Chapter 153 Chapter 149 The Demon Hunter Couple
Ji Ma stood with her hands on her hips, smiling as she said to everyone:
“How about that? You have nothing to say now, do you?”
George replied:
“Eve Frostleaf makes a good point. From start to finish, at least a hundred thousand people have heard your singing, yet only your most devoted maid loves your voice.”
Eve Frostleaf said, “I heard a story in your song.”
“Indeed, it’s Frostleaf.” Ji Ma’s eyes lit up. “I do mix stories into my singing. Am I not an artist who walks alone, despite others not understanding?”
“No,” Eve Frostleaf said. “I thought of the terrifying tales from my hometown. In Rosethorn, there’s the largest opera house in the entire kingdom, where a tragedy once occurred, involving an artist who locked the doors before the audience arrived, igniting the seats to accompany their screams as he danced and performed music.”
“Later, some people received free tickets at midnight. If they arrived at the opera house on time, they would hear the artist’s charred voice and the dying screams of the surrounding spirits.”
“When the charred curtain fell, new victims would join in, singing alongside the artist’s screams.”
Liansi fumed, “Clearly, it’s your taste that’s the problem! The master’s singing is as beautiful as the first sunlight falling on snow in spring.”
“Alright, alright, don’t be angry.” Ji Ma gently patted Liansi’s head. “I’m content knowing I have you as an appreciative listener. Let’s head back.”
“Yes, Master.”
Liansi nodded and vanished from Ji Ma’s hand.
Ji Ma turned to George and said, “You are right. For now, the only one who enjoys my singing is Liansi. But the quality of my singing has never been determined by others; it’s determined by me.”
“Even without Liansi’s approval, I still believe my voice is wonderful.”
George asked, “Why is that?”
Ji Ma raised her hands partially:
“When I sing, I can perfectly express the emotions in my heart. The sound resonates through my throat and skull; how pleasant it is! While singing, I also feel genuine joy from within.”
“Isn’t it enough that I can please myself through my singing?”
George said, “But others suffer.”
“The term ‘suffer’ is too exaggerated.”
“Why don’t you consider ‘enjoying your own beauty’ in solitude?”
“I don’t know why, but singing in front of others brings me more joy,” Ji Ma replied. “Perhaps when I’m happy and think about how I can’t share this joy with everyone, I feel a bit guilty.”
Jenna said, “I wasn’t wrong in my diagnosis; Ji Ma might really be half-crazy.”
George asked, “Is there hope for recovery?”
After careful thought, Jenna nodded, “It’s just very difficult.”
“Artists are always lonely,” Ji Ma said. “But I don’t think that’s a bad thing.”
“Alright.” George said, “Let’s return to the original matter.”
“Are we discussing whether I should punish Frostleaf with a whip or with my singing to make her repent?”
Eve Frostleaf said, “I’d rather you use a thorny whip.”
“No, I cannot punish on behalf of the victim.” George said. “I will write a letter explaining everything to the clan leader.”
“Oh.” Ji Ma said, somewhat disappointed.
She still wanted to use a thorny whip to whip Eve Frostleaf’s backside, the kind that required wearing stockings, thin, soft, and tight, capable of leaving a mark on the delicate fabric.
Eve Frostleaf extended her hand to Ji Ma, palm up.
“What is it?”
Eve Frostleaf said, “The music box.”
Ji Ma replied, “I guess I’ve been caught by you.”
Saying this, Ji Ma reluctantly pulled the music box from her dimensional pocket and placed it in Eve Frostleaf’s palm, mumbling:
“The Master of Deception has misjudged; He should have sought you instead.”
“The matter isn’t over yet.” George, now holding a slate, gripped a pen with his right hand. “Tell me everything that happened.”
Ji Ma and Eve Frostleaf recounted the entire process to George as if they were criminals.
Of course, both were very tactful in concealing one detail.
Ji Ma didn’t mention that she hurried Akane because she wanted to play with the beautifully dressed Eve Frostleaf.
Eve Frostleaf also did not bring up that she had dressed up carefully to send Ji Ma the wrong signals.
Thus, the blame fell entirely on the faraway Akane.
Who is it that found the trouble insufficiently large? The Shadow King Akane.
Who cut off the dwarf’s beard? The Shadow King Akane.
Who, in front of the dwarves, threw a pile of treasures into a dung pit while laughing at their angry reactions?
Still the Shadow King Akane.
But these were all facts.
George lamented:
“Do you know what the butcher Gritk said to me? He said seeing the two of you always whispering together makes him think of goblins and green-skinned orc brutes conspiring.”
Ji Ma said, “The original words were ‘albino goblins,’ right?”
“The original words were indeed those racially biased terms.”
George continued writing:
“It’s no surprise that the Shadow King Akane would commit such atrocious acts. He would gladly burn the city just to see it descend into chaos and laugh at the confused crowd.”
