Chapter 242 Chapter 236 Stabbing
George had another dream, dreaming of a lovely girl curled up in his arms, sound asleep, holding her tail, waking up with an innocent smile, not believing for a moment that her tail was filthy, but rather curious and smiling, the plump tail tightly wrapped around his wrist…
“I like you,” she said with a smile, a few strands of black hair stuck to her cheek, lifting her head to lick his lips.
George opened his eyes just in time, waking from his military cot.
The holy sword was beside him, returned to him after a trust that the organization agreed upon after studying for several days.
He sat on the bed, unable to help but think of Jima.
She used to be… full of sin… but did she still love him? Despite her betrayal, there seemed to be some reluctance. She hadn’t continued to harm him, nor did she—
George interrupted his thoughts, closing his eyes to recall the information he had reviewed: tens of millions of people cursed, unable to speak, the entire society in fear, and the series of crimes committed by Jima.
When he opened his eyes again, his determination had strengthened significantly.
After praying and washing up, he drew the holy sword, saluted the silent guard, and walked to the expansive activity area.
Every morning before breakfast, George practiced empty swings.
But this time was different; he swung the sword as if battling the air, the fight was fierce, the holy sword hesitated and trembled, and finally, it thrust deep.
His eyes had turned red, and he wiped the corners with his hand.
“Thud.”
The sound of the guard’s salute reminded George that a guest was approaching.
Turning around, he was surprised to see the Commander himself coming over.
The elderly man walked closer, his gaze somewhat evasive, saying:
“Comrade George, regarding your request, the organization has given it careful consideration. We hope you can find a way to protect against the curse. Please do not expose it or communicate with her for a short period.”
The implication was that there was no confidence in defeating Jima.
George nodded, saying, “I understand.”
The old man looked at his red eyes and said, “Comrade George, I understand that you want to clear your name, which is commendable. However, the situation is complicated, and we need to be responsible to the people. Any misstep could cost many lives.”
“I understand,” George replied. “She essentially kidnaps the lives of many innocents as hostages.”
“Big but not falling, she is very proud,” the old man said with a wry smile. “She continues to mock online, and as long as she has enough lives in her hands, she will never be judged guilty.”
“Yes,” George said. “So we must resolve the hostage situation.”
The old man turned back:
“Then why are your eyes red, little George? Have you been crying?”
“No, this result is not unexpected for me. The organization wouldn’t gamble so many lives just because of my few words,” George said. “But I will prove it, step by step. I will make this country better, promote benevolent order, and kind laws will protect mortals.”
“The organization has also agreed to your application. Do you intend to engage in poverty alleviation?”
“I hope to investigate her origins first,” George said. “Based on the available information, is it believed that she was summoned by him, called forth by life?”
The elderly man asked, “Have you found the forged parts?”
“There are forgeries, but the original conclusion cannot be questioned,” George said. “Intense emotional fluctuations can indeed attract her; although the probability is small, I suspect this is the conspiracy of the Master of Deceit. This evil god has the ability to turn low-probability events into certainties.”
“Continue.”
“I want to investigate personally,” George said. “My god has granted me the eyes to see through all falsehoods.”
“You haven’t given up your view that they are the same person.”
The old man was referring to Wanziqi and Jima.
During the years Jima wreaked havoc on the world, mortals summarized and reached a consensus. As long as someone mentioned her name, it would attract her attention. There was controversy about whether this name included “nicknames, English names, Chinese names,” etc.
But there was a consensus that calling her Jima was the safest.
George pointed out that Wanziqi could very well be Jima, and to avoid attracting Jima’s attention, even the name Wanziqi should not be directly mentioned.
“Yes. Investigating the criminal’s past, the more we understand the criminal, the more evident the harmful effects will be.”
“Can you tell me why your eyes were red just now?”
George blinked his blue eyes, as if proving something.
“Little George, can you satisfy my curiosity?”
George said, “I don’t want to say it; it would be embarrassing.”
The old man became even more curious, leaning forward.
George sighed, saying, “I just mentally rehearsed the battle with her.”
The old man said, “To avoid hesitation, right?”
George slightly nodded.
“What about now?”
George did not answer; he simply gripped the sword with both hands, taking a half step forward, the sword thrusting sharply, piercing the air, which let out a piercing scream. Decisive, swift, without a hint of hesitation, as if it were a projectile fired from a cannon.
“I have some good news for you,” the old man said. “The organization has agreed to let you investigate her origins personally.”
…
…
In July of the Year of the Demon.
Now, everything for Jima was on the right track.
Every year, many temporary maids leave, and many temporary maids fill in, but very few can be permanently employed to serve her for long; Jima did this intentionally, as she valued novelty.
She would also occasionally seek out former maids to revisit the past. Jima did not care at all about their emotional experiences—past, present, or future were all irrelevant to her.
Meanwhile, the international community remained tense, watching Jima’s actions closely, finding that she simply indulged in female beauty, which was commonly interpreted as a smokescreen, self-degradation, and preparation for a major action.
Jima enjoyed browsing Zhihu, as the users there always managed to reinterpret her ambiguous actions into very clever strategies. This gave Jima a sense of “I’m so smart,” and sometimes she would even refer to the answers on Zhihu to plan her next move.
