[Fantasy] The Slave Wife Wants to Turn the Tables (Complete) - 11

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Chapter 67 Luo Zhu is Sick (Part 5) Part 2

Although Lie's eyes were still filled with loyalty, he had indeed developed strange feelings for this mastiff, just as he had said. Not only did he enter the mastiff's quarters early in the morning to check on it, but he also brazenly asked for it. If it had been before yesterday, even though he was also quite interested in this mastiff, he would have given it to him as a reward, considering Lie's twenty years of unwavering loyalty. However, strangely, his first reaction upon hearing Lie's request was to refuse, and a slight displeasure even rose deep within him. A slave, lower than an ant, when did he develop such a possessive desire for her, just like Lie?!

"Bring the medicine here." Temporarily setting aside his confused thoughts, he calmly ordered the guards behind him.

"Yes." A guard stepped forward and respectfully presented the silver bowl he was holding.

This medicine bowl was unlike any other; a long, thin spout, resembling a teapot's spout, extended from one edge, while the rest remained rounded.

Taking the bowl, amidst several pairs of astonished and disbelieving gazes, he used his fingers to pry open Luo Zhu's mouth, inserting the long, thin spout into it. He then tilted the bowl, slowly pouring out the medicine.

Noticing Luo Zhu's uvula wriggling and pushing back, he used a finger to press down on her tongue, strictly controlling its movement. He then pushed the pointed spout further in, directly pouring the medicine down her throat.

In no time, a bowl of unbearably bitter medicine had been completely consumed by Luo Zhu.

The King actually fed medicine?! The high and mighty King, the cold and aloof King, actually fed medicine to a lowly, humble dog-slave?! Gesang Zhuoma, the two guards, and even Shakya Tashi, who claimed to know the King best, were all deeply shocked. Only the silver lion, seeing the medicine finally flow into Luo Zhu's stomach, showed a relieved look in its eyes, happily whimpering and wagging its tail around Zanbu Zhuodun.

Zanbu Zhuodun removed the bowl from Luo Zhu's mouth and handed it to the guard beside him. The guard, still recovering from the shock, reacted a beat too slowly and almost knocked the bowl over, making a grave mistake. He

flicked Luo Zhu's naughty little tongue with his finger, gently closed her mouth, and saw with amusement that the grievance between her brows deepened, making her look like she was about to cry. His withdrawn finger seemed to have a mind of its own, catching a drop of brown medicine that had spilled from the corner of her mouth, and mischievously smeared it on her withered lips, unsurprisingly seeing that her grievance increased even more.

"Hound slave, do you see how to administer the medicine?" Having toyed with her enough, he finally stopped, raising his eyes to look at Gesang Zhuoma, who had unconsciously looked up from the corner of the wall. His hawk-like eyes were sharp and imposing, gleaming with a cold, sinister light.

"I...I see..." Gesang Zhuoma trembled, quickly bowing in reply.

Zanbu Zhuodun stood up and said to Shakya Tsering beside him, "Lie, come with me to the council hall. Visit the hound quarters again when you have time."

"Yes, Your Majesty." Shakya Tsering bowed respectfully.

He glanced one last time at the unconscious Luo Zhu, a faint smile playing on his lips, before turning and walking away without a trace of regret. She was a hound slave of the Muchi royal family, capable of serving others, capable of being coveted by others, but forever his slave. Her skin, her tongue, her eyes...everything about her belonged to him. He was the true owner of her body, the king who held her life in his hands.

Shakyamuni also glanced at Luo Zhu, a dark glint flashing in the depths of his eyes.

It seemed the king had not only developed an interest in this interesting mastiff slave, but also a possessive desire for her. However, if the king wanted to completely possess this female slave, he would definitely seek help from the Dharma King.

Chapter 068 Luo Zhu Awakens

Luo Zhu was unconscious for three whole days before finally opening her eyes. Her initial vision was hazy and gray, her mind foggy, as if many things were mixed together inside.

"Sister Luo Zhu, you're awake!" Gesang Zhuoma's joyful and excited voice rang in her ears, followed by the low howl of the silver lion, like rolling thunder, clearly filled with joy.

A haggard yet beautiful dark red face suddenly appeared magnified in the gradually clearing vision. Dark red blood vessels ran through her bright, long, upturned eyes, while boundless joy shimmered in her clear, dark brown pupils, glistening with tears.

"Gesang Zhuoma…" she blinked, offering a weak, apologetic smile. "I'm sorry, I'm sore and weak all over, I can't get up right away to work with you."

Gesang Zhuoma was stunned for a moment, then burst into tears. "Sister Luozhu, you've been afflicted by illness, you've been unconscious for three whole days!" She cried and blamed herself, "It's all my fault for uselessly fainting in the King's study! Otherwise, you wouldn't have ended up sleeping alone in the King's palace, and you wouldn't have caught a cold and gotten sick, sob, sob, it's all my fault!" She wiped away her tears with the back of her hand, choking back sobs, "Thank God, thank goodness you've woken up, sob, thank goodness you've woken up."

So she had caught a cold and had a high fever? Luo Zhu recalled the scorching heat of the stove she had endured, and while realizing the truth, she was also incredibly relieved. It seemed that fate hadn't cruelly abandoned her; on the high plateau at an altitude of four or five thousand meters in early winter, she had miraculously survived three days of severe cold, high fever, and unconsciousness, her limbs still intact! This was nothing short of a miracle for a frail woman who had lived in the plains for so long.

"Silly girl, don't cry, it's not your fault. I got sick entirely because of that despicable beast." She gently shook Gesang Zhuoma's hand comfortingly, teasingly adding, "I was afraid you'd come after me!"

"Come after me?" Gesang Zhuoma stopped crying, looking at her in confusion.

Luo Zhu reached out and touched her forehead, explaining earnestly, "Yes, I pressed you too hard when I made you kowtow, and you fainted. Zhuoma, you won't hit me, will you?" She then convincingly made a fearful face with her eyebrows raised.

“No, never.” Gesang Zhuoma shook her head vigorously, laughing and crying at the same time. “If Sister Luozhu hadn’t covered my mouth in time to stop me from spitting it out, I might have already been—”

“Alright, alright, Sister Luozhu’s bones are aching from lying down. Can you help me sit up?” Luozhu interrupted her with a smile.

“Yes, Sister Luozhu, wait a minute.” Gesang Zhuoma hurriedly wiped away her tears and quickly reached out to support Luozhu’s shoulders.

The silver lion, temporarily ignored, let out a low hum and quickly darted to lie down against Luozhu’s raised back, becoming a fluffy, thick, warm, long backrest.

With the silver lion’s strong assistance, Gesang Zhuoma felt much more relaxed and quickly helped Luozhu sit against the silver lion. She draped the old felt blanket tightly around Luozhu’s shoulders until she was sure no cold air would get in before stopping.

Luo Zhu's drooping elbow rested on the massive head of the Silver Lion. She gently rubbed its head, and as it turned and raised its head, she tapped its wet nose, smiling warmly at its calm yet subtly joyful blue triangular eyes. "Silver Lion, I'm sorry to have worried you." The Silver Lion was a terrifying beast that could turn on you without mercy, but she could never forget that in the dark and eerie tranquil palace of King Guge, it was this ferocious man-eating mastiff that had given her warmth and comfort, supporting and caring for her through the bone-chilling cold.

