Chapter 180 Chapter 175 Plan
In Jenna’s embrace and soothing whispers, George poured out the bitterness in his heart.
“I messed things up,” George said. “Not only did I not dare to reveal Jima’s secret to everyone, I didn’t even dare to admit that I failed. I let down everyone’s expectations and trust simply because of my arrogance.
“What’s worse is that I knew Jima betrayed me. I knew she had an evil nature, that physical pleasure to her was no different from enjoying a good meal. But… but… I imagined what it would be like to judge her, to have her be executed.
“But I hesitated.”
Jenna gently stroked his back and said, “There’s nothing to blame yourself for. Jima didn’t kill you, and she treated you well. Any kind-hearted person would feel as conflicted and hesitant as you do.”
“But logically… she attacked me, brought me suffering, then pulled me out of the abyss of suffering. Not to mention, she’s a demon lord now; how can I hesitate?”
“George, relax,” Jenna said. “Follow your heart’s choice; don’t torment yourself with logic. You’re too tired and need to rest well. Forgive Jima; perhaps she was just too scared, and forgive yourself too; everyone makes mistakes.”
George accepted the therapy from his fiancée.
The copper stove nearby emitted a faint fragrant smoke, gradually relaxing George’s weary nerves. He hadn’t slept in a long time and slowly closed his eyes in Jenna’s arms like a child.
The blue smoke brushed against the putty wall, passed by the fluorescent light, and finally hovered on the ceiling.
It drew the mosquitoes down, landing on the sleek computer desk.
Jima extended a finger and forcefully squashed a mosquito.
She was currently in Wan Ziqi’s home, which was a cheap rental room.
Jima raised her finger, leaving a pool of mosquito remains on the computer desk, which looked very much like the lifeless body of Wan Ziqi.
The so-called computer desk was just a cheap Taobao item costing less than a hundred yuan. It barely fit a desktop computer, with dust marks indicating that a monitor had once been placed on it.
Regarding the computer monitor, Jima recalled some memories—17 inches, 144Hz. It had brought Wan Ziqi a lot of joy, gaming, and various online videos.
It was one of Wan Ziqi’s few sources of entertainment.
But it was gone, most likely sold for some quick cash to fill a huge financial gap.
On the desk, there was only an unwashed stainless-steel bowl with a pair of chopsticks on top. The ends of the chopsticks were stained with red oil. Smelling it, the scent was the same as that emitted from the garbage bin at her left foot, which contained used instant noodle packages.
Although the computer desk was low and small, Jima’s long legs couldn’t fit comfortably, and when she fidgeted, she had to be careful not to bump into the desk.
Yet this “compact” desk took up a significant amount of space in the room.
Next to the desk was a bed and a wardrobe; together they occupied nearly eighty percent of the room.
In that eighty percent of space, Wan Ziqi’s body also had to fit in. A snake-skin bag was stuffed into a small gap between the bed and the window, just enough to fit. The window had a platform about two square meters in size for drying clothes.
Jima remembered that the platform was one of the main reasons she decided to rent this room a long, long time ago.
On her personal system panel, a large pile of text floated, titled “What to Do Next?” The paragraphs below were incoherent, just like Jima’s scattered thoughts.
The whole room was as small as a snail shell, and Jima felt very uncomfortable, not even able to stretch her back without feeling like she’d explode the room.
In this cramped space, she found it hard to think. Overall, the room was smaller than her large bed; it was practically a chicken coop.
No, it was a chicken coop. Wan Ziqi was like a livestock creature, and such creatures ought to live in the smallest spaces, producing the most meat, giving their flesh to others… and she willingly gave it. How could I have been so foolish back then?
The more Jima thought, the angrier she got. Her chest ached slightly, but it wasn’t as painful as before; nonetheless, it still interrupted her thoughts.
Jima leaned back, resting on the back of the cheap chair, which caused the two legs to lift off the ground as she supported herself.
She instinctively placed her hands behind her head, but her elbows bumped against the wardrobe on her right.
She really wanted to move into a place that barely matched her capabilities, whether through force or magic.
But until she figured out whether there were similar extraordinary beings in China or even on Earth…
Jima had no intention of acting rashly.
She complained aloud:
“They should be offering me a big house and servants, even starting a research group to study what kind of treatment this diamond should receive… servants, wait, what happened to my cat?”
It was at that moment Jima remembered Lianxi.
Oh, she had left her in the original world.
Well, that’s fine.
“I wonder what George is doing? That dragon prince, although he fell to my shamelessness, he should now have a beautiful woman consoling him. His face buried in Jenna’s bosom, still riding on Eve Frostleaf…..”
She glanced around the shabby rental house again.
In the air, besides the cheap incense smell, there was also an indescribable stench.
