Upon returning to his room, Chu Yan shut the door behind him and let out a long sigh of relief.
He had astonishingly achieved full marks for the municipal sanitation task!
Eager to share this delightful news, he called out to Shanoah:
"Shanoah, how did you know I scored full marks on my midterm assessment... Did you meet your demise in an assassination attempt?"
On the bed, Shanoah lay sprawled across the covers as if gasping for air, her ample bosom creating a delightful distortion, spilling out from both sides beneath her arms. Though she rested casually, there was an undeniable allure in the contours of her waist and hips, captivating in their breathtaking curve.
From her elegant back flowing into the gentle slope of her waist, her figure culminated in a voluptuous rise at her hips, reminiscent of majestic mountain peaks, splendid and captivating—much like a ripe peach in the balmy days of June, exuding an alluring, fiery charm.
At that moment, Shanoah wore a pure white spaghetti-strap nightgown, slowly turning her fair face towards him as she remarked:
"I'm exhausted from tidying up the room, and here you are, making light of it."
The very room now occupied by the Executioner had been hastily prepared by Shanoah; after ventilating and cleaning it, she had taken a bath and flopped down to rest.
Despite her adeptness in household matters, she found that cleaning was far more tiring than combat.
Chu Yan leaned closer, genuinely apologetic:
"I didn't intend to make light of your efforts; I merely thought it amusing to see you so worn out. Is your rear sore? I could offer you a massage."
A vexed frown creased Shanoah's fair forehead as she raised an eyebrow:
"What if it's just my waist and legs that hurt?"
After thoroughly cleaning every corner of the room, she had inevitably been bending and standing, but she lacked the wind-based magic to assist with cleaning and had to rely solely on her physical strength to tackle those challenging nooks and crannies.
Chu Yan's expression shifted from earnest to indifferent, his sincerity evaporating as he matter-of-factly replied:
"Then I suppose you should just lie there and rest."
"...Must you be so forthright?"
Shanoah sat up, pretending to change her clothes.
"Weren't you just exhausted? Where do you think you're going?" Chu Yan inquired.
"I'm going to the Executioner's room to report you, to accuse you of colluding with the outcasts as your roommate, and see how many points she deducts from you."
That would be a classic case of injuring a thousand enemies while harming oneself! Was it truly necessary to be so spiteful without benefit to herself?
"It was merely a jest; must you take it so seriously?"
Chu Yan's demeanor shifted rapidly, akin to flipping a page in a book, as he sincerely pushed the knightess back onto the bed and proactively began to massage her waist and legs.
"Your true nature is revealed," she scoffed, shaking her head in disdain.
After a brief while of massaging, Chu Yan grew lazy and lay down beside her, causing Shanoah to nudge him with her shapely, firm thigh.
"You haven't massaged my thighs yet; don't be lazy."
"I'm tired; I'll do it later."
"If you intend to avoid your duty, I shall deduct three days from your score."
"...That's excessive."
On the bed, Shanoah and Chu Yan lay like two salted fish, sprawled in disarray.
While their bodies rested, Chu Yan's mind was still preoccupied with thoughts of his trials.
"Shanoah, is there a way to alter the situation of the upper and lower districts of Jiggle City?"
The slums could serve as the first line of defense by the sea, yet they should not exist as residential areas; that was akin to cohabiting with a tiger.
It was far too perilous!
In such circumstances, it was miraculous that the children of the slums could grow up at all; they were truly favored by the goddess of fortune.
Shanoah rolled onto her back, her generous bosom swaying softly as she replied earnestly:
"It's very difficult; as the environment deteriorates, those in power grow increasingly dominant, and the people in the slums remain in a state of dependency.
Even if they were to move into the affluent district, their status would not change in the slightest; it is not merely a matter of noble oppression."
To speak more candidly, the Dead Sea borders were inherently unsuitable for ordinary people to thrive.
Here, if one did not awaken formidable power, their status would inevitably descend to the lowest tier.
It was unrealistic to believe that mere passion could elevate the status of the slums.
Chu Yan understood this notion as well, sighing:
"It's a pity that integrating these individuals into the outside world is equally challenging."
In external territories, the mere mention of someone hailing from the Dead Sea borders would invoke immediate suspicion.
After all, it was a land rife with sin and taboos; how virtuous could someone born there possibly be?
Rather than wait for incidents of theft or murder to occur before addressing the issue, it was wiser to shut the door to such individuals from the outset.
Furthermore, there were whispers suggesting that those from the Dead Sea were tainted by the miasma of the abyss, making them prone to trigger mutations in monsters, leading to unimaginable crises.
