Shield of the Rose

The sun gradually set, its setting rays scattering over the hill slope, conveying a cool feeling.

An extinguished bonfire, along with trash strewn messily around it, proved that a gathering had taken place here earlier, though it had dispersed by now.

Only one person remained on the slope, packing up items.

Hang gliders lay spread out on the slope, their silk wing surfaces already detached, and this short-haired female student was carefully folding the wing surfaces up.

“Need a hand?” Richie ambled up the slope.

The short-haired female student raised her head in surprise, but the surprise vanished instantly; she still remembered Richie.

“It’s you? You gave me quite a scare last time.” The short-haired female student gestured, tapping her chest, looking as if her shock hadn’t settled yet.

“Let me help you.” Richie walked over, bending down to organize the hang glider frames. These frames were all made of light wood, screwed tight at the connecting parts. Unfastening the frames and binding them into a bundle was absolute physical labor, but fortunately he had strength to spare.

“I forgot to ask your name last time,” the short-haired female student asked with a smile, having no intention of stopping him.

“You can call me Richie.”

“Nice name. I’m Audrey.”

Richie looked at the female student; such a delicate name certainly didn’t match her boyish attire.

Audrey knew why Richie found it strange, smiling as she explained: “The wind in the sky is too strong. Keeping long hair is very inconvenient.”

That was a reason, but Richie felt it wasn’t the sole reason; if bothered by wind, hair could be pinned up, and wearing a leather wind-cap would make wind-blown hair even less of a concern.

Every woman he knew cared deeply about her appearance. Even if someone cut her hair short, it would be cut at most level with her ears; except for that weirdo Robin, no one was willing to make herself look identical to a boy.

Without inspecting closely last time, Richie only realized now that Audrey was actually quite pretty: her nose bridge was straight, her large spirited eyes blinked with exceptional agility, and her oval face added a unique charm, the sole flaw being her dark skin.

It was precisely her dark skin and that short hair that appeared exceptionally eye-catching, to the point where men wouldn’t look closely at her face.

Without those two flaws, Audrey’s appearance could probably compare to Ksenia’s.

Richie secretly lamented what a pity it was in his heart.

“I saw several other people taking folks gliding earlier. How come you’re the only one packing up these gliders?” Richie found it somewhat odd.

“These hang gliders were mine to begin with. I earn a little money renting them out—my tuition fees come from this.” Audrey spoke of these things as if telling a lighthearted story, but Richie tasted a hint of bitterness within.

Perhaps due to differing identities—although Richie was originally an ordinary person, he was now a knight, and in ordinary people’s eyes, knights lived in a completely different world—Audrey harbored no reservations toward him, chatting about virtually everything.

She didn’t deliberately detail her experiences, but casually chatting always revealed a bit of information; Richie quickly learned of her situation.

Speaking of which, she shared a bit of resemblance with Isabella and Caroline—they were all orphans. Although Audrey didn’t state it explicitly, from various matters she mentioned, it could still be seen that she no longer had parents.

Richie didn’t intend to offer Audrey financial aid; though her situation appeared somewhat tough, it couldn’t compare to Isabella and the others. Clearly, this woman had lived quite well on her own, appearing very happy.

Richie wondered somewhat whether he could live so happily if put in her position.

With Audrey speaking of her past, Richie couldn’t say nothing either; he casually chatted about his life back in Glaslovar, naturally not omitting the war he had just experienced and his long-distance flight to Peines with his family.

The hang gliders were finally packed up, seven in total, bound into a massive bundle. Fortunately, those frames were made of lightweight timber, so they weren’t overly heavy.

All items were loaded onto a two-wheeled pushcart. Richie naturally couldn’t let a lady perform such heavy work; he had Audrey hold a lantern to lead the way ahead while he pushed the cart close behind.

“Did you always walk back into the city like this before?” When Richie lived in Glaslovar, he also relied on his feet when going out to play in the suburbs, but Glaslovar couldn’t compare to Peines; Glaslovar was far smaller, spanning only four kilometers across, whereas from here to the city edge was already five or six kilometers—and that was merely the city periphery, not downtown.

“I can’t afford to hire a carriage. Besides, it’s not far from here to where I live—at most a two-hour walk.” Audrey’s answer remained open-minded as usual. Richie looked up at the sky; in this season, night fell quickly. At this moment, the sky was already filled with stars; without him around, Audrey would have had to push a cart alone, holding a lantern, walking two hours of night road—her courage was by no means small.

Pushing a cart through this grass-covered hilly area was indeed somewhat difficult; after half an hour of bumping, they finally reached the main road.

After walking for about another hour, they finally entered the urban district.

Richie had truly never been to this district before.

Peines originally gave him a cramped and crowded feeling, and this district emphasized both traits to the extreme.

The streets here were very narrow; two carriages traveling in opposite directions would face difficulty, eight or nine times out of ten bumping into each other. Sidewalks were non-existent, and both sides of the street were lined with tightly packed dilapidated shops.