Now, she was gradually figuring out the conditions for becoming stronger and planned to secretly scout for the chosen ones, spreading supernatural power, calling them witches. Those “witches,” while spreading suffering, would also channel the power of suffering into Jima’s account.
“This shows that the Cross Church is feudal superstition, claiming that those who walk on water are pure of heart.”
Isle of silver sand, coconut trees, waves, bright sunshine, yachts.
Jima stood on the blue waters next to a yacht, rising and falling with the waves. Wearing a bikini, her arms outstretched, her chest bare, she said, “Do you see me as pure?”
On the yacht stood nearly six or seven maids in bikinis, their skin glowing white under the bright sunlight.
Laughter erupted from the yacht.
“Where’s Little Li?”
Two maids worked together to lift a chubby orange cat, who meowed in fear: “Meow!”
Jima shouted, “Quick, drop it!”
“Meow!!”
The chubby orange flailed its limbs in the air and landed on the sea with a splosh, the sea water freezing it and bouncing the chubby cat back up. The frightened cat clawed madly at the water, growing claws from its pads, grabbing Jima’s calf, quickly scrambling up to sit atop her head.
“Meow! Meow!”
As she called out, she rolled around on top of Jima’s head, splashing water everywhere.
The water droplets splashed onto Jima.
The maids on the yacht watched with envy, knowing that only Lianxi could be so spirited with their master.
“Alright, Little Li, you can walk on water now, relax, just relax.”
“Meow!”
The Lianxi cat trembled, stretching out its two front limbs from its fluffy chub, tightly hugging Jima’s horns.
A wave surged in.
The Lianxi cat’s voice rose again, and Jima lifted her foot, surfing like, riding the wave’s crest, propelled by the ocean’s force, leaping lightly onto the yacht.
Most maids cheered for her graceful figure, or looked on with envy.
Jima held the Lianxi cat and walked towards the edge of the yacht, telling the approaching maids, “You all have your fun, don’t disturb me. Enjoy while the sun isn’t harsh on your skin.”
The maids reluctantly dispersed.
Jima sat at the yacht’s edge, which slowly moved towards the shoreline covered in silver sand. The scenery of the area had become perfect with her arrival, as if a filter had been added. The water was clear, and the sand was silvery-white.
“Plop!”
A diving maid splashed into the water.
The sunlight streamed through the surface, illuminating her white back and arms. She wore black over-the-knee diving socks and swam beneath the water like a mermaid.
Jima admired the beautiful scene, a slight smile forming on her lips.
Then, more maids dove into the sea, presenting their youthful bodies to Jima.
Such beauty was perfect for playing on the phone.
Jima opened her hand, and the phone fell into her palm. Scrolling through the news, she casually stumbled upon a piece of news:
“The girlfriend of Gangsix the Sixth is pregnant.”
She had a vague memory but couldn’t quite recall. Jima scrolled past.
Scroll again.
“The richest dog in the world, its girlfriend is already pregnant.”
Jima clicked right in.
She saw a blue-dressed blonde woman, her big belly sticking out, squatting next to a glossy-furred German Shepherd.
What? Even dogs can get married and have children? You’ve got to be kidding.
Jima quickly skimmed through the news; the gist was that the butler fell in love with the dog, and the article praised this act of “diversity” and mingling.
However, most comments mentioned Jima, claiming she was definitely involved.
At that moment, Jima recalled that she had indeed granted that German Shepherd some intelligence or something like that.
One comment suggested that Jima was trying to trample on political correctness, particularly cursing and breaking reproductive isolation to give birth to a human-dog hybrid.
“…If we narrowly hate their offspring, we’ll fall into the trap of the Demon King Jima…”
“Demon King, don’t expect my hate.”
“Bless them.”
“Use other people’s money however they want; let them marry whoever they want.”
Truly a testament to the peaceful era, so accommodating. If this were in the Empire, making such a fuss, one could guess the baby would have been aborted long ago.
Jima clicked her tongue in wonder, not taking it to heart, her gaze focused on Gangsix the Sixth’s background introduction.
Its wealth originated from its grandfather; after the death of its grandfather’s mistress, an inheritance of over eighty million dollars was left to establish a trust fund, managed by people to provide a lavish lifestyle for its grandfather.
This money had passed to Gangsix the Sixth in its third generation, with assets now valued at over three hundred million.
Now, Jima’s assets far exceeded three hundred million, so she remained calm, feeling that this trust fund was quite impressive.
Jima thought for a moment. If even a dog could be a good capitalist, then as long as she put her assets into that trust, would she still be troubled by that little issue with marijuana?
It should be noted that to make up for the massive loss from a failed marijuana investment, Jima had to violate her principle of “never earning blood money.”
She brewed ten bottles of the “Fountain of Youth” potion; while it couldn’t extend life, it could grant five years of youth.
After giving the potions to her partner, she finally compensated for the losses.
Jima immediately reached out for divination, contacted the person in charge of that trust fund, sent a message, and the other party replied with trepidation, agreeing, with everyone reaching a preliminary cooperation.
Jima hummed a tune and casually tossed her phone far away.
————
1. Gangsix the Sixth: There really is such a dog, though the name is not the same as in the novel, and it hasn’t made anyone pregnant.
