Chapter 246: Where is My Arm Ring?
“青春泉计划。”
“We finally got a bottle of the youth potion made by the Demon King Jima. We’re very curious about this mysterious magical potion; my boss worked hard to obtain it. The moment I saw the potion, I believed the Nobel Prize was calling out to me.”
“We used all the equipment in the research institute to try to analyze its composition. It was both successful and unsuccessful. Based on the components, we speculate that it may be brewed from various spices like nutmeg and bay leaves. There are also some substances we cannot observe or perceive.”
“The experiment has been going on for three months without any progress.”
“Jamie suggested we use X-rays. I suspected he might be out of his mind. He said we might as well invite his grandma, who is a famous fortune teller. We all agreed he was going crazy.”
“A month later, we gave up on analyzing the potion’s composition. About a quarter of it had already been used.”
“We tested the effective ingredients by taking out a drop of the potion, which we gave to Group A’s white mice, then took another drop of the potion and mixed it with distilled water to feed Group B…”
In the mouse cage, the sterile mice were squeaking chaotically. After drinking the potion, one mouse from Group A suddenly had swollen muscles, fur falling off, and it killed all the other white mice in the cage.
The mice from Group B were much gentler; they lay on their backs, lifeless.
“We simply could not find any patterns…”
Countless mice died in different ways.
“Whether we used the raw solution or diluted it, the mice either died or went mad. Each time, the results were different. We diluted the potion to one in ten thousand, but still found no patterns; the way the mice died had no relation to whether the potion was diluted.”
“We suspected the potion had deteriorated. Fortunately, the boss managed to get another vial of the youth potion… and the results were the same as last time.”
“With our current knowledge and equipment, we haven’t been able to uncover the mysterious power contained within the potion, nor can we find any laws or nature related to this power. We hope our colleagues in Huaxia can make some discoveries to inspire us.”
The bald scientist, with an expressionless face, endlessly recounted his observations. In his dreams, memories of those dead white mice flashed back repeatedly.
Facing this mysterious unknown power, which current science cannot explain, these scientists did not break down and commit suicide.
“You’re nothing like the stereotype of scientists in novels,” Jima said, sitting in front of the bald scientist. “Do you really want to grasp the secret to eternal youth?”
The bald scientist nodded vacantly and said, “Of course.”
He didn’t elaborate on why; it was an affirmative statement so definitive that it required no justification.
“It’s pretty much what I imagined,” Jima opened her personal system record, muttering to herself. “Literary works belittle eternal youth one after another, even portraying immortality as a curse. Ha, just like those absurd literary works that talk about how the poor are happier than the rich.”
After recording,
Jima stretched. Her brain hadn’t rested for three days, having gone through layers of exploration and divination.
She now understood what had happened: the situation was complex with no real conspiracy. Each party was pushing for their agenda, driven by emotions and rational considerations.
For instance, those powerful individuals who control vast media resources, on the surface, appeared to be standing by. In reality, they hinted and allowed the people below to take the cue and respond when they blew the dog whistle.
If there were to be a conviction, even the best judge in the world would shake their head.
Fortunately, Jima was not about reasoning or law; someone had to be held responsible for the dead maid, right? So, Jima cursed a few influential individuals without reason, wishing them to be confined to their beds, perhaps out of jealousy for those in power from her previous life.
The more Jima cursed, the more completely they were paralyzed, reduced to mere breathing lumps of flesh.
Then, when the higher-ups were anxious,
Jima notified them to sleep and attend the meeting on time.
In the “Dream Palace,”
the spacious hall could accommodate an army parade; the walls were nowhere to be seen, surrounded by clouds. Inside the hall, a long C-shaped table was set, with tiers of steps leading to a reclining chair at the top, allowing a view of the entire hall. She lay in the chair with a frown, surrounded by mist to prevent her extraordinary beauty from affecting the meeting.
Watching from the seats, one influential figure after another appeared: tycoons, politicians, political families, CEOs… each with a prominent identity, exceedingly diverse; some boisterous and claiming they will migrate to Mars, others silent and stoic.
Someone opened their mouth, wanting to say something, but no sound came out.
Jima spoke, her voice reverberating:
“I’ve silenced your voices because I don’t want to have to use my tired brain to comprehend the trash you say. If you’re unhappy, I welcome you to defend your freedom of speech with nails and teeth, as long as you can beat me. Don’t hold back; I have always welcomed your challenges.”