What made Richie most uncomfortable were those pitch-black alleys; these alleys easily reminded him of the old district he used to live in, but here it was narrower and far messier, with foul-smelling trash and pitch-black puddles frequently seen on the ground.

This district was dilapidated, but not cold or quiet at all, appearing even more bustling than some commercial streets. Though it was very late, people were everywhere on the street.

“Not used to this kind of place, right? This is the lower district,” Audrey smiled gently.

“When in Glaslovar, my home was about the same as here.” Richie didn’t mind; he had lived in Glaslovar’s old district for fourteen years. Though the old district was better than here—at least not this filthy and messy—it wasn’t as lively either, six of one and half a dozen of another at best.

Suddenly, a woman came running hurriedly from the opposite direction. This woman looked about Audrey’s age, wearing heavy makeup and extremely flashy clothes. She rushed before Audrey, panting heavily as she said: “Second Sister, Second Sister, terrible news! Monkey and Scabby brought thirty or forty guys and blocked Front Street!”

Audrey’s expression instantly changed; she bit her lip tightly, thinking for a moment: “Go find Turkey and have her bring whatever sisters she can—gather as many people as possible.”

“Should we bring weapons?” the heavily made-up woman asked fiercely.

“Are you stupid? If not bringing weapons, why call people?” Audrey scolded.

The woman nodded repeatedly: “I’ll go find Turkey.” Saying so, she ran down along the street.

“Need help?” Richie stretched his body, his bones popping with crisp sounds. “What kind of characters are those two? Gang leaders?”

“Hardly leaders, just two big thugs.” Audrey gritted her teeth, her face filled with anger. “The one managing this area used to be Hook Galen, and Eldest Sister is his woman, so usually nobody dared mess with us sisters. But recently Hook got locked up for something, so a bunch of people jumped out.”

Richie didn’t care about leaders or thugs at all; in his eyes, these people were all the same. As the Midnight Executioner, he had killed not Alliance knights, but precisely such low-grade characters the most.

Front Street was indeed a street—a street that wasn’t very long. Most shops on both sides had their doors half-closed, with dim lighting inside.

However, at this moment, the street was blocked by a group of menacing fellows. Some held wooden clubs, while others seemed to hold nothing, though wearing brass knuckles on their hands; snapping sounds echoed from time to time within the crowd.

“What do you think you are? Just a piece of meat meant to be ridden—whoever rides you, isn’t it all the same? Let me tell you, don’t count on Hook protecting you anymore; going in this time, he shouldn’t even think about coming out!”

The words were foul, and the speaking voice was even fouler, sounding like a chicken being pinched by the neck.

Richie wasn’t tall, so he naturally couldn’t see who that person was, but he could be certain that was definitely the group looking for trouble.

“Monkey, don’t go too far! Don’t look at how many men you have—this old lady isn’t easy to mess with either! Eldest Sister, why fear him? At worst, we fight it out with him!”

“Shut your asshole, or I’ll spear it open! Is my nickname something a little bitch like you can call?”

“Your fucking asshole is grown on your face! Calling you Monkey is complimenting you—you’re a fucking ass-licker!”

“Fuck, smelly bitch, really giving you face and you don’t take it! Brothers, drag this bitch down and gang-rape her! If you don’t burst that thing underneath her, you’re fucking not men!”

With an order given, the thugs raised their clubs and charged up.

However, the other side wasn’t soft either; only a woman was heard screaming out loud, followed by windows on the upper floor opening wide, as bricks and tiles rained down like hail. Even more ruthless, two women held kettles and poured downward; the kettles contained boiling water, and once poured down, a chorus of wailing immediately erupted below.

However, women were physically weaker after all; despite occupying advantageous terrain, front defense couldn’t hold, quickly breached as the thugs surged up, kicking the door open violently.

The leading thug was just about to charge in when he suddenly let out a loud cry and tumbled to the ground, hands clutching the back of his knees.

“Damn it, someone’s ambushing us! Find that guy and chop him into meat paste!”

The man sprawling on the ground appeared in his thirties, small and thin, looking truly a bit like a monkey.

The one making the move was naturally Richie. Back when he first became a knight, he always carried several packets of steel nails on him.

Flicked out with full force, anyone hit would be severely wounded if not dead.

Though he hadn’t used this move for a long time, his technique hadn’t grown rusty. On the way here just now, he happened to pass a hardware shop and casually bought a packet of steel nails.

This was merely a small packet of small steel nails, used only for nailing wooden boards and strips, because he didn’t intend to kill anyone.

Seeing these thugs charging menacingly toward him, Richie found it a bit funny. There were many people in this world who didn’t know how to fear death, and before his eyes was a large group. One had to know he hadn’t deliberately hidden his identity, wearing his combat suit right now.

