[Tales from Another World] Chapter 1

Author: Dejected Soy Milk,
January 3, 2016 Prologue
That
night, in a rolling mountain valley within the territory of the Sky Eagle Empire, a dilapidated wooden house flickered
with light. From within came the sounds of a man and a woman engaging in marital relations. The man was tall
and strong, with a resolute face, naked. The clothes he had taken off reflected light on the ground; the fine fabric adorned with exquisite embroidery
indicated that their owner was either powerful or noble. The woman was petite, her gauze robe still in place, the hazy fabric partially
concealing her alluring figure. Her skin was smooth and supple, her wet hair flowing down her face, obscuring the upper half. However, from her constantly
panting cherry lips and delicate, straight nose, she was undeniably a beauty. Beads of sweat
constantly dripped down her perfectly proportioned body, adding to her captivating charm.
"Your Majesty, Fei'er wants it, fuck Fei'er hard!" The
woman, who called herself Fei'er, had barely finished her first thrust when she proactively twisted her hips, drawing the nearly withdrawn dragon back in, her words filled with
wanton moans and her face radiating undiminished lust.
"Oh—oh, what a charming little vixen. You act so stiff and serious in the palace, I thought you were a virgin
. Turns out you only reveal your true nature in the wild." With that, the man slapped
her smooth, white buttocks a few times. The woman, far from flinching, only moved closer with each slap, her moans growing louder and
louder, sending shivers down his spine. They continued their battle for over an hour, the woman drenched in fragrant sweat, the man panting heavily
. "Let me rest for a bit, you're really killing me," he said teasingly, gently pinching her cheek
.
"Your Majesty, Fei'er wants more!" The woman, who had turned around and was curled up, stared intently at the penis, her eyes filled with
hope, even though it was covered in various fluids from their intercourse. The man saw her secretly pursing her lips
, and she shyly looked away when their eyes met. "Want to try it, don't you? I have so many female slaves, and they all
say I favor you. Why? It's because you make me feel completely comfortable. Come on, eat it. Oh, oh, take small bites
, don't choke, mmm..." Halfway through her sentence, her head was already in front of his crotch, as if sucking on some rare
delicacy. As she sucked, saliva dripped onto his testicles. The woman's eyes were slightly closed,
and she let out charming moans from her nose, thoroughly enjoying herself. The man lay back, relaxed, speechless with pleasure
. He thought to himself that all the female slaves he had trained were obedient, somewhat submissive
and resentful, though harboring resentment. This woman, however, seemed to enjoy being whipped, manipulated, and humiliated,
even finding new ways to be wanton. He had never seen anything like it before; he felt he had truly struck gold. His mind wandered, and he gradually began to snore.
Suddenly, the woman opened her eyes and stared intently at the man's face. When he slept peacefully, the
allure in her eyes vanished, replaced by a sharp glint. She flicked a pebble with her right hand, extinguishing the wick of the oil lamp.
As soon as the lamp went out, several dark figures flashed in, drawing short knives and lunging forward.
"Who are you, you scoundrel!" As the dagger approached, the man abruptly sat up, his eyes wide with rage. His fighting spirit coalesced in his fists
, and amidst the flickering blade shadows in the darkness, "Ah! Pfft! Ah! Pfft! Ah!" A hazy mist of blood descended
upon the woman's face. In that instant, several battle-hardened assassins were pulverized by the king's fighting spirit,
leaving not even bone fragments. Taking advantage of his distraction, the woman gathered her fighting spirit in her silver teeth, ready to bite off his manhood at the root.
For four months since meeting King Kent, she had concealed her skills, making everyone believe she was a
delicate, weak woman, enduring all sorts of humiliation, even using her wantonness to seduce him and gain his favor. She used the excuse that only a world
of two could reveal her true nature of pleasure to lure him to this desolate place to kill her, but she had underestimated him.
She only knew he possessed high martial arts skills, now seemingly no less than the strongest paladin of the Kingdom of Questi. She was willing to risk everything, even if it meant
dying together with him.
"Ah!!!! You wretch! How dare you!" The roaring King Kent, realizing the consequences of the bite
, endured the excruciating pain and swung his fist to smash the woman into a pulp. Almost simultaneously, a dark figure darted into the room, its speed
far surpassing that of the other assassins. Taking advantage of King Kent's enraged state, the figure thrust a sword into his heart from behind, the
hilt pressed against his spine, piercing him through the heart. The sharp point of the sword had barely faded. King Kent slightly shifted his body, narrowly
avoiding a fatal blow, but he was severely wounded. His face contorted in rage, his entire body erupting with fighting spirit, and he let out a
wild howl.
Seeing this, a man and a woman darted out of the house. The small hut instantly exploded into dust. Kent,
his black hair flowing, was surrounded by fighting spirit, blood streaming from his chest and groin. "I'll kill you both!"
he cried. "You tyrant, today I'll take your dog's life!" The woman was completely naked, her smooth, rounded body
still sticky with the semen from their recent lovemaking. Her mouth was filled with a mixture of white and red,
a trickle flowing from the corner of her mouth down to her chin. It was a mixture of semen and blood! This woman! Kent's teeth
clenched in hatred, the ground beneath his feet trembled slightly, and then sawdust and pebbles trembled and floated up from the ground.
