Knight's Bloodline Episode 20, Parts 4-5 Author: Blood Coral

page views:1 Publication date:2023-06-11 18:39:37

Chapter Four: Misfortune

After three days in Casmolina, Leach had gained some understanding of the city.
He had visited three countries so far, each so different.
The people of Montstock were busy from birth; without it, they couldn't even survive, let alone enjoy a good life. In Montstock, although there were social classes, these weren't fixed; one could improve their status through hard work.
The people of Parkington were the complete opposite. It was a rigidly hierarchical society where climbing the social ladder was extremely difficult. Therefore, the people there simply did their jobs and didn't have many ambitions.
The people of Varedin were another story. Their social class was also very strict, and advancement was incredibly difficult. Therefore, most people there didn't have much ambition, and like the Parkingtons, they were leisurely. However, the Varedin were different from the Parkingtons. Instead of pursuing higher status, they pursued wealth, and their greed for wealth was no less than that of the Montstocks.
The rigid hierarchical system and the insatiable greed for wealth combined to create a unique atmosphere in Varedin.
It was a country groveling before privilege, and the capital, Casmolina, was rife with all sorts of privileges, which had become more valuable than money.
To be honest, Richie enjoyed this feeling.
Like now, sitting in a rickshaw, a woman in his arms, enjoying her service and admiring the surrounding scenery—nothing could be more pleasant.
Rickshaws were something he'd never seen before, somewhat like treating people like beasts of burden, so he was initially quite uncomfortable. But after a while, he actually found this kind of transportation quite good; after all, it was a person pulling the rickshaw, and communicating with people was much easier than communicating with horses. Besides, these things were exceptionally agile, able to go anywhere, through streets and alleys.
This rickshaw wasn't hailed from the street; it was specially prepared by the club for its pleasure-seeking customers. It had a roof for shade and rain protection, and a perimeter fence to keep mud and dust out, so there was no need to worry about exposure while making love inside.
But the real key was that riding in this rickshaw was like a signboard, telling the outsiders that those inside were privileged individuals.
These past two days, he'd spent his free time riding rickshaws all over town. Partly, to familiarize himself with the terrain; he had the rickshaw pull him to the most bustling and vibrant areas of Casmolina—the perfect places for rendezvous, secret meetings, or escaping pursuit. Another reason was that he enjoyed the feeling.
Making love secretly in public had a unique thrill. It
was particularly exciting, particularly heart-pounding.
Richie wondered if he was becoming more perverted.
But today, he wasn't out for pleasure; he was going to meet his accomplices.
The rickshaw gradually slowed down, and after a moment, the driver called out in a hoarse voice, "Young master, we've arrived."
Lich reluctantly lifted the woman from his arms and withdrew his genitals.
The woman's buttocks and genitals were still swollen and red; the wounds on her buttocks were much better than two days ago, but her genitals were even more swollen, so she could only half-lie on the seat with her buttocks raised, making her look pitiful.
After straightening his clothes, Lich opened the rickshaw door.
These rickshaws had a small door at the front, mainly to block the view and prevent anyone from seeing what was inside. The driver stood beside him, knees slightly bent, back bent at almost a ninety-degree angle, bowing and scraping with a beaming smile.
The rickshaw stopped at a rather famous food street in Casmolina, a place Lich had visited on his first day there.
It was indeed a good place to meet.
It wasn't mealtime, yet a mouthwatering aroma still filled the air, a complex and enticing scent.
Restaurants of all sizes and styles lined the street, but this street wasn't just about restaurants; it was also filled with roadside stalls. The road itself was narrow, completely crammed with tables and chairs, making it impossible even for rickshaws to pass. If there was anything unpleasant about this food street, it was the filth. The ground was covered in something—oil or something else—that left a sticky residue underfoot.
As he walked, he glanced at both sides, not at the restaurants or stalls, but at the narrow, winding alleyways.
Every single one of these alleyways was lined with restaurants.
In Montstock, this wouldn't be the case; a restaurant without a good location would likely close down within days.
Counting the house numbers, Richie finally found the place he was looking for.
Venturing into the deep alley, at the end stood a simply decorated restaurant: bamboo doors, bamboo windows, bamboo eaves, and a clump of reeds growing in a ceramic jar by the door—all exuding an air of detachment from the world.
Unlike other restaurants, there were no elaborately dressed waiters at the entrance. Richie pushed open the door; there wasn't a soul inside. He went straight up to the third floor.
A small river ran alongside the back of the restaurant, and Richie sat down in a corner. It was right next to the window, offering views of the flowing water and passing boats.
He hadn't been sitting long when the bamboo curtain beside him was lifted, and a woman entered, walking directly to Richie. Richie's eyes widened; he couldn't believe that the one who greeted him was Trisley.
Trisley was now also made up; her hair was dyed a reddish-brown and cut very short. She used to have long hair, perfectly matching her quiet demeanor, but now, with this change, she looked like a complete tomboy.
To match her current appearance, Trisley changed into a black, tight-fitting leather outfit.
Omor women were already slender and bony, and this outfit accentuated their beautiful curves even more.
"Don't look at me like that, or I'll dig them out!" Trisley snapped.
"How could I dare think that?" Richie raised his hands in surrender.
Trisley wasn't fooled, but she didn't want to dwell on the matter any longer.
"How's the situation over there?" Richie asked. Although he had learned something about the Ironblood Legion's camp in Sky City, he still wanted to hear Trisley's opinion.
"It's bad. The security is too tight." Trisley sat down, crossed one leg, and rested her chin on her hand, looking out the window. "Even the Valedin people aren't allowed in. The only ones who can get in are a bunch of latrine cleaners."
Although she was reluctant, compared to completing the mission, the stench was nothing.
"Can we sneak in?" Leech asked.
"I'm afraid it'll be difficult. The cesspool is in a corner of the camp, and there's a wall blocking it, so you can't see what's inside. There are people watching when they're pumping out the latrines, so there's no way to pull any tricks." Trisly said this, her tone a mix of regret and relief.
"There are two areas around that camp: one is a warehouse where daily food and supplies are stored, and the other is a garbage dump that a group of workers cleans up every week." Trisly further explained the information she had.
"Can you find the blueprints for the sewer system?" Leech asked.
"I've even considered the cesspool, how could I not have thought of this?" Trisly scoffed. "The sewer system here isn't that advanced; it's all gutters."
The mention of gutters reminded Richie of the one at the street corner—a narrow ditch covered with stone slabs.
"So, sneaking in is simply impossible?" Richie was exasperated. Sneaking in would be the best outcome; otherwise, he'd have to use several other plans, each one highly dangerous.
"There's an opportunity I wonder if it'll come in handy?" Trisly had put in considerable effort for this mission: "There's a railway line leading directly to the camp, and a train goes there every so often."
Richie didn't speak; his intuition told him it wasn't a good idea. This kind of transportation was too restrictive; he could only travel along the tracks.
Seeing Richie's lack of response, Trisly pressed him: "Why don't you come up with a plan?"
"Can you even drive that thing?" Richie asked helplessly.
Trisly shrugged.
"So even genius girls have things they don't understand," Richie joked.
This earned her a glare. Trisly cautiously glanced around; the term "genius girl" was far too sensitive.
"Even if we intercept the next train, getting into that barracks will still be extremely difficult. Those railways aren't highways; you can't just go wherever you want. I recently studied it and discovered the entire railway system is incredibly complex. Every train's departure and destination is predetermined, and even the timing won't change much." Trisly had clearly put in considerable effort.
Richie could only listen blankly to Trisly's explanation, unsure of her meaning. Wasn't this her plan? Why was she only talking about the difficulties?
Richie genuinely didn't know much about trains, which was one of the reasons he instinctively opposed the plan.
This thing was created by the Alliance. The Alliance countries are geographically located in the south, with humid and rainy climates, making highway construction and maintenance difficult; therefore, they chose railways.
The Alliance forces were mostly located in the north, and the three great empires had well-developed road networks, so they didn't value railways, which were located in the west. Montintok had been building railways before the war, but they were only experimental.
"In any case, this is an opportunity," Trisly said, changing the subject.
Leach could only roll his eyes. A whole host of difficulties lay before him, and he really didn't understand why Trisly was so persistent.
A year ago, he would have listened to whatever Trisly said, but the situation was completely different now.
Leach tried to calculate the probability of success, but his mind was blank. He was utterly inept at devising tactics.
However, pretending was necessary; he was worried that agreeing too quickly would be disadvantageous. Being led by the nose was no fun.

