Shield of the Rose

Inside a cramped basement, a group of women squeezed together, their bodies drenched in sweat.

Heavy, labored breathing echoed through the enclosed space.

Except for Nora and Dana, all of Richie's women were gathered here. Every one of them appeared thoroughly exhausted, even Lina, who was usually the most "capable."

Richie was pressed against Rosa's body, his shaft inserted deeply, to the point where even his testicles were submerged against Rosa's vulva.

Rosa's body was folded almost in half: her legs pushed up to her shoulders, knees pressing into her armpits, and her buttocks raised high. Her lips were tightly sucked by Richie, her expression dazed as her body twitched involuntarily, yet no matter how she squirmed, she couldn't break free.

A metal wire, about the thickness of a pinky finger, trailed out from Rosa's anus, making it look as though she had grown a tail.

It was precisely this object that made Rosa feel both impossibly ecstatic and pushed to the brink of collapse.

In fact, she had already collapsed several times, as evidenced by the thick, sticky juices coating her buttocks.

She was not the only one; all the other women were the same, tormented to near death by this strange tail.

Suddenly, Rosa's body stiffened once more. Her buttocks lifted so high that she actually raised Richie off the ground.

Her muscles quivered in waves, and the muscles around her anus and vagina writhed rapidly. Streams of translucent, milky-white fluid flowed out from her vagina, trickling along the cleft of her buttocks all the way down her back.

Almost simultaneously, Richie let out a low grunt. He felt the suction deep within Rosa's body becoming increasingly formidable. He also felt her vagina come alive, constantly squirming, wringing, and trembling—an indescribably wondrous sensation.

Within their bodies, Aura reeled like a fine thread, linking the two of them together.

This was the benefit of becoming an Ace Knight: Aura as fine as silk, continuous and endlessly circulating.

The intense stimulation not only drove Rosa out of her mind, but also rendered her unable to contain her Aura. As if a floodgate had opened, the purest Aura surged forth, instantly pouring into Richie's body.

This Aura carried the seeds of power. Previously, Richie could only obtain this when taking a female Knight's virginity. Now, he could forcibly extract this purest, most elemental Aura during a female Knight's orgasm.

The female Knights who engaged in dual training with him ended up utterly exhausted, largely due to this process.

After five or six full minutes, Rosa's body finally collapsed, as if that final orgasm had drained her very last drop of strength.

Randy was lying next to Rosa. Reaching out, she pulled out the "tail" inserted in Rosa's anus, revealing a round object attached to the end of the metal wire.

It was a brass-shelled object shaped like a hanging bell or a stopper, pointed at the front and rounded at the back. Embedded within it was an Energy Crystal.

At this moment, the Energy Crystal looked extremely dim, its energy nearly exhausted.

Margaret was dragged over by Merlin and Lina. The young girl was visibly terrified of the item in Randy's hand.

Although this thing brought her power and allowed her to grow stronger rapidly, it also dragged her straight into hell.

However, the young girl was no match for the female Knights. She was quickly bent into the same position Rosa had been in earlier. Randy dipped the brass pendant into lubricating ointment and gently inserted it into Margaret's anus.

The moment it went in, Margaret's body shuddered. She felt a numbness in her lower half, followed by an intense itch spreading from her anus, rapidly diffusing to her vagina and uterus.

The sensation was excruciatingly uncomfortable.

She wanted to move, but couldn't move at all. Her arms and legs were locked tight. Even an Ace female Knight couldn't move once locked down, let alone her.

What filled Margaret with misery was that she had to sleep joined with Richie, remaining in this state for the entire night.

Richie was in no hurry to withdraw his shaft from Rosa's body. He merely unclasped his lips and whispered into Rosa's ear: "Now can you tell me how you knew the training method for 'Thousand Threads and Strands'?"

Rosa feigned unconsciousness, stubbornly ignoring Richie.

