[Low-level Hero] (1-4)

Episode 1 John Joe
This is my sixth time visiting this bar.
I sit alone in a secluded corner of the hotel, drinking my sorrows away.
The surroundings are noisy and chaotic; the hotel is the most chaotic place in the city.
On the square table, a bottle and a glass, filled with a still slightly swaying dark brown liquid, reflect
a blurry face in the glass.
As a promising young man in my early twenties, at a time when I should be striving for my future, I'm holed
up alone in this vulgar bar, drinking cheap liquor that tastes like horse piss, unable to afford even a small dish of food, without a beautiful
woman by my side, contemplating a bleak future while lamenting my fate.
My name is John Joe. A very common name. Just grab a few people off the street, and two out of ten will be named John. Even 　　the annoying guard dog
at the Royal Warrior's Mansion is named John. So you should know how common my name 　　is. 　　 As my name suggests, I am an ordinary person, so ordinary that I'm almost unremarkable. My appearance 　　is like that of a street vendor, a plain-looking face—the kind of face that even if you committed adultery, robbery, murder, and arson 　　, the knights maintaining order in "Nokron City" would hardly recognize you as you pass by 　　. I often secretly blame my mother for giving me such a slovenly appearance, but then I think, everyone has their own unique talents. 　　This plain and unassuming face is perhaps meant to attract attention, making it easier for me to commit crimes later 　　. However, I'd rather be handsome; being wanted by the state wouldn't matter. 　　 I looked at the diverse guests in the hotel: warriors, mages, martial artists, merchants, prostitutes— 　　it was truly a melting pot of all sorts of people. Although everyone had different professions, genders, and appearances, 　　they all shared one thing in common: they were all equally rude and vulgar. 　　 What kind of place attracts what kind of people. Like a garbage dump, it's a place that collects garbage. 　　 A few low-level mages occasionally showed off their pathetic little spells, using wind magic 　　to lift the skirts of hotel waitresses, indulging in their perverse fantasies. 　　 A few balding, middle-aged warriors, some older, hunched over, 　　chuckled as they embraced several prostitutes who had been fucked countless times. 　　 A group of tall, burly martial artists huddled together, chatting about something, occasionally slamming their fists on the table and cursing, inquiring 　　about the female relatives of some people. 　　 A few money-grubbing, shifty-eyed, unscrupulous merchants constantly fiddled with their abacuses, plotting 　　how to swindle their customers out of their money and make a fortune. 　　 Sigh! Speaking of these merchants, I'm reminded of the greatest misfortune of my life: having a good-for-nothing father 　　. 　　 Perhaps it's because I have his genes that I've become just as useless as him. My father's 　　name is the same as mine, John Joe, so to distinguish us, everyone calls this useless 　　old man—Old John. Inevitably, the lowly title of "Little John" will fall upon my only son. 　　 Our Joe family has been merchants for generations, practically traversing the entire 　　continent of "Brublo" due to our extensive trade. Thanks to the hard work of our ancestors, our family's accumulated ill-gotten wealth 　　made us one of the wealthiest families in the Kingdom of Shat. 　　 Unfortunately, since my grandfather's death, my useless father has taken over the family business, and the Joe 　　family's fortune has plummeted to rock bottom. The people of Shat consider this astonishing 　　act of squandering a legendary "incredible event," a fact that should be neither a source of pride nor shame. 　　 I imagine that after my father goes to hell, he will be beaten half to death by my grandfather, great-grandfather, great-great-grandfather, 　　great-great-great-grandfather… and over three hundred other ancestors. To squander a fortune accumulated over hundreds of generations in just a few years 　　—it would be strange if he weren't condemned to eternal damnation. 　　 So, when I was four, my life as a pampered young master ended. Before I even knew how to enjoy life 　　, our Qiao family's luxurious mansion, land, businesses, and factories were all confiscated by the government. My father, meanwhile, 　　took his wife and children to the countryside to herd cattle and farm, hoping to rebuild the family fortune someday, and also fearing 　　punishment from their ancestors in the afterlife. 　　 