Ever since his family’s shop opened, more and more knights in the city wore this type of clothing; even if these thugs were ignorant, it was impossible not to recognize a single one.

“You’d better not come over, okay? From behind, I hit the back of the knees, requiring at most two or three months of rest; but hitting from the front means hitting the kneecaps, which guarantees lifelong disability. You don’t want to spend the rest of your lives in wheelchairs, right?” Richie clutched a handful of steel nails, warning them with a smile.

Regrettably, very few people took his warning to heart; aside from three or five people hesitating and stepping back somewhat, the rest continued charging forward.

Since he issued a verbal warning and the opponents didn’t listen, Richie stopped holding back.

The rivets in his hand flew out like raindrops; Richie couldn’t actually target kneecaps exclusively, nor did he possess such precise control amidst a crowd.

As his hand raised, a wave of miserable screams erupted opposite. These nails were exceedingly fine; once hitting a body, they instantly drilled into the flesh, leaving only the tips outside.

Those thugs weren’t soldiers who viewed death as returning home; they were skilled at intimidation, but lacked the nerve to fight with their lives on the line.

“This fucking guy really is a knight!” A thug shouted, scrambling backward on all fours; several nails were embedded in his belly, and though not fatal, it pained him terribly.

Right at this moment, noisy footsteps echoed from afar.

A large group of women, also holding clubs and choppers, appeared at the other end of the street—there were roughly over a hundred of them.

Leading them was a woman with vibrant red hair and heavily painted black eyeshadow, holding what was actually a long-handled axe.

Richie had never seen any woman so fierce; in terms of sheer aura alone, even his master Lady Dena would probably pale somewhat in comparison.

“Is that Turkey?” Richie asked Audrey in a low voice.

“Don’t say it to her face. Us sisters calling this nickname doesn’t matter, but if an outsider mentions this nickname, she’ll get furious. Among our group, she ranks fourth, but in terms of prestige, she’s second only to Eldest Sister.” Audrey’s words were less of a warning and more of a plea; she didn’t want to see Fourth Sister clash with the young knight beside her.

As if proving Audrey’s words, the red-haired woman raised her axe, pointing at the thugs lying on the ground.

“You’ve got nerve! Even if Hook isn’t around, this place isn’t for you to speak! Think having a few dozen people makes you special? I can summon over a hundred with a wave of my hand!”

This woman clearly wasn’t just sharp-tongued; she waved the axe in her hand: “Sisters, smash these bastards to death!”

As her voice fell, bricks, wrenches, sawed-off iron pipes, and similar objects flew out from the hands of those hundred-plus women.

Seeing this spectacle, even Richie felt his scalp go numb; he wasn’t afraid of those flying “missiles,” but rather intimidated by the ruthless ferocity of these women.

Back in Glaslovar, he fought frequently with others, but street fights compared to the scene before him were absolute child’s play.

Unexpectedly, in the capital Peines, even street thugs were far tougher than small places like Glaslovar.

The randomly rained-down “missiles” naturally couldn’t harm Richie, but those thugs suffered terribly, all battered bloody-headed; the unluckiest were those already lying on the ground, unable to dodge at all, taking the worst injuries.

There were two waves of long-range attacks. Facing the first wave, those thirty-or-forty thugs held out stubbornly, but when the second wave of “missiles” rained down, some saw things were bad and began slipping away.

With people slipping away, their momentum instantly weakened, while the opposite side was just the reverse; seeing those women charge over, the women originally hiding inside rooms also ran out holding stools and mops.

These women surrounded the thugs who failed to escape and gave them a thorough beating.

“Your sisters are quite fierce,” Richie naturally didn’t join in, nor did he intend to stop them, standing aside to watch the show.

Audrey sighed lightly, saying with immense bitterness: “We have to be fierce! Being slightly soft guarantees being eaten clean, skin and bones included.”

A few pools of blood on the street and a ground covered in bricks proved a fight had just occurred here, but otherwise everything appeared very calm.

Richie hadn’t seen a single policeman appear from beginning to end; in fact, he hadn’t seen a single policeman in this entire district.

This was a forgotten corner.

The gathered women had all dispersed, though a few remained behind. The heavily made-up woman met earlier stayed behind, and red-haired Turkey also stayed behind.

Only now did Richie see clearly the woman revered as Eldest Sister by Audrey.

This Eldest Sister looked about twenty-three or twenty-four years old, genuinely glamorous, with a beauty mark near the corner of her mouth. Unfortunately, slap marks on her cheeks and a swollen eye damaged her image somewhat.

It was winter now, but this woman wore very little, her collar wide open, the hem of her skirt slit, her pale white thighs looming faintly.

“Little pervert, your eyes aren’t well-behaved.” This Eldest Sister was exceptionally sensitive to men’s gazes; although Richie concealed it well, he was still “caught” red-handed by her. “Thank you so much for today.”