The Silver Lion grinned, sticking out its rough red tongue, and licked her face with its head. It turned its head and howled at the seven or eight mastiffs lying in the mastiff enclosure.

A snow mastiff immediately leaped from the felt mat, landing nimbly and gracefully on Luo Zhu's left, lying down against her body like a giant, temperature-controlled natural heater.

"Thank you." Luo Zhu smiled and gently patted the head of the docile, cat-like snow mastiff.

The felt draped over her shoulders loosened and fell down as she moved, prompting Gesang Zhuoma to quickly wrap it around her again.

"Sister Luo Zhu, don't move so much, you'll catch a cold and get a fever again," she complained playfully.

“Okay, I won’t move.” Luo Zhu smiled and let Gesang Zhuoma wrap her up in layers of felt. She felt warm all over, and the soreness and weakness in her muscles seemed to fade away in this warmth.

Uh, right, Gesang Zhuoma wrapped the felt around her shoulders, so what was she using as a blanket? She remembered that they only had one old felt blanket that Alan Nima and Quzhen Meiduo had given them.

Touching the felt, she suddenly realized this question. She looked down in confusion and saw a very thick, coarse cotton-linen quilt covering her legs. It looked… somewhat familiar!? She looked up at Gesang Zhuoma in surprise and asked, “This… this coarse cotton-linen quilt, did Lie Shakya Xiu bring it?” The quilt was clearly the one she had used more than a month ago when she was recuperating from her injuries at the hands of that beastly man, Lie Shakya Xiu. Could it be that knowing she was sick from the cold, that beast sent her a quilt to cover herself and help her recover? Would he be so kind?!

Gesang Zhuoma nodded, saying, "Lord Lie brought it two nights ago. There are two quilts in total; the other mattress is under Sister Luozhu as a mattress."

"...So that beast really...really is a kind...kind man." Luozhu murmured, deeply troubled, almost unable to believe her ears. "How could this be? It shouldn't be like this..." Her delicate brows furrowed, unconsciously forming a shallow "川" (river) shape. Scenes of her past interactions with Lie Shakya Tashi flashed through her mind; she couldn't fathom how that ferocious, murderous, and bloodthirsty beast could be a kind slave owner who sent a quilt to a sick slave.

Hearing Luozhu's murmur, Gesang Zhuoma's brow also twitched violently, furrowing into several knots of deep concern. Should she tell Sister Luo Zhu that while she was unconscious, the ferocious beast named Lie Shakya Tashi had taken liberties with her body and even dared to ask the king for her, intending to take her home and slowly torment her? Fortunately, the king and Yin Ni refused.

After much deliberation, she ultimately chose to keep it a secret. Sister Luo Zhu was still recovering from a serious illness and was very weak. She was also quite shy and inexperienced in matters of love. If she were frightened by this incident, it would be terrible if she didn't recover properly.

At this moment, she heard light footsteps at the door. Judging by the time, it was a palace servant bringing food and medicine. She quickly wiped away the remaining tears on her face with her sleeve and said to the lost Luo Zhu, "Sister Luo Zhu, sit down and rest for a while. I'll be right there." She tucked the blanket around Luo Zhu's legs a little tighter before standing up and turning to walk towards the gate. Even after she received the food and medicine from the palace servant and returned home, Luo Zhu remained lost in thought and confusion.

She poured the medicine from the pot into a long-spouted silver bowl, took a small sip to test the temperature, and carefully placed the medicine in front of Luo Zhu, softly calling, "Sister Luo Zhu, don't think too much. Here, it's time for your medicine."

Luo Zhu rolled her eyes, her unfocused gaze settling on the dark brown liquid emitting wisps of white steam. A slight crack appeared in her stiff expression: "This is... the medicine I need to drink?" she asked hesitantly.

"Yes, Sister Luo Zhu was able to recover from her fever thanks to this medicine," Gesang Zhuoma said excitedly, oblivious to anything amiss.

"I... I recovered from my fever by drinking medicine?" Wasn't it supposed to be a natural recovery through her powerful immune system? Luo Zhu stared at the dark brown liquid, her previously frozen expression twisting slightly.

“Of course!” Gesang Zhuoma, still ignoring Luo Zhu’s odd behavior, said enthusiastically, “The doctor who treated her happens to be the same doctor who treated Luo Zhu’s hand injury before. His medical skills are excellent.”

“We…are we slaves now?”

“Ah? Yes.” Gesang Zhuoma was quite bewildered by the question.

“Slaves…” Luo Zhu’s brows furrowed tightly. Just then, a gust of cold wind blew by, and she caught a whiff of an indescribable Chinese medicine smell. It smelled…very bitter. She subtly stepped back, moving away from the medicine bowl, before continuing, “We probably weren’t qualified to be treated by the doctor.” The fact that her hand injury was treated was a special favor bestowed by the Beast King for the sake of Yin Ni. History couldn’t possibly repeat itself, could it?

"Hehe, you have to thank the silver lion behind you. If it hadn't pleaded with the king, he wouldn't have been able to assign a doctor to treat you, let alone personally force-feed you the medicine." Gesang Zhuoma's long eyes were bright and clear, filled with grateful smiles. "Azu was right, the mastiff is indeed a guardian beast." Still relying on your hands? How can that be satisfying? Forum reputation guaranteed! High-grade silicone video Fan Bingbing's lower body real state molded into a highly realistic vulva shape, soft and delicate skin! Built-in large particle protrusions, close to the female physiological structure, experience a more realistic feeling... Swallowing and spitting out rhythmically, irresistible! Click to enter

"You... what did you say? The king personally force-feeded me the medicine?!"

Luo Zhu screamed, repeating the most crucial sentence, her voice full of energy, not at all like a weak patient who had just woken up from a coma.

Chapter 069 Even after waking up, she still wants me to force-feed her medicine .

Could it be that her auditory nerves were disordered by the high fever? The beast king would actually force-feed her medicine himself? This was even more horrifying than when that ferocious beast, Shakyamuni, sent her a blanket to nurse her back to health! It was terrifying!

"Yes," Gesang Zhuoma recalled, "Back then, as soon as the medicine was fed to Sister Luozhu, she vomited it all up. It was completely ineffective, and I was so anxious I cried." "

I vomited the medicine?" She raised an eyebrow in disbelief.

"Yes," Gesang Zhuoma nodded firmly.

Luozhu fell silent, suddenly recalling the excruciating bitterness she had tasted while being roasted in the fire. She had resisted countless times with extraordinary determination to avoid being tortured to death. Was this… reaping what she sowed? A surge of intense regret welled up within her; she wished she could take a samurai sword and commit seppuku.

"Later, the Silver Lion invited the King, who took the medicine bowl and fed it to Sister Luo Zhu. Not only me, but even the two guards beside the King and Shakyamuni were stunned." Gesang Zhuoma's expression leaped with a hint of pride. "Sister Luo Zhu, although the King is terrifying, for a mastiff slave to be personally fed medicine by a god-like king is an honor greater than the heavens."

Seeing Gesang Zhuoma's excited expression, as if she had won the lottery, Luo Zhu didn't feel any greater honor; instead, she felt a chill run down her spine. A cold air rose from the soles of her feet, climbing up her spine, until her entire back of her head and the top of her head stiffened. She simply couldn't imagine the scene of the beastly king feeding her medicine.