"Watch out! This demon is going all out!" The man who had successfully backstabbed him spoke, his voice deep and powerful. Just as
he finished speaking, a white light flashed without warning, and his left arm exploded at the shoulder, a bloody mess. His opponent could actually
project his fighting spirit! The woman, however, endured a different kind of attack. A
suffocating pressure, penetrating to the very soul, made it hard to breathe. A shockwave coursed through her body, every cell boiling. In an instant, she was dehydrated
, drenched in cold sweat. She tried to get up and attack again, only to find she couldn't muster a single wisp of fighting spirit. "I'm crippled! Matthew,
run! Releasing fighting spirit consumes a huge amount of energy. This tyrant won't survive without stopping his wounds."
Just as the woman said, after two moves, King Kent could no longer release such fierce fighting spirit. Unaware
of his remaining strength, the assassin named Matthew crouched, muttering: "Flowing water accelerates." His body
exploded like a bomb, his figure flashing left and right. The assassin's mask was thrown off, revealing a handsome face—
the most handsome of all. King Kent condensed a ring of fighting spirit in his palm, waiting for the moment his opponent charged forward to strike. Each
flash left an afterimage. When there were ten afterimages, all of them suddenly moved together, each
wielding a short sword and swiftly thrusting it at King Kent.
"Naive!" King Kent didn't even glance at the afterimages. He struck back at the void behind him, revealing
Matthew's figure. The short sword he thrust at Matthew shattered inch by inch in Matthew's palm. It seemed his right arm was about to be torn apart, followed by
pulverization. His figure suddenly became an afterimage, just a hair's breadth away. Half of his face was grazed by the palm wind,
his skin, flesh, hair, eyes, and ears were torn off, his skull exposed. "Ah! Phil
, I will definitely save you from here!" He desperately concentrated his will and activated the Divine Shadow Afterimage, flashing to
Phil, who was almost too weak to support herself. He embraced her body and disappeared in several flashes.
King Kent stood there without giving chase. He no longer had the strength to chase. His body gradually grew cold. He had actually
died at the hands of a petty villain. After a long time, his tall body stood there motionless.
Chapter 1: A Boy Growing Up Amidst Storms
In the village of Sandoro in Yorkshire, Skyhawk Empire, villagers found a naked woman lying
on a drying stone by a stream. She was beautiful, but her body was covered in injuries. Being a simple and honest village,
they rescued her without hesitation and took her to a doctor. The doctor diagnosed a bad situation: her bones and muscles had suffered severe concussion,
and she would be paralyzed for several months. However, there was also good news:
she was four months pregnant, and the fetus was healthy and unaffected. She then stayed with a kind elderly couple
, who cared for her like a daughter. But when she awoke and learned of her condition,
she screamed desperately to abort the child. Fortunately, she was temporarily immobile; otherwise, judging from her condition, she might have
killed the baby in her womb. The old couple suspected she might have been raped, but whatever happened, they shouldn't blame
the child. It was a fully formed life. Even the neighbor lady often came to check on her, fearing that if she regained movement, she
might harm the fetus or herself.
Days passed, and Fei'er's belly grew bigger each day. During this time,
the old woman took care of all her needs, from eating and drinking to using the toilet. Fei'er was very grateful to the old woman, and seeing the old woman looking at her belly as if she were longing for a grandchild only made her
more conflicted. No matter what, this child absolutely could not be born. Supporting
her delicate body, which had just regained some mobility, she deliberately stumbled, bumping her belly against sharp edges, almost causing a miscarriage, which
frightened the old woman. Fortunately, several kind-hearted aunties from next door took turns watching over her around the clock until delivery, successfully
preventing her from doing anything "foolish." They offered various words of advice and reasoning, comforting her even when she
was frustrated, struggled, and even insulted the villagers. The kind villagers all looked on with understanding. Even if the child's father
was a bandit, the mother would still love the child after birth and would cherish him. They believed that the child would thank them for their
actions that day.
Finally, on an ordinary night, women went in and out of the house, bringing in basins of warm water.
A strange baby was born; there was no crying upon birth. A knowledgeable woman immediately picked
the baby upside down and spanked its bottom, but the baby still didn't cry. The baby quickly opened its eyes and glared at
the woman who spanked it, but in a flash it recognized its mother, reaching out its little hands, wanting to be held in its mother's arms. The onlookers
were delighted; it was truly a mother's heart connecting with her child. "
Damn it, I've transmigrated! This little body... no way, I've transmigrated into a baby!" "It hurts like hell!
Try hitting me again, you old woman, and I'll give you a good spanking!" "Which one is the baby's mother?" "Oh my,
this little beauty lying there, so sexy and pretty! Is this your child? Hurry up and take her to breastfeed me; those little pink nipples
are so tempting!" None of the people surrounding the baby would have imagined that this was the inner monologue of a newborn infant.
