Shield of the Rose

Fierce Aura erupted in all directions. The duel ground was encircled by a forest; trees caught in the wild sprays of Aura were either deeply gouged along their trunks or had large branches sliced clean off, while newly sprouted spring leaves fluttered down from the branches like snowflakes.

Equally devastated was the newly sprouted turf on the ground; tender green grass was either stomped deep into the mud or blasted into the air along with clumps of soil.

At the center of the arena, Richie was surrounded by a dozen female knights. Those female knights cooperated with extraordinary tacit understanding, always launching attacks simultaneously from all four cardinal directions, though the number of attackers in any single wave was kept small—at most six people.

The moment a strike failed to break through, those attackers retreated with lightning speed, allowing another wave to step up immediately to replace them.

Wave after wave of continuous attacks left Richie scrambling, having always been the one encircling others, now finally tasting the pressure of being encircled himself.

Joining forces was by no means as simple as one plus one equaling two; different combinations paired with flawless coordination multiplied each knight’s individual combat capability, while their individual weaknesses were covered by companions. What proved even more troublesome for him was facing simultaneous strikes from front, rear, left, and right; possessing only two hands, he couldn’t possibly parry every blow, the sole counter-strategy being sheer speed—parrying the frontal attack first before dealing with opponents on his flanks and rear.

He fought under immense strain.

In a one-on-one duel, he possessed absolute confidence in knocking down any of these women within a few moves, but right now, maintaining self-defense was already impressive.

Thank goodness it was him; had anyone else stood in his position, they would likely have been brought down long ago.

His “Mirror Reflection” and “Vajra Body” could be deployed in tandem, blending the two martial techniques together to yield astonishing synergistic effects.

Had anyone dared launch a full-power strike, he would certainly grab the opportunity to reflect the impact outward.

Unfortunately, that trick proved effective only at the start; after several women tasted the bitter lesson, everyone grew exceptionally cautious, deploying barely thirty percent of their force in strikes, while remaining alert to parry any reflected force. In the eyes of these female knights, the boy at the center resembled an iron hedgehog—not only indestructible, but striking him too hard risked injuring their own hands, making them feel thoroughly frustrated.

Richie himself felt equally frustrated, for a hedgehog, like a turtle, was a role that endured beatings without returning blows.

His head, somewhat overheated by mastering “Vajra”, gradually cooled down amidst the surging waves of their offense.

Previously he had sensed his newly created martial technique lacked something, and now he experienced a similar intuition once more.

“Vajra’s” defensive durability was indeed formidable, truly deserving the title of impregnable, yet it lagged significantly in speed and maneuverability.

A lack of maneuverability could be compensated through footwork. His earliest “Slide Step”, refined repeatedly through iterations, had evolved into a formidable movement technique.

That represented one reason why he hadn’t displayed signs of defeat thus far.

He could ride the wind to slip through gaps in the air, his movements shifting unpredictably, capable of sudden acceleration and sharp halts, making hitting him exceedingly difficult.

That trick had made these women suffer early on; when the battle began, he darted back and forth among them, using their own bodies as shields to slip into their gaps and effortlessly knock down several opponents.

Yet these women learned fast, interlocking into a combat formation. The moment he moved, several opposite knights would strike simultaneously, sealing off his front, rear, left, and right.

Using a net to catch swimming fish was a universal tactic throughout the ages.

Having tested all his trump cards, every single one proved effective initially, yet they swiftly devised counter-measures, until Richie realized he had run out of moves.

It wasn’t entirely without a solution. Squad 105 excelled at joint tactics against enemies, understanding clearly what such formations feared most: if an opponent relied on overwhelming strength to charge straight forward, no matter how clever the formation or how flawless the coordination, it would crumble. Just like the Honor squad Squad 105 encountered initially, whose lead Honor Knight relied on raw individual power to breach the line forcibly.

Richie discovered mournfully that what he lacked most was precisely that kind of direct, clean, brute-force fighting style. Within Squad 105, his role had always been defender and auxiliary attacker.

On the battlefield, his duty was blocking the enemy’s initial wave of strikes, then surging forward to entangle the strongest opponent—no one expected him to resolve battles single-handedly with speed.

“Alright, no need to continue fighting,” Vilia interrupted the battle from the side.

