Chapter Seventy: Paris

Paris?! Why would Paris, who has always lingered in the ruins of Hedonmar, come here?

Xie Jing had never seen an NPC venture into a dungeon before.

So he followed her.

Paris sensed the man trailing behind her. She paid him no mind, continuing to slay monsters and dig out the most valuable magic shards.

The Princess of the Sewers—hardly a title of praise. Paris had grown up fighting for survival in the darkest alleys, exposed to every kind of filth and shadow, and had developed the skills to protect herself.

She knew she was attractive—not a legendary beauty, perhaps, but in the ruins, even the local thugs who didn’t know her name coveted her body. Those men, too, had found themselves crippled by her, never to be men again.

Living alone amidst the ruins, Paris never envied those with fine clothes and pretty faces. Survival was her only goal; every day won was a fortune.

Her white hair whipped through the air as her delicate hands unleashed astonishing strength, smashing a monster’s skull with her fists, gusts of wind rippling across the ground.

Sweat trickled down her pale neck, flowing into the deep valley between her breasts.

Her revealing clothes attracted many ignorant street punks, and for a long time, Paris survived by scavenging the supplies they brought to her doorstep.

As for those with bolder intentions, she tossed them into the dungeons without mercy.

To Paris, the human heart was nothing but darkness. She trusted no one, but could make use of anyone. Every motive boiled down to one thing: survival.

Survival required coins, food. When no one brought her gifts, Paris had to earn her own gold.

No one willingly ventured into these monster-infested, dangerous ruins. Perhaps those who did came only to prove their swordsmanship or martial prowess. No one, except her, did it for survival.

Magic shards were precious ore. Each one Paris mined bought her a day’s existence.

“Hah!”

With a swift swing of her strong leg, she smashed a monster’s head with a whip kick, landing lightly and pulling out her tools to excavate the magic shard.

She felt the man still following her, neither too close nor too far, unsure of his intentions.

Paris had no recollection of this man from the tavern. She never wasted time or thought remembering someone irrelevant. Judging by his attire, he was wealthy.

The rich possessed a natural psychological advantage over the poor, and Paris detested the feeling.

It wasn’t as though none of them had ever fancied her. An obese noble who managed a market in Hedonmar once proposed marriage, but Paris sent him flying with a single kick.

She hated and loathed all nobles.

Her childhood had taught her never to trust others; in this world, only she could be relied upon.

Paris made up her mind—if the man came closer or made any move, she would smash his face with the hard crystal before her.

But Xie Jing did not approach.

He merely watched Paris’s actions.

He had heard about Paris from Golantis and others—the tales of the Princess of the Sewers.

Or, more harshly, the Princess of the Drain.

A strange kind of beauty.

Xie Jing saw a girl striving to survive in the filth and squalor of the slums, a beauty born of self-reliance, made even more striking by her natural grace and the fact that her spirit remained unsullied.

He pondered how to strike up a conversation with Paris.

Such a sensitive and rebellious woman—approaching her directly would likely earn him a brick to the face. Xie Jing saw little opportunity.

Another wave of monsters appeared. Paris pocketed the magic shards she’d mined, stood up, and drew a small dagger.

Her usual weapon—though, in combat, anything could become her weapon.

A flash of sword energy cut through the air—crack!

All the monsters were sliced in half with a single stroke, vanishing and leaving behind glowing spheres filled with coins or materials.

Paris shot Xie Jing a cold glance. She neither spoke nor bent to pick up the loot; she simply stepped over it and went to dig at another red crystal further away.

It was one of the rules of street life: never be greedy for easy gains!

There were no free meals from heaven; food that came without effort was always poisoned!

Having spent her life on the streets, Paris understood this truth well. She had no idea what Xie Jing intended and would never accept his gifts lightly.

Even if it was kindness, it was charity—disgusting, condescending charity. Paris’s opinion of Xie Jing grew worse.

Xie Jing ignored the loot on the ground and walked straight up.

“Hello... my name is—”

Before he could finish, a brick flew from the ground. Paris moved like a panther, the orange-red brick whistling through the air toward Xie Jing’s face.

He raised his sword to block, only to feel a sudden chill below the belt.

He leapt aside, narrowly avoiding a vicious low kick, and then saw a hard red crystal crashing down from above.

“Hey, hey, listen to me! Stop—”

Xie Jing fended off Paris’s attacks, flustered as he tried to explain.

She gave him no chance. Her small dagger appeared at his back in a blink—and then, a burst of light enveloped Xie Jing, his power binding Paris in place.

He looked down at Paris, still struggling beneath him, her beautiful face twisted in anger. Xie Jing wore a troubled expression.

“Hey, Paris, listen—I’m not a bad guy!”

“Let me go, you bastard! Let go of me!”

“I’ll let you go!” Xie Jing pressed her down helplessly. “Just promise you won’t attack me again. Can we talk?”

“Talk my ass! Let go of me!” For the first time since she learned martial arts, Paris felt so utterly subdued.

Xie Jing relaxed his grip, jumping back to dodge her swinging fist.

Her eyes locked onto him, the cross-shaped scar on her face trembling, her rapid breaths making her chest rise and fall, drawing the eye.

She stomped the ground with her long, black-stockinged legs and charged at Xie Jing.

Splash—

A sound of water came from her body; suddenly, eight azure tentacles burst from her chest, tightly binding her.

Caught off guard, she stumbled and fell.

The tentacles morphed into blue cushions, absorbing her momentum and safely lowering her to the ground.

Xie Jing approached, crouching beside her.

“Paris, I really am not a bad person. I have no intention of hurting you. I know your story, and I know you’re fighting for the refugees from Hedonmar’s ruins, trying to win them a chance to return home. I can help you.”

“Help me?” For once, Paris was calm. She fixed Xie Jing with a cold smile. “Help the notorious Princess of the Drain? If you want my body, just say it! Disgusting man!”