Therefore, he placed all his hopes on me, his only son, cultivating me from childhood as a tool for accumulating wealth 　　, hoping I would become a cash cow for the Qiao family, forcefully instilling in me the ways of business. Unfortunately, 　　he forgot that I carried his genes. Being so incompetent himself, how could his son be any better? 　　It was simply wishful thinking to expect a hen to lay golden eggs. 　　 I'm not cut out for business; my father set a precedent of business failure, and I don't want to 　　touch that stuff. 　　 I'm even less suited for magic. 　　 First, I'm not smart enough. 　　 Second, I'm lazy. 　　 To become a successful magician, besides talent, one must undergo arduous training. Otherwise, one's achievements 　　will only be like those guys using air magic to lift their skirts—either releasing a small fireball to light a lamp or 　　using ice magic to cool hot coffee; their abilities are limited to that. Moreover, magicians rarely live past forty; just for 　　that reason alone, I would never learn it. 　　 Magicians seem to have particularly short lifespans, perhaps due to their constant contact with and use of superhuman magic, thus incurring 　　divine punishment. Perhaps it's because God wants to balance the world; otherwise, if magicians all lived to be a hundred years old, their magic 　　growing stronger with practice, then other professions wouldn't exist. 　　 Black magic is primarily offensive, destructive magic. 　　 There is also a type of divine magic primarily focused on healing. 　　 Those who practice healing magic deeply hate selfish black magic, because these people are like 　　the nuns in churches who curse themselves to never touch men again and the priests who refuse to sleep with women; they most enjoy practicing things that can help and 　　save the world. To learn divine magic, it is best to be a virgin; a pure mind and body can unleash 　　the full power of divine magic. 　　 Of course, divine magic is not omnipotent; it can only heal external injuries, poisoning, or remove magical curses, but...

As for illnesses, this so-called divine magic is useless. Otherwise, why haven't I
heard of any prostitutes asking priests to use magic to cure their syphilis? I
have absolutely no interest in this kind of thing that only monks learn.
Business is out of the question, magic and divine magic are out of the question, so there's only one path left for me—martial arts.
There are two kinds of martial arts: becoming a bare-handed martial artist, and becoming a warrior with weapons.
It's said that some martial artists are ascetic, living like monks to avoid the depletion of their vital energy through indulgence in wine and women
. Although their lives are monotonous, these martial artists achieve
great things. I've heard that at the end, one can tear a giant bear apart with their bare hands—it's just hearsay, but it's very alluring.
However, I'm destined not to be a martial artist, because I masturbate four times a week; I don't have the resources
to practice the transformation of essence into qi, qi into spirit, or spirit into the Dao. So, this path is also out of my reach.
Then there are the warriors. A standard warrior must possess a robust physique,
the strength of a bull, and the ability to wield weapons with ferocious power. If martial artists cultivate internal strength, then warriors cultivate
external strength—this is the difference between the two professions.
Unlike martial artists, warriors don't attempt to unleash all of human potential, nor do they need to develop an indestructible
body. They don't adhere to the outdated principle of fighting bare-handed. Simply swinging their weapon and smashing the enemy's
head is enough to win; they don't care about the rules of the game.
Therefore, being a warrior is the most common profession in this era, and most of them are scoundrels.
However, many warriors either become butchers because they
can't make a living, or they join the army hoping to achieve some merit and gain future promotion and wealth, but most end up dying on the battlefield
.
Correspondingly, the skill level of warriors varies. Take, for example, the current Grand Master of the Knights of Nokron—Luba?
Geddar, a former soldier who climbed his way up to his position through illustrious military exploits, once said
:
"No matter what role you play or what profession you pursue, there are no
shortcuts to instant success. The same applies to martial arts. Even if you are naturally strong, to become a highly skilled and incredibly brave warrior,
there is no other way but to train diligently step by step. "
In short, if you want to be as strong as him, train hard yourself.
These words dispelled the delusional fantasies of many lazy young people who dreamed of achieving instant success through the military profession
.
