felt a bitter pang in her heart as she replied, “I’m fine; after all, this wicked world has targeted me more than once or twice.”
She looked at George, feeling even worse for some reason.
If only she had George’s luck, if she were the chosen one. Surely she could have figured out gunpowder and steam engines.
With gunpowder and steam engines, she could change the nature of warfare. Not to mention unifying the world, she’d sweep across the lands, right? She’d just change her name to Napoleon.
She fixed her gaze on the short engineer and asked, clutching the matchlock gun at her side, “Please tell me, how is the alchemical powder that powers your matchlock gun made?”
“You’re referring to gunpowder, right?” The short engineer became increasingly vigilant. “No… I can’t give that to you… It’s the guild’s property. Why do you care so much about this shabby new weapon?”
“Shabby?” Jima raised her voice. “It can change the nature of warfare! Just think, even a farmer could take it to battle and take down a knight with one shot. You can even attach a short sword to it and use it like a spear.”
“Why not use a crossbow?” The dwarf butcher picked up a steel crossbow belonging to a companion, stepping on it to draw the string, saying, “Anyone can use this, it’s more stable and easier to use than that shabby thing, and it’s faster too. Do you know? When testing new weapons, his new weapon didn’t perform as well as a crossbow.”
“You’re just a foolish groundhog,” Jima said. “It has infinite potential! At the very least, it can be made larger, blasting out a big iron ball to kill enemies a kilometer away. I bet even heavily armored demon warriors couldn’t stand against it.”
The short engineer shook his head and said, “That’s why I’m willing to test this new weapon, slowly improve it until it becomes more reliable. Right now, it’s still too poor, and it doesn’t even have rune enchantments.”
Jima calmed down slightly, remembering that this world had something called magic.
The steel crossbow made by dwarves was exquisite and durable, with significant power, and countless rune blacksmiths had designed many runes for it. A steel crossbow enhanced with runes was as powerful as a gun.
As for the matchlock gun? Even though the short engineer before her had skipped the flintlock stage and improved it to the matchlock stage, it was still far inferior compared to the dwarven crossbow.
Not to mention that dwarves despised new things because they represented instability and could bring bad fame to the inventors. So no rune blacksmith would be willing to design runes for matchlocks unless the weapon was mature.
Jima said, “I wish you success soon, engineering master.”
He mistakenly thought that Jima was a curious alchemist; otherwise, how could she know the best ratio for insulation materials? He said, “Thank you for your blessing, alchemist.”
George pulled Jima back to the dining table, asking, “Jima, you seem very interested in that weapon?”
Jima felt a bit deflated, “Yes.”
George said, “I remembered the illusion you presented when you were pretending to be the Dark Lord—the soldiers in armor, holding flame-spouting weapons; are they of the same type?”
Is he testing me?
Jima didn’t know how to answer. After a moment of hesitation, she said, “I suppose so.”
“What about those steel war weapons that fell from the sky, spouting flames at giant beasts? Are they of the same type?”
Jima’s tail anxiously brushed against her calf. “You’re very clever, George.”
“So your illusion isn’t completely fictional but based on some reality, a real existing army.”
Jima felt she had no strength left to counter him; she managed a weak smile at George.
George said earnestly, “So, Jima, can you satisfy my curiosity? Before we met, you were not just a simple egg.”
In front of Jenna, Jima directly kissed George on the lips, stopping his mouth, and then laughed, “Darling, you’re right, but I don’t want to satisfy your curiosity. I can indulge you in other aspects.”
After saying this, her cheeks reddened, and her gaze turned seductive.
Seeing Jima being so carefree, George shrugged and didn’t pursue the question further. He simply stood up, patted Jima on the shoulder, and said, “Remember my promise.”
What promise? Is it to eradicate evil?
Jima maintained her flirtatious smile, watching George leave as she continued to converse with the dwarves.
…
…
The child Dagji and his sister felt very uneasy in front of Eve Frostleaf.
Eve Frostleaf, pristine and immaculate, with scales on her skirt armor that were more orderly and silvery than fish scales, was tall and bore an unapproachable melon-shaped face, making it hard for them to feel any self-esteem.
Especially Dagji, whose height was barely comparable to her long legs.
Eve Frostleaf squatted down, her knees pressing against her shoulders, and Dagji felt a little better, asking, “What do you want from us?”
A cold voice replied, “Don’t be afraid.”
The sister tightened her grip on Dagji’s hand.
“I am not made of ice,” Eve Frostleaf clarified. “I sympathize with your situation.”
Her face remained expressionless as she spoke.
The sister whispered nervously to Dagji, “She knows we said she’s made of ice. Is she going to turn us into ice?”
Dagji straightened his chest, trying to express friendliness towards Eve Frostleaf: “I’m not afraid.”
“Good,” Eve Frostleaf recalled how Jima communicated and tried hard to smile.
How did one smile?
Right, raise the corners of her mouth, activating the apples of her cheeks…
Her smile resembled a glacier cracking, creating a terrifying fissure.
Dagji’s heart raced; for the first time, he felt that a beautiful woman could be as intimidating as a troll.
His sister hid behind him, clutching his hand tightly.
Seeing this, Eve Frostleaf simply withdrew her smile. It was as if her patience was exhausted, ready to freeze someone into an ice block and snap their frozen fingers one by one.
Dagji’s sister trembled slightly in fear.
Dagji glanced around, realizing they had moved away from the crowd, his voice shaking, “What do you want?”
Eve Frostleaf felt a bit annoyed; she had lowered herself to show concern for the children who lost their parents at such a young age, so she decided to speak patiently:
“I heard you mention the Demon Queen.”
Dagji immediately denied it, “No!”