Continuing the duel served no purpose, for anyone could see the battle had devolved into an endurance match, waiting to see who collapsed first.

Pointing at the female knights, she began scolding them: “All of you usually hold yourselves in high esteem; now you understand your true weight, don’t you?”

Those words made the surrounding women look downcast; having originally intended to teach Richie a lesson, never had they expected such an outcome.

These women weren’t unaccustomed to sparring with Ace Knights, and several had even slain Ace Knights on the battlefield. Generally speaking, four or five knights approaching or reaching bottleneck rank cooperating together could certainly neutralize an Ace Knight.

Back then, Squad 105 had used similar numbers to slay several Ace Knights.

“No one is paired with you today; go rest first,” Vilia waved her hand toward Richie.

Having engaged in dual-training for several days, Richie had long grown tired of it, delighted to have an opportunity to rest.

Seeing Richie walk away into the distance, Vilia’s expression softened instantly, comforting the female knights with a subtle smile: “Don’t feel discouraged; Ace Knights differ from one another. The Ace Knights you encountered previously were ordinary combatants, whereas this boy, like Lina and Trisli, is a genius among geniuses—possessing the strength to fight even Honor Knights.”

“What martial technique does he practice? It’s so bizarre! It actually reflected our attacks back at us,” a female knight beside her asked immediately.

Though their rank matched Vilia’s, Vilia served as an instructor at the Knight Academy, spending her time researching martial techniques and manuals, possessing far broader knowledge than them.

“Naturally you wouldn’t know—that move, ‘Mirror Reflection’, is said to be his own creation. Many on the Alliance side have fallen to that trick, and word has it the Alliance added it to their watch-list of dangerous techniques,” Vilia possessed her own intelligence sources beyond academy records.

“Too bad this was a spar; many lethal moves couldn’t be used freely,” a blonde female knight sighed.

“The same goes for him,” Vilia smiled softly: “Among the seventeen divine arts, he has mastered ‘Solar Slasher’, reportedly reaching the second stage of mastery. How many among you possess ‘Aura Armor’? Without ‘Aura Armor’, facing ‘Solar Slasher’ means getting sliced like vegetables—however many go up, that many get cut.”

The moment the blonde female knight heard “Solar Slasher”, she fell silent immediately, while the other women sank into silence upon hearing divine arts mentioned.

“Everyone go back and reflect carefully. Today’s battle should yield insights for many. My expectation for you is using this opportunity to master joint strike tactics as much as possible. That boy is an expert in that domain; his Squad 105 is the finest team in tacit coordination I have ever seen. In Polmo, relying on flawless coordination, they eliminated two reinforced Honor squads. Their team had fourteen members while the enemy had about nine—the difference in numbers wasn’t huge, let alone the enemy having two Honor Knights—yet they suffered zero fatalities. Beside that boy suffering heavy injuries, everyone else sustained only light wounds, while the enemy suffered total annihilation.”

As Vilia spoke, her eyes remained fixed on the blonde female knight, for among those present, only she might know about that incident.

“Hearing you describe it like that, I’m growing increasingly interested in this legendary squad,” the blonde female knight spoke, letting Vilia know she held zero prior knowledge of the Polmo incident.

Vilia said no more.

Others might not know, but she understood clearly that this woman shared an inexplicable connection with Squad 105.

Leaving the female knights behind, Richie walked straight toward his father’s column. He visited once every day, and today was already later than usual.

Previously he hadn’t viewed “home” as anything special, but ever since learning he was a “product” from a laboratory, he suddenly realized having a home was indescribably precious—especially since his home was just an ordinary family.

That sounded somewhat awkward, yet represented his genuine feeling.

Lacking wealth, his parents could offer only their genuine affection; lacking power or status, his family held few social obligations, leaving more time to spend together.

This thoroughly ordinary home possessed far more of a true “home” flavor than many wealthy, influential households.

His father’s column was surrounded at the center by the main body. Amusingly, during rest stops, the two groups maintained a clear boundary: Malone’s family members gathered along the left side of the road, while Ariana’s group occupied the right side, separated by at least a hundred meters.

Even their living styles differed completely.

When Malone’s family members rested, each family occupied a single tent. Since the men traveled along other routes striving for their future, those remaining were women and children, so aunts and grandmothers gathering together left plenty of domestic topics to chat about without feeling lonely.