The Ironblood Legion's base was located in a place called Mendel's Plateau, with no higher terrain in the surrounding area.
This meant that Leach either had to enter the barracks or scout from the air; otherwise, he wouldn't be able to find out what was going on inside. One crucial reason he was chosen for this mission was that only he could fly to that altitude and observe the barracks from the air. However, this was a last resort; such a risk would only be taken as a last resort. The Alliance had researched several methods for dealing with aerial targets, but it was impossible to deploy them everywhere in a short time. They could only be placed in a few crucial locations, and the Ironblood Legion's base was certainly one of them.
The Mendel Plateau was quite large, a spindle-shaped platform six kilometers long and three kilometers wide, hundreds of meters high. It used to be covered in lush vegetation, but since the Ironblood Legion moved in, all the vegetation had been uprooted; not a single tree or blade of grass could be seen.
The only connections to the plateau were a road and a railway track.
Looking at the railway track in the distance, Richie shook his head at Trisly.
The genius girl bit her lip, looking very unwilling.
Retracting his observation scope and removing the telescope from the front, Leach casually picked up a twig and drew a line on the ground. Then, he poked several holes around the line with the twig.
These were all hidden sentry posts.
All the high ground along the entire railway line was covered with hidden posts. Anyone appearing within two kilometers of this railway would definitely be detected. This was far more sophisticated and treacherous than the Varedin's practice of placing observation posts every few hundred feet along major transportation routes.
Leach made a series of hand gestures to Trisly: "Luckily you were cautious and didn't get too close, otherwise we would be finished."
"I had already considered that possibility, I didn't need you to remind me," Trisly said irritably, making a series of hand gestures as well.
This wasn't just about being cautious; she had to contact the rear every day and consult them on every idea. The enemy had a large number of advisors, so of course they would consider all sorts of possibilities.
The two quietly retreated. Varedin was definitely a paradise for scout knights; the dense vegetation provided hiding places everywhere.
Retreating far from the camp, Lich sighed, "What other ideas do you have?"
"I think this route can still be useful, even if it's just to draw attention. A feint attack here will make things much easier for you." Trisley wasn't planning to give up completely.
"Just the two of us? Do you think you can draw the Ironblood Legion's attention by yourself?" Lich knew Trisley had a few people with her, the Omor Kingdom's mobs planted in Valedin. These mobs had been there for over a decade, never used, just in case something like this happened. However,
they were all ordinary agents; even if they were slightly better than average, they wouldn't be of much use in this kind of operation.
"I can quickly gather a group of people over..." Trisley decided to lay her cards on the table. This was a joint operation by the alliance, but Parkinton and Rossotto had never paid attention to Valedin, a small place. Only the Omor Empire had some resources to allocate, and the decision on how many forces to deploy rested with Trisley.
Back when Valedin accepted Monstok's surrender some time ago, the Omor Empire had dispatched a team of infiltrators. Trisley, as the Omor Empire's representative at the ceremony, was responsible for liaising with this infiltrator unit. After the surrender ceremony, Trisley nominally returned home with the delegation, but in reality, she remained in Valedin.
This infiltrator unit was quite powerful; they originally planned to attack the Valedin Palace if necessary, but for this operation, they were indeed qualified to use this force.

