Chapter 236 The American Dream
Jima reacted quickly and noticed the approaching missile.
From the vastness of the sky, the missile appeared slow as a mosquito, but on a personal scale, it was as fast as love.
As soon as Jima flapped her wings, the missile struck her face like a punch, exploding upon impact.
The power of the explosion was just right—not too big, not too small—so that none of the journalists below perished.
As the world’s police, America has researched many weapons that cause minimal collateral damage. They can even strike a driver in the driver’s seat with a cement warhead without harming the passenger in the front seat, in order to reduce backlash from public opinion.
At the same time, based on intelligence from Hanxia, they used image recognition technology to convert Jima’s image into a red cross to block her curse medium.
This was to prevent soldiers from being enchanted by seeing Jima in person, losing their will to fight.
But that wasn’t enough.
The American military was concerned that soldiers seeing the red cross could also fall under the curse or enchantment, so they blindfolded the soldiers.
With AI performing the targeting, soldiers just needed to hear the lock-on command and press the launch button.
Jima announced her appearance location in advance, which greatly facilitated the military. Technicians input terrain data surrounding the area to minimize the risk of missile misfires.
Smoke rose from the shattered grandstand.
“Confirm battle results.”
A drone’s camera locked onto the location where the smoke was billowing.
The observer, unarmed but resolute, knew there was no way to eliminate the human element.
“…A humanoid figure detected in the smoke!”
Jima flapped her wings to disperse the smoke and sighed softly:
“Why did America, which even welcomes corrupt officials, choose to attack me right from the start?”
Another missile came at her.
A cruel smile curled at the corners of Jima’s mouth: “Isn’t this just what I wanted—a bloody war?”
“Boom!”
The second missile detonated against her; although the specially designed warhead was far less powerful than a typical missile, several journalists from the ten-meter-high platform still fainted.
“How sad.”
Jima cleared the smoke and extended a long leg wrapped in white silk from beneath her red skirt, a thin layer of sand covering it.
“You’ve dirtied my silk.”
A third missile fired from the drone, and as she looked at the approaching missile, a smile appeared on Jima’s face: “America needs to be well trained—”
“Boom!”
The explosion cut off her words.
At the military base, a drone operator went mad, trying to seize a firearm. Wearing a blindfold, tears welled in his eyes, feeling remorse for harming such a beautiful being, swearing to kill his comrades to earn forgiveness.
After the fourth missile exploded.
The American Air Force ceased its attack as they lacked the capacity to launch further strikes in a short time, and nearly half of the operators managing the war machines had revolted.
Another backup air unit took over the assault, but after launching just one missile, the drone turned and flew back toward the airbase, intending to crash as “atonement.”
Fortunately, the air force had foresight in using drones.
Six minutes later, thirty-two Americans died simultaneously; aside from the obedient soldiers, everyone involved in the operation collapsed.
The next day.
To Jima’s great disappointment, the video of her taking the missile did not air on television or the internet.
She had specially made the date and location public for this group of journalists.
Meanwhile, all her accounts on foreign websites were unanimously banned.
Jima had no choice but to draw on her vigor from Hanxia to fight America.
The war was extremely intense. The onlookers in the English-speaking world suffered great misfortune, with more and more people’s thumbs or pinkies colliding with table edges.
Simultaneously, a so-called miracle cure for curses saw its stock price plummet in repeated drops following the blind trial results.
Idle citizens began to collect headlines from American newspapers, documenting the entire war process.
The first report stated, “Monster from Hanxia lands at the airport.”
Three days later.
The second report read, “The unspeakable man-eating demon claims responsibility for the deaths of sixty-seven high-ranking officials.”
Another three days later.
The third report was, “The despicable enemy of humanity appears in the metropolis.”
One week later.
The fourth report announced, “Jima makes a public appearance.”
Another week later.
The fifth report declared, “Lord Demon Jima appears in Washington to demand negotiations.”
Three days later.
The sixth report stated, “His Majesty the Demon King arrives at the White House today.”
One day later.
The seventh report proclaimed, “Demon King Jima publicly praises America as the freest and most inclusive nation.”
The war lasted a full twenty-four days.
Regarding the outcome of the war, a Hanxia newspaper praised: “Coexisting with demons is a form of advanced humanitarianism.”
Although by this point, the Hanxia internet was caught up in wave after wave of jubilation—after all, their little fingers had escaped the pain of colliding with table edges.
But Hanxia was not lacking in rational, objective, and neutral netizens, who commented: “I don’t understand, these dogs, seeing their owner bringing furniture in from outside, bark with excitement, how strange, what does this have to do with them?”
In the end, they did not forget to emphasize their patriotic nature.
“The opposite of love is not hate, but indifference; only criticism can lead to progress. If criticism is not allowed, then praise is meaningless.”
Then, they closed the comment section.
A week later.
At the instigation of some determined individuals.
A video of Demon King Jima’s negotiation leaked. In the video.