Those tents clustered into a small village, carrying a distinct community feel.

Ariana’s group presented an entirely different scene: they shared a single massive tent, bedding arranged neatly across the ground like flooring, with everyone lying casually atop it.

Richie naturally visited both sides, though every time he came, he visited his father first.

His father looked in good spirits, far more comfortable than during the initial escape from Glasslovar.

On the vehicle, he curled up to sleep, feeling zero exhaustion.

If he harbored any complaint, it was that men were far too few here, while Richie traveled at the front, leaving him without anyone to chat with.

Seeing his son approach, his father couldn’t have been happier, though saying: “Those girls have been looking forward to your visit; how can you have the heart to leave them neglected?”

“Come on, Dad,” Richie liked the feeling of home, but disliked being lectured: “I have my own tasks too. Once we reach the border, you’ll become exceedingly busy, and by then Mom will certainly say the exact same thing to you.”

Those words were delivered with skill, offering an explanation for himself while stroking his father’s pride.

Seeing a broad smile spread across his father’s face, Richie knew he had said the right thing.

“Son, to be frank, I lack confidence in this plan… I… I fear I can’t handle it…”

Only before his son did this father drop his usual posture, reverting to the man who held little authority even at home.

In his entire life, beside slapping his wife once on the way to Peines to show a firm spine, he rarely voiced strong opinions, acting nominally as head of the household while managing nothing and controlling nothing.

In the Logistics Bureau, he had enjoyed a brief period of prominence, but after hearing Richie’s warnings, he had drawn back into restraint.

When trouble struck this time, not a single person he helped previously stepped forward, while the association he prepared held zero utility, leaving him genuinely dejected.

“Don’t worry,” Richie had prepared comforting words long ago: “Didn’t you use to say that true superiors never need to do hands-on work?”

That was indeed his father’s original phrase—back when his father worked as a clerk at a trading firm ten hours a day with frequent overtime, while the firm’s boss, brother to a department head in the municipal finance bureau, visited the firm barely once a week, spending his time attending wine parties and balls, provoking his father’s complaints.

Naturally they wouldn’t think that way now. Let alone Richie, even his father listening to Malone’s group chat about high-level political secrets while hiding in the tunnel had come to understand: at a certain rank, social networking wasn’t merely work, but a form of combat—exchanging toasts was no different from clashing blades on a bloodless battlefield.

“Malone is a capable man, and in the future you’ll have even more capable people around you. Whatever task comes up, let them handle it; you only need to show your face on certain occasions, without needing to speak much. Silence is golden; others will merely view you as cautious, low-profile, and holding a profound character.” Richie encouraged his father while advising him to refrain from over-meddling.

High-level political games weren’t something ordinary civilians could easily play; politicians either hailed from elite families hardened in scheming environments from childhood, or worked as lawyers accustomed to verbal sparring.

“I understand everything you said,” his father had experienced plenty, listening to numerous secrets over two months, while Malone’s group had taught him various skills—including techniques for speaking and listening. Richie speaking with subtle implications was already quite direct, and had he failed to grasp it, Malone’s group would feel thoroughly disappointed.

“Then what else do you need to worry about? When the time comes, I’ll select a few people for you to serve as your brain trust.”

Richie held candidates in mind already: Aisha was the first, for she excelled most at reading expressions and minds, while holding zero personal ambitions.

Beside her, Jinny, Melissa, and Melissa’s mother Shaya were fitting candidates.

The mother-daughter pair of Melissa and Shaya excelled at reading minds and social networking, capable of serving as advisors while standing on the front stage.

Yet Richie preferred otherwise, for that mother-daughter pair held their own ambitions, potentially causing unexpected trouble.

As for Jinny, her utility lay in her ability: whether someone harbored goodwill or malice couldn’t escape her eyes.

Back then, Jinny had confirmed Malone’s goodwill, allowing Richie to dare follow Malone to the Internal Security Bureau headquarters building.

Hearing Richie mention them, his father guessed who they might be, though his own mental list added Ariana while omitting Jinny.

Naturally he didn’t know Richie held mild reservations toward Ariana, a formidable woman.

Unlike Malone who preferred manipulating behind the scenes, Ariana was capable of performing brilliantly on both front stage and behind scenes; uniting so many women proved her capability was by no means small, outmatching even Malone in that aspect.