“I didn’t seem to do much; even without me, your people arrived quickly, so you wouldn’t take much of a loss.” Richie wasn’t being humble; these fierce women genuinely shocked him.

“Don’t reject us so flatly! Are you afraid we’ll cling to you?” This woman genuinely intended to take the opportunity to draw closer to Richie. She used to have Hook protecting her, so in this area, though she couldn’t call the wind and rain, no one dared bully her at her doorstep; she never expected someone to jump out as soon as Hook fell.

She knew very well that Monkey and Scabby were merely pathfinding pawns, with the real greedy figure lurking behind.

She had even guessed who that person behind was; Hook’s arrest this time was orchestrated by that person. All along, she had been distressed over whether to find another big tree to lean on.

If she found another big tree, what she feared most was that person releasing Hook; Hook was a mad dog, and when the time came, it would be an endless feud. If she held out firmly like this, trouble would be continuous in the future.

She was suffering a headache over this, and Richie happened to barge in right at this time.

She had learned of Richie’s situation from Audrey several days ago; though knowing little, it was already enough to move her heart, and Richie’s actions today made her resolve her mind.

This young knight was not only completely un-rigid, but ignored knightly prohibitions, taking action without a single reservation.

This was an absolute rare backer.

“It seems we need to get to know each other. You’re familiar with Audrey—she’s our Second Sister. This is the lower district, where most people haven’t attended school; Second Sister is our brain.” She pointed to a woman sitting in the wall corner: “This is Third Sister Milia. If you want to inquire about any news, finding her is most suitable; whatever happens in the city, she knows it all.”

Richie immediately paid attention to the woman sitting in the corner.

That woman shared a bit of resemblance with Audrey, similarly having short hair, but dressed even more like a boy: wearing a flat cap on her head, a thick plaid cloth shirt on her upper body, and overalls on her lower body—without looking carefully, one would truly take her for a male.

“Fourth Sister Monica—don’t look at her as a woman, her fighting is fierce!” Eldest Sister continued introducing: “Fifth Sister Carmen excels most at bargaining, managing the money bag. Sixth Sister Mitty is most familiar with Peines, always able to source good stuff. Seven-Seven isn’t here; her name is Mansha, and unlike us, she frequents high-class places. I am their Eldest Sister; you can call me Ariana.”

While introducing, Ariana kept making eyes at Audrey.

Audrey understood Eldest Sister’s intentions. Survival in such a place wasn’t easy, even harder for women; previously with Hook around, though subjected to exploitation and harassment, things were relatively okay, as Hook was strict with his subordinates and the thugs below were fairly behaved. Now that Hook was locked up, this area was becoming increasingly chaotic and dangerous, and things would deteriorate further.

However, asking her to lower her face to entice Richie was something she felt embarrassed to do; Richie gave her the impression of a little brother, and a very playful little brother at that.

After hesitating for a long time, sisterly affection won out.

“Don’t you like hang gliders? Those hang gliders were all made by the sisters helping me. The silk for the wing surfaces was sourced by Fifth Sister; if Fifth Sister didn’t have connections, I probably couldn’t afford a single hang glider.” Audrey tried to cater to his interests, not knowing that obtaining such items was easy as pie for Richie, nor knowing how wealthy knights were.

Richie might not have noticed these women’s intentions initially, but after such successive probing, if he still felt nothing, he would be far too stupid.

If he had encountered such a thing when first arriving here, he would certainly push it away with all his might; Emily and the others already gave him headaches, so how would he dare provoke other women?

But now he harbored different thoughts. He wanted status and his own power; leaning on a thick leg like the Youth Army was one way, but preparing another backup was also necessary.

Back when he asked his dad to win over the people around him, he wanted to take a grass-roots route.

His dad could win over others simply because following his family guaranteed a livelihood and care.

These women before his eyes similarly only needed an anchor to rely on.

Richie didn’t believe these women, upon gaining him as a backer, would ambitiously seek to expand territory or rule the city’s underworld.

That was the difference between women and men.

What he valued was that these women were united, and their influence seemed by no means small; being able to gather over a hundred people in such a short time already counted as a non-trivial gang.

“Oh… oh… your rod is really something… oh… are you a donkey?… impaled me to death… so strong…”

Turkey’s mouth kept shouting out loud, her body shuddering non-stop, her two massive breasts quivering, sprawling on the ground at this moment like a dog.

Richie held her buttocks, thrusting with force; every time he hit bottom, he would press forcefully inward, opening her uterine mouth halfway before stopping. Thus, every time he thrust to the bottom, Turkey would go silent for a moment, her body trembling as if falling apart.

This was a small room, somewhat resembling a building basement. There was no bed here, merely a mattress laid on the ground, upon which naked women lay crisscrossed at this moment.

That Eldest Sister was also among these women, lying face-up, her plump chest heaving continuously, her eyes filled with dazed expressions.

Earlier, she almost thought she was going to die.