Now, dear readers, are you convinced that I would never choose such a thankless and arduous profession? If
so, you are wrong.
I am now John Joe, a 372nd generation descendant of the Joe family—a soldier who has been single for twenty-two years, living a lonely and solitary life, with an average appearance
, a short stature of 1.7 meters, and who enjoys masturbating
.
Don't be surprised that a lazybones like me would become a soldier. The reason is simple: if
you had seen my father hold a knife to my neck back then, you'd understand.
Yes, I was forced into it, driven to desperation.
My father forced me to go into business, leaving me no other choice. So, I pretended to be a martyr,
vowing to restore the honor of the Qiao family, making my parents feel that our family could still be saved. I boasted that within ten years we would
achieve great things and return to bring glory to our ancestors, allowing them to enjoy their retirement. Of course, that was if I survived.
This flattered them, and my father put down the cleaver, beaming, patting my
shoulder vigorously, urging me to hurry up and go out to make my way in the world. He seemed never to have worried that I would die far from home. The next morning, my mother
packed a bundle, my father casually stuffed a few copper coins into my hand, and then kicked me out the door to fend for myself.
And so, I wandered from an unknown village in the Kingdom of Shat all the way to the bustling
metropolis of Nokron, thankfully surviving the journey.
My father always said, "At home, rely on yourself; when you're out in the world, rely on friends."
So, who can I rely on now that I'm in this strange place?
A month ago, when I entered Nokron, a kind old woman with a touch of amnesia led me astray through several streets before I finally found the 　　Roya Warrior's Hall
, a martial arts school that sheltered traveling warriors and trained martial arts talents . 　　 And so, naturally, I embarked on the path of a warrior. The reason wasn't that I was combative, nor 　　that I was physically strong, but rather that only by becoming a warrior or martial artist could one stay at this warrior's hall, where food and lodging were provided free of charge 　　. 　　 The formation of the warrior's hall was the most distinctive feature of the Kingdom of Shat, because of the old king of Shat—Kamen? 　　Shat, who was very fond of martial arts, was also a warrior in his youth; how he later became king, I don't know. 　　 The martial arts schools in Nokron City are all state-run. No one outside the state would want to spend money supporting a 　　large group of idle, lazy people. Therefore, the school masters are appointed by the state. The residents are either 　　warriors or martial artists. Aside from the school's own disciples, most live here for free, with only 　　a few traveling martial artists staying for a few days. 　　 Because this era values gender equality, many women aspire to be female warriors or martial artists. 　　Therefore, even within the same martial arts school, there are separate dormitories for men and women. Although they are physically separated, 　　trouble still inevitably arises. 　　 The state, of course, wouldn't waste its money. If a martial artist with good abilities is discovered within the school, the school master will 　　recommend them. The lucky ones, if they pass various physical and combat skills tests, will be enlisted in a knightly order or sent to work as 　　bodyguards in the mansions of the wealthy and powerful. At that time, it's truly a leap in status, a hundredfold increase in wealth. 　　 So, to encourage everyone's martial arts aspirations, the martial arts hall frequently held martial arts tournaments, where people would fight until they were 　　bloodied, bruised, and swollen, enjoying themselves immensely. These idiots, however, only trained hard every day to gain the country's favor, 　　hoping to become the lapdogs of the nobility and lick their boots. 　　 Therefore, a young person like me, lacking ambition and focused on self-preservation, would never participate in such pointless struggles.

All I ask for is a peaceful and stable life. All that talk about climbing the social ladder is forgotten. The most important
thing in life is to live well, enjoy life, and be happy. It seems my old man's expectations of me are going to be dashed, because
I'm not going to clean up his messes.
Because…
“Oh, isn't this little John? What brings you here for a drink today?” A nasty, grating
female voice pierced my ears, interrupting my thoughts and preventing me from continuing my introduction to the Samurai Hall
.
I looked up, and a bloated, disgusting figure came into view. Her arrival gave me
the illusion of a slight earthquake. And because of her arrival, the surrounding noise suddenly seemed to be silenced
.
