Chapter 4 – Goals
The final fate woven for Jima is: death, mountains of corpses, seas of blood… Heroes and villains alike fall victim to the great conspiracy of the master of transformation, bleeding and dying.
No one could escape the arrangement of fate.
“Everything is within the plan.”
The weaver of destiny, Carlos, nodded with satisfaction with his two bird heads.
“Great master.”
A plump pink demon stood on a floating blue fire disk and said, “Supreme master of transformation, to further destroy and strike at the Empire of Zhendan, our plan—”
“The plan has succeeded,” said the bird head that can see the future happily. “The Empire of Ling is in chaos, border troops are burning the capital, Zhendan is fracturing internally, all according to our master’s plan.”
“The great master has once again accurately predicted the past.”
The weaver of destiny, Carlos, was filled with pride.
It was hard for him not to be happy.
Although in the mortal realm, the eternal god-chosen had cut off his two bird heads as a sacrifice and summoned the legendary blood god demon, which somewhat embarrassed him and made the master of transformation uncomfortable.
But all of this is also a part of the great conspiracy of the master of transformation; it must be so.
Otherwise, why would the master of transformation so quickly resurrect him and entrust him with the burden of destroying this ancient empire?
A demon meeting joy brings delight.
The weaver of destiny, Carlos, walked to the stairs, where a long, winding staircase connected various platforms, with floating disks coming and going.
His left head saw the past of the staircase, when it was straight and perfectly normal; within the master of transformation’s illusory fortress, everything was constantly changing.
However, his right head saw himself lying in bed receiving treatment for burns from blue fire.
The weaver of destiny, Carlos, was puzzled, and at that moment he stepped into empty air, hurriedly flapping his wings, colliding with the pink demon behind him, losing balance and rolling down the stairs with a scream.
As he reached the last step, the weaver of destiny, Carlos, stubbornly exclaimed, “This is part of the great plan.”
Having said that, both bird heads crashed hard against the solid stone floor, howling for quite a while.
And thus, the renowned legendary demon of transformation, able to see the future and past, and proficient in nearly all forms of magic, got injured from a fall down the stairs and was forced to lie in bed for treatment, delaying his assignment in Zhendan by one day.
In the mortal world.
Jima held an AR rifle, a wisp of smoke wafting from the muzzle.
Her gaze pierced through the holographic sight above, focusing on a broken branch in the distance.
She moved her face away from the rest pad, coldly saying, “Hmph, still want to peep at this king?”
Unfortunately, the blood-red AR made a racket, breaking Jima’s masterful demeanor.
The gun’s barrel extended a slender, sharp-tongued fang, stretching toward the distant corpse of a crow, raging, complaining, condemning:
“Ahhhh! Coward, coward! Only daring to shoot arrows like a timid fool from afar, engaging in melee! Blood! Flesh! I want to drink fresh blood—”
“Shut up!” Jima forcefully clapped her blood-red AR rifle, “Keep it up, and you’ll be digging graves for the rest of your life.”
“Blood! Blood! I want a new master! Ahhhh!”
Jima was irritated by the noise, turning to George, saying, “Can I borrow your holy sword for a lesson in weapon usage?”
“Your branch axe gun can still turn into a rifle?” George unslung the holy sword, which gleamed like it was forged from light.
“I studied the principles of rifles for a full year and a half.” Jima boasted, “I even painstakingly learned the principles of holographic sights, which are much harder than red dots.”
She said, striking the blood-colored AR rifle against the holy sword, the gun squeaked a few times before settling down.
“So your weapon transformation prerequisite is knowing how the weapon works?”
“Right.”
“Why not study anti-gravity cannons or rocket launchers or something?” George asked. “Even grenade launchers?”
“Too difficult, I can’t learn it,” Jima replied. “The principles are hard, and the implementation is hard. Moreover, if I spend so much time figuring that out, when will I have time to enjoy life? Isn’t coming back to this earth for nothing?”
“True.” George removed a row of machine gun rounds from his waist, “Looks like I need to destroy a batch of arms.”
On the way, George tried out the little “local specialties” he brought from Earth. The rocket launcher and rifle were ineffective. The grenades were not bad; George used one to kill three demonized hunting dogs, after which the explosion singed the hair of the fourth dog—counted personally by Jima.
“The structure is still quite meaningful,” Jima stated. “It can prevent us from taking many detours.”
“But we don’t have any extra-dimensional space bags now, and your dream palace is damaged, so we shouldn’t carry too much,” George said. “I also don’t want the blood god to notice them in case He crafts advanced firearms.”
“Hot knowledge: the blood god’s army has almost no ranged means, disdainful of both ranged attacks and magic.” Jima said. “At most they’ll throw freshly severed skulls or use demons as ammunition to throw into the enemy ranks.”
“I’m not quite clear on the latter.”
“Because it doesn’t count as a ranged attack,” Jima explained. “It’s just throwing bloodthirsty demons into the enemy’s lines to slaughter them.”
George couldn’t help but ask, “So you… have also been thrown before?”
“Of course.” Jima raised her head, lost in memories. “It was a siege battle; many people died on the walls—so interesting. They threw me like a goblin, crashing into the wall, and I created a breach… Hey, do you want to hear more of my past stories?”