She had lost her virginity at fourteen, having sex with countless men before and after—rough brutes, perverted weirdos, and once even gang-raped by a group of thugs for a full day and night. She endured all of it, but earlier she couldn’t hold out.

Listening to Fourth Sister shouting wildly, as the Eldest Sister, she naturally understood: Fourth Sister’s end would probably be like hers, or perhaps even worse.

Fourth Sister was dubbed the “Man Killer”; many even said plugging a sugarcane into her bottom hole would be chewed into dregs and spat out, with countless men “dying” under her crotch.

Back when the gang that gang-raped her was caught by Hook, Fourth Sister helped avenge her: Fourth Sister similarly fucked those smelly men for a full day and night, resulting in three of them suffering penis captivus, one dropping dead on the spot, and the rest becoming permanently impotent. One could see Fourth Sister’s ferocity.

Only she knew why Fourth Sister was so fierce—it was a secret. Even among their seven sisters, only she knew this matter: Fourth Sister was a “frigid” woman; others could hardly arouse her sexual desire, and when being with men, her moans, bed-screams, and orgasmic reactions were actually faked, unspotted by anyone only because her faking was far too realistic.

But this time was different; she could hear Fourth Sister truly couldn’t endure it, already babbling nonsense, and her bottom wet as if incontinent.

Once a “frigid” woman had her sexual desire aroused, it was like pouring kerosene on dry wood, burning faster and brighter.

Struggling to climb up from the ground, Ariana felt her feet as if stepping on cotton; she supported herself against the wall and walked to the door.

The door gently opened. Third Sister Milia sat leaning against the hallway, and seeing Eldest Sister emerge, she immediately offered a hand.

Ariana casually closed the door, collapsing to the ground from lack of support.

“Go call a few more people,” the gang boss said with a face full of exhaustion.

Milia looked at Eldest Sister in surprise, asking after a long while: “Even Turkey couldn’t handle him?”

“Turkey’s probably gonna turn into boneless turkey this time. Call twenty more sisters over—call Long-Legs and the others; they might hold out for a bit, or else if another round comes, I’m afraid someone will die.” Ariana was utterly helpless; to be honest, she never expected to encounter such a little monster.

“That kid can’t be that ruthless, right? How about I have Second Sister come over? He has some acquaintance with Second Sister, so he probably won’t mess with her to the death,” Milia suggested.

“Don’t drag Audrey into this. In that kid’s eyes, we’re all whores; he doesn’t respect us at all—can’t you tell? But Audrey is different.” Ariana felt bitter inside; she didn’t want to be like this either, but life forced her onto this path, and once taking it, there was no way back, having to walk onward continuously.

Milia sighed, having nothing to say, and could only stand up to gather the other sisters!

About a quarter of an hour passed, and over twenty women dressed in flashy attire stood in the hallway.

Those qualified to be called over were absolute top-tier goods; though these women couldn’t compare to Ksenia, Nora, and Audrey, and were slightly inferior to Lina, Emily, and Ingrid, each possessed her own unique features, and in terms of appearance alone, all counted as upper-class.

Being called over, these women already knew the character they were serving was a formidable one. If even Turkey couldn’t handle him, they certainly couldn’t endure it either.

Just reaching the door, they heard a scream from within—it was Turkey’s voice.

Inside the room, Richie tightly clutched this woman’s waist, his genitalia deeply inserted into her uterus.

He unsparingly injected battle aura into Monica’s body; with every injection, a dense surge of yin energy was squeezed out from within.

It was his first time encountering a woman with such abundant yin energy; if not for the battle aura entering her body dissipating as rapidly as inside other ordinary women, he would certainly suspect this woman possessed knight bloodlines as well.

Merging that stream of yin energy into his battle aura, Richie instantly felt a swollen, satiated sensation.

Suddenly Richie’s body shuddered, and thick streams of semen directly filled Monica’s uterus. He could fully control his sexual desire now, shooting semen whenever he wished; naturally, the number of ejaculations had limits—he possessed inexhaustible energy, but not inexhaustible semen.

Up to now, he had shot two rounds—one given to Eldest Sister. Holding Monica in his arms, he gently caressed this body; this woman’s body leaned toward slim, her waist exceedingly slender, without a trace of extra fat on her abdomen; her muscles were tight, feeling like touching a little boy, but her breasts were huge, like hanging two big leather balls.

Squeezing out the last stream of yin energy, Richie hesitated over whether to play a bit longer or stop here, when the door suddenly opened, and another group of women walked in with light laughs and swaying hips.

With new prey available, Richie smoothly withdrew from Monica’s body; his massive genitalia hadn’t softened despite the recent ejaculation, still standing tall like a wooden club.

“So big! Wouldn’t someone die if this thing gets pushed inside?”

“If dying, so be it; being poked to death by such a big thing is worth it!”

“My vagina is a bit shallow; I’m afraid it can’t be fully inserted to the bottom.”