“By the way, I really like decapitation tactics; you should have understood it from my past performances.”
“I’m here just to tell you, those first few individuals are specifically chosen by me for your viewing. If you think you can hint to your subordinates to pour oil on the fire without getting into trouble, that’s naïve.”
“Your subordinates will be fine; if anything goes wrong, I will come looking for you.”
Jima tried to rotate her tired brain and continued saying:
“I know you feel resentful; I would rather share extraordinary power with the maids than give you a single piece. But if resentment were useful, I wouldn’t be lying here in peace.”
“Alright, those who want to leave can go; those who want to leave can tap their heads and depart. I won’t stop you, nor will I mind; you can make noise now.”
Jima clapped her hands.
The ability to speak was restored.
A biracial tycoon immediately asked, “Are you speaking Chinese? Why can we understand Chinese?”
“Because this is my territory,” Jima slapped her forehead. “Oh my, I wasted my precious energy answering such a silly question…”
When Jima spoke, anyone who wanted to interrupt couldn’t make any sound.
Jima held up three fingers and said:
“Three questions. You should discuss amongst yourselves to come up with three questions for me. I will answer truthfully. Those who want to leave, just tap the back of your head and you can go. By the way, I’m only giving you fifteen minutes to discuss.”
After saying this, Jima dropped her heavy eyelids and stroked a large lump of Lianxi cat on her abdomen.
Fifteen minutes later.
Jima removed the soundproof barrier.
As expected, below was a cacophony of discussions, with no consensus reached. It’s tough to select a leader when the wolves gather.
“Representatives, raise your hands.”
At least dozens of hands shot up.
Now, the attitude of Demon King Jima would significantly influence the world, altering its direction. Therefore, gaining the right to ask questions essentially allowed one to predict the future trajectory.
But Jima hadn’t considered this beforehand. Seeing so many hands raised, she found herself at a loss.
Someone dissatisfied shouted at a tall person who raised their hand, “Hey, no one invited you to be a representative.”
“I represent myself!”
Jima quickly amended, “At least you need to represent twenty people.”
Still, many hands were raised, and the commotion below grew.
Some were red-faced, yelling at another elderly white person, while others pointed and shouted back.
“How annoying.” Amidst the clamor, Jima complained, “If it were the demon race, it would have been cut down already; only the winners get to speak. Humans really are too peaceful.”
Jima added, “If you don’t represent, those next to you can pull you down. I’ll give you five minutes. Anyone still raising their hands after five minutes, I’ll consider as representatives.”
This stirred things up; from verbal disputes turned to physical conflicts, Jima watched as over a hundred people below splintered into several factions, attacking each other.
“Still… boring.” Jima muttered to herself, “Only seven or eight people are actually fighting.”
Some, infuriated, rushed towards the stairs, yelling and repeating their viewpoints in hopes of changing Jima’s mind through repetition.
Jima waved her hand, and he was ejected from the Dream Palace.
Five minutes later.
“You, you, and you.” Jima pointed, choosing those whose arms had turned red. “Everyone else, shut up.”
The hall finally quieted down.
“The first question, you go.”
One powerful woman walked up, elegant and refined, dressed in white high heels, with golden hair and many wrinkles on her face: “Do you have ambitions to rule or conquer the world?”
“No,” Jima finally answered the most concerning question for the international community. “What would I want to rule you for? I’m not stupid. If I ruled, I’d have to manage your eating and drinking. My current life is just fine. Why would I be foolish enough to become some garbage dictator? There’s no benefit! Mortals handle mortals just fine; I don’t know how to manage you. Next.”
The powerful woman left with disappointment on her face.
“Which faction do you stand with? When will you unleash your power?”
Jima replied:
“Faction? I stand alone. I’m not interested in your ideologies or politics. Do whatever you like; even if one day you distribute all your assets equally, I wouldn’t care. Whoever obstructs me from enjoying my life is the bad guy, and I detest bad people.”
Many breathed a sigh of relief; a large-nosed elder smiled at his companion and whispered, “Is that all?”
“If she’d said this long ago, we wouldn’t have had to come to this point.”
“Alright,” Jima said, “three questions have been asked. Look up at the ceiling; if your names are up there, you can stay or leave.”