Had she not been female with an unmentionable past, establishing a political party through her might yield superior results compared to Malone paired with his father.

In an open space enclosed by equipment vehicles, a plump female knight in her thirties was surrounded by others. No one spoke, everyone staring nervously at the female knight.

A hazy glow enveloped her body—dissipating Aura.

Had Richie been present, he would certainly recognize her as one of the female knights he had engaged in dual-training with.

Suddenly a series of pop-corn crackles echoed across her body, and the Aura around her turned chaotic, fluctuating between intense and faint.

Fortunately the phase lasted briefly—barely a dozen seconds—before everything restored to calm.

Everyone beside her let out a sigh of relief, including Vilia and the blonde female knight.

A moment later, the surrounded female knight opened her eyes, her face filled with uncontrollable joy.

“Stay calm; breaking through to Ace rank is indeed worth celebrating, but right now the priority is stabilizing your realm. Right after breaking a bottleneck, cultivation results are most pronounced,” Vilia reminded her.

Her concern was unnecessary, for any knight understood such fundamental logic.

“I’ll go fetch that boy so he can stay with Julia tonight,” a female knight volunteered beside her.

Those words made most surrounding female knights flush crimson—the reddest face belonging to the newly promoted knight. Vilia scratched her head; having granted Richie leave just now, bringing him back immediately felt somewhat contradictory, yet reflecting that Julia was in a critical phase, breaking her word was necessary.

Dispatching the volunteering knight to look for Richie, Vilia turned to scan the group: “Now we have our first successful breakthrough. Who among you is close to breaking through next?”

No one answered. Most female knights held husbands and families, and engaging in dual-training gave unmarried knights pause, let alone married ones considering whether it was worth the cost to break a bottleneck.

Those daring to do so were either married women or unmarried knights who had tasted forbidden fruit.

The former naturally cared about reputation—cuckolding a husband was by no means honorable—while the latter remained shy.

When visiting the equipment vehicle, everyone wore face covers; though self-deceptive—since body shape and gait revealed identity to close acquaintances—everyone maintained tacit silence without exposing it. Yet answering Vilia’s question openly right now equaled public confession.

“How uninhibited,” Vilia shook her head. Possessing a straightforward nature, she preferred direct action, which was why she stated conditions explicitly upon first meeting Richie.

“You’re hardly qualified to speak—not mentioning others, aren’t you a fraction away from Ace rank yourself? Why don’t you try?” someone refuted from below.

Vilia didn’t take offense, smiling cheerfully: “My husband and I share deep affection; I don’t wish to hurt him.”

“We don’t care! Instructor, when you taught us previously, didn’t you always demonstrate first? Why not do so this time? Once you demonstrate, we won’t mind in the least.”

Just like in a bathhouse where everyone stripped completely, who feared whom? Yet someone wearing clothes stood watching the show while calling others timid… “You proposed this initially, instructor, and we assumed you’d participate, which was why we followed your advice. Never did we expect that after tricking us into it, you’d wash your hands clean—that’s far too unfair!” Sharp-tongued female knights protested immediately.

Vilia was rendered speechlessly, unable to withstand the barrage, when fortunately the blonde female knight helped her out.

“The instructor has her own considerations. As leader, many eyes watch her, so she cannot make mistakes. Furthermore, she acted as matchmaker for this affair, making it unfitting for an intermediary to participate. Opportunities will abound later anyway. Now that you know the boy, you can act as matchmakers for her then,” the blonde female knight cast a teasing look at Vilia.

“Great, great! Let’s do that!”

“Instructor, we’ll let you off this time, but next time you can’t find excuses to refuse!”

“Victoria, you said it yourself—you must take responsibility!”

The female knights chattered boisterously.

“No problem, I’ll take responsibility,” the blonde female knight waved her hand. Holding immense prestige among these female knights, a few waves of her hand quieted everyone down.

“Now there’s a problem,” Victoria pointed at the newly promoted female knight: “We have witnessed the results. Unfortunately time is limited; even traveling slowly, completing this road takes less than half a month. How long does a single dual-training session take?” She looked around: “I timed it with a watch: the longest took thirteen minutes and fifteen seconds, the shortest took seven minutes and four seconds, averaging roughly ten minutes. That means one hour accommodates six people, yielding under a hundred people a day. Furthermore, I noticed that boy seems thoroughly dissatisfied with this format, which… easily recalls…” She wanted to say military comfort women, but found it hard to utter.