The warriors stopped joking, the magicians looked melancholy, the martial artists looked uneasy, the merchants trembled slightly, and even the prostitutes
became dignified. The bar, which had been as noisy as a marketplace, transformed into a moment of quiet mourning for the dead at a church funeral
.
She was the proprietress of this run-down bar—Aunt Lucida.
I addressed her as "Aunt" not because of her age, but because of her size and appearance. I wasn't
a regular here, but I'd seen her a few times. Just like last time, she was still wearing terrifyingly heavy makeup,
clothes inappropriate for her age, jiggling her large breasts, and swaying her big buttocks as she walked towards me.
"John, you haven't been to my bar in ages. What big business have you been up to lately?" Without my permission
, she was behind me, massaging my shoulders with her large, strong, crimson-painted hands. Besides,
I'd just been here two days ago, and I hadn't been up to anything big. This fat woman was spouting nonsense.
I endured the sharp pain in my shoulder blades and forced a smile, "No matter how busy I am, I'm not as busy as Aunt Lucida.
I'm just here for a drink, I'm leaving soon. Hey!" At the same time, I wondered how she knew my
name, a complete stranger.
Lucida, that old sow, seemed oblivious to the fact that her massage was strong enough to crush a dog, and still
said in a coquettish voice, "Oh! Why are you calling me 'Auntie'? You make me sound so old! How annoying! I'm only in
my early thirties!"
Nobody believed she was in her early thirties; she looked at least fifty.
I noticed that all the guests around me—warriors, martial artists, magicians, even prostitutes—
were giving me pitying looks, as if watching a tragedy about to unfold. Then it dawned on me something terrible
…
Three days earlier, one of my buddies from the samurai club, Hugh Kech, had warned me:
"Try to avoid Lucida's brothel, especially young people like you, because she has a terrifying
fetish…"
He was only halfway through his sentence when his martial artist girlfriend, who was two heads taller than him, violently dragged him away. I wonder
what he had done wrong to deserve this punishment.
The more I thought about it, the more uneasy I became. Gradually, a terrifying thought that I shouldn't have had surfaced in my mind.
Sure enough, Lucida, the mother elephant, whispered in my ear, "John, would you like to taste your sister
's tenderness? I'll give you a silver coin afterward, enough for you to live on for a while. You
wouldn't want to miss such a generous reward, would you?"
On the continent of "Brubro," to facilitate economic transactions, eighty years ago, the kings of the four great kingdoms
held an international conference. During this two-day, two-night meeting, they made a historic decision
: to unify the currency values and denominations of the various kingdoms on the continent.
Why do I know so much detail?
Because since the unification of the currency system, the trouble of currency conversion has been solved. As the four great kingdoms hoped, it promoted
the development of trade and commerce, and our Joe family's business reached its peak in that generation, continuing until my father's
generation, when the family's power plummeted from heaven to hell.
All of this was something my good-for-nothing, spendthrift father talked about with great relish, seemingly still fantasizing about returning to
our past glory and using this lost family honor to encourage me to study business. Of course, I could never follow in his footsteps
.