Having made a trip outside the city without any results, neither Richie nor Trisley felt quite comfortable.
To maintain secrecy, the two had to wander around the city for half a day before entering from another direction.
Upon entering the city, Richie hailed a rickshaw. He didn't intend to take advantage of Trisley; otherwise, it would arouse suspicion.
When traveling with Richie, Trisley would always put on makeup; she wore a wig and the short jacket and sarong commonly worn by Valedin women. She chattered away in Varedin all the way, and Rich would occasionally stammer a reply.
The coachmen didn't find it strange; it was a common sight in Casmolina.
Valedin was a second-rate country within the Alliance. Foreigners who came there fell into two categories: those who were high-ranking officials with privileges, and laborers who didn't even receive the same treatment as ordinary citizens.
Richie didn't seem like the latter.
As soon as they got in the car, Trisley gave them a place she lived nearby.
It was always good to be cautious; she never took a car directly back to her lodgings, always getting off somewhere nearby and walking back.
Richie didn't live there; he was still at the private club.
The place Trisley told the driver about was a bustling area, and the road would pass by the hotel where Trisley stayed. The street was lively, with shops lining the roadside, their signs haphazardly hanging like plasters.
Suddenly, Richie felt a gaze sweep over him.
It wasn't that no one had noticed him along the way, but this feeling was completely different; this gaze was exceptionally sharp and carried a hint of murderous intent. Before Rich could even decide, another gaze swept over him, this time from a different direction. In just a short moment, he felt over a dozen gazes, all directed at nearby "high points."
The vast network formed by these "high points" encompassed the inn where Trisly was staying.
The rickshaw continued on, turning a corner, and Rich could still feel the murderous gazes, several fixed on him.
Fortunately, the place Trisly had mentioned was some distance from her inn; after two intersections, the gazes gradually disappeared.
The rickshaw slowly came to a stop. Trisly bowed slightly, about to get off, when Rich grabbed her arm and said to the driver, "I... changed my mind, to... the seafood... dock."
The seafood dock was at the other end of Casmolina, almost across half the city.
Trisly looked at Rich, puzzled.
"Your place is surrounded. I wonder if they're after you," Richie transmitted telepathically.
Trisley's expression immediately turned serious. She knew Richie's background, so she trusted his intuition.
It took a full half hour to get to the seafood wharf. During that time, Trisley was constantly distracted, her mind wandering. Richie wasn't in a good mood either, but compared to Trisley, he was much calmer because he had no connection with her; he had only communicated with her from beginning to end. The
seafood wharf was arguably the busiest and most bustling place in Casmolina, which was why Richie had chosen it.
The roads leading to the wharf were packed with people, making it impossible for rickshaws to squeeze in. So the rickshaw driver had to stop in the plaza outside.
"I'd like to hire you again. Would you like to wait here?" Richie tossed the driver a medium-denomination banknote, enough to cover the rickshaw's expenses for the day.
The driver nodded and bowed repeatedly, saying "thank you" repeatedly. He pushed the cart to the side of the square, took a rag from under the footrest, and began wiping the cart.
Seeing this, Richie knew the driver wouldn't leave.
It wasn't that he was interested in the driver, but he was worried that if the guy passed through that street again, and someone lying in wait stopped him for questioning, there could be trouble.
He and Trisly hadn't left many clues, but suddenly changing their destination was suspicious in itself. In short, it's better to be safe than sorry. This
wasn't Richie's first time at the seafood pier.
It wasn't a large pier; all the boats docked were small boats, shaped like pike or willow leaves, with shallow bottoms. The slightly larger ones could seat eight people, but most could only seat four. What was special was that each boat had a small stove at the bow.
The river wasn't large, just one of the larger ones among the many crisscrossing canals of Casmolina, but it was incredibly bustling, practically a floating market.
Many boats were moored in the middle, selling river and seafood, as well as vegetables and various meats. You could buy what you wanted and toss it to the boatwoman to cook.
Richie randomly picked a small boat, but only one of him boarded. Trisley didn't get on; she was eager to get to the bottom of things.
After they parted ways, Trisley circled around to the other side of the seafood dock to avoid running into the rickshaw driver.
Once on the main street, she hailed another rickshaw.
She had arrived a week earlier than Richie, and in that week, besides scouting the terrain, she hadn't done anything else, so if there was a problem, it certainly wasn't with her.
If it wasn't a coincidence, then there must have been a traitor in her contact list.
Since something might have happened, she certainly didn't dare go directly to him. Pulled by a rickshaw puller, Trisley arrived at the nearest commercial street, where she bought quite a few things from several shops.
In Varedin, labor was cheap, and in places like commercial streets, there were always people carrying loads on shoulder poles, their job being to carry things for others. With
so many items Trisley bought, a group of porters naturally gathered around. This was exactly what she needed.
After dividing her purchases, she got some papers from a shop assistant, wrote down addresses and recipient names, and had several porters each carry a portion to the shop.
After sending the porters away, Trisley had the rickshaw puller take her to the entrance of a clothing store. After going inside, she emerged about fifteen minutes later, looking completely different.
She was now dressed in men's clothing, her hair parted to the side, with a small mustache, and a pair of brown-tinted glasses obscuring her captivating eyes. Her cheekbones and jawline were also padded, making her look like a man.
She flagged down another rickshaw, not specifying her destination, but simply instructing the driver to pull the cart. At intersections, she would tell him whether to go straight or turn.
After about seven or eight blocks, the area ahead suddenly became crowded, with police officers walking around.
Trisly's heart skipped a beat; she knew exactly what was going on there. The people on her route used small businesses as a cover, and the shop ahead was one of their hideouts. She
was using a "test the waters" tactic. Buying those items and having the porter deliver them was a way to see how it would go.
This test had worked, drawing out the "wolves" lurking in the shadows. Trisly pedaled twice and shouted to the driver, "Go back and turn right."