The mother's expression softened considerably, and she looked at her newborn with a loving and tender expression. She picked up the baby,
pressed it against her cheek to feel the skin, and kissed it on the forehead. Seeing the mother and child so affectionate,
everyone thought: See? No matter how much they didn't want the baby before, once it's born, no mother doesn't love her child. Everyone discreetly and
slowly left, going about their own business, giving the mother and child some happy time alone.
Just as the "little baby" in her arms was still complaining about not being fed,
the mother, who had just had a doting expression, suddenly gritted her teeth, her face filled with resentment. She tightened her grip on the child's neck, and then
grabbed the scissors the midwife had used, pointing them at the child.
What the hell is going on? What's happening? Did she discover that I transmigrated and occupied your son's empty soul? She
couldn't possibly have such a sense; am I going to die right after transmigrating? Breathing is so difficult… I need to save myself, what should
I do? That’s it, awaken this wicked woman’s humanity and conscience, it should be possible. She tried to make a sound: “Mom… Mom.”
Actually, even Phil hesitated before striking, her face shifting between light and shadow, her eyes flickering with
life as she watched the little life grow increasingly rapid, its life slowly slipping away. The first rays of morning sunlight fell on
Phil’s face, her strength waning. Hearing that incredibly weak
cry of a newborn calling for its mother, she couldn’t bring herself to do it. She hugged the child tightly again: “Mommy’s here, baby, don’t
be afraid, be good.” From then on, the child was named Ronan, given to him by the elderly couple.
The following days could have been quite pleasant, but this unfortunate child, his restless nursing, like a man
flirting with a woman, instantly reminded Phil of the times Kent had violated her. His skills were no less impressive; indeed,
like father, like son. Her murderous intent grew stronger, an impulse to simply smash him to death. Furthermore, Fei'er discovered
that the child's intelligence and emotional intelligence were developing far too quickly. He would blink his big eyes, putting on a very obedient and well-behaved appearance
, then say "Mommy, I'm hungry," and rush towards her breasts, even untying the collar of her shirt
. He was only a little over ten days old. As the child suckled and caressed her breasts, she even let out
a comfortable moan once, her lower body becoming wet. She had reached orgasm from being breastfed by her own child! This made Fei'er
feel incredibly ashamed and indignant, resenting herself for being a disqualified mother.
The blissful time of caressing his breasts and feeding him only lasted three months. A frightening-looking
man came to the village, with a missing arm, one half of his face handsome and the other half devoid of flesh, the bones exposed. The
young woman named Fei'er, upon seeing him, burst into tears and threw herself into his arms. The two then naturally moved in together...
Together. When that man saw his own face, filled with a look of utter hatred, little Ronan knew this was definitely not
his father; they might even be rivals. Moreover, this man told the young woman he was going to kill the young man, and
the woman not only didn't care but tacitly agreed. Luckily, the young man overheard their conversation, and Ronan immediately
ran barefoot to his "grandparents'" house next door. The man really intended to kill, but he wanted to be discreet
and not let the villagers know, which is why Ronan escaped. For days afterward, little Ronan stayed at his
"grandparents'" house. He searched for opportunities to secretly kill Ronan, but the man always managed to escape.
Eventually, his patience wore thin, and he decided to just kill him outright. Finally, the young woman said
something that seemed fair: "It's shameful to go to such lengths to kill a child!" Because of this, the adulterous couple had a huge fight.
In the end, the man backed down, and the two forgave each other and went to bed for passion. This disabled man was quite vigorous; he even
broke the old man's wooden bed. After their lovemaking, they embraced each other tenderly, which infuriated Ronan
. Even the old couple disliked him. After arriving in the village, he ignored everyone and moved into their house on his own.
Although he had a disabled arm, he was very strong and never helped with any farm work. In contrast, the delicate Fei'er was much more sensible and
could do all the delicate work. The old couple even felt sorry for her. They originally wanted to persuade the man to accept Ronan, but one
time they saw him holding the child in the bathtub, trying to drown Ronan. The old couple were furious and wanted to kick him out on the spot.
They only stopped after Fei'er pleaded with them. The old couple repeatedly advised Fei'er to find another man, saying there were plenty of good young men in the village
.
Little Ronan never nursed from his biological mother again, living with his "grandparents." His biological mother rarely
visited, spending her days cuddling with that crippled man in bed. And it paid off; within a few months, Fei'er
's belly grew large again. She saw another side of this cripple, touching and listening to her belly,
showering her with care, and becoming increasingly subservient to the young woman, even volunteering for farm work. Until her second delivery—congratulations
, it's a girl!—it was clear he couldn't have a son. This grandson, seeing it was a girl, didn't flinch at all, immediately picking her up and
coaxing her with obvious joy, naming her Alicia on the spot, treating her even more affectionately than her own mother.
Is this guy a psychopath?
Ever since that cripple arrived, Ronan had been drinking gruel here. The old couple couldn't stand it anymore. Now that their daughter
was born, the cripple came over again asking for gruel. Judging from his embarrassed, lewd grin, it was clear who had drunk all the milk.
The old woman would shoo him away like a fly when she gave him gruel. Two years passed in a flash. The little girl, for some reason
, always followed Ronan like a shadow, and even learned to call him "brother." They couldn't get rid of
her. The old couple went to the county town to buy things and never returned. They vanished without a trace.