Those women showed not a hint of shyness, actually joking without reserve.

Richie didn’t mind making love with women, but such reckless teasing wasn’t what he excelled at, instantly turning his face red.

He felt like putting these women to justice right on the spot, but before starting, he had matters to take care of; he hadn’t urinated since noon, and now he couldn’t hold it in anymore. “Where’s the toilet?” Richie asked.

“Toilet?” The group of women burst out laughing.

Ariana swayed her hips and walked up to Richie, placing her arm over his shoulder, her entire body virtually hanging on him.

“Where are you uncomfortable? Front or back?” Ariana’s other hand reached straight to Richie’s crotch, her slender index finger tapping once on Richie’s anus and glans respectively.

“Just want to let out water,” Richie hurriedly said; being teased like this, he couldn’t hold it even more.

“If you want to let out water, why go to a toilet?” Ariana flirtatiously licked Richie’s earlobe, her waist twisting, her buttocks shifting to Richie’s front. Her left hand gently supported Richie’s genitalia, aligning that tightly swollen glans with her anus: “Come inside; I’ll hold it all for you. Absolutely not a single drop will leak out.”

Richie had played all sorts of perverted games—facial shots, needle pricks, enemas, candle dripping—but he had never tried this.

Fresh and exciting, Richie’s waist thrust forward, and his genitalia instantly inserted into Ariana’s anus.

Her anus was somewhat wet and slick; he had used it earlier, but this time differed from before. Richie felt Ariana’s anus locking tightly, truly sealing without a drop leaking, while the front end squirmed slightly with a weak suction force.

This sensation couldn’t be called intense, but it made one exceedingly comfortable.

Richie couldn’t hold it anymore; his urethral sphincter released, and a stream of water poured out.

After a long while, he shivered, finally finishing letting out water; after letting it out, he felt immensely comfortable.

Right at this moment, Richie felt Ariana’s anus squirming bit by bit, pushing his genitalia out bit by bit! When pushed to the glans, that petite anus was like a mouth, sucking tightly on the glans while slowly spitting outward.

This sensation was something he had never experienced before; Richie had just shot a round inside Monica’s body without shooting completely clean, holding back after shooting a bit, so his glans was currently sensitive! Instantly, his semen gate closed, and a large glob of semen was spat out.

Richie’s reaction was completely within Ariana’s expectations; this trick’s physical stimulation wasn’t very strong, the truly strong part being the psychological feeling. What could make a man feel prouder than this?

Following the contraction of her anus, most of the semen was locked inside her body, though some still stuck to the outside, forming a long thin thread dragging all the way to the ground.

Ariana’s body slowly slid down to kneel before Richie’s crotch, holding up that massive meat rod and licking it with her nimble tongue! She licked extremely carefully, licking the groove completely clean to ensure not a drop of semen remained, even licking the area behind the glans thoroughly.

Following her gentle licks, Richie’s slightly softened meat rod stood fiercely erect once more.

Ariana knew the timing had arrived, hurriedly pulling a sister over and inserting the massive meat rod inside.

The women called over not only possessed good appearances, but each had a set of sexual skills; otherwise, they wouldn’t have the qualification to come over—a man capable of fucking Turkey flat wasn’t easy to serve. When standing in the hallway, these women had already made preparations; sex was a form of exercise, and a high-intensity exercise at that, so proceeding without warming up wouldn’t do.

These women all had their own ways of “warming up.” So once entering the door, their flower paths were already muddy; though Richie’s genitalia was large, it went inside with a single thrust.

“Ah… so big… dear brother… sister can’t take your thrusting… ah…”

The woman moaned melodiously, her voice unbelievably pitiful, to the point where even Richie’s heart softened; what was meant to be heavy thrusting turned gentle due to his heart softening.

Naturally, he didn’t know this woman’s nickname was “Songbird,” excelling most at touching people with soft words; many men, when being with her, would often discharge before even engaging in real combat, overwhelmed by her moans and delicate demeanor.

In the gang, though she wasn’t among the seven sisters, she counted as a big-shot figure; in terms of methods for dealing with men, her rank was second only to “Turkey” Monica and “Baby” Aisha.

“Ow… you even put on a sheep-eye ring?” The woman screamed out loud.

“Tch, do I need that kind of stuff?” Richie was somewhat disdainful; his battle aura output could directly stimulate nerves deep inside the vagina, its effect far stronger than a sheep-eye ring.

Ariana also remarked beside them: “Indeed! This little brother’s capital is so abundant, why would he need a sheep-eye ring?”

Though speaking like this verbally, she had actually suspected Richie wore such gadgets earlier; she had tasted the flavor, and that pricking sensation was like a brush poking into the vagina, indescribably uncomfortable yet exciting enough to drive one mad. So while others took the thrusts, she kept watching, and earlier took the opportunity of licking his penis to inspect it thoroughly, finally confirming nothing was on it.