Anyway, according to current laws, currency is converted in decimals. One gold coin can be exchanged for ten silver
coins, one silver coin for ten copper coins, and five copper coins are roughly the daily basic expenses for a family of four. In other
words, if I were to sell my virginity for one silver coin, it could make this bachelor happy for quite a while. "What are you still thinking about, John? This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity!" That fat bitch Lucida 　　scraped my cheek
with fingers almost as thick as my penis, breathing hot air into my ear. 　　 My voice trembled with fear as I said, "Auntie's kindness... I appreciate it... but firstly, 　　I'm not handsome, and secondly, my health has been poor since childhood. I might fail to live up to your expectations. Auntie, please find someone else 　　..." Just 　　 as I was about to stand up, Lucida pressed her large breasts against the back of my neck, immobilizing me. 　　At the same time, she reached into my crotch, a terrifying action that almost made me scream. 　　 "Don't you know I love eating young boys? How could I easily let a virgin like you go? Okay 　　, let's be straightforward, two silver coins. That way, you might not blame me for being mean to you. Hehehe." 　　 I had made up my mind that no amount of money would buy me my precious virginity; otherwise, my penis 　　would never forgive me. 　　 "Auntie Lucida, I have something to do, I have to go..." 　　 "Shut up!" 　　 In an instant, she became ferocious, as if she hadn't been with a man for centuries. Her other large hand grabbed my 　　chin, forcefully turning my face to face her fleshy face. She grinned menacingly, "Hehehe... 　　You can't escape my grasp today. I, Lucida, am determined to devour you, you virgin! Accept your fate!" 　　 Her "grassroots" began its inhuman assault on my pants, her relentless 　　thrusting nearly ripping my penis out. 　　 "Boss, save me!" I heard another brother in my body cry out in my mind. 　　 "Second brother, the boss is in dire straits. You hold on a little longer."

My face turned pale, and I cried out hoarsely, "Help...me...ah..."
The surrounding guests all pretended not to see me, some drinking, some chatting, as if they were used to such tragedies
. No one offered me a helping hand; this was truly a cold-hearted society. "
If others won't help, you must help yourself." This was our family's motto.
But Lucida's enormous breasts, at least an H-cup, like two soft but heavy coconuts, clamped tightly
around my head, immobilizing me like a prisoner.
This horny mother elephant, nearly half a ton of her body, was already pressing down on my back, her hands
continuing to thrust relentlessly: "Feels good, doesn't it, little darling? If you're good, I'll be very gentle with you."
The
rubbing sound in my crotch was like a death knell, tolling the death knell for this twenty-two-year-old virgin. My penis
, under Lucida's clutches, writhed and throbbed, like a toy at her mercy.
As Lucida played, she chuckled wickedly, "Hehe...so much fun, such a soft and bouncy little
sausage, hurry up and turn into a big meat stick so your sister can play with it to her heart's content."
I had lost the ability to scream, and just as my little brother was about to be fucked until it bled from all seven orifices, something strange
happened. Low-Level Hero Chapter 2
Chapter 2: The Challenge
Lucida's claws gripped my penis tightly like milking a cow, attempting to force me into submission.
And my brother, who had followed me for twenty-two years, could still maintain an erection despite such treatment—truly
a disgrace to the Qiao family ancestors.
I cursed inwardly, "You worthless thing, you've completely disgraced me, get down right now
!"
But this traitor showed no sign of sagging; instead, it stood erect, defiant and
unyielding. This proved that a man's lower body consciousness is not controlled by the brain.
Just as I was about to draw my sword and sever my manhood, my savior suddenly arrived.
A squad of knights in light black armor, brown cloaks embroidered with a glaring lion's head, and ornate longswords at their waists,
rushed in as if they had caught me in the act.
Judging from their attire, they were knights from the Enforcement Division of the Knights Order, responsible for maintaining city order and apprehending criminals.
The glaring lion's head on their cloaks symbolized the impartiality of the law and their hatred of evil.
The Knights Order of Nokron was divided into three divisions: the Enforcement Division, the Protection Division, and the Royal Guard
Division.
The knights stationed at the city gates and responsible for defense wore red cloaks embroidered with a roaring lion's head, symbolizing
strength and courage. As for the Royal Guard knights who guarded the city lord's palace, they were the highest-ranking, holding a
higher status than the other two divisions, and were only subject to the city lord—Sid? Shat—and the Grand Master of the Knights Order—Luba? Geddar directly
commands them; their cloaks are black, embroidered with expressionless, cold lion heads, symbolizing composure and loyalty.
Lucida and I, who were currently torturing my manhood, were both stunned. Before we knew it, we,
the adulterous couple, were surrounded by seven or eight burly law enforcement knights.
Lucida's fat hand was still inside my trousers, thrusting rhythmically, seemingly unable to stop.