Two hours later, Trisly returned to the seafood dock with a grave expression, now dressed as a woman.
After glancing at the river, she immediately spotted Richie.
A bamboo pole stood upright on Lich's boat, with a small, exquisite red lantern hanging from its top. He had hired this boat because it was eye-catching.
The small boat was moored beside a large ship, a multi-story vessel that, while not extravagantly decorated, was still elegant and refined. The ship had three decks, the bottom two already full of people, with the sounds of clinking glasses and exchanging toasts drifting from them.
These floating restaurants are quite common on this waterway, and they always do good business. After all, the food prepared by the boatwomen is generally not very good, not as good as that of a real chef, and many people who come here to enjoy themselves don't care about the price. Of course, there are also quite a few people like Richie who buy their own food and have it cooked by a chef.
Trisley also called a boat, and after her boat docked at Richie's boat, she stepped over.
After getting on her boat, she casually pointed to her own boat to the boatwoman.
The boatwoman understood, knowing that the two had something to discuss, and quickly and tactfully went to another boat.
"You certainly know how to enjoy yourself." Trisley stared at the pile of clam shells on the table, extremely annoyed.
"If you're in a bad mood, don't take it out on me." Richie's backbone has become more and more rigid now; with his elevated status, his thoughts are naturally different from before.
"Did something really happen to you?" He didn't care if the question was a bit silly, after all, he could guess a bit from Trisley's expression.
Trisley didn't answer the idiotic question. She stared coldly at Leach, whose hands were greasy and who was still eating.
"Won't that infiltrator unit be in trouble?" Leach continued.
"Don't worry about that. There's no connection between the two sides. As long as I'm safe, they're safe." Trisley sighed. She had always maintained a high profile, but this operation was so important that she had shown a slight weakness. This incident, however, had made her let go of many things. In an
instant, she returned to her usual calm and indifferent demeanor.
"Are you planning to continue this operation?" Trisley looked at Leach.
Leach wasn't as calm as he appeared; he had also been pondering this question.
Deep down, he wanted to end it here, because this operation was far too dangerous. Now that the Omor Empire's mole in Kasmolina had been completely exposed, the difficulty of the operation had increased even further. But after thinking
for a long time, he finally came to the same conclusion—when the nest is overturned, no egg remains unbroken.
"How much do those people actually know about this operation?" Leach needed to get to the bottom of this first.
Trisley hesitated to answer. Although she hadn't mentioned the purpose of this trip to these people, she wasn't sure if she had inadvertently revealed anything. After about five or six minutes, having reviewed everything that had happened recently, she said, "Probably not. When we set up these outposts, we didn't intend for them to collect any intelligence. It was just to coordinate some covert operations, so I didn't have them do anything this time. When I went out to scout the terrain, I didn't tell them where I was going." "
Then what about the intelligence you have?" Leach couldn't help but ask.
"The Alliance has more than just this one group of spies in Casmolina. Even if I had them help spread some messages twice, I used codes," Trisley said.
Leach wasn't worried about revealing anything during the message-spreading process. He had also obtained a code when he left Sky City. Lauralis had told him that this code was specifically prepared for his operation, hadn't been used before, and wouldn't be used again. Deciphering it wouldn't be easy. He was certain that Trisley possessed something similar.
Just then, a commotion arose in the distance.
Both ends of the seafood pier were sealed off by police, though only a dozen or so officers had arrived.
Richie initially thought Trisley had accidentally attracted the attention, but seeing such a small number of people, he felt somewhat relieved.
Sure enough, the dozen or so officers dispersed, leaving four to guard each end of the pier, while the others began checking identification documents.
Not only were no one on the pier spared, but six officers boarded small boats and headed towards them.
Richie glanced at Trisley, whose face stiffened. She had identification, and more than one, but all of it was now useless.
The police were probably using photocopies of her documents to search for her.
The police checked boat after boat, and as the figures drew closer, Richie's heart pounded.
Just as he was wondering what to do, Trisley suddenly leaned in, carefully peeling an oyster and "gently" bringing it to his lips.
Richie was surprised and looked up at Trisley. He
saw a resolute glint in Trisley's eyes and immediately understood.
A boat pulled up, and the policeman on board kept his eyes fixed on Trisley, whether attracted by her beauty or having noticed something, it was unclear.
After a long while, the man turned to Richie, and the hint of lust in his eyes made both Richie and Trisley breathe a sigh of relief.
"Please show me your identification." The policeman didn't dare to be negligent towards Richie; his uniform was no mere decoration. The uniforms of the Borencia Park were very similar to those of the Franza Empire, and the Franzas could practically walk sideways in Casmolina; anyone who dared to offend them was doomed.
Richie didn't take out his identification; he simply raised his hands. His hands were greasy, but he did this more to show off.
Trisley cooperated and moved closer, pulling out the identification from Richie's jacket pocket.
The policeman took the document and examined it carefully, though he was mostly just going through the motions. This lowly officer only knew a little about ordinary documents; he was completely unfamiliar with these "high-class" ones.
He wasn't sure if it was fake, but the texture of the paper and the clarity of the seal made him more convinced it was genuine.
The only thing that slightly improved his mood was that it wasn't a document from the Franza Empire, but from the Duchy of Berencia. Berencia held a higher position in the alliance than Valedin, but was far inferior to the Franza Empire.
"This document isn't under my jurisdiction. Please leave it here for now." He didn't dare disrespect Richie, carefully returning the document, then turned and extended his hand to Trisly: "Miss, please show me your document."
"She doesn't have...an document." Richie stretched his neck, using his only clean left pinky finger to pull out the necklace hanging around his neck.
The pendant at the bottom of the necklace swayed back and forth, and the policeman's heart rose and fell with it. He was incredibly glad he hadn't said the wrong thing.
As a policeman, he knew, of course, what the symbol on the pendant meant—it was both heaven and hell, but for small fry like them, it was a legendary place.
While incredibly surprised, he also felt a deep sense of regret. He even felt a pang of sadness for Trisly's identity; such a beautiful woman was actually that woman from another faction.
"What... happened outside?" Richie asked casually.
Policemen weren't obligated to answer such questions, but at this moment, he was eager to curry favor with Richie, though unfortunately, he didn't know much: "We don't know what happened either. We were ordered to investigate someone, a woman, supposedly a spy sent by the Alliance."
"Just to catch a... spy, and... it's causing such a commotion?" Richie feigned disbelief.
"This is absolutely true. Casmolina is completely sealed off now, and some districts are even more heavily guarded." The policeman quickly explained.
"The whole city... is under lockdown?" Richie finally showed a hint of surprise; to be honest, he hadn't expected such a large-scale operation. "The streets... are they closed off too?"
"Yes, yes," the policeman nodded repeatedly.
"How am I supposed to get back?" Richie was somewhat troubled, and his predicament was genuine.
He knew what a city-wide lockdown meant. Now, if he wanted to go back, he would be stopped and checked at every intersection.
The policeman pointed to the pendant: "You're going back to this place?"
"Uh-huh," Richie nodded.
"No problem." The policeman felt his chance had come. He had always dreamed of one day going inside that club, but someone like him had never even had the chance to get close enough to be considered inside. "I'll run an errand for you and get them to send a car over. Even though the roads are blocked now, no one will dare to stop a car there, provided you don't head out of town."
With such a good deal, Richie certainly wouldn't refuse.
The taste of privilege was indeed quite nice.
The policeman left, not telling anyone where he was going, only instructing the other policemen to take good care of Richie's boat. About 45 minutes later, he returned, riding in a rickshaw followed by another—the one used by the club.
As they disembarked and boarded, Richie casually tossed a few banknotes over.
"No need, no need, it's what I should do, it's what I should do," the policeman said obsequiously, not even bothering to pick up the money. Frankly, he hoped Richie would remember him. The favor was far more valuable than the money. Once in
the rickshaw, Trisley remained silent until it left the seafood pier and entered the main road, at which point she let out a heavy sigh, a sigh filled with bitterness and resentment.
Richie knew what Trisley was sighing about; he hadn't anticipated things would develop this way.
With that sigh, Trisley seemed to cast aside all her hesitation and distractions. She gently lifted her sarong and straddled Richie's lap.
One by one, the buttons on Richie's pants were undone, and she reached inside to pull out his large member.
Although it was her first time doing this with a man, Trisley's technique was exceptionally skilled. Her hand moved very gently for a couple of strokes, her thumb and forefinger pulling back the foreskin.
In just a few strokes, Richie's penis was erect.
Trisley didn't take off her underwear; she simply pulled it to the side, revealing her beautiful vulva.
As if to stop herself from hesitating, as if afraid she would change her mind, she sat down on that enormous thing, all the way down.
The tearing pain was nothing compared to the pain in her heart. Trisley wanted to cry, but she couldn't. She could only comfort herself in her heart that a woman like her would have a man sooner or later, would have sex with a man sooner or later, and her family would never allow the bloodline of Fu Cheng to end. This was not bad.
Although she was comforting herself in her heart, she couldn't stop the tears.
Richie hadn't moved. Although he'd realized what was going to happen, his mind went blank the moment Triss lifted her skirt.
Unlike others, Triss had always been the epitome of perfection in his eyes.
But now he finally snapped out of it; this perfect embodiment was now his woman.
Richie gently touched the spot where they were joined, and when he withdrew his hand, he saw a trace of blood on his fingers.
He was the genius girl's first man.
"Is it alright?" Richie wrapped one arm around Triss's slender waist and supported her buttocks with the other.
What was there to refuse at this point? Triss nodded.
Richie lifted Triss's buttocks high and then slowly lowered her, his enormous penis sometimes fully inside, sometimes mostly exposed.
For a virgin, this was an intense stimulation, but to Richie's surprise, Triss didn't seem to care much; she seemed quite used to this feeling.
He was fully aware of the same-sex love between Trisley and Robin. Now it seemed that sex between women could be just as intense; otherwise, how could this woman have such a high tolerance?
The thought of being outdone by Robin made Richie uncomfortable.
He increased the intensity, simultaneously gathering a bit of fighting spirit on his genitals.
Trisley let out a soft moan, but instantly she retaliated.
Richie felt an indescribable pleasure shoot into his urethra, up his spine, all the way to the top of his head.
This move was truly amazing.
But at the peak of pleasure, he also felt bewildered. Because that move was clearly his own unique technique.
Trisley's divine skill was best at borrowing external power; could she even borrow someone else's power when doing this?
This was truly unbelievable.