Ji Ma agreed, “Yes, the biggest villain is Akane. I was merely fulfilling Frostleaf’s request.”
“I was just going to say, you two are a pair of con artists.”
“What you mean to say is that we are in collusion?”
“What does ‘in collusion’ mean?”
At this moment.
Far away in the wilderness of the empire.
The defamed Akane sneezed a few times.
The sneezes blew away the warmth of the soup on the table.
Beside him, Velin, dressed in simple home clothing and her silver hair wrapped in a brown scarf, asked, “What’s wrong, dear? Did you add too many spices?”
“Of course not.”
Velin hugged him from behind, her arms crossing over his chest as she whispered in his ear, “Is it that you don’t like the homestyle dishes I make?”
Akane could feel the cold breath escaping Velin’s mouth as she spoke, brushing against his neck, colder than the winter wind, as if her fangs were resting against his throat.
But Akane dared not say anything to her, lest she discover his abnormality and realize he was not human; that would lead to a grand mess.
Imagine a real vampire lord discovering he had been deceived into being the husband of a witch hunter, even sharing a bed, cooking for him.
He feared he would end up living a particularly miserable life.
“Not that.”
“Still thinking about that succubus friend of yours? She’s so beautiful and young, and her cooking is much better than mine.”
As Velin spoke, the hands crossed over Akane’s chest tightened.
Akane’s ribcage slowly bent, making it hard for him to breathe.
But he forced himself to reply in his usual tone, “What nonsense are you talking about? Of course, the dishes made by my wife are the best. And you’re a bit tight; you are slightly obstructing my enjoyment of dinner.”
Velin worried that Akane would sense her deception. Just think, a fervent witch hunter realizing that his vampire wife had never had her memories sealed.
He would undoubtedly insist on using a stake to pierce his own chest again, wouldn’t he?
Thinking this, Velin quickly released her grip, planted a kiss on Akane’s cheek, and said, “Enjoy your meal.”
Akane let out a sigh of relief, picked up his fork, and speared a piece of potato from the boiled chunks, putting it in his mouth to chew.
To be honest, Velin’s cooking was decent, though not miraculous like that of a succubus. But it certainly was appetizing.
Velin sat next to Akane, poking a well-cooked spiced deer meat, and as she put it in her mouth said, “Well-cooked deer meat really tastes great; you should try some.”
Saying this, she speared a piece of deer meat for Akane.
When Akane bit into it, it was a bit tough, barely satisfactory, yet he displayed a highly content expression, as if he were tasting a perfect dish, saying:
“Velin, your cooking has improved again! This is much better than bloody meat.”
Velin shyly lowered her head and said, “Yes, it’s really delicious.”
As Akane ate, he tried to maintain a satisfied smile. “Hurry up and eat; the winter wind is blowing, and it cools off quickly.”
It wasn’t that the food was bad; it was just that the place Velin chose was… too eerie.
The dining table was next to a dilapidated tomb, with a caravan parked beside it, and nearby trees were withered. The east wind blew, causing the dry branches to sway, resembling ghostly hands.
Yellowed human bones dug up by grave robbers lay beside the road and under the trees. Under a tree, a relatively fresh skull watched the couple enjoying their dinner with its dark eye sockets.
Akane’s appetite was definitely lacking. He could eat dry rations next to a decaying half-solid corpse. But eating such homestyle dishes in this location was pure torture.
Home was supposed to be a safe and relaxing place, not a creepy graveyard.
But he had no choice; thanks to a certain succubus, Velin had constantly insisted on cooking him a homestyle meal. She didn’t care that they were in a tomb after all; she was essentially a dead person who had slept in a coffin for who knows how long.
“Whoosh!”
A dark negative energy arrow shot towards Akane.
Akane reacted extremely quickly, dodging as the negative energy arrow exploded the dining table into two halves.
Velin screamed, “My dining table!”
Akane felt relieved inside, thankful for the help from a friendly brother.
The helpful brother stepped out from behind a tree, wearing only the upper part of a skull mask, revealing only the mouth and chin. With pale skin, draped in a black robe and a thin frame, she looked like a young woman.
She said, “The famous Van Helsing couple, you actually have the time to dine here? Prepare to die; no one can hinder my pursuit of knowledge.”
Dozens of ghouls crawled out from the graveyard, and at the same time, dozens of skulls assembled on their own to surround the two.
Akane’s silver hand drew out a curved knife and said, “I heard you were almost burned alive for being accused of witchcraft, and now you’re alienated for using magic?”
“Don’t pity me.” The female necromancer said. “The famous witch hunter Van Helsing actually feels pity? This must be your plot, but I will take good care of your corpse, stripping you down and soaking you in preservative, using your spine to make a wand.”
Hiding behind Akane, Velin instinctively dug her nails into her flesh.
“What I mean is,” Akane said, “how come they didn’t burn you alive? Why didn’t those who bullied you stab you to death? If you had died earlier, I wouldn’t have to go through so much trouble to burn you myself.”