A mischievous smirk appeared on Richie's face. He placed his left hand on Rosa's flank and pinched her clitoris with his right, channeling Aura to his fingertips while applying pressure simultaneously.

Rosa immediately shrieked aloud, followed by uncontrollable, hysterical laughter as two distinct types of tickling tormented her.

"Stop... Stop... Stop..." Rosa begged for mercy repeatedly.

Richie loosened his grip slightly, though his fingers still circled her flank and clitoris—a clear warning.

That gentle tickling felt quite pleasant to Rosa. She narrowed her eyes to enjoy it for a moment before saying: "Actually, it's nothing special. You've surely checked my family tree and know my great-great-grandmother was also a late-awakened Knight. But you definitely don't know what she did before awakening."

Rosa let out a soft giggle, looking quite proud: "She was a thief. According to my great-great-grandmother's diary, before she awakened, she was the most formidable thief in the six eastern provinces, never failing once. That seemed related to her possessing Knightly bloodline. After awakening, like most late-awakened Knights, her strength grew slowly. At first, she thought it was because her training methods were poor, so she returned to her old trade as a thief. But that time, she didn't steal money—she stole cultivation manuals. No one ever discovered this until after she died, and even my family remained completely in the dark. When I was six, while cleaning out the attic, I accidentally discovered this secret."

"No wonder you're so good at picking locks," Richie realized. He still remembered when Rosa took him to that storage room full of booklets, she had just inserted a piece of rusty wire into the keyhole, jiggled it twice, and opened the door.

A Knight turning to thievery was truly unstoppable. Richie finally understood why nations strictly regulated Knights; without strict control, huge trouble would surely arise.

Having gotten his answer, Richie took a deep breath. His shaft thinned considerably, becoming only as thick as two fingers pressed together.

His hips slowly retreated. Because the tip of his shaft was fully inserted into Rosa's uterus, withdrawing was somewhat tricky—the cervical wall was much tougher and more prone to injury than the vaginal wall.

With a soft POP, like a champagne cork coming off, Richie finally pulled his dick out.

As it came out, it brought along a large glob of frothy fluid that stuck to Rosa's buttocks and trickled down slowly, appearing as obscene as could be.

Exiting Rosa's body, Richie turned and climbed onto Margaret. With a thrust of his hips, his glans rapidly disappeared into Margaret's vagina.

He was adept at this. Pressing his glans against the depths of Margaret's vagina, he drilled inward relentlessly, making the young girl close her eyes tight, her body trembling as she let out continuous "Ah—Ah—" gasps.

Leaning down, Richie sealed Margaret's lips with his own. His right hand reached around behind Margaret's buttocks, his index finger pressing firmly against her lower back point.

Margaret felt a wave of soreness in her lower body, unable to exert an ounce of strength, followed by the sensation of a hot, hard rod piercing through her body and reaching its deepest core.

Once inside, the rod expanded in thickness.

Margaret felt as if her body were about to be torn apart. She wanted to cry out, but her lips were sealed.

Though going through this every day, Margaret could never get used to such a life.

Suddenly, a stream of pure Aura entered her body. Margaret hastily gathered her focus, guiding the Aura through a complete circuit.

Once the Aura circuit was established, she didn't need to worry about it further.

She also knew that sleeping joined with Richie every night brought her immense benefits. Just a few months ago, she had barely broken through the bottleneck to become a true Knight. Normally, she should still be consolidating her realm, yet now she had entered the mid-stage, even confident in fighting Robin to a draw.

At this rate, in just another three months, she would reach a bottleneck again, this time challenging the Ace rank.

Such rapid advancement was something she wouldn't have dreamed of in the past.

While Richie was reveling in the pleasures of sex and the thrill of conquest, countless people in the Norman Alliance were running around like ants on a hot skillet.

Just one hour after Poronov's conclusion came out, prominent figures across Alliance nations received the news.

Naturally, these updates were strictly sealed off from the outside world.

That very night, several special trains under heavy armed guard headed toward Sol, the capital of the Franca Empire, carrying top Alliance dignitaries.