Chapter Five: A Twisted Heart

The sharp needle gently pierced the fair skin, and as the potion was gradually injected, the skin gradually turned reddish. The two petals were a deep, blood-red color. After a moment, with a tremor, a semi-transparent, sticky fluid secreted from the swollen stamen.
The needle was pulled out, but it wasn't over yet; another needle was used, and the syringe was filled with medicine again.
This time, the injection site was lower.
It was the chrysanthemum bud.
When the needle pierced the sphincter, Trisley shuddered violently. It was incredibly painful, but she was willing to endure the excruciating pain, because it would only be worse afterward.
Seven days, only seven days had passed, but it felt like seven years.
In those seven days, she had become a completely different person.
She was no longer the high and mighty princess, but had utterly become Richie's plaything.
With the last injection, the swollen, slightly purple flower path was stretched open once more, and a thick, hard penis was thrust straight in.
This should have been very painful, but she immediately responded as if she had been waiting for a long time. Her movements were large; with each withdrawal, the vaginal walls would fold inside out, and with each insertion, a wave of flesh would surge.
The women of Omor were slender-waisted, and their hips swayed in various patterns during sex, as Trisley proved at this moment, her appearance indescribably frenzied and lewd.
To be honest, Richie was genuinely startled. Trisley's behavior over the past seven days had astonished him.
This woman had given herself to him as a virgin; her panties stained with her virgin blood were now in his hands.
But as a virgin, her sexual skills were no less than those of Lina, the juice-sucking woman. Like all Omor women, Trisley was also adept at hip-shaking; her wild hip movements were absolutely deadly.
Even more impressive was her ability to "use leverage" during sex; forbidden techniques used against women would only result in mutual destruction when applied to her.
Therefore, the only way to subdue this woman was through ordinary means.
However, none of this was the most surprising part.
What's truly shocking is that, besides her lesbian fetish, Trisley had another hobby—she enjoyed being watched while having sex.
Right now, the two weren't in a closed room, but in the courtyard. It was a rather simple yet elegant courtyard, with only lawns and potted plants dividing it into small areas.
The courtyard was quite large, containing at least forty bamboo couches, each with someone lying on it. Richie and Trisly were lying on one of them.
Trisly's constantly swaying buttocks and her curled-up vagina were completely exposed to the view of others, but this didn't make her feel uncomfortable; instead, it aroused her even more. Richie was
somewhat uncomfortable. He was a bit "secluded" by nature, and he absolutely didn't want to share his woman with anyone else, not even just the visual connection.
Not to mention, he sensed naked desire in many of the gazes directed at him, and this desire wasn't just directed at Trisly; many were directed at him directly.
At first, he thought he was mistaken, until a few days ago when a guy actually came up to him and asked if he would be willing to be a "special friend," and he realized that he was also a target.
Terrified, he practically fled.
Fortunately, the club prohibited harassment, so the man was warned, and no one repeated the mistake. However, the club couldn't block people's view.
This annoyed Richie, and he could only vent his frustration on Trisly, since it was Trisly's request to come here.
Suddenly, Trisly's movements became faster and faster, her eyes completely closed, her fair skin turning crimson. With a scream, her body arched violently, and vaginal fluid gushed out.
Richie felt a surge of yin energy enter his body, coursing through him, which felt good.
This was what made Trisly unique; she emitted yin energy when she orgasmed, which seemed to be beneficial to men. Of course, she wasn't entirely without benefit herself; she would naturally absorb yang energy.
Richie also pretended to reach his peak at the same time, his penis throbbing incessantly, as if injecting something into this beautiful woman's body.
After a long while, both of them went limp.
A moment later, Rich snapped his fingers, and two maids immediately rushed over. They carefully pulled Rich's penis out of Trisly's body. One of the maids swiftly inserted two plug-like objects into Trisly's front and back orifices, then secured them with a belt around her waist.
The other maid took Rich's penis and put it in her mouth to lick it. In this place, there was no need to bathe afterward; women would naturally clean the customer's body with their mouths.
"Hey, beautiful, your chick is really good," a chubby young man lying on a nearby bamboo mat chuckled, his eyes fixed on Trisly.
This man was one of Rich's "bad friends" here; he was a direct heir to a prestigious family in Valedin.
The world of knights revered strength, but there were also many spoiled brats who abused their family background. After all, it was a world that valued bloodlines, and the Valedin Empire was clearly even more so in this regard.
"Anything new to do?" Rich asked, his Varedin improving and no longer as awkward. "It's so boring not being able to go anywhere these past few days," he complained.
"Yeah, yeah, even if this is paradise, playing this game all the time is pointless," someone else chimed in.
Most of the people here were like-minded and knew they were all of high status, so no one dared to be particularly arrogant, and they naturally became friends over time.
"They're not checking the streets anymore, but getting in and out of the city is still quite troublesome," the chubby boy said.
"What's there to do in the city? Just this crappy little place."
A chorus of voices echoed from below. For these spoiled brats, there really wasn't much to do in the city; they preferred horseback riding, boat racing, mountain climbing, and hunting. Although they were spoiled brats, most of them were knights with inexhaustible energy.
"Has anyone seen Hauge lately? Wherever we want to go, it's just a matter of him saying a word!" someone shouted.
"What on earth happened this time? Why is it so tightly sealed off?" Richie asked, displaying the curiosity expected of a foreigner.
"I heard a big fish got away. But the military intelligence is tight-lipped; even I don't know what kind of big fish it is," said a lean, rather handsome man.
Seeing this man pick up on his topic, Richie couldn't help but shudder. This was the same guy who had "harassed" him a few days ago.
"With so much time going on, the fish must have vanished without a trace," the chubby man complained.
"It's not about that fish; it seems something else has happened. Several special vehicles have been dispatched in the last few days; it seems some army is being mobilized." The man who gave Richie the creeps had exceptionally sharp senses, though he was unaware that a spy was right beside him.
His casual remark caught Richie's attention.
If any army was most likely to be transferred, it would undoubtedly be the Ironblood Legion. From the previous conversation, it was clear the Alliance knew Trisly's identity and deduced that her infiltration of Casmolina was aimed at the Ironblood Legion.
Transferring the Ironblood Legion was a prudent move. Furthermore, with Valedin's army already deployed to the eastern front, the initial purpose of deploying the Ironblood Legion here had been achieved, making their continued presence unnecessary.
A thought struck Richie; for him, this was an opportunity.
The barracks were heavily guarded, making infiltration impossible, but the transfer process wouldn't be as tight.