They had gotten used to calling him "Grandpa" and "Grandma," and now that the two elders were gone, they truly felt like they had lost a loved one. Phil had tried several times to get Ronan
to call Matthew "Dad," but all her attempts failed. That cripple named Matthew always tried to stage an accident
to kill Ronan, and Phil, that little wench, turned a blind eye.
After Ronan learned that his parents were gone, the little wench no longer had any conscience. Even if he confronted her about the cripple
's intentions, she wouldn't necessarily spare him out of motherly love. After all, he had become estranged from this so-called mother when Ronan was less than a year old
, and her affection for her younger sister had been transferred to her.
Ronan's soul came from a young man in a modern society, possessing considerable resourcefulness. The little tagalong,
instead of chasing her away, began to dote on her, giving her the best food first and constantly doing things to please her
, making her want to stay close to her brother. The cripple dared not yell at or scold his daughter, repeatedly trying to persuade
her not to follow Ronan. The little girl was very willful and never listened to him, even crying and throwing tantrums, so he acquiesced
, even threatening Ronan that if he dared to hurt his sister, he'd be in trouble. Ronan inwardly wanted to laugh hysterically. This cripple, who
had repeatedly tried to kill him, what was the point of his threats? He kept the little tagalong with him so that
if you tried to harm him, he could use your daughter as a hostage first. Did this cripple think he was a real child who didn't
remember anything, that he had forgotten all his past actions?
One time, when the adulterous couple were both drunk, they argued again. Upon hearing this, Ronan truly wanted
to kill him outright.
Phil: "You want to kill him again? Our daughter is with him every day now. Have you thought about
how she would feel seeing her father kill her brother? Matthew, I'm willing to leave with you and our daughter, but he
knows nothing. Can't we just give him to someone else to adopt? I'm still his mother. Every time you try to harm him
, I remember him calling me 'Mom.' Please let him go."
Matthew: "Have you forgotten whose bastard this is? How can I let him live? If it weren't for those two troublesome old bastards
stopping me, I would have succeeded long ago. Now our daughter is always with him, and he's always running to every neighbor's house, almost
always in people's sight."
"Have you forgotten your promise to me never to use force or cause trouble? If you can make it look like an accident, I
'll tolerate it. If you can't, then let him go!"
"I did a good job of killing those two old bastards."
"What? The two old men didn't just disappear; you killed them? They saved my life! How could you
do this!"
"Don't be silly. They know far too much about us. You don't know those two old bastards planned to
report our identities to the authorities. I did this for our future."
"What future? The organization hasn't contacted us in ages. Are we just going to wait? Or should I
take our daughter and go seek refuge with the forest elves? You're an elf; would they even accept us? You're always so
selfish, making decisions about me without ever consulting me.
Where did you go for the past six months, abandoning me?"
"Abandoned you? I did it to draw away the pursuers! Do you know who they are?
The Falcon, the Royal Assassin Unit of the Sky Eagle Empire. I used my Shadowless Movement technique to lure them to the other side of the country before rushing back.
Do you think I'd be at ease leaving you in this backwater? Are you blaming me for killing those two old bastards again?"
"I'm your woman. Even if you do something excessive, should I turn against you? If you're a singer, I'm just
a dancer accompanying you; if you're an assassin, I'm an accomplice. No matter what you do, I'll always stand by your
side."
"My Fei'er." The two bitches then embraced tightly.
This little wench had no moral compass whatsoever. She'd do whatever her man told her to do. She
'd forgiven the cripple for killing the elderly couple who had saved her life, and she wouldn't stop him if he insisted on killing her. However, from their
conversation, she knew they had secrets they dared not reveal. If something happened to her, the neighbors would suspect him, and he wouldn't dare
act. Knowing this, Ronan lived in fear for several more years. He was indeed no longer so determined to kill
her, but Ronan knew the cripple was always waiting for an opportunity. Ronan is seven years old now, and his little tagalong is five.
The tagalong has grown into a porcelain doll-like little girl. While buying fried ham at a fat old woman's shop in the village,
the old woman handed him the ham and asked kindly, "Where's your little tail?" Now everyone in the village knows Ronan has a
little tail. "She's by the river. I have to hurry over there. If I leave her for a while, she'll run around looking for her brother. Auntie,
I'm leaving." He ran to the riverbank, glanced around but didn't see her. A little head peeked out from beside the reeds. "Brother,
over here! Quickly wipe my bottom!" "I have ham in my hand. Wipe it yourself." "No, brother, I
want brother to wipe my bottom!" She pouted, about to cry. From the first day she learned to be a nag, her first target
was her brother Ronan. "Alright, alright, really." He placed the fried ham on the drying stones by the river,
then turned to the reeds. "Stand out a bit, stick your butt out a little higher." "Okay." His younger sister obediently complied.
He picked a few cotton leaves, one hand pressing down on her little white bottom while the other wiped her poop. He didn't
know how many times he'd done this for her. When she was four, she told her mother she didn't need her mother to wipe her bottom anymore;
actually, it was her older brother who did the job. At first, it wasn't a big deal, but after a while, he started to get a little distracted, mainly because
her body hadn't yet reached male sexual maturity. This tender flesh felt quite nice to touch
.