From existing cases, these rumors were not baseless; several civilians escaping from locations of exile for outcasts had ignited incidents of monster mutations in the areas where they sought refuge.
Without acquiring an external identity, the denizens of the Dead Sea would be like rats fleeing from a flood, universally reviled.
Yet if they were to forge false identification, they would become akin to the Pied Piper of Hamelin, bringing danger wherever they tread.
...
After a prolonged pause, Chu Yan resumed his duties.
His task was to accompany the Executioner on her excursions, after which he could embark on the next phase of his trial.
As they departed the affluent district, a desolate scene unfolded before their eyes, the rhythmic crashing of the waves composing an eternal melody.
In this place, life and hope were fleeting—only the silence of death lingered indefinitely.
The inhabitants of the slums cast curious glances at the Executioner and her entourage but dared not meet their eyes, fearful of offending or inciting ire.
As they walked, Chu Yan inquired, "How long do you intend to stay here, Executioner?"
The dragon-headed woman replied calmly:
"I will continue to survey other corners of the Dead Sea borders; there is no need for you to concern yourself; we shall not linger long in Jiggle City."
"Do you require my company?"
Chu Yan spoke as though he were well-acquainted with the area, when in reality, he had never even ventured near the frontlines where noble soldiers dealt with monsters.
"There is no need; should Your Excellency accompany us, it would only waste precious time from the trials."
With that, the maid Bird Feather bowed respectfully, thanking him for his kind offer.
As the three continued on their way, they arrived near a vast stretch of desolate shore, where monsters, emerging from the sea, lurked amidst the mudflats, crafty and stealthy, occasionally revealing their movements.
Suddenly, from the most tranquil, parched tidal flats, a man sprang forth.
In one hand, he wielded a strangely deformed shortsword, while the other brandished a fiery skull artifact.
With malicious intent, he targeted the nearest Chu Yan.
The maid was momentarily taken aback; she hadn't anticipated that this Dead Sea mudflat could conceal such a presence. Yet her response was swift; she conjured a shield in an instant to deflect the sword thrust.
While the shield showed no signs of shattering, it was undeniably weakened.
"Sir, beware of that weapon!" she warned.
Chu Yan immediately retaliated, yet he was unprepared for the swiftness and ferocity of the Executioner's counterattack!
Magical energy coalesced into poisonous needles, swiftly piercing the attacker's joints.
His body lost all self-control, and his fingers, against his will, loosened their grip, causing his weapon to drop as he slapped himself violently, knocking out a tooth.
—This was clearly the influence of the Executioner's will.
Even the maid's expression grew grave, struck by the daunting power of the purple dragonborn!
In combat, even the slightest injury inflicted by Tiffany would allow her magical toxins to seize control of the enemy's body instantaneously.
With a sensual yet commanding stride, the Executioner approached the man, delivering a powerful kick that sent him flying several meters, her voice laced with derision:
"Are you here to attack the lord?"
Bird Feather thought this statement inappropriate, as it risked exposing their stance; she quickly interjected:
"Lord, the Executioner believes that such a peculiar weapon surpasses the normal difficulty of trials. Every casualty among the dragonborn represents a significant loss."
Chu Yan was more concerned about a different matter: "Will this result in point deductions?"
The lord being attacked suggested, in a certain sense, a failure of public safety management.
Bird Feather could only respond with silence.
"Of all times, you're concerned about this?" she thought.
Chu Yan's gaze fell upon the artifact; he recognized it as something the previous group of children had used to burn trash.
"Um... Executioner, could you spare his life? I wish to interrogate him for the instigator's identity."
...
That day, Jeanette gazed at the monotonous sky, partaking in her daily indulgence—strolling to clear her mind.
Seated in the courtyard before the lord's castle, she suddenly heard a voice calling out—it was Dura and the others!
"Dura, how did you get here? Quick, come inside! Don't let the soldiers see you."
A group of children rushed in, their words tumbling over one another in a frightened frenzy:
"Brother Womack... he... attacked the lord... he took the flaming skull..."
"What?!"
...
In the Pidge Manor.
The corpulent baron, resembling a mountain of flesh, was savoring fruits.
The steward approached, delivering good news.
"The filthy weapons, along with those children, have been exposed to the Executioner's gaze."
"Excellent! Creating such a scandal will thoroughly disgrace the lord's trials. Now we must apply pressure on Jeanette; if we wish to avoid trouble for those children, it's best not to support the lord's position any further."
Baron Pidge laughed heartily, then recalled the fool tasked with the assassination, mocking:
"Truly, the slum-dwellers are not the brightest; they intend to forge residential permits for themselves? If they leave, who will do the dirty work?"