A long line of rickshaws traveled along the streets of Casmolina. For these restless young men, even if they couldn't leave the city, a stroll around was welcome.
No one knew who initially proposed it, but Richie certainly played a role in pushing it forward.
What happened inside the rickshaws is unnecessary to elaborate on; Richie, for one, never left Trisly's side.
Their destination was a newly opened museum, or more precisely, a war trophy exhibition, displaying mostly items looted from Montstoker—antiques, works of art, but mostly pure gold and silver jewelry. For these privileged individuals, any exhibit they fancied could be purchased directly.
It wasn't until they got off the vehicle that Richie reluctantly withdrew from Trisly's body. Although he was no longer short of women, having even slept with a descendant of one of the Four Emperors, the Shadow King, Trisly held a special place in his heart.
He had many mentors: Miss Dinah was his first, Lina was his most helpful mentor, and Trisly was the one who guided him to a higher level.
Another attraction was that although Trisly had given him her body and allowed him to defile her, her heart did not belong to him.
The more unattainable something is, the more precious it seems; he treated Vilia the same way, and wasn't his treatment of Vilia also driven by this same psychology?
However, there's a slight difference. Vilia's heart belongs to her husband, and he grants her body "priority access." This greatly displeases him, so he harbors a destructive desire for Vilia. He doesn't want to destroy her body, but rather her will. Vilia has been gradually turned into his sex slave and a beautiful dog, completely subservient to him, devoid of any dignity.
Trisly's heart belonged to another woman.
Leach had a double standard regarding homosexuality; he absolutely could not tolerate male homosexuality, but female homosexuality was less of a problem.
As soon as they got off the car, the group, each with their own woman in their arms, walked inside. Tickets were required to enter the exhibition hall, but for them, that was irrelevant.
No one except Leach knew that, the instant they passed the entrance, Trisly flicked a clump of mud, which stuck to the edge of the advertising board.
The location was inconspicuous and slightly elevated, out of reach of most people.
Leach had been furious when he learned that Trisly and the infiltrators were using this exhibition hall as a relay point.
It deeply hurt his feelings as a Monstok native.
But he had to admit, the place was safe. It was a public place, crowded, and most importantly, no one would suspect Allied spies coming here. After all, what was inside was a disgrace to the Allies.
Richie was initially worried that the infiltrator unit might have been withdrawn by their superiors due to prolonged loss of contact.
Thankfully, when they came out, the mud clump had disappeared, and a flower petal had appeared by the corner of the wall.
"Where to next?" the chubby boy suddenly asked. Having finally gotten out, he naturally wanted to have as much fun as possible.
The others offered suggestions, but none of them seemed very good; after all, there was nothing left to do in Casamolina for them.
Seeing the argument, Richie pointed to a small dot in the sky and said, "Can we go up there?!" "
You want to go up in a reconnaissance balloon? What's fun up there?" the chubby boy asked dismissively.
"Have you ever been up there?" Richie asked.
"No." The chubby boy had to admit he hadn't.
"How do you know it's not fun if you haven't been up there?" Richie continued.
The others thought for a moment and unanimously agreed. For these guys who'd explored the entire city, even if it wasn't fun, the sheer unfamiliarity with it was enough to draw them in.

Kasmolina had quite a few of these reconnaissance balloons, all deployed along the city's outskirts.
These things weren't there seven days ago; their appearance was largely due to Trisley's escape. While some speculated that Trisley infiltrated Kasmolina to target the Ironblood Legion, other theories abounded, ranging from assassinating Emperor Valedin to orchestrating terrorist attacks, and even some bizarre speculations, such as Valedin's intention to sign a secret agreement with the Alliance… In response to these speculations, the Empire's reaction had to be somewhat forceful, hence Kasmolina's continued lockdown and the erection of these balloons around the city.
Reconnaissance balloons weren't new; they'd existed before, but after Richie created the flying armor, they suddenly gained prominence.
Looking up from below, it's just a small black dot, but in reality, it's quite large. Each reconnaissance balloon rests on a plaza, its main cable anchored to a base with a ten-meter radius. This base also functions as a giant winch, though none of the balloons have landed in the past seven days.
Next to this massive winch is a smaller one—but "small" is relative; turning it requires at least four people working together. This winch is connected to an elevator.
Besides the main cable, there are three other cables used to secure the balloons. These things sway wildly in the wind, so they can't function without the cables.
It must be admitted that these spoiled brats are quite strong. Such important military facilities shouldn't be accessed casually, but that guy who made Richie uncomfortable somehow managed to get them up there.
The first one to go up was the chubby guy, but he came down halfway because the elevator was too slow. As soon as he got off, he complained, "It's boring, boring! At first it seemed special, but after a while it's just the same old thing. And it's quite cold up there."
Everyone else gave up, but Richie insisted on going up.
The elevator was indeed slow, but he wasn't in a hurry. As it gradually rose, the people on the ground became smaller and smaller.
It wasn't his first time looking down from such a height, but this time the feeling was completely different.
He wasn't up there to see the scenery; Richie hadn't forgotten his mission. He gently patted Trisly's buttocks.
Trisly obediently leaned against the elevator railing, her buttocks raised high. Her pants were specially made, with two holes at the bottom, sealed with soft leather rings to prevent spills during sex.
Richie pulled out his penis and thrust it in.
Trisly swayed her hips gently in response.
The elevator was cramped, and the movement of the two men immediately revealed the anomaly. The basket swayed, and the main cable vibrated rhythmically.
"Damn, so that's how it is. This is quite novel. If I had known, I would have done the same." The fat man was filled with regret. He felt like he had a pig's brain; the elevator was so slow, yet he hadn't thought to find something to do.
What embarrassed him even more was that they, the veterans, were no match for a fledgling who had just been introduced to the world and hadn't even grown its feathers yet.
He wasn't the only one thinking this; the group of spoiled brats were all ashamed, yet their eyes gleamed.
"I can't wait any longer, Ronnie. Can you do me a favor and let me know? I'm going up to the observation balloon over there." Someone below immediately came up with a clever idea.
Ronnie was the guy who made Leach feel very uncomfortable. He shook his head repeatedly and said, "That won't do. The higher-ups are worried about this. It's fine to play around, but if things get out of hand, even my old man can't handle it." He pointed to the people around him: "We have more than a dozen people. If I help you, what will happen when others ask me for help?"
Hearing this, some people felt discouraged, while others had a sudden idea: "How many people are up there?"
Ronnie, of course, didn't know. He beckoned the officer in charge of the area: "How many people are up there now?"
"Five. There's a scout knight in each of the four directions, plus a telepath. If we want to go up, we can send four more people up." The officer answered respectfully.
"Four people?" Ronnie pointed at Leach: "Does that include the two of them?"
"No." The group of spoiled brats were overjoyed. Ronnie waved his hand and said, "Tell your men to come down."
How could the officer dare to offend these people? He also knew that his superiors had already agreed to let them mess around. Anyway, there were so many scout balloons, they definitely wouldn't miss one more.
The entire exchange in the square reached Richie's ears, and a smile crept onto his lips.
Everything was exactly as he had anticipated; his goal was to relocate all the people on it.
Looking at the enormous balloon overhead, Richie felt genuinely uneasy. This thing was highly flammable and explosive, which was why balloons, though existing for a long time, had never been used on a large scale.
Besides this dangerous contraption, there was only the glass capsule he was standing in. It was a capsule shaped like a large cauldron, constructed of metal frames and glass. He dared not exert too much force, lest he break the glass beneath his feet.
Although Varedin is located in the south and it's summer, it still feels rather chilly at this altitude. Unfortunately, they had to get to work
, no matter how cold. Leach began to unbuckle his belt, and Trisley, understanding the situation, started to undress. In just a few moments, they were both naked. Trisley lay face down on the glass floor, her chest pressed tightly against it. Her legs were spread wide, completely exposing her private parts.
At this moment, she was over two thousand feet above the sky, below the glass floor, and below that, a metropolis of over two million people.
Anyone with a high-powered telescope could see every part of Trisley's body clearly, even down to the finest detail of her private parts.
The only covering Trisley wore was a purple headscarf, which concealed her face and hair, yet remained subtly alluring.
Others might not see this, but the crowd in the square below saw it all clearly. These guys were used to watching others have sex, and they'd seen far more lewd scenes than this, but at this moment, they all felt their blood boiling. Some even howled like wolves.
"This...this is fucking ingenious! How come we didn't think of that?"
"We have to get the club to get something like this when we get back.
" "We used to argue endlessly about who was the most lewd person, but now there's no need to argue. If this guy is second, who dares to claim first? I remember this guy was a virgin just a few days ago, and when he first took his clothes off in front of us, his face turned as red as a monkey's butt." "
That's talent. No wonder my old man said that perseverance and hard work can't compare to talent. Talent is always the most important thing, no matter what it is."
The group of lewd men below were extremely excited, but they couldn't do anything because the elevator was slowly descending, and there were still five people on it.
One of them ran off yelling, and the others were confused when he came back, this time with a pair of high-powered binoculars in his hand.
The others immediately realized what was happening and frantically searched for binoculars, but unfortunately, the squad stationed there only had one officer and one pair of binoculars. They had no choice but to run further afield to find a solution.

