Chapter 116 Chapter 114 The Safest Place
Ji Ma’s heart felt cold and desolate.
Just a few hours ago, the team was in a dire situation. George was limping, bleeding excessively, and it was a miracle that he was still alive and able to fight, but without urgent treatment, his life was nearing its end. Saintess Jenna had almost burned through all her magical power and could no longer use divine magic to heal, and Eve Frostleaf had several deep wounds that exposed bone.
She was not in a good state either, with many wounds, blood only momentarily stopped, bullets and other debris still lodged in her body.
If it weren’t for everyone being extraordinary beings, ordinary people would have long been dead.
Given the team’s condition, it was impossible to escape the fortress purely through brute strength; there was no chance at all.
In this moment of despair, it was I who proposed the brilliant idea—lying.
Taking the undefended high ground was merely to find a stage. Deliberately going to the edge of the platform for all the ratmen to see was not an act of provocation but an effort to trick many ratmen; the more ratmen deceived, the more likely the lie would come true.
Making Saintess Jenna use her last bit of magical power, we created a large light effect, transforming into eight searchlights, making the ratmen believe we had escaped.
In reality, under the cover of white light, we all ran to the edge beneath the platform, at the junction of the round tower and the wall. There, Eve Frostleaf used earth element spells to reconstruct the wall, creating a platform that barely allowed eight people to lie down.
Once on the platform, it was I who, disregarding the lack of magical power and my own soul injuries, immediately activated the “Tranquil Concealment Barrier” to hide everyone.
It was I who infused a vast amount of the power of lies into the deception of the “Savior Squad fleeing in front of them,” turning falsehood into reality—although Ji Ma had never validated it, she dared to say that the ratmen would definitely be able to find the “traces” we left behind while fleeing from outside the city.
One could say that if it weren’t for my cleverness and wisdom, everyone would have been dead long ago, devoured by the ratmen. Calling myself a savior would not be an exaggeration.
But how did everyone treat this savior?
There was no traditional treatment accorded to a savior; there was no affectionate embrace from beautiful maidens or kisses exchanged.
I merely wanted to sing, is that so excessive?
Yet they said things like “Now is not the time to fight; you can rest, there’s no need to fight anymore.”
Truly superficial! Is singing only meant to harm enemies? No, after today, I finally awakened my talent for singing; I had never thought that singing could be such a wonderful thing, to express emotions and adjust one’s mindset.
And they said I sang poorly? How is that possible? I have a beautiful appearance and a sweet voice, and when I get into the mood of singing, the sweetness surging within me (actually, the power of others’ suffering flowing into Ji Ma) feels incredibly real and undeniable.
Besides, when I sing, don’t they fight with all their might? Surely it is my singing that inspires everyone.
That bard Felix fainted only because he is just an ordinary person; it’s already commendable that he has lived this long.
Eve Frostleaf, I know you, as a high elf, are unbearable in your pride, and would never accept a half-baked genius who surpasses your musical achievements within a day.
Jenna, I see that you look troubled, and your opposition seems weak. You must be going with the flow, right? I know you are kind-hearted and weak, and I can’t blame you for that.
But you, George, are the most excessive!
I merely sang a few lines. You were lying on the ground, breathing weakly, and your face was pale. Upon hearing my song, you jumped up, tied me up and didn’t stop there; you even tried to stuff the ball in my mouth, depriving me of my freedom to sing.
Ji Ma watched as the red ball with bite marks was forced into her mouth. She tried to turn her head, but George grabbed her horns with practiced skill; he used to grab them to “regain magic” for himself, but now he used them this way…
Thinking of this, Ji Ma’s eyes turned red as she said, “Scumbag.”
“I’m sorry,” George’s voice was weak from his wounds, but in Ji Ma’s ears, it was ample evidence of his guilt, “If you sing again, everyone might die.”
Ji Ma angrily sang, “Ignorant sound is—”
The red ball was immediately stuffed into her mouth, blocking her next notes.
Ji Ma’s desire to express herself was thwarted; she made muffled sounds of frustration, and beside her, Eve Frostleaf skillfully picked up a belt, intending to tie Ji Ma up.
Butcher Galtres warned, “A ratman is coming down!”
Everyone immediately ceased their work, looked up, and saw a clan rat with both hands clawing at the edge of the platform, preparing to descend. He had a bright yellow belt at his waist, and as he loosened his grip, he fell into the “Tranquil Concealment Barrier,” and suddenly found himself faced with many people.
A tall Iron Shell Man, a high elf drawing a bow, and a dwarf hoisting a battle axe.
The yellow-belted clan rat was stunned, not yet realizing the seriousness of the situation.
Ji Ma seized the opportunity to spit out the red ball and sang, “Ah ah ah~~~♪”
She did not think about what song to sing to express her feelings at that moment; she simply let out an “ah.”
Seeing this, the yellow-belted clan rat was immediately startled, jumped up, covered his ears, and cried out in despair, “Banshee!”
Before his voice could finish, Eve Frostleaf pulled her nearly full bow and shot an arrow into his throat. The reason she hadn’t drawn it fully was fear of a through shot that would expose their location.
Butcher Galtres charged forward and swung his axe, striking the rat down instantly; the rat fell, jerking his legs before going limp.
George said, “Your singing scared the ratmen.”
“It’s clearly my combat achievements; I’m the Grim Reaper in the enemies’ hearts,” Ji Ma raised her chin and said, “Stupid man, if you had any conscience, you wouldn’t have stuffed my mouth.”