“Enough, no need to say it; we can all guess…”

The female knights shared similar feelings, though no one voiced it openly.

“Who has a good solution?” Victoria drew everyone’s attention back hastily.

Silence fell across the group, and after a moment, female knights began whispering among themselves.

“Do you have a solution?” the blonde female knight leaned near Vilia to ask in a low voice.

Startled, Vilia stammered: “Why ask me? I haven’t participated in dual-training; you’re far more qualified to find an answer than me.”

Victoria’s face flushed slightly, though vanishing in an instant: “I’m not asking you directly; I know you lack a solution. But you proposed using this method to enhance strength, so you must have an expert behind you.”

“That expert is someone you know as well,” Vilia pursed her lips.

Victoria let out a bitter laugh, knowing that expert was naturally Lina.

Seeing her friend looking dejected, Vilia sighed privately.

The complex dynamic between Victoria and Lina was something outsiders could hardly untangle.

“Fine, I’ll go ask her,” Vilia reluctantly accepted the task.

Just at that moment, one of the whispering female knights stood up.

“We have an idea,” she pulled her surrounding group into the discussion to share the embarrassment: “Does anyone notice that what proves most useful isn’t dual-training itself, but that unique energy capable of blending with Aura to convert into Aura? That energy actually isn’t needed in large volumes—excess is wasted—for only a small fraction converts into Aura…”

“That idea is excellent!” Before the female knight could finish, Victoria settled the decision, staring at Vilia: “We have found the direction; the next step is determining execution, which requires asking the expert.”

Unable to endure Victoria’s gaze, Vilia stood up awkwardly, muttering: “Fine, fine, I’ll ask her immediately.”

A unit like this naturally included a Psion for communications, though letting Lina know presented a troublesome challenge.

The communications Psion didn’t belong to their inner circle, and all communications were logged—an unavoidable constraint.

Vilia regretted not bringing a trusted Psion along, while establishing a private communication channel.

Unfortunately that was hindsight.

Yet walking toward the communications equipment vehicle, Vilia realized how to execute it.

“Your proposed method is excellent, though efficiency is somewhat low. Averaging ten minutes per session, our numbers are large while time is limited, so we devised a solution: what we need most is that unique energy. Is there a way to extract it directly? Our demand for quantity isn’t large—as long as it maintains normal operation after separating from the charger, that suffices.” The communications Psion held the note written by Vilia, completely bewildered.

Judging by the wording, it seemed a machine had developed flaws, making him wonder when these knights began researching magitech machinery. Normally such concerns belonged to logistics officers like them.

Though filled with questions, the Psion dispatched the message per Vilia’s instructions.

What followed was waiting, fortunately brief, yielding a reply after roughly fifteen minutes.

The reply was simple, causing zero suspicion for the communications Psion.

“I understand your trouble; coincidentally I encountered the same issue, though failing to find a solution. Furthermore, the manual you asked me to find last time has been procured…” Following was a series of anatomical terms understood only by knights.

The Psion glanced at it, finding zero reason to doubt.

It was indeed a martial manual—a common occurrence, for they frequently saw various manuals, though useless to Psions like them.

Vilia accepted the reply with a smile.

Stepping down from the vehicle, walking to a secluded spot, she jumped into the air with childlike excitement. Her excitement stemmed not from solving the problem, but from executing a secret maneuver to obtain a complete answer from Lina without detection.

Judging by the reply, Lina had contemplated the issue as well, which explained why an answer arrived so swiftly. Claiming “failing to find a solution” was an intentional reverse statement.

Why would Lina state a reverse phrase intentionally?

After her excitement faded, Vilia pondered the implication: if such a method existed, why hadn’t the boy mentioned it before departing?

Thinking so, Vilia guessed there must be a catch.

Walking to the front of an equipment vehicle, using its headlight, she read the reply carefully line by line.

Upon reading it, Vilia’s face turned strange, and after a long pause, she burst into boisterous laughter, covering her mouth to prevent sound from escaping.