“And that souls turn into maggots.”
“Neither!”
Eve Frostleaf nodded, saying, “Our squad follows the path of goodness; you don’t need to be afraid.”
“I’m not afraid!” Dagji pushed back, standing tall, “I’m a man.”
Eve Frostleaf nodded and said, “Thank you, I understand.”
With that, she stood up and turned to walk away a few steps.
Dagji felt a panic deep inside; he and his sister’s souls were still in the hands of the Demon Queen named Jima. If she misunderstood, it wouldn’t end well.
He yelled loudly at Eve Frostleaf’s retreating figure, “I never mentioned the Demon Queen! I never said anything about maggots; you misheard!”
As soon as he finished speaking, he felt a pair of dangerous eyes shooting from the distance; turning to look, it was a dark-haired succubus, whose golden eyes were fixed on him, filled with mirth.
Dagji relaxed, feeling certain he had done right.
At the dining table, Jima was cleaning the last dishes with the Saintess Jenna. Beneath her faux smile, her pristine teeth grated together hard.
Back then, if only she had let them be smashed by the trolls, this little brat couldn’t keep his mouth shut and just had to run into Eve Frostleaf, that gossip queen with exceptionally sharp ears.
Eve Frostleaf approached as if nothing had happened, her face under the snowy eyebrows just like any other day.
Everyone together put the table and chairs back at the “entrance to the dream palace,” and George had finished discussing with the stubborn dwarves.
They then found a place to discuss matters.
“A large northern army along with numerous monsters is heading toward the dwarven stronghold,” George said. “The dwarves don’t want to assist our team and serve as guides.”
“It’s just sending someone,” Jima complained, “It’s not a difficult task.”
“However, they are willing to lead us and take a shortcut through the underground passage to their stronghold,” George said. “Coincidentally, their stronghold and our destination are roughly in the same direction.”
“If it happens to be in the dwarven stronghold’s treasure vault, that would be even better.”
“The dwarf butcher believes that this batch of trolls is going to attack them along with the northern army. He promised that if we are willing to hunt down the trolls—”
Jima reminded, “Two hundred twenty-seven trolls, all squeezed together.”
Eve Frostleaf remained neutral, while Jenna leaned more towards Jima’s opinion.
George said, “So let’s summarize how many battle resources we’ve spent today.”
Battle resources include magic power, consumables, etc.
After calculation and statistics, under the conditions of a surprise attack and having disrupted the enemy, they had used nearly half of their battle resources in total. Jima spent the most, primarily her magic power, as she had expended more magic and the power of lies rescuing people than in battle.
Faced with the results, George could only change his opinion and say, “Let’s rest well tonight and set off with the dwarves tomorrow.”
This time, there were no objections.
Afterward, George went to establish order and draw waste zones, etc.
Rarely having time to rest, Jima summoned her cat Lianxi to pet while waiting for the night to fall.
As night fell, the sounds of snoring rose and fell in the little valley.
Dawn was approaching, the darkest moment before the dawn.
A survivor, awakened by the urge to urinate, crawled out from the warm blanket.
Yesterday, the great paladin set a rule that no one was allowed to relieve themselves on the spot and had to do so far from where they sleep. No one dared to disobey his words; people passed around stories that he could punch a troll’s head right into its chest. Furthermore, anyone who violated the rule would be caught by him immediately.
Out of respect for the rules, he braved the cold wind, bearing the aftereffects of drinking, and slowly walked outside. After taking several steps, he realized he had walked in the wrong direction and had ended up at the entrance of the valley.
He took a glance back; he was far from the tent area, and the cold wind was still blowing.
The distance he had traveled had to be retraced again, which was incredibly frustrating.
He didn’t care much at this point; after all, it was far from where he slept. He walked a few more steps, figuring it would be a gesture of goodwill towards the great paladin, and got outside the valley entrance, pulled out his thing, aimed at a cold-frosted rock, and began to relieve his very full bladder.
As dawn began to break, he saw in the dark ahead that the mountains seemed to be coming closer.
Upon closer inspection, the cold wind rushed towards him, burrowing into his arms, driving away the last bit of sleepiness in his mind.
Those weren’t mountains at all; they were clearly trolls!
A troll raised a giant club, pointing at him and bellowing.
The man relieving himself was so frightened that the stream of urine cut off, and he stuffed his thing back into his pants and turned to flee, running desperately toward the shelter.
The pursuing trolls stopped in their tracks.
He ran into the shelter, shouting, “Not good! Not good! The trolls are coming to kill us! Everyone, wake up!”
Panic spread rapidly, pulling people from their sleep.
Ten minutes later.
Jima, with a few orange cat hairs mixed in her black hair floating in the air, watched the trolls rushing towards them in the dim dawn, and sighed, “I hate rescue missions the most.”
She flew back, passing through the “Serene Secret Barrier” protecting the shelter and lightly landed in front of three fully armed team members, complaining:
“A fool went out to urinate, ran into trolls, and came back. The trolls already suspected this place; now all the trolls are rushing over, and it won’t be long before this disguise will be seen through.”
The crowd behind began to murmur, waiting for their orders. Compared to the previous day’s panic, from which one could see they might explode at any moment, the positive aspect was that at least they maintained a level of order and did not run around blindly.
George said, “We’ll set up a line in the valley to cover their retreat, then regroup with the dwarves and head to the North Star Mountains.”
As soon as he finished speaking, a grinding sound of axes came from behind him. The dwarf butcher excitedly rushed forward, shouting, “Where are the trolls? I heard all the trolls are coming over; great! Today’s my chance to fight to the death!”
Behind him, a line of determined dwarves followed.
Jima said, “I hope you can persuade those stubborn dwarves.”