“Oh… oh… oh… lighter… don’t thrust anymore… oh… no… keep thrusting… thrust hard…”

This woman wasn’t being fickle; initially, she was overwhelmed by the stimulation, begging Richie to stop thrusting. Though she was equally famous as “Turkey” for high-level methods of dealing with men, her skills lay entirely in her mouth, her bottom capabilities being mediocre and unable to compare with “Turkey.” But when Richie really stopped moving, she felt her vagina aching with itchiness; while thrusting earlier, pleasure arrived wave after wave, with at least a moment’s breather between waves, but now, this itchiness accumulated more and more, making her feel like going mad. So she begged Richie to thrust hard again.

Regrettably, this time Richie refused to comply, because he felt a stream of yin energy seeping from deep within this woman’s vagina; though the quantity was small, it flowed continuously.

He had harbored guesses about this yin energy previously, but had only made love with Emily and the others, occasionally having a round with Aunt Ling, leaving little to compare.

Today, having impaled so many women at once—over twenty lying in the room alone—he finally felt the difference. The more lustful and skilled at serving men a woman was, the more abundant the yin energy inside her body—naturally with the prerequisite that her vital energy hadn’t suffered severe damage. Though Ingrid, Ksenia, Shaya, and Tinti were also lustful and skilled at serving men, their vital energy suffered excessive damage during the period of being modified into bitch-dogs, so the yin energy inside their bodies was noticeably less concentrated than Aunt Ling’s.

These women were the same: the one named Turkey possessed the most abundant yin energy, the one before his eyes was also decent, and Eldest Sister was far inferior, her vital energy having certainly taken damage.

He had originally treated this as a transaction: Ariana provided women for his pleasure, and he granted protection to this gang composed entirely of women. But at this moment, his heart was moved.

Ariana being beaten earlier was something he witnessed with his own eyes. With so many subordinates under Ariana, she shouldn’t care about those thugs. Yet she chose to compromise; that wasn’t easy to do.

Richie believed that if put in the same position, he certainly wouldn’t let himself take such a loss, definitely settling the enemies before his eyes first, without considering what would happen later.

Ariana’s choice proved she thought more and deeper, while also showing she treated her subordinates well.

Someone willing to sacrifice herself to protect her subordinates—even if she was just a prostitute—earned Richie’s respect.

Naturally, respect was one thing, and making love was another; it didn’t mean he planned to let these women off. He placed the woman held in his hands onto the ground, elevating her legs and pressing her knees to her chest.

This woman possessed a nice appearance, her makeup lighter than the others, which Richie could tolerate—unlike Turkey, who had decent facial features but wore makeup so terrifying it made one shudder, ruining his interest in looking at her face, forcing him to thrust from behind like a dog.

His originally massive penis, under deliberate contraction, became much slenderer. Richie’s body sank downward, instantly pushing open the woman’s cervical mouth; the woman’s body snapped taut, her eyes widening instantly. She had never been played with like this before, nor had she ever heard of anyone playing with a woman this way.

At the same time, a surge of unprecedented intense pleasure erupted from the deepest part of her body; she, who usually excelled at bed-screams, actually let out a scream just like Turkey earlier.

That scream made the other women in the room shudder; they knew very well that “Songbird,” who usually played men in the palm of her hand, was finished too.

Morning. A ray of sunlight shone through the window into the room. At this moment, the room was covered in white flesh, plump breasts and perky buttocks lying everywhere.

The sole person sitting was Richie, sitting cross-legged in the center.

He hadn’t slept all night, but at this moment his spirits were exceptionally good. According to his estimate, this night’s gains equaled five or six years of cultivation for an ordinary knight.

Naturally, such a good thing couldn’t happen constantly; making love with a woman always yielded the greatest gains the first time, as the “yin energy” obtained the first time was long-accumulated and concentrated essence, whereas subsequent gains wouldn’t be as abundant.

As his battle aura circulation revolved slowly, the final trace of yin energy merged inside; Richie clearly felt his battle aura had become exceptionally pure, as if he cultivated only one single technique.

The merged battle aura exhibited no distinct attributes—lacking the thickness of earth, the agility of wind, the explosive fury of fire, the gentle moisture of water, the icy chill of frost, and the wild tyranny of thunder.

Previously, his battle aura possessed all these attributes, which was easy to understand, because most of his battle aura was obtained through joint-cultivation. Gali and Margaret cultivated ice-attribute battle aura, Master Dena’s Thunder Battle Aura was electric-attribute, Lina’s technique was water-attribute, while Rosa and Melin were wind-attribute, and the three sisters were fire-attribute. So in the end, his battle aura became extremely chaotic, harboring every attribute.

Suddenly, a rapid flurry of footsteps caught his attention.

The footsteps were very urgent; something had definitely happened.