No wonder Lina hadn’t dared tell her initially; the content on the paper was far too… provocative. Had she not known dual-training yielded astonishing results, no woman would accept such a method—it challenged female tolerance far too intensely.

Now she wished to return quickly to see the female knights’ reactions—especially Victoria’s reaction.

Thinking so, Vilia stopped her laughter immediately.

Past ten o’clock, Richie slipped out of Emily’s tent. The female knight had visited him earlier, but he had delayed until now to walk over.

Having a woman wait to engage in intense intimacy with him, while he acted distant and delayed until now—telling others such a story, no one would believe it.

He didn’t dislike making love with women, merely detesting being treated as someone summoned at will.

Walking to the equipment vehicle, Richie saw Vilia standing against the door. “Don’t tell me you want to engage in dual-training with me?” Richie pointed at Vilia, his mind filled with astonishment.

What answered him was a firm rap against his forehead.

“What absurd thoughts are you harboring?” The red-haired woman slapped a piece of paper onto Richie’s face: “Read it yourself.”

Taking the paper with a mind filled with suspicion, Richie stepped under the equipment vehicle’s headlight…

A single glance told him what martial technique the paper detailed.

Among all manuals, only dual-training manuals used the perineum as the circulation starting point…

The dual-training manual in his hand was surprisingly simple, lacking a major circulation path, consisting merely of a restricted minor loop—starting at the perineum, ascending to the kidneys, routing along the ribs to the navel, before turning downward. Richie had researched manuals far more than magitech armor, and a brief study told him this manual wasn’t meant for mutual dual-training, but purely for harvesting the other party’s Aura.

That such a self-serving dual-training manual existed made his initial “Sky-Stealing Secret” look exceedingly polite. Fortunately a paragraph below clarified that these women weren’t scheming against him.

It stated clearly that these women needed not his Aura, but the mutated energy he converted.

That wasn’t hard to comprehend, for that had been Randy’s exact function initially.

“If you understand it, follow me,” Vilia gestured.

Beside the road stood a long military tent constructed by connecting multiple tents together. Richie had noticed the unlit tent previously, but the moment the curtain lifted, he saw everything inside clearly.

The scene was spectacular.

Women lay naked across military folding cots, arranged neatly shoulder-to-shoulder, facing one direction.

Richie swallowed his saliva with a loud gulp. His days in the tunnel had been explicit to the extreme, yet never had he witnessed a scene more provocative than this.

With a soft rustle, the tent curtain fell, plunging the interior into pitch darkness.

Yet to Richie that meant nothing, for a tent wasn’t an airtight cabin; canvas, though thick, couldn’t block light completely.

To ordinary eyes the interior appeared pitch-black, but to Richie, though dim, details were visible.

These female knights acted decisive, stripping completely naked to lie there, though keeping their heads buried beneath blankets.

That was somewhat unappealing.

Did they think he couldn’t recognize them? Richie thought privately.

Over past days, wandering around during rest stops had allowed him to recognize almost everyone—uncertain about barely a dozen people, while others who had made love with him reacted whenever he approached.

Originally he hadn’t intended to expose identities to avoid embarrassment, but this time his temper flared up. Refraining from rushing into action, Richie strolled around the room. As he passed every woman, his hands reached beneath the blanket to press firmly against their intimate areas.

His force control was exquisite, making the female knights feel comfortable to their very bones, an exquisite sensation that lingered long after his hands pulled away.

Thus they failed to notice that pubic hair—whether dense or sparse—drifted to the floor as Richie’s hands pulled back.

Richie was adept at this trick, favoring hairless intimate areas—a trait shared by Squad 105, Emily’s group, and Ariana’s group.

Beside Aunt Ling, every woman he had made love with shared this exact trait, turning into a common signature among his women.

Walking a complete circuit, returning to the first female knight, Richie stood behind her.

He tapped her entrance with his finger, finding it wet and lubricated, slightly parted in a welcoming posture.

This time he showed zero restraint, spreading his fingers to massage and knead her plump buttocks.

When on the equipment vehicle, though using minor techniques, he hadn’t used the full set, fearing making the female knights look too disheveled.

This time he harbored pent-up frustration—granting him leave one moment while summoning him back the next, which had annoyed him, and now guarding against him like a thief added fuel to the fire.