Poronov's conclusions could lead to a complete overhaul of strategic plans. Major decisions like this had to be finalized through consultations among the highest levels of all member nations.

Compared to the loose, independent Dante Alliance, the Norman Alliance operated with vastly higher efficiency, thanks to the dominant lead nation—the Franca Empire.

Situated in the heart of the continent, the Empire bordered the Luosuoto Empire of the Dante Alliance to the north, Varedin to the south, and the Sisluo Federation to the west. Geographically, it was undeniably a battleground of four directions, historically ensnaring its people whenever large-scale wars erupted.

Perpetual warfare had forged the Franca people's fierce, combative nature and disciplined obedience to orders.

In ancient times, Francans were almost synonymous with mercenaries. Entering the twelfth century, the nation grew powerful, but its true rise occurred after the Red Banner faction fell from grace.

The Red Banner had swept across the six southwestern nations with momentum to unite the world, but as it pushed east and north, it met joint resistance from all nations.

The main battlefield was in the Franca Empire.

The Red Banner vanished like a fleeting flower—rising rapidly, yet falling just as quickly—leaving the Franca Empire to reap the ultimate benefits.

Most of today's Norman Alliance had been established on the former territories of those six southwestern nations.

As special carriages arrived one after another, top figures of the Alliance gathered in Sol. Perhaps to keep a low profile, the trains didn't stop in Sol itself, but at a small station ten kilometers away, where high officials were immediately picked up by horse-drawn carriages upon disembarking.

The area was densely covered with mountain ranges and thick forests—an ideal hidden retreat.

After several hours of travel, a tunnel carved into the deep mountains came into view. The tunnel wasn't very long, only a few hundred meters, but heavily guarded inside.

Past the tunnel lay a valley with beautiful scenery. A clear lake sat in the center of the valley, bordered by lush trees.

A row of houses stood by the lake, though from the air, it was hard to tell any buildings existed. These houses were meticulously concealed, with the original builders carefully preserving tall trees that were enclosed by walls or grew right through roofs. Dense foliage and camouflage nets stretched beneath the canopy hid the structures completely.

A tall man with a square face and a thick, yellowish-brown beard walked along the lakeshore, followed by a long line of aides. Only a select few were qualified to walk beside him, one of whom was Poronov's close friend, Count Antonio.

"Did Poronov really say that?" The middle-aged man stared intently into Count Antonio's eyes.

The latter showed no fear, his expression steadfast and calm. He had neither distorted nor concealed anything.

The middle-aged man retracted his gaze. Suspicious as he was, he placed a degree of trust in Antonio.

"To think there's something even Poronov can't see through." The middle-aged man smirked faintly, having long wished to see that hysterical genius humbled. "Does Intelligence have further updates?"

His thoughts jumped rapidly, shifting from one topic to another.

Fortunately, everyone present was accustomed to his train of thought.

Antonio naturally couldn't answer that question, but a man beside him stepped forward. Tall and bald-headed with a gleaming scalp, he also wore round-rimmed glasses and looked to be in his late forties or fifties.

"Your Majesty, Intelligence has done everything possible. Even our deep-cover agents can't get information now. All news regarding the new standard armor has been completely locked down by the Alliance."

The bald man bowed slightly while reporting, displaying utmost deference.

The middle-aged man was none other than Emperor George V of the Franca Empire. The bald man was his personal secretary, who had served the Emperor for over twenty years and enjoyed his deep trust.

"Count Antonio, did Mr. Poronov mention how important the parts he couldn't determine might be?" George V could only hope the Great Craftsman had deduced something.

It was embarrassing that the Intelligence Department, which consumed huge budgets annually, couldn't find out much and had to rely on one man's intuition.

"He suspects it might relate to manufacturing processes. He feels this armor isn't produced using standard procedures," Antonio relayed.

The design draft Poronov received lacked many details, especially concerning layered armor and woven frameworks. Yet as a Great Craftsman, his intuition alone sensed something amiss.