“What about the ball?”
“It’s here.” Eve Frostleaf swiftly handed over the red ball.
George immediately picked it up.
“Stupid man! Scumbag.” In an instant, Ji Ma felt extremely disappointed in George, so much so that she bore a grudge, hating this house to hate all humanity; she sang loudly, “Humans do not thank Ji Ma♪”
The fainted bard Felix lay on the ground, frothing at the mouth. The nearly dead yellow-belted clan rat kicked his legs, tilted his head, and passed away completely.
George swiftly stuffed the red ball into Ji Ma’s mouth, precise and ruthless. Eve Frostleaf quickly secured the belt around the ball tightly.
With tears in her eyes, Ji Ma mournfully expressed, “Wuwuwu.”
Once everyone confirmed that the succubus Ji Ma could no longer sing, they all breathed a sigh of relief. The dwarf engineer clenched his fist, pounded his chest, and let out a long sigh.
George, limping, collapsed onto his mattress, motionless.
Eve Frostleaf rubbed her ears, knelt beside George, closed her eyes, and entered meditation.
For a time, this small shelter was quiet except for Ji Ma’s muffled sounds.
The difficult day had finally passed.
After a while, Ji Ma also stopped fidgeting.
Her wounds ached faintly; she could feel the energy from the dimensional stone bullets heating up inside her. Bored, she counted her painful wounds: the stabbing pain in her ankle, the piercing pain in her abdomen, the burning prick from her forearm cuts, and the intense heat on her back…
Counting each one, there were at least ten. After the excitement of battle faded, the pain from these wounds became painfully clear, like needles piercing the heart.
Ji Ma’s forehead broke out in a light sweat.
The Saintess Jenna could merely wrap some bandages and provide preliminary care for her wounds.
Fortunately, Ji Ma had experience with injuries; she had been battered and bruised, hiding like a dog in the crevice of a rock, lying there to recover.
Gradually, her consciousness became hazy.
The pain from her injuries intertwined with the pain from her soul wounds, blurring the lines between what was real and what was a soul injury.
She began to lose track of reality and time, slipping back to the days of desperately fighting in the demon realm, then landing back to the time when she fell from a building and lay on the ground near death, and again to the moment she was killed by a sword.
Right before she completely lost consciousness, a clear thought jumped forth: if only I were a diamond, if only my life form could undergo a qualitative change, how wonderful that would be! If only I didn’t have soul injuries, that would be wonderful too.
Time passed, though she could not tell how long.
A pleasant sound of music reached her ears, seemingly composed of crisp silver bells, a girl’s voice, and the gentle sound of a violin.
Ji Ma gradually awakened as a pair of hands shook her, hastening her return to consciousness.
Ji Ma opened her eyes to see a somewhat disheveled Jenna; the blood on her chest had congealed and her silver robe was dirty. The air was thick with the smell of blood and bodily fluids, along with a foul odor.
Ji Ma pushed herself to sit up, rubbed her eyes, and discovered that the ropes on her body were untied, her mouth was not blocked, and there was a blanket underneath her.
Ah, they must feel guilty.
Recalling yesterday’s events, Ji Ma felt somewhat angry, pouting her lips.
Jenna said, “Good morning.”
Ji Ma didn’t respond; she attempted to stand up, but the movement pulled at her wounds. Once the drowsiness faded, the pain from her wounds became particularly clear, torturing her considerably. So, she looked around; the light was still dim. Firelight from the erupting lava in the abyss illuminated one side of the fortress below.
Following the stench, she spotted its source: on the stone wall behind her hung four ratmen corpses, likely unlucky ones who had inadvertently discovered this refuge.
Afterward, her gaze locked onto George’s spot, where Felix lay on his bed. Ji Ma immediately remembered the mattress of the mortally wounded soldier. Each morning, someone could not hold on, and the heavy injured would be dragged off their beds, leaving behind a blood-stained sheet waiting for the next casualty.
She hurriedly asked, “Where’s George?”
A familiar voice came from her right, “I’m here.”
Ji Ma quickly turned her head, twisting her neck and wincing a little in pain, and saw George leaning against the wall, holding a polished golden sword, with the feet of the ratman’s corpse just ten centimeters away from his head.
Ji Ma observed his condition carefully; his right thigh armor was gone, his combat pants were ragged, revealing his recently healed, pale skin, and his face was as white as paper. She realized at once that George, the one with the worst injuries, had given his bed to someone else.
At that moment, Jenna handed her a glass of cold milk.
She accepted the milk and, while drinking, asked, “Are you okay?”
“Mmm, quite well.”
“What I mean is, can you fight? Are your wounds fully healed? Do you need blood? Your face looks so pale; how much divine magic do you have left today…”
Ji Ma suddenly became chatty.
George didn’t know how to respond: “Pretty good.”
“Oh.”
Jenna said, “I must conserve my divine magic, so I can’t use the blood production magic for now.”
At this moment, Ji Ma’s gaze fell on Eve Frostleaf, not because she was particularly clean or incongruent with her surroundings, but because she was wearing Ji Ma’s “Bloody Songstress,” and the song was coming from the Bloody Songstress.
“Why is my thing in Frostleaf’s hands?”
Jenna explained, “To prevent its side effects from affecting you.”
Ji Ma became angry at once: “No, I sing from the heart!”
