Quick Transmigration and Childbirth: The Target is Not Human

A torrential downpour began, and the gray, deserted streets of the elves were shrouded in mist.

Only a touch of pale yellow weaves through it all.

She ran out of the Elf Judgment Hall and headed straight for the Holy Son's Hall, ignoring the fact that she was soaked to the bone by the rain.

If you look closely, you'll see that she's clutching a clear glass bottle tightly in her hand, with red liquid inside constantly splashing against the bottle's walls.

The words of the ukulele judge still echoed in Xia Yangyang's mind like a curse—

"This is a gift from the Holy Son."

"We are grateful to you for saving the elves in the Great Hall of Law. Let us drink this together."

The elders, judges, and adjutants, with resolute expressions and a certain reverence for the spirit of dedication, raised dozens of glass cups high toward the empty seat, then tilted their heads back and drank them down in one gulp.

Then, they radiated light, as if they had received some kind of enhancement, becoming even more powerful.

"Why aren't you drinking this scarce resource?" They all looked at her.

The familiar glass before her made her fingertips tremble, and a terrifying thought began to form in her mind.

"What is the Holy Son's gift...?"

Ukulele frowned. "You've been by the Holy Son's side for so long, don't you know that his blood has the effect of immunizing against damage and healing wounds?"

The scene that played out almost every day flashed before her eyes.

Silver needles, arms wrapped in strips of cloth, bruised and purple, Samuel, who spends most of his time in bed...

"I thought he was sick..." she murmured, as if her soul had been ripped away.

The glass in his hand suddenly became unbearably hot, his mind went blank, and his body had already run out of the judgment hall uncontrollably.

*

"Miss Yangyang? How did you get so soaked in the rain?" The little elf was startled at first, and it took her a while to recognize who it was.

"I am looking for the Holy Son."

"The Holy Son is currently—oh! Miss Yangyang, you can't go in!"

Halfway through the little elf's story, Xia Yangyang's nose twitched as she caught a familiar, sweet-smelling scent. Ignoring any attempts to stop her, she pushed open the door and went inside.

The scene before her eyes made her pupils shrink suddenly.

Samuel, as fragile as a reed, leaned against the headboard. His arms were covered in bruises and bright red blood flowing through tubes and collecting in a glass bottle that was even larger than before.

Upon hearing the sound, a strand of dull blonde hair fell down from the side of her face, and her snow-white eyelashes fluttered slightly as she swept her gaze toward the newcomer.

"Get out! Get out!!"

The pale yellow figure appeared almost instantly, pulled the old man in green up from the chair, and pushed him towards the door.

"Stop drawing his blood to drink! You lunatics! Can't you see he's almost bled to death? Do you want to kill him?"

"Who are you?" The old man in green looked flustered, seeing someone so crazy for the first time in the Holy Son's Palace.

He grabbed a bed frame post and cried out to the other elves, "Quick, elves, what are you standing there for? Subdue this rude fellow!"

The little elves exchanged glances, flew down from the sky, and tried to pull at Xia Yangyang's arms and hair.

Xia Yangyang grabbed the glass bottle, which was now mostly filled with health, and held it above her head: "If you don't get out of here, I'll smash all of these on the ground!"

All the elves immediately froze, even the old green man panicked, stretching out both hands: "No! Don't touch that bottle!"

"Xia Yangyang...!" A shout rang out from behind.

Xia Yangyang froze, turning her head to see that a needle had pierced the thin skin on Samuel's forearm, and round drops of blood were flowing down his arm onto the white sheets.

Samuel's pale face and weak voice carried a strong warning: "That's medicine being transported to the wounded camp, life-saving medicine. I forbid you to touch it."

Xia Yangyang's eyes reddened, and after a moment, a layer of misty tears welled up with grievance.

But that wasn't medicine to begin with...

With trembling arms, she handed the glass bottle to the old man in green. He tucked it into his robes and hurried away as if tigers, leopards, and wolves were chasing him.

Xia Yangyang poked her head out the door and shouted, "You're never allowed to come and draw his blood again! Every time you do, I fall!"

She turned around and saw Samuel expressionlessly pull the silver needles off his arm and throw them on the ground.

Samuel lowered his eyes and saw the wet toes of the shoes that were approaching him.

"You should drink it, don't waste it."

He offered her his arm, which reeked of a sweet, metallic scent, while his eyes, dark and unsettling, gazed at her as if making a choice, as if scrutinizing her.

He saw the human girl accept it with both hands, and his eyes darkened even more.

His arm was covered in bruises, and trails of blood were still dripping onto the ground.

"Doesn't it hurt?" the girl asked him, her eyes fixed on her arm.

"It doesn't hurt."

He had thousands of these pinholes, some healed and some not.

[lie.]

Samuel heard her thoughts, paused for a moment, but did not object.