George V stared at the lake, finding the answer vague. "Relates to manufacturing processes" was far too ambiguous, yet he couldn't complain.

He decided to set that issue aside for now and ask another question: "Did Poronov guess whether his design might also be adopted? After all, one leans toward heavy while the other leans light—they complement each other."

"Unlikely," Antonio sighed. When he had asked that earlier, Poronov blew his top, showing how slim the chances were. He explained to George V: "The outer shell of that armor consists of identical plates, likely made of forged steel. Thus, like the Sisluo Federation's 'Valkyrie,' though light armor, its defense is barely inferior to standard medium armor."

The Sisluo Federation was also a Norman Alliance member, and the "Valkyrie" was a legendary suit that hadn't gone out of style. Drawing this comparison helped George V understand immediately.

Hearing Poronov's deduction, the Emperor's mood turned sour. Had the Dante Alliance taken the bait and developed two armor types simultaneously, the timeline would have dragged on from six months to a year or more. Trial production would also encounter hiccups, wasting immense time adjusting production lines.

That was why nations rarely paired light and heavy standard armors together.

Unfortunately, the enemy hadn't fallen for it.

This made matters terrible. The Dante Alliance focusing all energy on one armor saved vast amounts of time, avoiding manufacturing snags. Worse, it was a light or light-medium armor. Setting aside its mobility advantages over long distances, light armor was much easier to design. Structural durability, joint load capacity, and power core output were far easier to resolve. Designing and finalizing it would be vastly faster than medium or heavy armor.

"Six months..." the middle-aged man muttered repeatedly.

He wasn't ready. Compared to the Dante Alliance, the Norman Alliance lacked overall strength, their sole edge being the existence of the "Rubik's Cube."

The "Rubik's Cube" was far superior not only to ordinary standard armor, but even to most custom armor. The early-stage "Rubik's Cube" used in the first phase of the war couldn't compare to the finalized version, yet it had already shown absolute dominance.

The "Rubik's Cube" might be stronger than the enemy's new standard armor, but George V dared not gamble on assumptions. If their performance proved comparable, trouble would follow.

The only thing he could do was move up the start date of the second phase of the war.

The question was: move it up by how much?

One month? Six months? Or a year?

While George V was lost in thought, a tall, burly, red-faced man in his forties wearing a heavy cloak walked over.

"Barni, it's good to see you again," the Emperor welcomed him with a smile.

The burly man looked aggrieved: "Gadro, you must help me. The Monstoke people are out of line—negotiating with us while pulling off sneaky surprise attacks!"

This stout man was Emperor Howard II of the Varedin Empire.

In the Norman Alliance, Varedin served merely as a secondary accomplice, only stronger than minor followers.

It couldn't compare to the Sisluo Federation or Bikena Republic—the left and right arms—let alone the Franca Empire.

Yet George V had to appease him, as Varedin had fought the early battles.

He also knew the fat man was acting. Monstoke's raid hadn't caused much damage to Varedin—at most killing one Honor Knight and two Ace Knights, and crippling another Ace Knight.

The man was just using it as an excuse to make a fuss and squeeze more benefits at the negotiating table.

"Tell me, what are your thoughts?" George V appeared quite amiable, like a neighborly uncle ready to hand out candy to kids.

The fat man wasn't fooled, maintaining his aggrieved act while gnashing his teeth and swinging his fists occasionally.

"I want retaliation! I'll teach those who offended me a lesson! If they can raid us, can't we do the same? An eye for an eye!"

"Selected your targets?" George V didn't plan to object. Creating trouble for the Dante Alliance aligned with his interests, especially if it disrupted their new armor development.

"Of course! Nothing major—safer that way. I plan to use Honor Knight squads for all of them." The fat man dared not hide anything from George V, still needing his full support.

Listening from the side, an idea suddenly struck George V.