"Oh dear, I was so busy talking that the medicine's almost cold!" Gesang Zhuoma suddenly exclaimed, quickly bringing the bowl of medicine closer and saying with concern, "Sister Luozhu, drink your medicine quickly."

The strong, bitter smell of the medicine suddenly assaulted her nostrils, and the dark brown liquid rippled before her eyes. Luozhu's delicate features almost scrunched up, her back arching rapidly, forming a strange, stiff curve on the silver lion's back.

She wasn't afraid of heaven or earth, wasn't afraid of being ignored or abandoned by her parents, wasn't afraid of being beaten or isolated, wasn't afraid of being transmigrated to another world and becoming a mastiff slave, wasn't afraid of going hungry or cold; she was only afraid of drinking bitter Chinese medicine, a fear she had had since childhood.

As a child, her fear of Chinese medicine stemmed from its bitterness. After she grew up, she feared drinking traditional Chinese medicine because every sip of the bitter liquid would bring back a flood of previously hidden thoughts. She felt that the bitterness and astringency flowed not only into her throat and stomach, but also into her heart, her limbs, and every cell in her body. After a bowl of medicine, her whole body felt like it was soaking in the medicinal liquid, so bitter that she wanted to cry.

She hated that unbearable bitterness, and even more so, she hated her own weakness and uselessness. Therefore, since she officially began living alone, unless absolutely necessary, she always saw a Western doctor when she was sick. Even if she received injections and IV drips for more than ten days in a row, she wouldn't flinch. When she was unconscious and forced to take medicine, she had no way to protest or resist. But now that she was awake, who would expect her to obediently drink medicine? She only offered two words—don't even think about it!

"Zhuoma, I'm cured now, I don't need to take medicine anymore," she said with an embarrassed smile, carefully raising her hand to remove the bowl of medicine from her lips.

"No, the doctor said that after Sister Luozhu's fever subsides and she wakes up, she needs to take this medicine for two more days before stopping," Gesang Zhuoma firmly rejected. Faced with Luozhu's obvious resistance, she finally snapped out of her excitement and realized what was going on. It turned out that the ferocious beast Lie Shakya was right; the reason Sister Luozhu vomited the medicine while unconscious was indeed because she disliked the bitter taste.

Two more days? She didn't want to drink it for even half a day! Luozhu's heart pounded with fear. She carefully pushed the medicine bowl away from her mouth little by little and smiled ingratiatingly at Gesang Zhuoma, "Zhuoma, I know you care about me, but I'm really better. If you don't believe me, feel it!" Pushing the medicine bowl away, she took Gesang Zhuoma's free left hand and placed it on her forehead. "Isn't the fever gone?"

The smooth forehead touched her palm was slightly warm; the fever was indeed gone. But—

Gesang Zhuoma hesitated, glancing at Luo Zhu's bright, fawning eyes, filled with intense expectation, then at the bowl of medicine in her hands. After a moment's hesitation, she gritted her teeth and resolutely handed the bowl back to Luo Zhu.

"Sister Luo Zhu, even if the fever is gone, you still have to listen to the doctor and drink the medicine!"

Really? Luo Zhu looked up at Gesang Zhuoma, whose face was resolute, seemingly leaving no room for negotiation, then looked down at the medicine being offered to her lips again. Her heart sank deeper into despair, her features contorting into a deep frown. Should

she slap the bowl and yell that she wouldn't drink it, like in movies? In her twenty years, she had never done anything so arrogant. Besides, this action would hurt and disappoint someone who truly cared about her, and she couldn't bear to do that. Should she take the bowl and gulp it down herself, holding her breath? The feeling of being immersed in bitterness was unbearable, and it seemed too cruel to herself; she couldn't bring herself to do it. For a moment, she was torn, undecided, her mind in turmoil.

"Sister Luozhu, drink it quickly, the medicine will be weaker if it gets cold," Gesang Zhuoma's soft, clear voice, as melodious as a lark's, urged her.

"Zhuoma, I..." Luozhu glanced at Gesang Zhuoma awkwardly and ashamedly, then lowered her head, a blush rising on her cheeks, and stammered, "I'm afraid... afraid of the bitterness..."

Gesang Zhuoma was taken aback, then her lips curled into a smile. Hehe, how cute and awkward Sister Luozhu is. She deliberately straightened her face and scolded, "Sister Luozhu, you're such a grown-up, how can you act like a child and refuse to drink your medicine because you're afraid of the bitterness? If you don't drink it, be careful the King will come and force you to drink it again."

"You naughty girl, you're just trying to scare me," Luozhu pouted, pouting slightly.

"Who said she was trying to scare you?"

Before Gesang Zhuoma could answer, a deep, resonant, cold, and slightly amused male voice suddenly broke through. Immediately afterward, a man led two snow leopards into the mastiff enclosure.

His over two-meter-tall frame was more imposing and powerful than that of ordinary highland men. He wore a dark blue brocade robe embroidered with golden dragons and swastikas, inlaid with precious sable fur. Two belts of varying widths, engraved with black agate and silver plates, were tied around his waist, and he wore thick, high-top black leather boots with purplish-red edges. Around his neck hung a nine-eyed dzi bead and coral agate, and long and short knives, a black whip, and other items dangled from his waist. He was incredibly luxurious and noble.

The man's slightly curly, dark brown hair was disheveled and draped over his shoulders, with several thin braids on either side still adorned with exquisite silver skull rings inlaid with sapphires. A large ruby the size of a broad bean adorned his left ear like a bewitching, crimson birthmark. His deep bronze skin was tinged with the distinctive ochre hue of people from the highlands. His features were sharply defined, as if sculpted by an axe. He was majestic and proud like a lion, elegant and aloof like a snow leopard, and ruthless and cruel like a vulture. With each step he took, the air grew thicker with danger, pressure, and chill.

The man who interrupted and strode into the mastiff enclosure was none other than King Muchi Zanbu Zhuodun of Guge, who had disappeared two days earlier after demonstrating how to administer medicine to Gesang Zhuoma.

"Your Majesty... Your Majesty..." Gesang Zhuoma cried out in terror, her eyes wide with disbelief. She knelt to prostrate herself in worship, forgetting the

bowl of medicine she was holding in her haste. Just as the bowl was about to tip over, Zanbu Zhuodun moved with lightning speed, catching it precisely and collecting the spilled medicine back into the bowl, not spilling a single drop.

"Please... Please forgive me, Your Majesty!" Gesang Zhuoma was deathly pale, drenched in cold sweat, and trembling all over. She prostrated herself on the ground, her forehead slamming heavily against the ground.

Zanbu Zhuodun seemed oblivious to Gesang Zhuoma kneeling at his feet, pleading for forgiveness. He strode over and knelt beside Luo Zhu. A slight smile played on his lips as he looked at her, now frozen in shock, and he said indifferently, "You pig, do you still want me to force-feed you medicine now that you're awake?"

Huh? Ah!

Luo Zhu was initially bewildered, then blinked her dry eyes, which had forgotten to blink due to extreme terror, and suddenly realized tears were welling up.

Damn it, Gesang Zhuoma was such a jinx! She'd just mentioned the beastly king forcing medicine, and now he was here! Did he even want her to live? With a determined heart and gritted teeth, she chuckled obsequiously, "How dare this lowly servant trouble Your Majesty to force-feed me medicine?" Her target was clear: she reached for the bowl of medicine Zanbu Zhuodun was holding.