Meanwhile, Trisly felt a surge of heat coursing through her body. The extreme humiliation and desperate thoughts of the past few days had twisted her personality. For some reason, she could derive pleasure from humiliation—a pleasure even more intense than sex.
Before, the men's gazes sweeping over her body, especially fixed on her private parts, watching as Richie's ugly, monstrous member forced its way through, had already provided intense pleasure. But now, just thinking about the two million men below her made her feel like her body was melting.
At that moment, Trisly felt her flower path being forced open by a burning hot penis; the pain was mixed with an endless, wonderful sensation, making her tremble all over.
With a gentle push and a slow shove, Richie was much more tender than usual. He dared not use too much force, fearing he might break the glass underneath. He didn't have a hang glider now; a fall would be fatal.
Besides, what he felt now wasn't the pleasure of sex, but the thrill of having intercourse in broad daylight, in front of two million people. Not to mention the other motives hidden behind this extreme debauchery.
Richie's face was also covered.
To others, this would seem perfectly normal; doing such a crazy thing was for the thrill, not to create a scandal.
But in reality, the covering on his head concealed a periscope, the other end of which was connected to two long telescopes beside him.
There were four such telescopes on the balloon, each tube over a foot long, with a front as large as a large bowl. Its magnification was an astonishing four hundred times; it could see the nose hairs of a person standing on the horizon, or the mottled craters on the moon.
These long telescopes were intended for the scouts stationed on the balloons, used to monitor everything below. However, at this moment, the telescope was pointed directly at the distant Mendel's Plateau. The
Mendel's Plateau was higher than any surrounding terrain, so normally there was no need to worry about being spied on, but these scout balloons were an exception.
The Franza people would never normally allow anything higher than the Mendel's Plateau, but this incident had indeed made them uneasy. Besides, they planned to withdraw, so they tacitly approved of the scout balloons.
Through the telescope, everything on the plateau was clearly visible.
The Franza people were very cautious; they not only built their barracks on the plateau but also their barracks on its edge, effectively adding another layer of defense. If the scout balloons weren't so much higher than the plateau, it would be difficult to see what was happening inside.
At this moment, the plateau was bustling with activity; the Franza people were moving goods—they were indeed about to withdraw.
Below the plateau was a station; goods were being unloaded from cranes on the edge of the plateau and directly onto trains. Among the unloaded cargo were indeed suits of armor.
The types of armor were somewhat mixed, including the old-fashioned "Dancer," but there were more "Cubes." What really caught Richie's attention was a type of armor he had never seen before.
Judging from its appearance, it was a lightweight armor, likely the mysterious armor that Annelia had been worried about.
After examining it closely for a moment, he felt that this armor had many similarities to the "Dragon."
This was understandable; the "Dragon's" structure was practically perfect, making it ideal for mass production during wartime, and such a perfect design was easily copied.
This armor was also composed of many identical parts, mostly stamped from flat plates, possessing all the advantages of the "Dragon."
However, Richie was absolutely certain that this wasn't the rumored replica of the "Dragon" created by Boronov, because he had already seen those replicas.
Unfortunately, all the armors were stationary, and their performance couldn't be determined by their appearance alone.
Had he come all this way for nothing?
Just as Richie was feeling disappointed, he suddenly saw something familiar.
Beside a crane, two knights were carrying a flat wooden box, about to hook it onto the crane's hook.
The box was seven or eight feet long, five or six feet wide, but only about the width of a hand.
Although the box wasn't open, Richie already guessed what was inside. Aside from the wings, no other assembled component would look like this.
Richie quickly looked at the light armor again, secretly adjusting the binoculars to maximum magnification.
At maximum magnification, he could even see every single rivet on the armor.
If he hadn't seen the box, he might not have suspected anything, but now he suspected this so-called new armor was just an empty shell.
Based on the wing's size, it could only support five or six hundred kilograms at most, while even without external armor plates, the light armor weighed over a ton, not counting weapons and shields.
To fly, it could only be an ultralight armor, and there happened to be such a mature ultralight armor in the world: the "Yaksha."
Richie searched inch by inch.
He had to admit, this armor was indeed very deceptive. This is indeed a suit of armor; it should be able to run, jump, and even perform some complex movements.
Leach was observing with a purpose, so details he hadn't noticed at first were now coming to his attention.
Part of the armor's transmission mechanism was exposed, generally a sign of immense power output—Hercules was designed this way, and so was "Ming Wang."
But now he suspected that this exposed part might be the armor's true transmission system, with an empty shell inside.
With Boronov's intellect, designing such an armor would only take two or three days; performance wasn't a concern for this type of armor anyway.
The more suspicious he became, the more clues he noticed.
He noticed the armor's arrangement was somewhat strange; a line was faintly visible on the side of the body. If this line loosened, the entire armor would split into two parts, front and back.
Any armor maker would avoid such a design. A good armor's armor plates must overlap and interlock structurally to ensure its invulnerability.
Boronov, of course, wouldn't leave any obvious flaws. In fact, he concealed the line quite well; it wasn't straight, but rather winding and twisting, with many parts deliberately covered up.
If another armor maker saw these designs and knew their designer was Boronov, they would first consider the advantages of the design, rather than questioning its function.
If they thought that way, they would find reasonable explanations for all these designs, some even quite ingenious. Leach, however
, was an exception.
His foundation was weak; he couldn't see the subtleties of those details at all. More importantly, he didn't idolize any armor maker, even if that person was a master craftsman.
The telescope's focus shifted, and Leach began gathering other clues.
He only had guesses at the moment.
Clues were actually easy to find; it was just a matter of whether the line of reasoning was correct. Previously, Leach had only seen an ordinary barracks, but now he saw many things.
For example, the cranes.
There seemed to be more cranes than usual, and on the other side, the side without the station, there was also a row of cranes, and the number was exactly the same.
He hadn't noticed anything amiss before, but now he did. At the same time, a possibility crossed his mind: if two cranes were suspended by a steel cable, a person could be suspended below to simulate flight.
Adjusting his observation point to the ground, although a layer of fresh soil had been added, faint traces were still visible—sure enough, people frequently ran between the two rows of cranes.
An image flashed through Richie's mind: a Yaksha suspended from a steel cable, pulled by a rope, the other end of which was dragged by a suit of armor. As the armor raced, the Yaksha swayed and slid… Flying by being dragged by a rope was definitely a clumsy method, but he had used it before, and it had proven effective.
This clumsy method wouldn't allow for high altitudes, but it could cover long distances and overcome most terrain obstacles.
Then there was the role of the Ironblood Legion.
Replacing the light armor with Yakshas, while significantly reducing combat effectiveness, would make the Ironblood Legion, already primarily focused on suicidal attacks, faster and more agile.
Leach broke out in a cold sweat, his previously erect penis almost shrinking. After creating "Ming Wang," he thought he could rest easy, but now his opponent had upgraded, and everything was back to square one.
Trisly sensed Leach's change. She propped herself up slightly and turned to ask softly, "What did you see?"
She was using telepathy, so there was no need to worry about being discovered. The scout knights were all on the elevator, which was sealed, and those below couldn't possibly hear anything.
"I'm not entirely sure, it's just a guess." Leach hesitated for a moment, but then he realized that this news had to spread no matter what: "That armor might just be an empty shell, with a Yaksha inside. The Franzas might want to give the Ironblood Legion the ability to fly."
Trisly gasped; she was genuinely frightened.
She understood suicidal fighting spirit better than Leach, and her understanding of strategy and tactics was far superior to Leach's half-baked knowledge.
The most terrifying aspect of suicidal aura is its ghostly speed, but it also has a drawback: its duration is very short. Therefore, the Franza people use the Ironblood Legion either for surprise attacks or as a decisive blow in chaotic battles.
But now, once this venomous dragon has sprouted wings, it will become even more unpredictable and powerful, with more tactics available. Even more terrifying is that it will be a hundred times harder to defend against in the future.
"Are you sure?" Trisley asked sharply.
This was no joke; Richie felt unsure, and the words stuck in his throat.
"Never mind, I'll have someone confirm it," Trisley said, not pressing Richie further.
She had initially hesitated slightly about using the infiltrator unit, but now she had no such hesitation.