Years ago, through series of exercises, they confirmed that future warfare would increasingly emphasize troop mobility, with long-range raids becoming frequent. Yet Monstoke's deep raid nearly a thousand kilometers into occupied territory had far exceeded their expectations.

This had sounded alarm bells in their minds—they had fallen behind the enemy in this regard.

Why not use this chance to practice such extreme combat modes?

The question was: which armor to use?

Monstoke used the "Valkyrie" as light armor, suitable for long-range raids, but it was outdated with little room for improvement. Most importantly, as standard armor, its manufacturing process was far too complex. Forged steel outer shells alone were a huge hassle; ninety-nine percent of standard armors used cast steel shells with attached forged armor plates—that was the mainstream method.

Should they use the "Rubik's Cube"? This raised another issue: use the early model or the finalized model? He personally favored the latter. If it was a safe operation as the fat man claimed, it could serve as a live-combat test.

George V felt conflicted, pacing back and forth along the lake as he pondered.

Thousands of kilometers away in Peines, beside another lake, Richie was also pacing back and forth.

Dull metallic shearing noises of "CLANG-CLANG" and clanking impacts of "CLINK-CLANK" echoed continuously from the nearby iron factory.

Making those sounds were several heavy machines.

Steel plates as thick as shoe soles entered one machine and emerged cut into specific shapes, which then entered another machine to be bent into complex forms. In the corner of the factory, baskets of bent steel plates were stacked. A dozen workers were assembling layers of steel plates according to fixed templates, riveting them together into single units.

Suddenly, a sharp whistle blew, and all workers halted.

A large group of white-robed researchers rushed in, checking the heavy machinery while selecting finished armor plates to haul away on carts for testing.

Leading all this was Emily.

Though nominally the chief designer of the new standard armor, Emily lacked true capability, unable to even serve as an assistant to master smiths. Espol had thought it over and assigned her to oversee this task instead.

Currently testing the outer shell forging workshop, she would later test the assembly workshop.

"Is this what mass production looks like?" Richie popped up behind Emily unexpectedly. As the deafening machine noise stopped, he had run over.

Startled, Emily patted her chest and complained: "You scared me to death!"

Suddenly feeling curious, she asked: "Why are you out here? Weren't you..."

She didn't dare finish the sentence. It was classified; she couldn't guarantee there weren't spies among the workers nearby.

Richie wrapped his arm around Emily's waist and asked softly: "When are you free?"

Twisting her waist, Emily broke free from Richie's grip: "It's working hours. I have several projects to test. If you're impatient, go find the others. Ginny has been looking forward to seeing you."

"Just kidding. Go do your work, don't mind me." Richie didn't care; the upcoming tests had nothing to do with him, and he could visit anytime without acting desperate.

He was quite interested in the equipment before him.

"It seems the final design over there isn't set yet, but your manufacturing plant is already built," Richie laughed.

"What's strange about that? Building a factory takes far longer than building armor. If we didn't prepare early, it would be too late. For all we know, factories across different regions are already built," Emily remarked, her horizon expanded by working around master smiths daily.

Richie remained silent. He finally understood why Monstoke's high command treated Espol, Madame Shar, and the master smiths like lifesavers upon their arrival, offering hospitality far surpassing foreign envoys. The experts' help was far more practical and useful than the meager aid provided by other nations.

At this preparation speed, in six months, the Republic could stand on the same starting line as the enemy regarding armor.

Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, Richie spotted a stack of forms.

He walked over quietly to glance at them.

The forms were simple: containing only name, birth date, birthplace, home address, and family relations.

He had filled out similar forms before, though the one he filled out was far more complex.

That form was given to him by chubby Yiluo, with the girls and their mothers receiving copies as well, meant for early evacuation if situation turned dire.

Richie flipped through them casually.

Workers and technical staff here had all filled out forms, undoubtedly preparing for large-scale evacuation.

Richie's mood, which had lightened due to smooth progress on the new standard armor, sank once again.