Chapter 70 The Beast King's Forced Medicine

Just as her fingertips were about to touch the medicine bowl, Zanbu Zhuodun's hand trembled slightly, and the bowl easily slipped from her grasp. She pursed her lips, feigning ignorance, and turned her fingers, chasing after the bowl. The same scene repeated itself; her fingertips had barely touched the bowl when Zanbu Zhuodun's hand trembled again, and the bowl narrowly avoided her grasp.

This…

Luo Zhu couldn't fathom the Beast King's thoughts, and couldn't help but hesitate, too afraid to reach for the bowl again. She gently bit her lower lip, her head lowered, her humble and respectful voice barely audible: "Your Majesty, please… grant me the medicine."

"Oh? Not afraid of bitterness anymore?" Zanbu Zhuodun stared at the suddenly timid and subservient mastiff, raising his right eyebrow with a wicked grin. His dark brown eagle eyes were sharp and cold, unfathomable.

The Beast King's cold, indifferent tone always contained a slight smile, which at first glance seemed somewhat kind and friendly. But hearing it sent a chill down one's spine, a shiver running through the very depths of one's soul. The overwhelming, kingly aura emanating from him intertwined with the bloodthirsty, ruthless aura of a ferocious beast, weaving a terrifying, perilous net. Once caught in that net, once it closed, nothing could escape alive.

"It is an immense honor for this lowly servant to be treated by a physician appointed by the King. Even if I fear bitterness... I can drink it." Luo Zhu felt completely enveloped by that terrifying, perilous net; his heart clenched, his muscles tensed, and he dared not look up at the beast before him.

Give it to me! Give it to me! Even if that medicine is ten, a hundred, a thousand times more bitter than bitter melon, I can drink it all in one gulp! Great beastly King, I beg you to have mercy, take your noble aura and beastly aura away from me, stop oppressing my nerves, stop adding to my psychological burden! I am about to collapse under this weight!

Luo Zhu screamed inwardly in grief and rage. But things didn't go as planned. Her chin was forcefully gripped and lifted by long, dark bronze fingers, forcing her to look at the terrifying man.

"I'm in a good mood today, I don't mind giving the mastiff another dose of the drug." His dark brown, hawk-like eyes narrowed dangerously, a cold, indifferent smile curving his sharp lips. His rough fingertips slowly caressed Luo Zhu's blood-scabbed lips, the movements somewhat ambiguous, somewhat wicked.

Luo Zhu stared at him in horror, too terrified to move, her face even paler than Gesang Zhuoma kneeling on the ground. Her heart pounded as if it had stopped beating, even her breath caught in her throat from the overwhelming tension.

His bronze fingers forcefully pried open her lips, probing into her warm, sandalwood mouth, slowly exploring inside. The soft, smooth tongue, the delicate mucous membranes of her mouth, the glossy, strong white teeth, the tiny fleshy bud in her throat—it all felt so tender and fragile. Zambu Zhuoton was quite satisfied with the sensation on his fingers. He pushed his fingertips further in, causing the muscles in his burning throat to spasm and contract, tightly enveloping his fingertips and giving him an inexplicable, lingering pleasure. Fragrant, clear saliva continuously seeped from his soft throat, winding down the corners of his mouth that couldn't close, completely wetting his fingers. His

half-closed eagle eyes grew even deeper and sharper, his coldness undiminished. He simply stopped gripping the mastiff's chin, allowing his thick, long index and middle fingers to probe even deeper, caressing and rotating within the smooth, delicate, tight throat.

Luo Zhu's mouth was forced open wide, the foreign object filling her throat causing her throat muscles to spasm uncontrollably, making her want to vomit. Tears welled in her eyes, and saliva, due to the intense stimulation, gushed out in waves, but unable to swallow, it accumulated in her mouth, eventually overflowing and dripping onto her delicate, rounded chin, exuding a seductive, alluring beauty.

The extreme discomfort suppressed her deep-seated, instinctive fear of the beastly king, and she couldn't help but grab his wrist, pulling hard, trying to pull his fingers out of her throat.

Faced with her feeble resistance, Zambu Zhuoton smiled slightly, and the two fingers that had been churning her throat suddenly separated, one pressing against the base of her uvula, the other against the back of her palate. Amid Luo Zhu's whimpers, he inserted the long, pointed spout of the medicine bowl into her mouth, plunging it into her throat, and then slowly poured out the medicine.

The spasming muscles were forcibly stretched open, and the bitter, warm medicine bypassed the taste buds in the mouth, flowing directly down the throat into the stomach. The bitterness was barely noticeable. The astringency, however, spread throughout the body with the warm flow. Her large, bright eyes quietly closed, the tears that had been welling up finally overflowing, streaming down her cheeks and disappearing into her disheveled hair.

The tears flowed for as long as the medicine was administered.

When Zanbu Zhuodun removed the medicine bowl, her closed eyes gently opened. The humility, obsequiousness, and fear within were gone, replaced by two glistening, clear pupils, washed clean by tears, filled with deep grievance and a profound sadness that instantly brought her delicate, fair face to life.

He looked for a moment, then withdrew his thick, long fingers from Luo Zhu's mouth, a strand of transparent silver thread clinging to the tip. With a strand of silver in her hair, her fingers pressed directly onto her furrowed, delicate brows, silently massaging them.

"So bitter...so astringent..."

Four soft syllables escaped from her half-open, rounded lips, like a sigh, a sob, and a whine. A hazy, melancholic look clouded her large, sorrowful eyes, and tears streamed down her face. Luo Zhu seemed to have suddenly fallen into another, distant world.

In that world, she was alone, cowering in a dark corner, watching her parents' fierce arguments and fights in terror; she was alone, wandering the dimly lit streets, licking the wounds from her battles; she was alone, sitting by the window, gazing longingly at the end of the street, hoping one day her parents would appear. Day after day, month after month, year after year, she waited, only to receive fleeting, shooting-star-like affection, and then, endless, long-lasting neglect and indifference. Until her heart grew cold, chilled, and her feelings faded, until her parents' love-hate relationship vanished forever, she stopped waiting.

She spent seventeen years waiting for her parents to turn back, for their love and affection, but ultimately, she could not obtain it. At the moment of their burial, she vowed to live only for herself from then on, to strive to live well.

She hated drinking Chinese medicine, utterly hated it; the warm, bitter liquid always reminded her of all the burial scenes and emotions. Her body was so bitter! So astringent! Bitterness filled her lips and tongue, her blood was bitter, her flesh was bitter, her internal organs were all bitter, so bitter that she couldn't control her tears.

Zanbu Zhuotun coldly watched the slightly distorted, silently weeping Ao Nu, his fingers gently sliding down her brow, spreading the tears little by little, gradually wetting her pale, delicate face.

"You pig, is the medicine really that bitter and astringent?" A large hand caressed her slender, fair neck. His deep, resonant voice lost some of its coldness and hardness, acquiring a hint of seductive magnetism.

Luo Zhu rolled her eyes, tears streaming down her face again. She sniffed and mumbled a muffled "

hmm." "How can medicine poured directly down your throat taste bitter?" Zanbu Zhuotun scoffed, a cruel glint in his eyes. "A mastiff slave deceiving the king is a serious crime, punishable by having his tongue pulled out, limbs severed, and being strangled."