Deploying his full repertoire, a few kneads rendered the female knight limp, soft moans escaping from beneath her blanket—clearly she had stuffed the blanket into her mouth to suppress sound.

Unfortunately sound escaped involuntarily despite the barrier.

Sensing the timing ripe, Richie aligned his shaft with her entrance, thrusting upward with force.

The wet path was slick, offering zero resistance, plunging straight to the bottom in one stroke.

Thrusting firmly against her cervix, inserting half his glans inside, he pulled out completely before thrusting deep once more, exerting force relentlessly.

He suddenly realized he hadn’t made love in this standard posture for a long time.

In the tunnel, his goal had been harvesting Yin Energy, followed by conquering the women, with pleasure ranked last.

Richie held zero intention of conquering these women individually.

Most held husbands, and Richie had zero desire to see a line of men waiting to duel him, so he merely wished to give them a taste of discipline.

Since intending to discipline them, Richie deployed forbidden techniques Lina had barred him from using.

After barely forty thrusts, the female knight shuddered—a sign of imminent climax—and Richie paused with a mischievous smile.

Leaving that female knight, Richie shifted behind the adjacent female knight.

With a thrust of his waist, his massive shaft plunged into the second female knight’s body.

Yet this time he used one hand to massage her buttocks, while his other hand lingered over the previous female knight’s intimate area.

This technique was named “Deep-Seated Passion”—an aggressive move within the Soul-Melting Touch.

It paused a woman right at the brink of climax, using specialized manipulation to maintain her body continuously at that peak, a sensation that drove women mad.

The previous female knight shuddered continuously—not from climax, but from involuntary physical reaction to suppressed arousal.

Her body temperature rose, and given sufficient light, one would see her skin turning crimson.

Neutralizing the first female knight, Richie sensed the current knight reacting as well, withdrawing his shaft to shift onto a third female knight, leaving the second to endure the same discipline.

One after another, the tent filled with moans blending pain and pleasure.

Initially the female knights suppressed their sounds, but hearing others emit moans, they abandoned restraint—reasoning that moans differed from spoken voices, while being recognized carried near-zero probability.

With many participating, sounds grew louder, eventually seeping outside the tent, startling Vilia on sentry duty.

This was no minor affair; she coughed loudly, using Aura to project her voice: “All of you suppress your voices; zero sounds allowed!”

Though lacking Lina’s sonic attack power, Vilia’s scolding penetrated military blankets clearly into their ears.

Every female knight flushed crimson, their minds cleared by the scolding—how could they have forgotten such a constraint amidst intense pleasure?

In an instant, sounds quieted down significantly.

Vilia standing outside breathed a sigh of relief, though standing close to the tent, soft sounds still reached her ears—moans seeping into her hearing.

Human minds were strange: when female knights urged her to join dual-training, she refused decisively out of strong resistance. Yet the more she resisted, the more her mind fixated on it.

Vilia felt as though thousands of ants were biting her body, an unbearable itch spreading everywhere—most intense in her heart and lower body.

She walked hastily into the nearby forest where distance muted the sounds, leaning against a tree for support, fearing her limp legs couldn’t hold her up.

“What scheme is that boy pulling? Making so many women cry out in pleasure?” Vilia muttered curses internally.

Beside cursing, she felt curious. Holding a husband, having spent early marriage days in bed, she was no stranger to intimacy, yet moaned only during actual lovemaking.

Vilia didn’t believe Richie was making love to every female knight simultaneously; even if the boy possessed supreme capability, counting fingers, toes, and tongue, each “member” handling one woman yielded at most twenty-two women, whereas current sounds indicated far greater numbers.

“Could it be intimate devices?” Vilia dismissed the guess immediately, for carrying so many devices required a massive sack, let alone female knights submitting to such manipulation—if one or two endured it, most would refuse. The more she pondered, the less she understood, her curiosity inflaming the physical itch within her body. Suddenly Vilia felt a surge of moisture between her thighs, her face flushing crimson instantly.

She wasn’t a Squad 105 member, nor had she ordered combat suits from Richie’s shop, wearing regular uniform trousers. Needless to say, her crotch was soaked.

Vilia possessed a casual nature, yet any woman cared about her image, while leaving sentry duty right now was impossible.

Cursing Richie in her heart, Vilia steeled herself to endure.