Evidently, the Dante Alliance high command wasn't optimistic about the Republic's strength. Even if the new standard armor reached the battlefield in time, it might prove futile.

In the end, victory depended on people, not cold machinery.

Though late at night, the lakeshore remained bustling. The iron factory no longer produced deafening noise, but the laboratory remained brightly lit.

It resembled a smithing street, with sounds of hammering echoing everywhere and technicians filing components carefully.

This laboratory currently existed for the new standard armor; parts exposing flaws during testing were brought here for repairs, and revised designs were crafted here as well.

Outside was bustling activity, while inside was boundless romantic warmth, with deafening noises completely shut out.

The small wooden cabin looked simple and rustic, but possessed solid construction with double-layered walls and double-paned glass windows, insulating the inside from the outside world.

When constructing the cabin, soundproofing had been taken into account.

Inside stood a single bed—a massive bed where Richie lay enjoying the women's service. The one making love with him was Emily's mother, Ingrid. Among all the women, Ingrid possessed the highest sexual skill, her vaginal walls acting like a living organ—sucking and rotating, making insertion an absolute delight.

Ginny and Ksenia, the mother-daughter duo, curled up like cats on Richie's left and right sides. Ginny's smoothness and Ksenia's beauty charmed Richie completely.

Richie's fingers weren't idle for a moment, constantly playing with the mother and daughter's lower bodies, occasionally inserting fingers into their vaginas and anuses.

Emily lay prone on Richie's torso, her nimble tongue gliding continuously over his body.

Melissa and her mother Shaya each held one of Richie's legs, pressing their bodies close. The two women didn't mind at all, taking his toes into their mouths and sucking on them as if eating lollipops.

Caroline lay behind Richie's buttocks, licking his testicles and anus alternately.

The most relaxed was Isabella, who licked Richie's ear with her tongue, from lobe to rim, even probing inside the ear canal.

This was absolute enjoyment—the sweetest pleasure. Ever since his cousin had taught him a lesson last time, he finally understood: to pursue excitement, make love with female Knights; to feel comfortable or satisfied in other ways, finding ordinary women was far more suitable.

Just like now, among female Knights, Merlin and Randy might be willing to do this, while others were hard to say. For Lina, it depended on her mood; Calli only served him like this when deeply affectionate; Nora was unpredictable; as for Dana, the three sisters, and Rosa, it was completely out of the question.

Richie didn't count Margaret among them. Margaret differed from the other women, as he would ninety-nine percent combine with her to form a family in the future.

Suddenly, Richie felt Ingrid accelerate her hip thrusts, reducing her range of movement while her vaginal muscles twitched rapidly.

He knew Ingrid was approaching orgasm.

Richie gently pushed the other women aside, sat up, and held Ingrid in his arms.

His right hand slid down, his middle finger slipping into Ingrid's anus.

This time, he took the initiative.

Pumping rapidly below, he also gathered a trace of Aura on his glans and fingertips. This could drive an Ace female Knight to collapse, let alone an ordinary woman.

In just a moment, Ingrid lost her senses. Gripping her hair, she bit her lip tightly, her waist bending low as if about to snap, her legs stretching straight with even her feet tensed up.

Richie pressed his glans firmly against Ingrid's cervix, pinched her coccyx with his thumb, and gently pressed his pinky against her perineum, slowly injecting Aura into her.

This made the woman feel even more stimulated while extending her orgasm duration.

Ingrid's body flushed red, sweat rapidly beading on her voluptuous skin. At this moment, she felt like floating among the clouds—drifting on and on, unsure when she would stop or where she would land.

Suddenly, she felt a strong urge to urinate—not the embarrassing sensation during typical orgasms, but something far more intense.

There was no need to hold back such things; discharging anything during sex wouldn't draw ridicule from anyone here, so Ingrid let nature take its course.

Richie's eyes widened suddenly. He felt a gas-like substance similar to Aura flow into his body, followed by a change in the suction deep within Ingrid's vagina.

