Chapter 248: Chapter 242: Resting at Ease
Three years of demonic chaos.
The beautiful witches lowered their heads, their legs wrapped in stockings, kneeling on the smooth floor where a hexagram was drawn, and in the center, Jima sat on a chair.
The witches were all trained by Jima, each one a chosen one, able to skillfully wield the powers she bestowed.
When a drop of water fell and splashed on the ground, Jima opened her eyes and stood up.
The kneeling maids raised their heads one after another, looking at Jima.
“I’ve succeeded,” Jima said. “I am more powerful now.”
On the beautiful faces, smiles appeared, filled with reverence, fantasy, and infatuation.
Jima sensed it and looked at the contents within her personal system:
**Descend:** “You can dispatch a clone or your main body to descend near your ‘chosen ones’, and you can call upon your allies.”
Jima pointed to a silver-haired, blood-eyed witch and said, “Chant my name.”
The silver-haired, blood-eyed witch kicked her skirt and said, “Yes, Master, Demon King Jima…”
As her voice fell, a shadow appeared behind her, identical to Jima. Through the shadow, Jima could see the slender waist of the silver-haired, blood-eyed witch and could command it to use her abilities.
With a snap of her fingers, a rifle appeared in Jima’s hands, and she aimed the gun at the silver-haired, blood-eyed witch.
Several maids gasped in surprise.
The silver-haired, blood-eyed witch clasped her hands and bowed her head in prayer.
Jima pulled the trigger, and the shadow moved; the silver-haired, blood-eyed witch was surrounded by “extraordinary charm,” causing the bullets to veer off and hit the hillside not far away.
In the next moment, Jima vanished from her spot and appeared beside the silver-haired, blood-eyed witch, wrapping her arms around her slim waist, admiring her snowy skin, and asked, “How does it feel?”
“I… I…” The silver-haired, blood-eyed witch was so excited she could hardly speak.
“Master, Master, I want to try too.”
“Alright, I’ll try the next one.”
Jima looked at the next new ability:
**Desecration Ritual:** “You and your chosen ones or subordinates can hold a ritual together to greatly enhance one of your abilities.”
Jima looked at them, feeling the connection between her and the “chosen ones,” an invisible thread connecting them all, gently swaying. She instinctively felt that as long as the frequency of each thread swayed in unison, she could unleash astonishing power.
“Take your positions,” Jima spread her arms. “Feel me; do you feel that string?”
In just twenty minutes, these witches, who had shared intimate experiences with Jima, coordinated perfectly with her.
Jima hadn’t decided what to do with the Desecration Ritual, so she took off her armband, held it with both hands, feeling the surge of power, amplifying her divination ability.
She wanted to divine whether George was on Earth.
She closed her eyes; darkness enveloped her, but she seemed to see countless fine lines radiating from the armband, spreading out in all directions, with no clear thread to follow.
The divination yielded no results.
The armband, as a medium, had too weak a connection to George, weak to the point of being nonexistent.
But… it seemed there was something in her heart.
Jima closed her eyes again, memories of George flowing into the armband like a stream.
The armband had no connection to George; it merely carried memories of him, and it was those memories that were related to George.
Countless lines radiating from the armband converged into a single beam, turning in all directions.
Finally, a very good result was obtained.
That man did not exist on Earth, the man who had taken a blow from her axe on the back.
Jima opened her eyes, sighed, and felt relieved.
But the thought of George possibly returning in the future made her anxious. For example, if he defeated the Demon King or something, achieving peace, and then held a grudge, coming at her with a disk.
That was not the worst; the worst was that, with his abilities, he would definitely investigate first before seeking her out. What if, in the process of searching, he uncovered her past?
Just thinking about it made Jima’s heart race.
Jima considered a simple plan and said, “Alright, everyone go rest.”
“Finally done.”
A young witch complained while rubbing her knees, “Kneeling is so tiring.”
“Master, when will we gather again?”
“Let’s talk when I’m in a better mood,” Jima said. “I might descend next to you at any time in the future.”
“Really?”
“That’s wonderful.”
Two witches secretly turned their heads in disdain; Jima didn’t mind. She liked these two; it felt good to know they disliked her but still had to follow her orders.
Before heading to Huaxia for business.
Jima glanced at the remaining new abilities.
Only two divine and mythical forms.
Jima clasped her hands, sensing the chosen one located within Huaxia—a donkey from a production team. After confirming there was nothing unusual around him, she used her descent ability. As darkness enveloped her, she quickly traversed the dream and brightened again when she appeared.
She saw the donkey from the production team.
It had been two and a half years since they last met; he seemed a bit rounder, with fine hair on his lips, nearing thirty.
He was joyfully typing on his keyboard in a room spacious enough for mortals, about forty square meters, with a multi-directional treadmill inside.
Huaxia had crafted him into a friendly card for extraordinary beings; thus, his life was quite prosperous.
The production team donkey barely noticed as a mature succubus, around 1.8 meters tall, typed rapidly on his keyboard:
“When is B社’s Elder Scrolls VI coming out? Just a logo? It doesn’t look like they’ve even set up the folder yet…”
Jima felt no emotions toward this second chosen one.
She magically obtained a piece of chalk, walked to the window, drew a door, pushed it open, and flew outside.
The door closed with a click.