The negotiation expert was a stunning blonde with a voluptuous figure, her hair impeccably neat and orderly, appearing quite serious.
“Hello.”
Jima had put in a lot of effort to recall Wanziqi’s memories, brushing up on her English; unfortunately, Wanziqi’s English was only suitable for reading. She mainly used English on foreign websites to ask questions and better copy and paste code.
Thus, Jima could only barely understand English.
Fortunately, America thoughtfully dispatched a mixed-race interpreter, whose thick lips spoke standard Mandarin:
“Hello.”
Jima glanced at him, raised her hand, and asked, “Do you want a Coke?”
The interpreter quickly waved his hand.
Jima nodded, fiddling with a dart, throwing it at a spinning target ten meters away.
“The federal government agrees to your request for a ceasefire, but you must cease any harm to the free world, remove the curse, and compensate the victims’ families.”
“Oh.”
Jima waved her hand dismissively, not looking, as the dart accurately struck the spinning target. While it missed the bull’s-eye, paper was affixed to the target, making a rustling sound.
“You can realize the American dream,” the female negotiation expert said. “What are your thoughts?”
“I don’t have money for compensation.”
Jima said, throwing another dart, which lodged itself in the rustling target.
“The federal government will introduce some investors.”
Jima flung another dart, which with a loud thud, landed on the target.
“Oh.” Jima said, “I will not lift the curse on America. Those who insulted me, those who sought my death, must be punished; I am not adept at forgiveness.”
At this moment, the blonde negotiation expert heard a voice in her earpiece, her expression changed as she asked: “Demon King Jima, since you are negotiating, why are you still cursing our side?”
Upon hearing the interpreter’s words, Jima replied: “I can’t be bothered to answer; you can figure it out.”
With that, she tossed another dart, which struck the target.
However, it seemed that dart hit Jima’s tail, causing her to jump up and yell to Lianxi, who was dressed in a maid costume with cat ears, nearby:
“Xiao Li! Stop the target, I missed!”
“At your command, master.” Lianxi awkwardly pressed the switch, first pressing the wrong one, causing the room lights to go out. Only on the second try did she press the right one, stopping the target.
“Remove the darts stuck on your red paper,” Jima commanded. “Who put Bill Gates’ name on the paper? Given the unauthorized operating system, I’ll spare him this time.”
Lianxi hurriedly ran over to remove the dart.
At that moment, the two negotiation participants finally saw the target covered in paper with the names of various political figures and billionaires.
The female negotiation expert glanced and realized that several names struck by the darts matched the ones being called out in her earpiece—they had all suddenly collapsed.
“You are waging war! Trampling on human rights.”
Lianxi, having reopened the switch, caused the target to spin again.
Jima threw another dart back, retorting: “I’ve always been trampling ants; you only just realized?”
The female negotiation expert gasped, feeling immense pressure. The earpiece continuously urged her: “What conditions do you want?”
“What conditions?” Jima threw another dart, causing yet another wealthy mogul to collapse. “On my first day in America, you should have come in a private jet to visit me, presenting money, but you did not.
“Now that you’ve been taught a lesson, you still think of yourselves as the rulers of the world, coming to negotiate with me without even proposing what I want. Let alone a private jet filled with capitalists.
“What on earth did I do wrong to earn such a lack of respect from you? Have you lived so long at the top of the pyramid that you’ve forgotten your own mortal status?”
After saying this, Jima’s fair hand threw another dart, which sank deep into the target.
The female negotiation expert, sweating profusely, said: “As long as you stop throwing darts, we will ensure your rights.”
Jima pulled out her phone, logged onto the social network—still banned—and shook it at the female negotiation expert, saying: “Not a shred of sincerity.”
With that, she hurled a dart with such force that some poor soul would be left to communicate with others through stone gestures and sign language for the rest of their life.
“Please stop.”
The female negotiation expert stood up, swaying slightly: “Everything, everything within our power, we can meet your demands.”
Jima, still holding the dart, listened closely and said: “I like everything. Xiao Li, stop the dartboard and remove the target.”
“Yes.”
Jima removed the darts from the target and casually tore down the paper with holes, saying:
“Every name with a hole needs to provide me with a satisfactory dividend. I don’t want money; money is merely a number. I want assets. If I am satisfied, I will consider giving them a potion to become younger, but it will not extend their lifespan.”
“I will relay your words.”
“Then that’s it for now.”
Jima checked the time on her phone; it was less than six weeks.
She sighed internally, realizing that a good environment fosters success. She really wanted to slap her past self; why did she have to struggle in Hanxia?
If I can’t beat Hanxia, can I not beat you?
Jima raised her head and said to the departing female negotiation expert: “If I’m still not satisfied next time, I’ll use an automatic rifle to spray fire at a wall, holding the trigger down.”
After hearing the translated words, the female negotiation expert stumbled, almost falling to the ground.