A gust of wind blew past, making her feel a cool breeze between her thighs, her face turning even redder.

Suddenly she recalled visiting Squad 105’s camp previously, spotting a row of leather underwear hanging outside the laundry room.

Back then she found it strange, but now she understood completely.

With such a insatiable wolf around, wearing non-leather underwear resulted in exact embarrassment like hers.

Inside the tent, Richie wasn’t merely causing mischief; he hadn’t forgotten his primary purpose.

This dual-training method was simple and efficient, taking one or two minutes per woman.

Most female knights possessed prior dual-training experience, knowing this unique energy was precious, dissipating if not refined promptly, so they lay there enduring intense pleasure while guiding their Aura.

All cultivated fire-attribute manuals, restricted to thirty minutes previously to prevent internal damage, yet now free of constraints, wishing this state could endure indefinitely. After an unknown duration, Richie completed every woman.

Though injecting a minor thread of Aura into each knight, the sheer numbers left him somewhat exhausted.

Returning behind the first female knight, his initial playfulness had vanished.

With a powerful thrust, his massive shaft plunged into her body.

If previously it resembled a wet path, now it could only be described as a mudslide.

Her inner thighs were coated in thick fluid, leaving a wet puddle on the mattress.

The sensation differed completely from earlier: hot inside, her inner muscles coiling tightly around his shaft, twisting and rubbing continuously.

This wasn’t technique, but natural instinct—like a starving person devouring food or a thirsty person gulping water, even the most reserved woman turned wild when pushed to the limit.

Yet what Richie noted most was that extraordinary heat.

Ariana’s group cultivated fire manuals, generating internal heat, but couldn’t compare to the female knight before him.

Not only was her vagina scalding, but her skin felt hot to the touch, as if running a high fever.

“Hope nothing goes wrong,” Richie thought privately.

Refraining from further pranks, Richie thrust his shaft to the bottom, deploying reverse extraction.

The moment he penetrated, the female knight’s body arched high, her hips raised while her waist bent low as if snapping.

Maintaining the posture for a minute, her body shuddered violently as a hot surge erupted from her entrance.

In that exact instant, a surge of fiery Aura was forcibly extracted by Richie.

If earlier represented planting seeds, now was harvest time.

This new dual-training manual offered benefits to both sides, allowing women to gain while letting men harvest as well.

Richie held zero intention of being polite, for Aura gained from refining mutated energy dissipated over time if left unharvested, leaving only a minor fraction behind, so taking extra posed zero harm.

Receiving the Aura into his body, Richie knit his brows slightly.

This Aura was not only intensely hot, but carried an exotic quality that ignited physical desire, making his body feel feverish after half a circuit.

Purifying and refining it was by no means easy.

Previously that would pose a major problem, but right now it presented zero obstacle.

In moments he neutralized a dozen female knights, extracting Aura while pushing them to climactic peaks.

Having suppressed arousal for so long, that instant release left a deep impression on the female knights.

Extracting Aura from a dozen female knights simultaneously, Richie had to pause.

These chaotic fire Auras carried intense heat, making his body feel uncomfortably hot. Gathering the extracted Aura into a ball, Richie guided it along Vajra’s circulation path.

Vajra was a bottomless pit, consuming whatever Aura entered—regardless of attribute or quality, swallowing everything whole.

With every portion of Aura consumed, the circulation path grew firmer.

Watching vast Aura vanish at visible speed, Richie gasped privately, wondering when he could reach minor mastery in Vajra.

Once reaching minor mastery, this manual would cease being a pure sink, achieving at least balance between consumption and generation, making the path smoother.

Vajra was called the hardest yet easiest divine art because initial entry was steep, while the remaining path proved smooth.

Scanning the row of raised buttocks, Richie’s mind felt far more assured.

The initial path—formidable for others—proved effortless for him.

Richie’s group smoothly arrives at the border city of Stein, where the first challenge they encounter is the refugee crisis. Resolving this issue becomes their initial step into the political arena. His father’s public declaration and Richie’s unyielding vigilance toward Malone prompt Richie to quietly plan alternative retreat routes…

Manuel’s arrival brings the Great Craftsmen’s latest research on the “Magic Cube”, inspiring Richie toward a new armor design. Yet the Librarian Uncle’s warnings still echo in his ears—what inspiration will this bring to Richie?

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