“Who is it?” The production team donkey turned his head, looking towards the window, which was empty, with no one there. He turned back and continued typing: “Writing, oh, I’m writing now. Anyway, I have a position; I can take my time to carve it and write what I like.”
Although he said that, the production team donkey always started writing at ten o’clock at night, no matter how free he was that day, and often missed deadlines.
After several dream travels, Jima returned to her familiar hometown, to the place where she primarily grew up, Wan Ziqi’s mother’s home.
Jima stepped on the wooden floor and walked straight into Wan Ziqi’s original bedroom; everything felt so familiar yet so strange.
Since cutting ties with Wan Ziqi, everything remaining in the mortal world seemed a hassle to Jima.
The furniture in the bedroom was just as it was before, and the desktop showed no dust, indicating that someone had been taking care of it.
They must have hired someone to do housework; after all, I send them five million every year.
Jima felt no emotional fluctuations, looked over the old items, raised her hand, and decided it would be better to burn them.
But then she thought again and felt that it was too deliberate.
The traces of mold on the ceiling caught her attention.
“Demolition? Yes, demolition.” A smile appeared on Jima’s face.
After operating for a while, in the coming months, the old house here would be demolished.
Presumably, under the excavator, this building would collapse, removing all traces of Wan Ziqi’s past.
Jima used divination to seek out Wan Ziqi’s corpse.
The divination was quick and smooth. Jima frowned slightly; the close link to Wan Ziqi’s corpse made her uncomfortable. He was only a lump of garbage, a loser.
To her surprise, three years had passed, and the corpse still hadn’t been disposed of in the cremation furnace.
She couldn’t tell who was holding on for what?
Jima smoothly arrived at the stainless steel cabinet where the corpse was stored. The inactive camera looked at her as Jima bent down and pulled out Wan Ziqi.
Wan Ziqi’s corpse said, “You’ve come?”
“Shut up.” Jima used her simulation ability, modeling Eve Frostleaf’s elemental abilities. She raised her hand, flames swirling in her palm. “You’re just a minor illusion created by soul injuries, tsk, a mere 5% of my magic power in soul injuries; I don’t need you, little caterpillar, anymore. A great fire is just the right thing for you.”
Wan Ziqi said nothing; he still wore the crooked black-framed glasses, with the firelight reflecting on his frost-covered cheeks.
The flames extinguished.
“A fire is like loudly declaring, ‘I have a guilty conscience.’”
Jima snorted coldly and pushed Wan Ziqi’s corpse back. She spread her arms, calling upon the lies she had woven, commanding them to provide the power of deception.
A wave of lying power surged forth, obeying Jima’s cunning will, setting up a lie here. She exerted all her strength in this deception, ensuring that even if George came, he would fall into the web of lies she had woven.
Jima lingered here for another day, setting various clues before returning to her America, personally enjoying herself with the newly joined maids before heading to Europe for a private gathering with a few old lovers.
One day, upon waking up.
Jima felt completely relaxed, carefree, without a sword hanging overhead. Sipping on some sweetened fresh milk, she walked to the computer.
At that moment, Jima had temporarily grown tired of women and sought other forms of entertainment.
Sitting in an ergonomically designed chair, Jima placed her smooth long legs on the table, muttering to herself, “Ah, I truly am unbeatable in the world now.”
Thinking of this life, she felt content to continue it for as long as she wanted, a sense of satisfaction blossomed within her.
Yet, there was a faint sadness; having become so strong, she had yet to encounter any worthy opponents on Earth.
While everything was going smoothly, it felt a bit dull.
“Let’s play some video games today.” Jima opened a folder and clicked on a game icon. “It’s been a year since I last played a game. The ever-evolving mortals should have made some fun games by now.”
The 360Hz monitor ensured Jima wouldn’t see any flickering visuals again.
The game was about running away from zombies, and it was somewhat interesting.
She controlled the protagonist, easily sneaking behind a sniper, rushed forward, and grabbed the opponent’s neck. The person wore a white mask, and as they struggled, it fell off, revealing a woman’s face with a large nose and thick lips, occupying most of the screen.
“What a mother gorilla?”
For Jima, who was surrounded by beauties daily, this was an impact akin to kissing a mother gorilla, and yet it was her who initiated the kiss.
After playing for a few minutes, feeling like she was the female lead, she exited the game and deleted it.
“Don’t mortals know to make the main female character slightly more visually appealing?”
Regardless, just like that, her pleasant mood for the day vanished.
Jima clicked into another game. After playing for a bit, she exited the game and stared intently at the Chinese name of the game, her mouse hovering over the two characters for “Fairy.”
If her understanding of Chinese wasn’t warped, “Fairy” should indicate a very beautiful woman, right?
Jima suddenly lost her desire to play games.
The more she thought about it, the more she felt something was amiss.
No matter how she looked at it, having the main female character become beautiful in a game would align with the interests of developers and players, even if they were pursuing realism; it wouldn’t be this way. Because there are many kinds of beauties: battlefield beauties, armor-piercing beauties, realistic beauties, bikini armor beauties…
“Could it be…” Jima’s heart jolted. “Is it that I’ve summoned too many maids over the years, leading to a drastic decrease in the number of beauties among the seven billion humans? Or is there something wrong with my aesthetic?”