The door burst open; standing at the doorway was Third Sister Milia. Though she already knew Richie was formidable, seeing her sisters lying crisscrossed on the ground still made her eat a shock.

“What happened? Someone coming to cause trouble again?” Richie asked.

“No, it’s not,” Milia’s face appeared extremely pale. “The war broke out again! News just came from the front—the Alliance advanced seventy kilometers overnight!”

Richie leapt up instantly; this was absolute worst news.

He hurriedly ran to a corner of the room, digging out his combat suit from beneath a large pile of clothes.

“You had a great time last night, right? Now you plan to abandon us?” Milia stood with one hand resting against the doorframe and the other on her waist, asking coldly.

Her worry was naturally justified; with war erupting again, Richie, as a knight, might be dispatched to the battlefield. Even if he didn’t die, being on the front lines meant he couldn’t help them.

Richie glanced at the women behind him, scratching his head; this was indeed somewhat troublesome.

However, he was by no means the type to eat and run, turning cold-faced.

There were ways; last night he had already thought about how to help these women.

Such matters naturally couldn’t be requested of a great figure like Espol; he didn’t want to be looked down upon by the two Great Craftsmen. His complicated ties with Emily and the others were forgivable—after all, they were former classmates who shared hardship together, so even a tough feminist like Lady Shar turned a blind eye.

But mingling with a group of prostitutes—if Lady Shar learned of this, that old lady would certainly use that massive umbrella to smash his head.

Similarly, he couldn’t ask Highgate for help either; such matters would certainly draw disdain from Youth Army members.

So he planned to let his dad help: the association his dad assembled had members who were all lower-level officers, some with children, whom his dad tried hard to win over, while others were single bachelors, numbering quite a few.

Richie planned to act as a pimp, using these women to hook those lower-level officers.

Those officers were all in the logistics department, earning low salaries but having zero worries about living supplies; emergency materials like food and cloth were hard to get during war, but trivial for them to source.

“The worse the situation gets, the harder your lives will be. Want to step ashore?” Having spent a night with this group of women, Richie spoke full of slang.

“You have the ability to pull so many of us ashore?” Milia didn’t believe Richie. They had originally intended to rely on Richie’s knight identity to suppress others’ intentions, never dreaming of such a good thing.

She herself didn’t earn a living selling flesh, usually working on the street; with good luck, picking a bulging wallet allowed her to live comfortably for a month or two. But luck wasn’t constant, sometimes going several months without a hit—and that was considered fine, as failing a steal was nothing. The worst time was stealing the wallet of a figure she couldn’t provoke; not only did she have to return everything stolen, but that person prepared a dozen tough men to gang-rape her, fortunately settled by Eldest Sister in the end.

As for the others in the gang, each harbored heartbreaking stories. Even Seven-Seven, entering high-society venues daily, socializing with high officials and wealthy merchants, dripped in jewelry, harbored intense bitterness inside her heart.

“Who in this circle doesn’t want to step ashore except newcomers? Do you have connections?” Milia squinted her eyes, looking at Richie.

“There are connections. But if your sisters dress like this, no matter how I help, it won’t work.” Richie pointed at Turkey sprawling on the ground fast asleep.

“That’s easy—isn’t it just acting like respectable women?” Milia smiled gently. Who in this trade couldn’t put on acts? Let alone respectable women, even acting like pure, innocent ladies was doable.

“There’s another problem: can you move away from this place? If I’m not around, I can’t protect you at all, and besides, stepping ashore means cutting ties with the past.”

“Can you support so many of us? If we don’t do business, what do we eat?” Milia didn’t ask where to move. A crafty rabbit had three burrows; in her trade, having several hiding spots was a must. She was far too familiar with this city, knowing many places to hide people.

Richie pondered slightly; his mom’s factory employed hundreds of workers, and once the branch factory abroad opened, most manpower would likely be transferred away. Abandoning the branch factory here original plan was wasteful, but using it to shelter people now was just right. As long as a dozen of these women were deft with hands, making several sets of combat suits monthly would suffice to feed everyone.

The sole problem was fearing his cousin would feel jealous.

“Does your gang have people skilled at tailoring and sewing?” Richie didn’t expect masters, as long as they could tailor simple clothes.

“We don’t have spare money to purchase fancy clothes and jewelry.” Milia pointed to the corner: “Those were made by ourselves; the craftsmanship is passable, right?”

Richie put his mind at ease: “No problem on my side, but ugly words spoken first: I can only guarantee your basic living needs; eating fancy food and drinking fine wine won’t happen.”

Richie had to issue a warning in advance; examples of prostitutes going straight but unable to endure poor living conditions, ultimately returning to the trade, were countless.

He didn’t know such things occurred only in peaceful eras. Ever since war broke out, ordinary families lived increasingly difficult lives; how many people still sought flowers and willows? Yet thugs grew more numerous, making these women’s lives harder and harder. Being able to step ashore, even eating coarse food daily, they were willingly content.

​