The bloody, murderous intent ruthlessly ripped Luo Zhu from her bitter world, boundless fear dispelling her hazy resentment and painful gloom.

She hastily wiped away her tears, shaking her head desperately, repeatedly saying, "This lowly servant was wrong, wrong! The medicine Your Majesty gave me wasn't bitter at all. Your Majesty, this lowly servant was wrong! Please, for the sake of Yin Ni, spare this lowly servant! Spare this lowly servant!" Her pleas were now tinged with terrified sobs.

She remembered that in ancient times, on the Tibetan Plateau, there was a "Sixteen Codes" which stipulated the price of the lives of the lower classes: "The lives of vagrants, blacksmiths, and butchers are worth a single straw rope." As a slave, her life was worth even less than a single straw rope. Whenever serfs, slaves, or the lower classes committed acts of insubordination, the punishments were extremely harsh and barbaric, including corporal punishments such as "gouging out eyes, cutting off knees, cutting out tongues, chopping limbs, throwing people off cliffs, and slaughtering," effectively denying them the right to life.

The beastly king had tortured and punished too many people before her eyes; his capricious temper and cruel bloodshed had left a deep, terrifying mark on her heart. For the past month, if it weren't for Yin Ni protecting her, if she hadn't been constantly mindful of her words and actions, remaining humble and obedient, she might have already become disabled or even died.

Look at what she did today! She tried to snatch the bowl from the beastly king to drink her medicine, grabbed his wrist to try and stop him from playing with her throat, and cried loudly in front of him, even shouting that the medicine was bitter and astringent. This… wasn't this just courting death? The more Luo Zhu recalled, the more frightened she became, and her body trembled uncontrollably.

"Did I say something wrong?" Zanbu Zhuo Dun gently tightened his fingers, gripping her neck, his voice rising slightly at the end, carrying an indescribable meaning.

"Wrong, wrong, Your Majesty, this lowly slave was wrong, wrong." Luo Zhu sobbed, her pale cheeks turning ashen, her eyes red and swollen like a rabbit's, as she held back her tears.

Zanbu Zhuodun released her neck, casually tossing her aside. He straightened up, a mocking smile flashing in his sharp eyes: "Since you know you're wrong, you'll be punished by drinking medicine for another four days. If you spill a single drop, I'll rip out your tongue, cut off your limbs, and strangle you!"

Huh?! Luo Zhu lay on the silver lion, staring blankly at the tall man, her mind a complete blank.

Devastating news! This was second only to being ripped out of her tongue, cut off her limbs, and strangled!

After a long while, until Zanbu Zhuodun and the two snow leopards had disappeared from sight, Gesang Zhuoma got up and pushed her hard. Only then did she exhale a breath of pent-up anger, saying hatefully, "Damn, that's too beastly."

Gesang Zhuoma leaned against her, responding dazedly, looking at the empty mastiff enclosure door with conflicted and utterly confused expressions.

The king's disrespectful act towards Sister Luo Zhu was only punished with two more days of medicine—compared to his previous brutal tortures, it was utterly incomprehensible. And was drinking medicine for two more days also a punishment? Turning to look at Luo Zhu, who was in such agony and seemed to be living a life worse than death, she suddenly realized. For Sister Luo Zhu, drinking medicine for two more days was definitely a punishment far more terrible than being whipped.

The King is truly terrifying.

Chapter 71 Going to the Council Hall

For a full half month, Luo Zhu didn't have to do anything. Every day, she was only responsible for eating, drinking, defecating, sleeping, and washing in the mastiff's quarters. In addition to tsampa, her food included hot butter tea and fragrant potato stew with beef. Theoretically speaking, as a mastiff slave, the treatment she enjoyed was unprecedented. But in reality, she was so bored and stifled that she was on the verge of depression and mania.

After the beastly king forced her to take the medicine, he thoroughly carried out his heinous beastly behavior, even sending six palace slaves to supervise her recovery. She had to drink every last drop of the bitter medicine, eat at least two-thirds of the food that was brought to her, and her movements were confined to the mastiff enclosure. She was allowed to exercise only once a day, once in the morning, once at noon, and once in the evening, each time for no more than twenty minutes. The vast majority of the time was spent resting on her mattress. Except for Gesang Zhuoma and the palace servants who attended to her, no one else was allowed to visit. Anyone who dared to enter the mastiff enclosure would be executed without mercy.

For the first four days, her body was weak, and the bitter medicine tormented her to the point of wishing she were dead. She could lie there and sleep soundly, but from the fifth day onwards, she couldn't continue. As Gesang Zhuoma said, the doctor who treated her was too skilled. Not only had she recovered from her illness, but her body and spirit had also been restored to their former strength. Lying down to recuperate was nothing short of an extreme ordeal. But facing six watchful and loyal palace servants and an overly concerned and still fearful Gesang Zhuoma, she didn't even have a chance to get herself a cup of water, let alone leave the mastiff barn for a stroll.

In the end, she could only make full use of the three exercise opportunities in the morning, noon, and evening, trying different methods to expend as much physical and mental energy as possible to ensure the quality of her sleep. During this period, her greatest gain was that, with the help of Yin Ni, she became very familiar with the nearly twenty wild mastiffs in the barn, to the point that she could treat them like plush toys, freely kneading and hugging them without any safety incidents.

And so, amidst the expressionless, rigid service of the palace servants, the gentle comfort of Gesang Zhuoma, and the playful company of Yinni and a pack of mastiffs, she endured, like the old woman Ah Xiang, the four-day torture of drinking medicine, the utterly boring and maddening days of recuperation, until finally, the beastly king issued a pardon to return to work, and she was released.

Because of this illness, Luo Zhu deeply understood the sublime meaning of labor. The life of a parasite, like that of a prisoner, was not something ordinary people could endure; to live a fulfilling life, one had to be a glorious working person. Even if it was bitter, tiring, and miserable, she endured it all. And because of this illness, she became the most dazzling focus in the Guge royal palace. From royalty to lowly slaves, everyone gossiped and speculated about her behind her back. Whenever she appeared, eyes were like X-rays, determined to see through her bones, organs, flesh, and soul.

“Zhuoma, I…I feel so much pressure…”

Luo Zhu frowned, her eyes filled with apprehension, and whispered to Gesang Zhuoma beside her as they reached a secluded corner. A few meters ahead, two burly guards led the way, their destination the council chamber of the Guge Royal Palace.

“Definitely,” Gesang Zhuoma whispered back, “Sister Luo Zhu is the only female slave who has won the King’s favor.”

Favor?!

Upon hearing this, Luo Zhu gasped, immediately gritting her teeth and whispering, "Who spread this rumor? I'll kill them!"

"Sister Luo Zhu, don't get agitated. Everyone in the palace is saying it. It's because you, as a female slave, have received the incredible privileges of free access to the King's bedchamber, doctor's consultations, the King personally administering medicine, and palace servants attending to you personally. I've even enjoyed unbelievable non-slave treatment." Gesang Zhuoma rattled off the undeniable facts, then, catching her breath, continued, "Now the King has ordered you to serve in the council chambers. What do you expect them to think? Alan Nima and Quzhen Meiduo specifically sought out an opportunity to come to me to verify this, and also asked me to pass on their congratulations and remind you to remember to do them a favor in the future."