"Brother?"
"What is it?"
"I just peed, I peed on my skirt." She lowered her head shyly. Ronan had no idea
to what extent his sister's dependence on her brother had become abnormal. She wouldn't even tell their mother about this. Ronan
couldn't quite define his feelings for her either—a mixture of affection and fondness. Having lived a previous life
, he had never considered her his own sister, even contemplating adopting
her when she grew up. Now, it was like planting a seed in spring and harvesting it in autumn; he didn't
want such a lovely sister to be given away to an outsider.
"Take it off, brother will wash you. You need to clean your bottom after you poop."
"Brother, wash my bottom." She deftly pulled off her skirt and threw it on the ground, squatting naked
by the babbling brook, her bottom sticking out towards her brother.
When Alicia was even younger, her brother would hold her with her legs spread wide in an M-shape to help her urinate, something she had to beg
him to do. After she turned three, neither her parents nor her mother would
hold her in their arms and pamper her like they used to. Even her parents' attempts to coax her were useless; their goal was for Alicia to become
an independent child as quickly as possible. So she turned to another person who loved her—her brother. Although she didn't
experience the feeling of being lifted high off the ground by her father, she felt even more pampered in her brother's arms.
She could tell her brother anything, unlike her parents, who were adults—that was the generation gap.
She even told her brother about her embarrassing habit of picking her anus while bathing, burying her head shyly in his chest to peek at his expression. Sure enough ,
her brother wouldn't scold or reprimand her. From then on, the two of them often went to the river
to bathe together, washing each other's bodies intimately. There was no part of her body that her brother couldn't touch, and she vowed that when she grew up, she would be
her brother's woman and stay with him forever. Time passed frolicking in the water, and the sun gradually
set from its zenith.
As dusk approached, the brother and sister, tired from playing, were halfway home when more than a dozen
people in black cloaks and robes appeared at the other end of the village. They varied in height, some even appearing thin and frail
. The leader raised a wristband containing a spherical glass device, like a compass.
He watched as the pointer stopped, pointing towards a house in the village—the very house where Fei'er lived. "Go, and make sure it's clean
. Don't leave any proof we were here." "Yes!" The dozen or so people dispersed to various corners of the village,
the leader heading straight for Fei'er's house.
Soon, the village became deathly silent. No one walked in the streets; the fat woman at the ham-frying shop sat
motionless. Ronan and his sister approached curiously. "Auntie, give me another order of fried ham. The one I
had earlier was washed away by the water." The fat woman sat there without responding, not even the slightest reaction.
"Auntie?" Ronan gently touched her, and the two-hundred-pound woman collapsed to the ground with a thud, her eyes fixed
on the ground. She was dead. Ronan was shocked by her death. The deceased had no expression; she was dead,
even in her usual position at her stall. Her eyes weren't filled with the terror of someone dying with their eyes wide open. It was a very sudden
death. Ronan sensed something was wrong. He kicked open the door to her house behind the shop. Her husband, father-in-law, mother-in-law, and
son were all sitting at the dining table, the family eating peacefully. The chubby boy was leaning forward to grab some meat,
and the old man was pouring wine with a smile. They were as quiet as people in photographs. When he gently touched them, their bodies were stiff
. "Brother, why aren't they moving? I want to eat meat too!" Alicia
drooled as she looked at the meat in her bowl. She didn't understand anything yet; she had no idea that people could die. To her, it was just
strange that everyone was motionless.
"Forget about the meat! Come on, let's go home!" Ronan grabbed his sister and ran home. They saw a group of
men in black attacking a one-armed man. The one-armed man flashed away, leaving afterimages. "This cripple is so powerful
!" That was Ronan's first thought. With such skill, killing him would be like crushing an ant. Luckily, his mother...
"We've kept him in check all these years, preventing him from using force, you little wench!" He looked at the door and saw Fei'er stripped naked,
pinned to it by ice blades. Her palms, elbows, shoulders, knees, and ankles were pierced by sharp blades
, blood flowing down the blades. Her face contorted in pain, yet she was still alive. Although the cripple
was powerful, he was gradually weakening against the combined attack of several men. Each strike from the men in black created a mist of ice. One of the men in black
spotted the two children immediately and was about to rush over when the cripple flashed past, blocking his path, shouting
, "Run!"
Run? Where to run? The remaining men in black also turned their attention. Ronan held his sister tightly, wary of the men.
Matthew could no longer resist. Several ice blades were embedded in his body. In an instant, a white light flashed, and
the very thin man in black, with a swift stroke, fell the head of the man, whose features were both beautiful and ugly, to the ground. "Matthew!"
Phil, who was nailed to the door, cried out in tears, her voice hoarse, "Please spare the children!"
Alicia watched her father's head roll on the ground. Although she had never known what death was, she neither cried
nor made a fuss. She stared straight into her father's eyes, refusing to budge even when her brother tried to pull her away. Just then,
a magnificent black horse suddenly appeared from nowhere. A knight in black armor, wielding a long lance, mounted the horse and shouted, "Those who block my way shall die!"