The elevator slowly descended and then slowly ascended again, taking over an hour before four of the group below finally came up with their respective women.
The group had already started their activities inside the elevator, and once they reached the top, they each occupied a prominent position.
They were already prepared down there, wearing masks they'd bought from who-knows-where, looking like they were having a masquerade ball.
"Little Billy, your brain is truly speechless."
"Can't you come up with something new?"
"Yeah, yeah, we're tired of the same old tricks."
These guys, their minds filled with semen, were having sex with their women, their mouths never stopping.
Richie was thinking about how to leave the city, though it wouldn't be difficult for him. He hadn't been watching for nothing; he'd noticed every loophole in the security perimeter around Casmolina. He was confident he could leave quietly with Trisley. But it would be even better if these guys were willing to help.
As for trying something new, Richie quickly came up with an idea.
When it came to playing games, these knights were no match for him. Back in school, he and his classmates were always coming up with new games.
"How about we go hunting?" Richie asked.
The men, who had been listening intently, lost interest immediately upon hearing this suggestion.
"This is boring! We're already tired of it," the chubby boy exclaimed.
The others chimed in, urging Richie to come up with another game.
"The hunting I'm talking about isn't what you think," Richie said dismissively, slapping Trisly's bottom. "This is the prey. We let it run first, then chase it after it in fifteen minutes. Whoever catches it gets to 'kill' it." "
What if we don't catch it?" the chubby boy asked, intrigued.
"If we don't catch it, we don't catch it. At most, we'll raise money to pay the club, consider it ransom for the prey. Once we catch it again, it's ours. You don't care about the money, do you?"
Richie knew perfectly well that women meant nothing to the club, and these people weren't just customers; some were even board members.
"What if a few of them caught the same prey?" another guy asked, his tone lewd and even more obscene.
"In that case, you can only say the prey was incredibly unlucky," Richie said, unconcerned with his crude remark. Everyone burst into knowing laughter.

(To be continued in Knight's Bloodline 21)
Richie and Trisley successfully persuaded the group to go to his destination for a "hunt," completing the final step of their infiltration plan…
The two successfully brought back the secret of the "Grey Feather." During their dual cultivation with Trisley, Richie's "Vajra" reached the fourth level, and Trisley also broke through her bottleneck, discovering another mystery of "Heaven and Earth Annihilation"...
Back in Sky City, Richie immediately went to the 105th Squad's base, only to find Lina and Victoria arguing fiercely…

URL 1:https://www.sexlove5.com/htmlBlog/35923.html

URL 2:/Blog.aspx?id=35923&aspx=1

Last access time:

Previous Page : Anecdotes of the Martial Arts World, Volumes 1-9 [Author: pighead8]

Next Page : Rope Bondage Couple (Condor Heroes SM Version) 1