Luo Zhu's heart skipped a beat, and she gasped again. Damn it, these two women haven't given up on assassinating the beastly King! Just like her, they haven't given up on escaping. Their spirit is commendable; she sincerely hoped they could both achieve their goals. Taking a deep breath, she asked Gesang Zhuoma with a solemn expression, "Zhuoma, does the King favor me?"

Gesang Zhuoma remained silent for a moment, then sighed deeply and said, "Rumors stop with the wise. Sister Luozhu, I think I can barely be considered a clever woman. Based on my rich experience in courtship, the fact that you have been bestowed with so many honors by the King must mean you are special to him. But whenever I observe you with the King, I always worry about my own life while also worrying about your head. From this, I deduce that the King's special treatment of you is clearly far different from a man's favor towards a woman." However, that ferocious beast, Lie Shakya Tashi, truly harbors ill intentions towards you. She swallowed the last sentence, lowered her eyes, and pondered whether to find an opportunity to tell the recovered Sister Luozhu the truth, so that she could be wary and take precautions to avoid being taken advantage of.

Luozhu actually knew what Gesang Zhuoma was saying. Initially, she had gained her life because she had attracted the beast king's interest with the silver lion. But as time went on, she discovered that the beastly king seemed to particularly enjoy bullying her, especially indulging in killing and torturing people in front of her, perversely taking pleasure in watching her tremble in fear and beg for mercy.

Damn it, she was nothing more than a living, breathing toy for the beast's amusement; the moment he got tired of her, that would be her death. She exhaled a breath of stale air, her resolve to escape growing stronger.

Seeing the guards waiting at the end of the secret passage, she fell silent. With her head bowed and her steps dejected, her gaze darted furtively to the sides of the corridor.

December had arrived, and the entire Boba people of the Tibetan Plateau, rich and poor alike, were joyfully preparing for the New Year. Although the Guge Royal Palace was filled with bloodshed and terror, on New Year's Eve, even the lowest-ranking slave received a bowl of barley wine and a piece of dried meat.

Along the dimly lit corridor, every ten steps or so, stood a gilded and silver-plated mahogany shelf, displaying exquisitely crafted silver mythical beasts such as dragons, lions, tigers, and turtles, each with a gemstone in its mouth and a silver bowl on its back. The bowls contained barley seeds soaking in snow water, which would sprout two inches tall at the New Year, a harbinger of a bountiful harvest.

The original murals were now concealed by massive appliqué embroidery panels. These panels were created by layering and embroidering various colors of silk, wool, and cotton onto fabric. The panel on the left depicted the "Auspicious Vine," a common motif in temples, its vibrant colors and delicate details radiating the Buddha's profound wisdom. The panel on the right depicted the rise of the Muchi royal family, its powerful battle scenes and opulent enthronement celebrations vividly portrayed. Both panels were presented as a series of interconnected images, the different backgrounds and figures harmonizing naturally, demonstrating the maker's ingenious conception and superb craftsmanship. "If this were in the 21st century, it would be an invaluable artistic treasure, a crystallization of the wisdom of the ancient working people!"

Luo Zhu exclaimed, unknowingly stepping out of the secret passage.

When the guard opened the small palace door repaired on the ground, a blast of frigid snow rushed in, making her shiver. The sudden stimulation of the cold air made her sneeze several times.

"Sister Luo Zhu! Are you cold?" Gesang Zhuoma called out anxiously. She was once bitten, twice shy. Although she wasn't the one bitten, hearing Luo Zhu's sneeze still made her heart leap into her throat.

Cold, absolutely. The snow-covered wind felt like knives cutting into her skin, both cold and painful. Away from the constant warmth of the furry mastiff, her hands and feet turned to ice within three minutes, and her entire body temperature plummeted, only her chest remained warm. But as long as she wasn't sleeping, she could endure the cold.

“It’s alright, let’s go.” Luo Zhu tightened the new fur robe she had received, lined with coarse cotton, and took Gesang Zhuoma’s hand, preparing to step forward.

“Wait! The King has ordered that only swine are allowed to enter the council chamber to serve after exiting the secret passage of the Winter Palace.” A guard extended a spear to block Gesang Zhuoma, coldly stating, “You, wait here.”

Luo Zhu and Gesang Zhuoma’s expressions changed, exchanging glances, their eyes flashing with deep fear in an instant.

“Sister Luo Zhu…” Endless worry surfaced on Gesang Zhuoma’s face. She gripped Luo Zhu’s hand tightly, the veins on the back of her hand bulging.

Luo Zhu closed her eyes tightly, and when she opened them again, the fear in her eyes had been forcibly suppressed. She pried Gesang Zhuoma’s fingers open one by one, the corners of her lips slightly upturned: “Good girl, wait for me here, I will definitely come back.”

“…Yes, I will wait for Sister Luo Zhu.” Gesang Zhuoma nodded, helplessly withdrawing her hand.

Luo Zhu turned around, braving the biting snow wind, and followed the guard out the small door.

Now that she was completely healed, they couldn't wait to play with her and amuse themselves? Having lived for twenty years, she had no idea she possessed such great entertainment value. Should she be grateful or saddened?

And who said she was a pig? Where exactly was she fat like a pig? Put on her clothes, and she still looked incredibly slender, didn't she?

Resentment, anger, fear, and unease intertwined in the snow wind, dancing with the swirling snowflakes.

Chapter 72 Entering the Council Hall

Upon seeing her arrive, a guard stationed in the council hall immediately pushed open the ornate and heavy side door. Instantly, a warm feeling enveloped her, dispelling much of the chill.

Stepping into the shadows, she cautiously peered out with curious eyes. What first caught her eye was not a person, but the rich, vibrant colors and the mysterious, expansive, and solemn grandeur. The modern, dilapidated ruins of the ancient Guge Kingdom that had once lingered in her mind collapsed in an instant, then revived and were reborn, leaving new imprints.

The thick, square, red pillars were highly distinctive. The floor was paved with bluish-gray stone slabs, the ceiling was painted with various patterns, and the surrounding walls were also covered with paintings. The content included Buddha, Tara, Vajra, people, animals, and plants, with themes such as debate, celebrations, drumming, and dance. The lines were vivid and smooth, delicate yet strong; the layout was varied and well-organized, with a sense of gathering and scattering; the colors were rich and deep, rich yet elegant, with red as the main tone, and blue and green used to create a strong color contrast. Each mural is unique, creating a rich, ornate, and intricately detailed decorative effect within a mysterious and eerie atmosphere. These

vibrant and vivid murals more clearly reflect the distinctive Guge style—a fusion of Indian, Kashmiri, Nepalese, and Islamic influences—based on the local highland murals, far surpassing the faded fragments of modern ruins. The unnamed masters' masterful summarization and refinement of artistic forms, their skillful use of color contrast and chiaroscuro, are hard for modern eyes to believe, yet utterly compelling.

The council hall, spanning several hundred square meters, now has many long, low tables on both sides, laden with food and drink, and many people seated before them. Some are drinking and eating heartily, while others are enjoying song and dance performances with great enthusiasm. Judging from their clothing and appearance, most are Guge officials and nobles, but there are also many whose appearance and attire are distinctly different from the Guge people. A cursory glance revealed Persian, Indian, Ladakh, Nepalese, and Tibetan (Tibetan) artifacts, among others. It's no exaggeration to say that what unfolded before her was a magnificent scene depicting the gathering of South Asian nations.