Many guessed something or caught a whiff of something. An elderly man with white hair, not seeing his name, said, “Lady, I wish to stay—”
Jima clapped her hands, and over eighty people instantly disappeared, leaving about ten people behind.
Twenty or so bottles of the green youth potion appeared on the table.
“I know you hold substantial media resources,” Jima said. “Either drink the youth potion and serve me by tidying up the mess, or leave. Of course, after drinking the potion, you can also choose to become my chosen ones.”
In no time, Jima had thirteen chosen ones. After a few hours of discussion and clarifying “Party A’s” requirements,
They assured that public opinion would reverse in just ten days. At least from now on, no one would attack the maids again.
Jima made a small concession; following their suggestions, she agreed to hold an auction at the end of every year for ten bottles of the youth potion, allowing everyone to get together to discuss matters.
When everything was settled, the chosen ones left, glowing with excitement.
After they left, Jima revealed a deep weariness on her face. She rested her head on her hand and said:
“My goodness, I finally know what this feeling is. It’s like working overtime until half-past eleven, coming out from the company, and the earnings of the entire day don’t even cover my taxi fare home…”
“Meow… meow…” Lianxi cat stretched its fluffy tail and rubbed against Jima’s cheek.
“There’s no need to comfort me, Little Li.” Jima yawned. “It’s different now; back then I wondered why some people could be parasites. Why not me? Now I’ve finally realized my wish.”
Jima spread her wings, leaving the Dream Palace and returning to the real “Beautiful Palace.”
The maids, under the suggestion of the silver-haired witch Yuxia, had already rehearsed inside the “Beautiful Palace,” waiting for Jima’s return.
Many maids dressed in white dresses and long white stockings lined up like fairies. Others were in heavy palace gowns, as if cosplaying a grand court event. Surrounded by maids, the silver-haired witch Yuxia wore a silver crown, her ears pointed like those of a fairy princess.
“What are you doing?”
“Welcoming our master back in victory.” The silver-haired witch Yuxia embraced Jima and said, “You’ll surely enjoy playing house, right? We’ve already rehearsed and prepared the script. If you want it to be more realistic, you can trick me as before, making me believe I’m really a fairy princess, unable to escape your slave mark…”
“I really like this script.” Jima perked up, instantly forgetting about sleeping early. “Come! Let’s start playing.”
All the nearly one hundred maids in the Beautiful Palace frantically catered to Jima’s wishes.
The lies took root in the hearts of the maids, genuinely believing they were maids, queens, and princesses.
The silver-haired witch Yuxia portrayed the pure and noble queen in the fairy court, but under the influence of the slave mark, she had to comply with Jima’s orders every night, dressing in indecent outfits and secretly visiting various secluded locations.
The process was very real and exciting.
Secretly infiltrating the heavily guarded palace, finding the queen unable to shake off her slave mark at designated spots.
Under the moonlight, in the deep palace, beneath the lively banquet table… sometimes only a skirt away from revealing the secret.
One house-playing game after another greatly satisfied Jima’s sexual fantasies, and coupled with the good news from outside, she grew bolder and threw Lianxi’s advice to the back of her mind.
After three full days of play,
Jima, having not slept for nearly seven days, finally stopped her indulgence.
Uncertain how long she had rested, Jima opened her eyes, lying alone on the large bed in her bedroom. For a moment, she couldn’t distinguish between reality and illusion as she pondered how to next use the fairy queen to toy with the second fairy princess.
She sat up, shook her head, and regained a bit of rationality.
Her mind felt refreshed as the noon sunlight streamed in through the floor-to-ceiling window.
No one came to serve her because the maids were also quite tired. Although they took turns on duty, constantly shifting from lies back to reality and falling back into lies took a significant psychological toll.
This did not affect Jima’s good mood; she cheerfully hummed a song and instinctively reached for her left arm, finding it empty; the arm ring was gone. That was the arm ring George had given her, capable of concealing her angelic wings and tail.
Now it was of no use to her; she had no need to hide herself.
But Jima’s heart felt empty, and in a moment of panic, she shook her head, searching for any sign of the arm ring.
She found nothing.
When she thought that the arm ring might have been lost in the revelry, perhaps damaged and permanently gone from her,
Her heart raced, momentarily forgetting that she could divine, and she lost composure for the first time since arriving on Earth. She quickly jumped out of bed and shouted, “Where is my arm ring?”