George replied blandly, “As you wish.”
Is he disgusted by my past as a bald-headed strongman? Just can’t say it out loud?
Jima worried that George was just suppressing his disgust and putting on a nonchalant facade.
Jima observed George’s expression, hoping to glean his true reaction from his micro-expressions.
But she failed.
Thus, Jima thought that a man’s face could lie, but his reactions could not.
Plus, she felt her clothes were dirty even though they were only stained with a thin layer of dust, and she hadn’t sweated at all.
So…
Half an hour later.
The campfire roared, roasting demonized hunting dog ribs above, while Jima occasionally rotated the meat with one hand, covering her chest with the other.
The firelight illuminated her profile and side with shadows obscuring her lower abdomen and mysterious areas.
Her black hair was damp, blending with the shadows to hide parts of her body.
Lianxi was behind her, fiercely striking Jima’s only set of clothes with a laundry stick. Originally, George was supposed to wash them, but Lianxi insisted against it.
“Jima…” George’s gaze was always directed elsewhere, “I think you could make do with some leaves.”
“What are you afraid of? There isn’t a living person within ten miles, only mindless monsters. Can I make you wear a green hat?”
“But this way is too…”
“Too what?” Jima inhaled the scent of peach blossoms in the air appreciatively, “Anyway, you reacted, aren’t you happy?”
At this, Lianxi’s cat ears perked up, turning her head with cat-like eyes shooting daggers at George.
George felt wronged, saying, “But one should wear appropriate clothes for occasions. We still need to formally discuss our next path.”
“It’s not like we’re going on stage to give a speech, does it matter what I wear? I’m not like you, a wooden head who insists on ceremony for everything,” Jima said. “Besides, you’ve already done it three times with me, and I gave you a child, rounding it off, we can be considered old married couples. You aren’t a minor anymore, rounded off, you’re thirty years old. Rounding off again, you might be considered middle-aged…”
The rounding off was a bit excessive.
Jima continued, “Xiao Li, call him Uncle George.”
“George! Da! Shu!”
Lianxi and Jima had spent fifteen years together on Earth, and she was no longer the young girl she once was; she had strong arms and with each shout of ‘Uncle George’, she struck the clothes hard, splattering juices everywhere.
George felt a chill in his head, as if his skull was shattered and brain matter splattered.
Jima extended a hand, tearing a chunk of meat from the fire with her bare hands, chewing as she said, “It’s roasted, no seasonings, just eat it.”
George turned his head and reached for the roasted dog ribs.
“What are you afraid of?” Jima said. “After all, you have a 360-degree view.”
“I can choose not to activate it.”
“Then as a married seductive demon, I’m truly saddened,” Jima said. “There’s no attraction to the target at all; when we used to enjoy hours together, you weren’t this restrained.”
George tore off more than half of the dog ribs, taking a bony piece she had ripped off and chewing it.
It was quite nice; the outside was charred yellow and slightly blackened, sizzling with oil on the surface while remaining tender inside—Jima had boiled it beforehand for an hour, and all that could be said was that she controlled the cooking time very well.
“The situation is different,” George said. “This is outside; it’s social—we should bring some civilization and etiquette to society.”
“I see, you mean you want to develop Xiao Li into… one of your own? Like a bed servant?”
“Hiss!” Lianxi bared her teeth at George.
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Xiao Li has been with me for so many years; she’s my loyal maid, and our relationship is very close,” Jima stated. “Forget it, I can’t be bothered to persuade you; does it matter? Are you full?”
George asked, “Xiao Li, do you want some?”
Lianxi, full of vigilance, replied, “I’m not hungry.”
“I’m most concerned about Shuangye.”
“Shuangye?” Jima had already forgotten what Shuangye looked like, only remembering a pair of long, silver legs, and the day they embraced each other and rolled down the snow slope together.
To avoid exposing her own thin exterior, Jima asked, “What happened to her?”
“She’s missing,” George replied gravely. “On the day the eternal god-chosen made the volcano erupt and the ice wall shattered, Shuangye mysteriously disappeared.”
“My condolences.”
“Did you plant dream seeds for everyone before? Can you still use them now?”
“The dream seeds exist; they would consume my magic power, and I’ve left this world; it could be half a year, a year, or even two to three years.”
“They’ve withered.”
“Yes.”
“What about divination?”
“Let’s give it a try, but you’d best not have high hopes,” Jima said. “I don’t have strong media; she’s not from Earth, and I don’t have any anti-divination means.”
“Then we can only…” George appeared troubled. “We can only look for other methods.”
“There’s another way; perhaps I can make the dream seeds planted in Shuangye’s dreams take root and sprout, but it requires a price.”
“What price?”
“Either a seductive demon or something with powers similar to mine,” Jima replied. “Right now, everywhere here is corrupted; we should be able to find something in areas controlled by lustful demons—the stronger the sacrifice, the better.”
“Great, is there a downside?”
“Of course,” Jima said. “Be prepared for psychological implications.”
“Huh?”
“Defeat and **.”
“Jima!”