The trace of Aura he had gathered on his glans was actually sucked away!

Did this woman possess talent for Knights in addition to Psion talent? Richie wondered in his mind.

He attempted dual training, but was disappointed this time. Though Aura was absorbed, it failed to form silk-like threads, rapidly dispersing within Ingrid's body. Whether an internal circuit could be formed was the key distinction between Knights and others.

Richie recalled what he had read in a book.

The book compared internal circuits to irrigation ditches. Ditches could store water or draw water in, whereas ordinary people lacked such ditches, resembling parched soil. Soil could store water too, but capacity was extremely limited, and excess water would overflow.

The scene before him mirrored the book's description precisely.

Richie carefully controlled the amount of Aura injected into Ingrid's body, quickly sensing that the suction in her vagina grew sluggish, as if unable to absorb more, while regurgitating two streams of gas-like substance similar to Aura.

He didn't know what this was, as books didn't mention it.

He tried circulating these streams along his Aura pathways for a few turns, and they rapidly merged into his Aura.

The amount was too tiny for Richie to feel any difference from before. Fortunately, there were plenty of women here.

Testing it further would be extremely easy.

Ingrid was already limp as mud, half-asleep and half-conscious. Richie gently carried her aside.

"What trick did you pull just now? She wasn't like this during past orgasms, nor did it last so long," Emily complained softly. She rarely called Ingrid "mother" or "mom," usually referring to her as "she," but deep down, Emily cared about her mother.

"Dear brother, come with me. I won't mind," Ginny squeezed forward, wrapping her arms around Richie's neck and dangling her body from him, acting coyly.

Unable to resist the little vixen, Richie thrust his hips, sending his massive shaft into Ginny's vagina.

"Oh... so big... I'm dying of happiness... I want a super long orgasm too!" Ginny babbled incoherently.

This time Richie didn't plan to drag it out. He operated the "Hell and Heaven Soul-Stealing Art," pressing or scratching with silk-like Aura injected into Ginny's most sensitive spots. His dick wasn't idle either; coated in Aura, it acted like a brush over Ginny's vagina, fiercely stimulating spots that drove women insane.

Under double attack inside and out, Ginny couldn't hold out for two minutes. Her small buttocks squirmed uncontrollably, unsure whether to invite stronger stimulation or escape from the intensity.

The little vixen's legs kicked around like a frog dropped onto a red-hot iron plate. Nonsensical words came from her mouth that others couldn't understand, while wonderful groans escaped her nasal passages.

Suddenly, Ginny let out a scream, clamping Richie's waist tightly with her legs while digging her fingernails into his shoulders.

Just like before, Richie felt a surge of gas-like substance flow in while his Aura was absorbed.

This stream was far purer and larger than the ones before, though less concentrated.

Wasting nothing, Richie circulated it through his body for several turns, rapidly incorporating it into his Aura.

This time he felt a distinct difference.

The newly generated Aura seemed exceptionally pure, devoid of harsh edges and remarkably cohesive.

Another stream flowed in, and Richie certainly wouldn't pass it up—more was definitely better.

Ginny kept her eyes shut tight, her body twitching continuously. She felt as if she were dying, completely different from past orgasms. This time, not only did her lower body itch terribly, but the intense tickle penetrated deep into her internal organs.

Worse yet, a force inside supported her, keeping her from collapsing so she continued enduring the intense stimulation.

Ginny's body turned increasingly red, resembling a cooked shrimp, while her vagina secreted thick white fluid endlessly.

After lasting four or five minutes, she finally lost the ability to move. Like Ingrid, the little vixen's body turned soft as noodles. Though only inserted for a few minutes, her lower lips were swollen red, her clitoris enlarged like a grape. All symptoms proved excessive indulgence, looking as if she had been fucked for hours. Seeing Ginny's state, Richie grew concerned. He checked her pulse; the beat was somewhat weak, but the rhythm remained smooth, easing his mind. Richie turned and embraced Emily.