He charged forward with sweeping strokes, grabbed two children, and rode off. Several men in black rushed forward to block his way, but the black-clad
rider raised a protective shield of light with his lance, deflecting the icy mist thrown by the men in black. As the horse galloped forward, he
crushed one of the men in black, who was suffering from the backlash, with a single hoof. The man's blood and flesh solidified, like a block of ice. Just as the men in black
were about to join forces to block the path, their leader said, "Stop! Don't stop them! Deal with the scene first." The black horse galloped
out of the village, while the remaining men in black set fire to the village. The leader walked up to Fei'er, "You must be taken back alive.
This is His Highness's order."
They galloped forty or fifty miles from the village. Ronan recognized the horse; it seemed to be the mule from the millstone east of the village
. The black knight also took off his helmet; he was the old man who worked as a barber in the village. Thump! Man and horse fell
to the ground together. The horse struggled to get up, but after a few movements, it froze, lying there lifeless. The old man protected the brother
and sister from falling and ensured they weren't injured. "Children," he said, "no matter what enemies your parents offended, the village is destroyed
. Escape and live elsewhere, and never reveal your origins. Those assassins will likely come after you again. Cultivate only
ice-based fighting spirit; don't think about revenge. The world of martial artists is completely different from that of ordinary people. You
must live well."
"And you, Uncle, aren't you coming with us?" Ronan asked.
There was no reply for a long time. The old man's body stiffened. He had used his fighting spirit to protect his heart, but the journey had drained his strength,
and the remaining ice-based fighting spirit had still affected him. "Alicia, sister," Alicia murmured, her eyes glazed over. From that
day on, Alicia hadn't uttered a single word. She neither cried nor laughed, her expression blank, yet she always
obeyed her brother. Ronan's life on the run took him to several places. Within a year or two, the assassins would track him down.
So, Ronan specifically chose to live in large towns with many martial artists.
This worked; the assassins became less blatant in their killings and more cautious, giving Ronan opportunities to escape. The assassins couldn't understand how a child could
have outmaneuvered them for so long. Ronan didn't heed the old man's advice. Year after year, he traveled to various places to learn
martial arts, eventually settling down in the Great Oak Mercenary Guild in Lorne City. He even joined the renowned Red Lion Mercenary
Group, led by York, a red-haired man from the Kingdom of Wessex who loved adventure. York generously
accepted Ronan and personally instructed him in martial arts. Ronan became increasingly outstanding, participating in numerous missions with the group
and becoming increasingly astonished by the martial prowess of the men in black and the crippled warriors.
After several years of living with the mercenary group, Ronan had developed a close relationship with the members and even became the godson of Captain York.
The captain had already decided to betroth his daughter to Ronan, and although Ronan had never
met his daughter who lived far away in his homeland, he readily agreed. His younger sister, Alicia, worked as a waitress in the mercenary guild. Although she was quiet and expressionless
, her attentive service and beauty didn't annoy customers. At this time, Ronan was 19 years old, and Alicia was 17.
She had grown into a young woman, not resembling her mother but her father. It must be said that her disabled father's elven genes
were truly amazing; she had a delicate face and a slender figure. Except for not having long ears, her breasts and hips were inherited from her mother and also
related to Ronan's years of caresses. She was curvaceous, and forest elves could never develop such a shapely figure.
Over the years, Ronan has kissed and touched every part of Alicia's body, especially her breasts and buttocks after they developed.
He kneaded them almost every day. Alicia is indeed very obedient and enjoys all the love her brother gives her. Alicia
is autistic and that's why she doesn't speak, but her intelligence and emotional intelligence haven't been affected. She has superb bartending
skills, and she writes and posts most of the guild's tasks. Over the years, she has never been close to anyone else. She
doesn't have any other friends in the city. Even if you force her to hang out with those girls to go shopping for clothes or wander around, she won't
go. She understands about relationships between men and women, and she understands that such things are taboo between siblings. Every day after work, she looks for her brother
. Just like when she was little, she still wants her brother to hold her and still likes her brother to rub her buttocks. She also readily accepts the new thing her brother added:
rubbing her breasts. They used to sleep in separate beds, but she would always sneak into her brother's bed after he fell asleep.
If her brother went out on a mission, she would curl up in his bed. She never clung to her brother when there were many people around, but
when they were alone, she would snuggle into his arms without any inhibitions.
Despite this, Ronan hadn't taken her virginity. His sister's twisted infatuation was entirely her own doing;
now she couldn't live without him, her brother, and everything she had belonged to him. He
had long coveted her body, but how could he not cure her? He wanted his willful yet adorable sister,
at least someone to bring her joy and laughter. He had consulted numerous priests, doctors, and alchemists, concluding that her
illness would be cured as soon as she spoke. Only another major shock could make her speak, and an even more tragic shock
might break her.
Now he knew how the assassins found him; the locator on their wristbands, made by
highly skilled alchemists, would point to the person whose blood was dripped into it, or someone closely related to her by blood.
It was learned that only those with a pure Yin physique could cultivate Frost Qi, a rarity, one in ten thousand.