Portuguese missionaries such as André-Dame and Azevedo, who visited the Guge Kingdom in the early 17th century, recorded: "Zhabrang in Guge was a trading hub for the surrounding region. Caravans from Han China, ü-Tsang, Gongbo, Bolu, and Srinagar passed through here, bringing raw silk, ceramics, tea, rice, figs, grapes, sugar, and many other goods. At the same time, artisans from South Asia continuously entered Guge, bringing their material civilization. Meanwhile, Guge's local specialties, such as wool, salt, and borax, were also exported to South Asia." For a fleeting moment, she even had the illusion of a world of universal harmony.

In the hall, twelve men, dressed in ochre-colored leather robes and draped in thick, colorful woolen cloaks, stood in a fan shape. Each held a round sheepskin drum, rhythmically tapping it with one hand while stroking it with the other, producing a primal, natural sound. Dancing in the center were over twenty young women, their heads adorned with pearl, agate, gold, and silver ornaments, their bodies adorned with necklaces of dzi beads and coral, and their wrists adorned with several gold, silver, and gemstone bracelets of varying widths. They wore flamboyant cloaks, which combined the vertical stripes of rooftops with a striking combination of red, black, orange, and yellow, creating a highly decorative effect. The dancers' costumes, in the same colors and patterns as their cloaks, formed an organic whole, appearing exceptionally harmonious.

To the accompaniment of enchanting celestial music, the dancers, hand in hand, moved in a line, sometimes bending forward, sometimes retreating, as if traversing the winding, secret passages of the royal palace. Their movements possessed not only a resilient and vigorous strength, a spirit of unity as they held hands and forged ahead, but also the unique nobility, elegance, and graceful beauty characteristic of the royal court. Equally as astonishing and breathtaking as the murals,

this is the courtly "string" dance created during the Guge period. This dance requires no other instruments; only the sound of drums and the skillful rubbing of hands on them, combined with the melodious rhythm of the dancers' feet gliding across the ground and the clinking of ornaments, are sufficient.

Legend has it that the "string" dance originated from the Guge people's long-term exploration of the secret passages. One dancer, inspired by the passages of the Guge castle, created the dance after much contemplation, a masterpiece truly born from everyday life. After a trial performance in the palace, which received unanimous praise from the ministers, the King of Guge designated it as a court dance, reserved for the enjoyment of royalty and nobility. During celebrations, the King would also invite friends, relatives, and wealthy merchants from various countries to watch, earning high praise from the distinguished guests.

In modern times, the "string" dance, despite enduring the test of time and space for hundreds of years, remains dazzling, enduring, and possesses unique artistic charm. In various competitions, it consistently outshines other entries with its distinctive ethnic characteristics, winning numerous awards. She, too, had the privilege of witnessing it.

However, comparing the two today, the ancient "string" dance, in terms of costumes, movements, drummers, and dancers, possesses a more awe-inspiring, mysterious charm and profound beauty than the modern version.

Only after her robe was forcefully tugged did Luo Zhu lower her head, somewhat bewildered and displeased, and suddenly see the silver lion that had gone out to work early that morning.

Yin Ni slightly stuck out her red tongue, her blue triangular eyes showing a hint of urging and worry. She

glanced at her, then turned back to look at her. Following Yin Ni's gaze, she saw the Beast King.

The Beast King sat upright in the main hall, his attire still luxurious and noble. He sat alone on a huge low couch with a backrest, inlaid with sparkling and precious gems that formed auspicious patterns. The couch was covered with a colorful tiger skin, and there were several thick cushions that looked soft and fluffy. The table in front of the couch was noticeably wider and longer than the tables in front of the others. Two beautiful maids knelt at the table, and two elegant snow leopards with smooth fur lay in front of the table, gnawing on meat and bones with relish. Behind the couch stood a row of equally beautiful maids, like a richly colored and aesthetically pleasing human screen. A dozen or so strong, fierce mastiffs of various colors surrounded the throne, each baring its teeth and displaying a ferocious appearance, which only made him appear even more impeccably dressed and of unapproachable nobility.

On the wall behind the throne was a huge mural of the cycle of life and death, vividly colored and lifelike. The boundary of the cycle extended into a deep blue, like the vast and profound universe. Dakinis, holding vines and lotuses, swirled and danced in the four corners, dignified, charming, and serenely compassionate, forming a stark contrast with the fierce and wrathful Yama, the demon king who held the mural in his mouth.

The entire mural, with its imposing majesty and mystery, contained a powerful and eerie oppressive force, perfectly complementing the beastly king seated on the throne, inspiring awe and an involuntary urge to prostrate oneself.

The Beast King, holding a silver cup, smiled slightly, seemingly enjoying the string dance with his ministers and guests. However, his sharp gaze shot out from the corner of his eye, casting a cold, indifferent glint at her.

This cold glint completely pulled Luo Zhu out of her reverie, lost in the magnificent art of Guge. Upon regaining her senses, she immediately wanted to slap herself. Damn it, what time was it? How could she still be in the mood to admire the murals, praise the string dance, and lament history? She was neither an artist, nor a historian, nor an archaeologist; at best, she was just a hiker with barely passable historical knowledge, who loved ancient sites and enjoyed adventure. Angering the Beast King was a minor matter; accidentally losing her head would be a major one.

She quickly bowed, minimizing her presence, and followed the silver lion with humbly small steps towards the Beast King. Her slender figure was too small in the vast and bustling hall; almost no one noticed her arrival. Reaching the low couch of the Beast King, the densely packed mastiffs silently made way for her. She imitated the two maids at the table, bowing her head and kneeling humbly.

Chapter 73 The Intimacy Between the King and the Slavewoman

"This lowly slave greets Your Majesty." She placed her hands on the ground, her forehead lightly touching the ground as well, her low voice containing a mixture of fear, tension, respect, humility, and flattery.

Zanbu Zhuodun glanced sideways at the slave girl kneeling at his right foot, his hawk-like eyes narrowing slightly. Only this slave's voice could display so many complex emotions before him. He didn't know when it had started, but he had developed a fondness for carefully listening to her emotions, especially enjoying lifting her head to scrutinize the expression deep within her eyes.

Unlike her taciturn nature, her clear, bright eyes were anything but dull or lifeless. They often uncontrollably revealed her innermost thoughts, occasionally gleaming with an unusually vivid light. Whether it was grief, fear, grievance, sadness, ferocity, or pain, he found it all fascinating. It was the first time he had encountered something so interesting and entertaining.

"Pour the wine," he said calmly, averting his piercing gaze.

"Yes," Luo Zhu breathed a small sigh of relief, straightened up slightly, picked up the wine jug from the low table, and carefully poured it into the silver cup that the Beast King was toying with.

Pouring wine was a skill. The person pouring the wine must not sway, and the wine must be poured at a constant flow and rate—neither too little nor too much. During the pouring process, the wine must not splash. If the wine were accidentally spilled on the hands of the beastly king holding the cup, the lightest punishment would be whipping and limbs broken,

the heaviest would be being beaten to death. This knowledge was a summary of Luo Zhu's experience after a month of observation; at least six or seven palace servants and slaves who had poured wine before her had died or been maimed. Before, she had only watched others pour wine for the beastly king, but now it was her turn, and her heart was pounding faster and faster. The whistling of whips, the shrill screams, the bloody severed wrists, the fragmented corpses all rushed into her mind, and her hand holding the wine jug trembled slightly uncontrollably.