As he felt her lips slowly approach his arm, a chill ran through him like never before, as if a flickering candle had finally gone out.

No one can resist such readily available power.

Yes, he couldn't find one.

If there is anyone in this world who is absolutely selfless, who only wants to make others happy without seeking anything in return, then the answer is definitely no, such a person does not exist.

Samuel rested his head on the bolster and closed his eyes.

The girl's fingers, wet with rain, still left a warm residue on his arm.

Samuel said, "The elves are weak, kind, and proud. The elemental advantage puts our race at a complete disadvantage against the fire race. Only by drinking my blood can the combat elves have the power to resist the fire race and protect their homeland... To die for the elves is my mission."

"What kind of twisted logic is this?" the girl asked, frowning.

Samuel suddenly opened his eyes.

He felt something slightly cool brush against his arm, but it was definitely not the touch of lips or tongue.

He looked down—

The girl puffed out her cheeks and blew air into the needle hole, freeing one hand to carefully wipe the bloodstains from his arm with a clean, damp silk handkerchief.

"If we encounter a very powerful opponent, shouldn't we improve our weapons and boost morale?"

Samuel heard... a bubble rise from his own heart...

Or perhaps she has already surfaced several times, from the first time when she ran to pick fruit just because of one of his words, to jumping into the Fire Clan's huge pit without hesitation.

He meticulously laid traps step by step to kill her, but she always believed him without question, jumping into each trap and escaping death in the most primitive, simple, and brutal way.

This person is different from everyone else.

She is so pure and clean; she is the true beauty.

The bubbles in his heart kept rising, making him feel excited, and he tried his best to keep his eyes from turning red.

"Why did you wipe it? Don't you want to try it?"

"..."

"Once you drink a little, you can stay away from illness, resist danger, and strengthen your physique. There is no simpler way to evolve than this... Other elves have all drunk it, so what's wrong with you trying it? It tastes pretty good."

Samuel's voice was hoarse and seductive, as if sincerely inviting her to abandon her sobriety and join him in a lavish feast.

Xia Yangyang looked at the elven saint who suddenly sat up and grabbed her hand.

Her hand hurt terribly, like she had punched into a block of ice.

It was only then that she noticed that even though he was weak and thin, he was still broad enough to envelop her.

But his values... were so distorted that they suffocated her.

"I will not drink your blood." She gripped his wrist tightly, pushing his hand away inch by inch, her tone as firm as iron.

She stood up, her brow furrowed, as if trying to pull a self-destructive person back from the abyss.

"In fact, no elf should drink your blood."

"No victory should come at the cost of another life. When the noble must be sacrificed, when the weak must be protected, when sacrifice brings only kidnapping and greed..."

That's not a victory at all, it's a crime; it's sending an innocent life to the moral guillotine!

Her words resonated deeply, striking a chord with the listener.

Samuel stared intently at the girl, his heart pounding like a drumbeat battered by a violent storm.

Each beat felt like it was trying to break free of the constraints on my chest and reach the depths of my soul.

The feeling was like an electric current coursing through my body, sending waves of uncontrollable tremors through me, making it almost impossible to breathe.

He was unwilling to be the only one whose world was turned upside down by this infatuation.

He wanted the same for her.

So, Samuel curled one corner of his mouth and uttered a helpless word:

"But you've already drunk it."

He watched as the girl's face turned pale and became extremely ugly.

Xia Yangyang thought of the fishy smell in the white jade bottle, but that didn't seem right, because she had never drunk from it. Did he think she had already drunk from it and that's why he said that?

No, that's not right.

She suddenly remembered something, abruptly looked at Samuel, and opened her mouth in trembling as she spoke:

"Was it... my first time in the Hall of Judgment?"

Samuel neither nodded nor shook his head, but simply smiled innocently.

She guessed right.

Xia Yangyang suddenly felt nauseous and couldn't help but turn around and rush out of the palace gate, dry heaving into the soil in the flowerpot.

System: [Oh, baby, you're acting exactly like someone with morning sickness. How about I take a test for you?]

Xia Yangyang wiped her mouth in a flustered manner: [Pregnant my ass...]

System: [Wow, similar temperament.]

Xia Yangyang: [...]

When she returned, Samuel had already expertly wrapped his arm with strips of cloth.

He was like a fairy flower about to wither, his neck snow-white, beautiful yet fragile, evoking pity in people.

The deliberate malice she felt just now was all her imagination.

"Do you know how the previous Holy Son died?" he said calmly.

The previous Holy Son also died in the war against the elves; he sacrificed himself and died in the military camp.

Soldiers, desperate to survive, were bitten by countless predators and drained of their blood, dying... perhaps without even a trace of flesh left.

Xia Yangyang shook her head: "I will never let you end up like the last elven saint."

"You can't save the elves, and you can't change my fate."

I'll have to try to find out.