Even possessing the physique didn't guarantee success; immense perseverance was required. Being able to unleash ice mist was a mark of true mastery. The Mercenary Guild, with its constant
flow of members, had only seen one person master Frost Qi in recent years. He couldn't even unleash ice mist, yet he was already
a target for recruitment by various guilds.
Ronan didn't want to implicate others, but he knew he couldn't handle the situation himself. Having become close with the guild members,
he deliberately revealed that he had been hunted by a group of Frost Qi masters. They were all very loyal
, offering to eliminate them if they came. However, Ronan noticed their skepticism towards the masters he described. He
even described the move of the crippled man who left a trail of afterimages in a flash. Everyone said it was impossible, except
for one elven archer who explained that this move was called Divine Shadow Afterimage, a
martial art used by elves with wind magic assistance, long lost.
Near the city gates of Lorne stood a dozen or so people dressed in black robes, seemingly having just entered the city. One of them
raised his wrist, examining a locator for a long time, before speaking to the man in the middle, "Leader, this location
should be the Mercenary Guild. Should we wait?"
"No need,"
the leader said in a deep voice. "Let's just go into the guild and see. If we don't provoke trouble, they won't do anything to us." This manhunt had lasted for over a decade, and everyone wanted to
complete the mission as soon as possible.
Ronan remained vigilant, familiar with the methods of these people. Although they hadn't left any evidence and
their appearances were unknown, their clothing remained unchanged, making the dozen or so people in black robes quite conspicuous. Just then
, a pigeon flew in from the city gate. The city gate guards were Ronan's spies for dealing with these assassins. He would befriend these people wherever he went
, cultivating relationships to provide early warnings. In such a large city, assassins wouldn't dare to sneak in
; they would always use the city gates normally.
The guild leader happened to be there too. He whispered the message, and the leader immediately gathered everyone to sit in various corners of the guild, pretending to drink
, but secretly concealing their weapons to lure enemies. Everyone wanted to see just how
powerful the assassin who had so terrified Ronan was. Everything was arranged, business proceeded as usual, and the entire guild appeared no different from any other day. Ronan, however, hid
under a side window on the second floor, constantly watching the street.
They arrived—a dozen or so people of varying heights and builds, with different strides, but their pace was perfectly synchronized
. They walked in rows of three, maintaining a perfect step's distance between each other. The group entered the guild without stopping, immediately
finding a table, seemingly there to drink rather than search for someone. These dozen or so people were incredibly alert;
they sensed something was wrong as soon as they entered. Their eyes glanced in their direction, and their drinking gestures
paused slightly. Were they waiting for them? Why, if there was no enmity between them? It seems this kid we've been hunting for years
is no pushover. There's no way to let things go peacefully; we have to strike first. While the waiter went to get the drinks,
a dozen or so men made some hand gestures around the table, briefly analyzing the various groups in the room. They were just waiting for the
signal to smash a glass to kill him without leaving a trace.
Commander York also noticed something was wrong. Two of the dozen or so men in black slightly hunched over. Not good!
The enemy was prepared. We can't play by their rules. "Attack!" A clear voice boomed, and
the doors and windows slammed shut automatically. The men drew their weapons and quickly formed a pincer movement.
"Mission is of utmost importance!" With a loud thud, the leader of the men in black unleashed a wave of battle aura that shattered the floorboards
, landing right beneath Ronan's feet. Ronan plummeted to the ground, a crimson sword aura flying towards
him, grazing his cheek before clashing with the leader's short dagger. Captain York, however, swiftly
saved Ronan's life, lunging forward and throwing him through the wooden window before engaging the leader in battle.
"Chase!" the leader commanded. Only the weakest of his men gave chase; the rest were immediately
stopped by the guild members. Captain York, recently emboldened by his newfound ability to unleash sword aura, had been quickly brought back to reality.
His opponent's battle aura was far more refined than his own; he had to borrow sword aura
to achieve the same power. He had underestimated his opponent. Glancing at the shattered window, he thought: "Hold on, Ronan."
The leader of the black-clad men fighting the guild leader was also taken aback. A mercenary guild encountering such a master! The other
mercenaries were no pushovers either. Surrounded within the guild, the indoor fighting prevented them from unleashing their icy battle aura;
if the icy mist couldn't dissipate, they risked freezing their own men to death. Therefore, the black-clad assassins' strength was significantly reduced, leaving them only
able to parry. Ronan, who had charged out, hadn't gone far when another black-clad man chased after him. It was him! 　　Ronan remembered
this relatively slender and small black-clad man very well. He was the one who had severed the crippled head. At first, he thought 　　he was the weakest assassin, but after several encounters, he discovered he was the strongest besides the leader. Although he was now 　　a head taller and much stronger than his opponent, he had no confidence in facing him. 　　This man had been a master more than ten years ago, and Ronan had learned his true skills over the years. The guild leader had even passed on his family's secret techniques to him, 　　truly treating him like a son-in-law. He turned and exchanged blows, but in a single exchange, his short sword was knocked away, and his arm was slashed 　　. It was purely a matter of experience and skill; his opponent hadn't even used strong battle aura to suppress him. He felt like he was going to die in a direct confrontation . 　　Thinking back on his years of adventure, he'd seen his share of young geniuses from all over the world, even those 　　so-called once-in-a-century prodigies, whom he'd fought and still managed to hold his own. If they knew that 　　a mysterious young assassin's strength far surpassed those geniuses of the martial world, they would be astonished 　　. 　　Just then, a small stone bridge appeared nearby, so he decided to take the gamble. His opponent's short dagger attacked again. Ronan didn't dodge; 　　dodging wouldn't have guaranteed a kill. He faced the attack head-on, took a step back, adjusted his breathing, and unleashed his ultimate technique, "Lion's Roar." Caught 　　off guard, the shockwave from his opponent's mouth startled the black-clad assassin. Ronan followed up with a flying kick 　　to the assassin's chest, using the momentum to plunge into the river. The kick felt soft and yielding—a woman! The fact that he was 　　powerless to fight back was a woman's doing, and a thousand curses ran through his mind. His roar achieved its purpose: targeting 　　the detection and positioning device on her wrist, and also betting that she was less adept at swimming than he was.