The wine poured intermittently, sometimes in large amounts, sometimes in small amounts, sometimes to the left, sometimes to the right, drenching the beastly king's hand holding the cup, while only a third of the silver cup was filled.

The sweet aroma of the wine spread everywhere, and the three rings on his bronze fingers were completely washed away by the wine. The large obsidian and sapphire set in the ring emitted a clear, eerie light, contrasting beautifully with the antique silver band, like three sinister, cold eyes—utterly malevolent and chilling.

She bit her lower lip hard, struggling to suppress the terrified scream that threatened to burst from her lips, and quickened her pace, trembling. When she finally filled the silver cup, the beast king's henchmen had already accumulated a large puddle of wine, which was flowing down the slightly tilted low table.

Setting down the wine jug, she prostrated herself again: "Your Majesty, please...please...forgive...forgive me." Her short sentence was stammered, filled with intense panic, and the sound of her teeth chattering could be clearly heard.

At that moment, the drums roared, jewelry jingled, powerful footsteps echoed through the air, colorful cloaks and vibrant skirts swirled and twisted—the string dance had reached its climax, attracting countless mesmerized gazes.

"Whipping, wrist amputation, or death by beating—which do you choose?" Zanbu Zhuotun's hand, holding the cup, remained motionless, still immersed in the fragrant wine. His deep, resonant voice was cold and indifferent, devoid of any anger, simply stating a choice.

Luo Zhu trembled, her warm body feeling as if she were in an ice cellar. Was the Beast King waiting for her to recover before provoking and killing her? Like a farmer fattening a pig before slaughtering it. No, she absolutely couldn't die! She abruptly raised her head, looking at the expressionless Beast King with horror, and cried out in panic, "I don't choose, I... I'll lick it clean for you right away."

Under Zanbu Zhuotun's astonished gaze, she lunged forward, disregarding rank, snatching the silver cup from his hand, vigorously wiping the wine off the table with her sleeve, then taking his wine-stained right hand and devoutly and intently licking it clean. There was no water to wash it with, so she could only clean it with her tongue. In her mind, this was the most humiliating and despicable way to fawn. Like dogs, to survive, she would lick anyone, even their feet, let alone hands.

A soft, smooth, warm, and wet sensation spread from her fingers. Gazing at the pink tongue, which had been played with twice before, slowly tracing its way along her fingers, Zambu Zhuodun's surging rage gradually subsided.

That little tongue was like a slippery, playful fish, swimming from the base of his fingers to the tip, and then back again, circling the protruding joints and rough calluses, leaving trails of fragrant wetness unlike any wine. The two slightly pale, rounded lips, free of thick scabs, became soft and plump, occasionally bringing a different kind of comfort as the tongue touched her skin.

This mastiff slave always did something unexpected when facing death. She no longer called herself a lowly slave, nor a king. Did she think she could atone for her mistake by licking the wine clean with her lips and tongue? The wine was gone, but what about the saliva that remained? Should her tongue be pulled out?

Zanbu Zhuodun's lips curled slightly, a hint of amusement appearing in his sharp, cold eyes. He simply let the mastiff lick her. He picked up the silver cup with his left hand, took a small sip, and his gaze returned to the string dance in the hall.

Seated on the left side of the hall was Lie Shakya Tashi, who was attending the banquet as the Lotus Dharma King's Choni Chenpo. He wore a brown leather robe over a half-crimson robe trimmed with ochre, a vajra rosary on his chest, and a string of Asura beads wrapped around his left hand.

He had noticed Luo Zhu's slender figure from the moment she entered the hall. Since delivering the quilt, he had suddenly been assigned many tasks by the king. After he finished his work, the king had issued an order that no one, except for another mastiff and the palace servants, was allowed to enter the mastiff quarters to visit the sick man; anyone who dared to enter would be put to death. The king's possessiveness was growing stronger and stronger. He sighed softly, somewhat regretting that he couldn't touch that smooth, white skin for the time being.

The little piglet was well cared for by the king; her face was fair and rosy, a stark contrast to the ferocious red she had when she had a high fever. The scarlet mark on her forehead had disappeared, and her timid

, fearful expression always stirred a desire to bully her. Like a wary little animal, she hid in the shadows, looking around. Seeing something, the wariness in her eyes gradually gave way to a look of astonished fascination. She only snapped out of her daze when the silver lion tugged at her robe, and humbly approached the king.

She clumsily poured wine, spilling some on the king's hand. Catching a glimpse of the king's cold, piercing eyes, she frowned slightly, pondering how to divert his attention.

She prostrated herself in apology, then suddenly straightened up, her small face deathly pale, and to his astonishment, she clutched the king's right hand and began licking it incessantly. Observing the king's changing expression, he secretly breathed a sigh of relief; thankfully, the king's anger hadn't lasted long.

What a stupid slave girl, even worse than a pig, she can't even pour wine properly. He thought to himself with a slight sneer. Gazing at the pink tongue swirling and licking between the king's fingers, he felt a slight heat rising within him, a subtle throbbing in his groin. His fingers moved through the Asura beads, stealing glances at the king's contented expression, feeling both relieved and worried.

The king's abstinence was well-known. But his terror of women was a matter of much debate; besides the dead women, no more than three people alive knew the truth. If the king grew tired of the little pig, would he cruelly destroy her like those dead women?

For the first time, Shakyamuni felt a slight pang of regret. If only they had acquired the piglet in the first place, before the king developed any interest or possessiveness towards her. After all, offering her to the Dharma King would have been safer than keeping her by the side of the capricious king.

The string dance ended, and amidst enthusiastic praise and applause, the musicians and dancers all withdrew. At this moment, everyone saw a female slave, her face mostly obscured by her braid, licking the Guge king's right hand incessantly.

The native Guge ministers, after a moment of surprise, understood; they all recognized the female slave as the king's most favored mastiff slave. The visiting guests, unaware of the palace's latest news, all looked on with curiosity and astonishment.

The current Guge king, Muchi Zanbu Zhuotun, was the most intelligent and outstanding king in Guge's history, the most cruel and warlike, and also the most indifferent to love and desire.

He loved snow leopards and mastiffs, and disliked women. His harem was sparsely populated, currently containing only five concubines. It is said that since he married at the age of seventeen, very few of his concubines have survived more than three months in his life. The ministers dared not interfere in the king's harem, fearing that their daughters might be unfortunate enough to be taken into the palace and meet a gruesome end. They would not only fail to enjoy the wealth and power of climbing the royal ladder, but also lose a daughter and displease the king—truly a case of trying to steal a chicken and losing the rice instead.

In the past, wealthy merchants and nobles from abroad had presented various beauties as gifts, but no matter how beautiful they were, King Guge always accepted them with a cold expression. The survival of these beauties was questionable; to think they could use them to seduce King Guge and obtain intelligence or greater benefits was simply a pipe dream. Gradually, the visiting dignitaries stopped presenting beauties, as it was considered a pure waste of precious resources.

But what did they see today? The aloof and indifferent King Guge was actually so intimate with a female slave. Could it be… could it be that King Guge had finally awakened? Had he learned to appreciate the charm of beautiful women?

This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, fleeting and uncertain!

Instantly, the various dignitaries in the hall were filled with conflicting thoughts, a turbulent undercurrent of emotions.

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