The smell came from Wan Ziqi. Even though Jima had stuffed ice cubes in the snake-skin bag, the stinky fluid, a mixture of blood and urine from Wan Ziqi’s corpse, still leaked out.
Tonight, she had to sleep here.
Sleep, sleep? Forget it, no sleeping anymore.
Jima stood up, feeling that her skin was slightly rough, covered in dust.
Might as well take a shower.
Jima rummaged through the dimensional space bag but found nothing. The dimensional space bag had malfunctioned, just like her previous attempts.
This time she rummaged merely with the thought of “perhaps it might work again someday.”
Having lost contact with the Dream Palace and the dimensional space bag. The thought of a mountain of treasures, fragrant spices, and hundreds of tailored clothes all saying goodbye to her made Jima even more depressed.
Right now, she only had George’s silver ring, a branch axe spear, a lucky gold ring, and a bloodstained songstress, along with a set of fire-red, gold-trimmed evening gown and triangle pants. Hmm, no bra.
“Forget it, I’ll make do.”
Jima opened the wardrobe.
There were quite a few clothes, all black short-sleeve shirts, with a few pairs of shorts jumbled in between, either gray or khaki. Square pants and socks were piled in a corner like rubbish.
Taking a deep breath of the mixed air that smelled of incense and odor, she comforted herself: “At least they are clean.”
Holding back her discomfort, she took a black short-sleeve shirt, a pair of shorts, and square pants, opened the door, and walked down the narrow corridor that was only wide enough for one person, feeling very uncomfortable as the now-grown woman.
Gradually recalling memories, Jima learned that the rental was a shared apartment remodeled from a private residence. To accommodate more tenants, walls made of particle board separated one room from another. The washing machine, kitchen, and toilet combined with the bathroom were all communal.
As she walked to the bathroom, she could clearly hear sounds from smartphones in the rooms, game sounds, video sounds, and occasionally some hushed voices.
Jima passed through the kitchen, pushed open the bathroom door, and found the smell tolerable; everyone here seemed to appreciate cleanliness.
Jima entered, closed the door, and didn’t turn on the light. She could see herself in the dark, looking like a failure and livestock—a literal interpretation, no exaggeration.
Now, she bore Wan Ziqi’s appearance, and everyone thought she was Wan Ziqi.
Jima believed that even if her invisible horns broke the glass, it would shatter, people with a negative magic resistance like those on Earth would unwaveringly view her as a failure and livestock.
She removed her clothes and hung them on the hook behind the door.
The dirty door and the golden evening gown formed a stark contrast.
Cold water washed over Jima’s skin as she picked up the soap, washing herself and lathering her hair with shampoo.
Amidst the sound of water, Jima’s anxious mood gradually settled.
She reopened her personal system panel and the text system, looking at the fragmented text and starting to think.
The most troublesome problem now was the inability to recover magic. There was not a trace of magical energy on the entire Earth.
This was the luck of the people of her homeland and Jima’s misfortune.
If she wanted to restore her magic…
Jima looked at her abilities:
“New Food: You can designate a specific emotion as your food. You have designated the emotion of pain as your food; the pain of others will nourish you and can restore your magic.”
Inflicting pain on others…
Jima immediately thought of a lot, since modern society has the internet, information spreads very quickly.
What if I started a livestream, directly using enchantment to charm everyone who sees the video, making the first person who clicks go crazy sharing and spreading it, then get them to do something painful?
It’s feasible.
But first, I need to do a test, find someone and make them suffer.
Jima followed this line of thought but eventually shook her head.
No, this kind of large-scale event would be noticed by modern governments immediately.
She pondered, what would happen if I disturbed the national machinery?
A group of armed personnel would come in war machines to hunt me down.
If I could go invisible and not be detected by instruments, I just need to flee into a big city, and the pressure would be much lower… but it’s better not to expose myself.
Who knows if there is some Chinese Dragon Team or something.
Thinking this, Jima wrote a task titled “Exploring Whether Extraordinary Powers Exist on Earth.”
For now, it’s better to keep a low profile and be magical, enduring this dirty “chicken coop.”
After formulating her current survival strategy, Jima gave up on the idea of looking for a place to stay in a big city.
She believed that there would be a well-off family wise enough to offer their home to her to live in—all she would need was a little magic.
But that might raise alarm.
Then for now, she would just be a worthless office worker in her first life.
As for what to do next?
Hatred surged in Jima’s heart; her golden eyes narrowed as she whispered the name of her ex-girlfriend.
Finding her and taking revenge was that simple.
She wrote a task, simply titled “Revenge,” marking it as a main task.
Jima had a preliminary idea: while bearing Wan Ziqi’s appearance, she would further familiarize herself with modern society while searching for clues about her ex-girlfriend, and then…
At that moment, there was a knock on the bathroom door, and an impatient male voice came from outside: “Are you done washing? You’ve been in there for so long.”