To everyone's dismay, the opponent pulled out a new one from his pocket, drawing a little of his own
blood that had just dripped onto the ground. Ronan would swim as far downstream as he could; his sister should be safe hiding in the guild's cellar. The locator
would need about an hour to be tested with fresh blood before it would be usable. Where could he escape to next?
Being watched by these assassins every day—when would it ever end?
News of the fight within the guild quickly spread. The city guards dared not interfere in guild affairs,
and the city lord, a cautious man, immediately notified the nearby Radiant Knights, whose commander
was a paladin. Many years ago, the Kingdom of Questi sent paladins to various countries to garrison. Each country had many Questi
believers. Moreover, they fought bandits, preached scriptures, and when in a good mood, the paladins would even use their holy power to heal people. They had
a very good reputation among the people. Although the kings of various places were very disgusted with these paladin orders, they turned a blind eye because of the Holy Church Agreement (in the early years, when
alien races frequently invaded human countries, the countries united as a result. The Kingdom of Questi, which was located in the inland center,
signed an agreement that allowed the Kingdom of Questi to send troops to aid other countries at will).
The incessant clatter of hooves echoed into the city. Only they would enter without dismounting, heading straight for the Mercenary Guild
. The tall, imposing paladin guards burst through the gates. The paladin captain, clad in silver armor, kicked open the door
and declared with a stern and composed voice, "Do not let anyone escape." The mercenary captain, covered in wounds, was
losing ground in their battle with the assassin leader and was beginning to falter. Seeing the paladins arrive, he relaxed slightly, retreating to
his captain's side with his back turned, saying, "Be careful, that assassin is strong." *Gulp! You!* A knight's sword
pierced through Captain York's back and emerged from his chest. "I already said not to let anyone escape, I didn't say it didn't include you,"
the captain said, his tone still slow and steady. "Ugh! Ah!" Screams of agony echoed as the two sides, locked in a long and arduous battle,
both mercenaries and assassins, were no match for the suddenly appearing paladin, collapsing one by one into pools of blood.
The city's inhabitants, oblivious to this, continued their bustling activity, the streets teeming with people. They only
noticed the sudden quiet at the Mercenary Guild's location. At this moment, only one member of the Great Acorn Mercenary Guild
remained standing—the leader of the assassins, their strongest member. "Whom do you work for?" the leader asked
in a low, unhurried voice, devoid of panic or tension, though his bloodied wounds betrayed his true nature. At his last
gasp, the Knight Commander picked up his right forearm, which had been smoothly severed, and chanted "Blessing of Life" in an attempt to reattach it.
Holy light continued to protect him, and the chilling aura emanating from the severed arm and its remains did not diminish. Then, the paladin decisively
severed it off along the shoulder, blood gushing forth. Without uttering a sound, he cast another spell to stop the bleeding. "As expected of the Skyhawk Empire's Royal
Falcon," he said, "this strength alone is worthy of respect. I'll let you die knowing why. As the Fourth
Paladin directly under the Pope, Hainos, I tell you that the prince you've been serving is the one who will soon inherit the throne
." Years ago, your impotent old king rescued a
tenacious child from a war-torn city, adopting him as his son and grooming him as his successor. We studied your king's personality
; the child's every move during their encounter was meticulously planned. This child, your current
prince, is nothing more than a dog kept by my Kingdom of Questi, meant to be his puppet. But this scoundrel, thinking himself
strong enough, has repeatedly disobeyed orders. Hmph, hahaha, hahahaha, speaking of which, you assassins are pathetic, especially
you. You never dare to look your old king in the eye. " Your Majesty, I dare not offend you in the slightest. If you had examined him closely, how
could you have hunted down his own son for over a decade? Haven't you noticed that the target you've been chasing for so many years looks exactly like your old king when he was young
?"
The leader in black had been listening quietly, but when he heard the last few sentences, he collapsed to the ground, his blank eyes
expressionless. After a long while, the knights had long since left, and the leader in black was covered in swords like a hedgehog,
surrounded by layers upon layers of knights' corpses. His lifeless body had complex expressions in his eyes—
regret, anger, resentment, and so on—and he just kept them open.

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[Tales from Another World] Chapter 1

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