Perhaps disturbed by these uninvited guests, Lucida became somewhat angry. She
glared fiercely at the spoilsporting knights and said in an unfriendly tone, "Gentlemen, what brings you to our humble establishment
?" As she spoke, her hands didn't stop moving.
I think Lucida has a death wish; speaking to law enforcement knights like that, they could easily
find a charge of insulting a state official and send her to jail, where she'd have to share a bed with homosexuals for months.
By this time, the other dozen or so knights had already driven all the customers out of the shop and surrounded us
, trapping us like turtles in a jar.
I was thus surrounded by these twenty-odd knights like spectators at a play.
A captain, with a small medal on his right breast, with a stern face like that of a man who had just lost his father,
spoke solemnly: "Lucida, you are under arrest..."
*Clang clang clang*...
"The charge is the rape and murder of a young boy..." *
Clang clang clang clang*...
"What you are saying now..."
*Clang clang clang clang clang*...
"will be used as evidence in court..."
*Clang clang clang clang clang*...
"Did you hear that?!"
Because the captain of the knights was constantly interrupted by the sound of flesh rubbing against flesh between my legs, his
anger flared, and he roared at the end.
Lucida yelled angrily in my ear, almost deafening me: "Nonsense! What do you mean by 'raping and
murdering a young man'? Do you have any evidence? Stop making baseless accusations!" As her anger grew, her piston-like movements became
more intense. I felt the skin of my penis being rubbed raw, like a burning rod. The dual pleasure of pain and ecstasy
shot straight to my head. Although I knew this wasn't the time to enjoy myself, the physiological changes were
contradictory.
As the victim, I still had no right to speak. Sometimes I really wondered if I
was even the protagonist. I had to endure the pleasure emanating from my lower body while gritting my teeth to prevent my expression of pleasure
from showing.
Seeing the protagonist being tortured like this, the supporting knight spoke up again: "Lucida, as a law enforcement knight, I solemnly
warn you once more: release the gentleman in your hands."
"The gentleman in my hands? Hahaha…" Lucida laughed wildly, as if she had heard the funniest joke in the world
.
I had a very ominous premonition.
Sure enough, Lucida's movements accelerated instantly, rubbing
my javelin-like erect penis at a rate of nearly fifty times per second. * Scratching
sounds*...
"Ugh—ah—!" I screamed, as Lucida's uniquely aphrodisiac techniques ravaged me, and a bunch of
sperm mindlessly burst out of the last pore of my urethra, exploding into my crotch. I don't know if it was my own ejaculation, or...
It was forced out. Because of this fat bitch's torment, I set a record for the fastest ejaculation in history, one minute and twelve
seconds, earning me the infamous title of "Quick Gunner of the Brublo Continent."
Cleverly, the twenty-odd law enforcement knights simultaneously drew their swords the instant I ejaculated, their movements as
synchronized as if we'd rehearsed dozens of times. The twenty-odd longswords
whistled through the air, all aimed at Lucida, this rebellious mother elephant.
Suddenly, I felt the pressure ease in my penis. A fat hand, slick with white fluid, pulled from my pants, swiftly
drawing the sword from my waist, and then a powerful force surged from my anus. The series of movements was so fast I couldn't
react; I was kicked into the air.
Just as I was about to be riddled with swords, the sword formation suddenly parted, creating space for me to pass through
, allowing me to land unharmed.
"Wow! The Knights are truly formidable! Their swordsmanship is superb, so skillful and controlled... Ouch—!" Even rolling on
the ground, I couldn't resist uttering a few flattering praises. But
when my still-erect member slammed into the leg of a table, it erupted into a wailing scream, tears welling in my eyes from the pain.
Clang, clang, clang—the sounds of metal clashing echoed continuously. Lying on the ground, clutching my groin, I endured the excruciating pain,
gritting my teeth as I watched this battle between man and beast, a spectacle usually reserved for the arena.
From within the human wall, Lucida's angry curses and the shouts of the knights could be heard intermittently.
Those who could be incorporated into the Knights were all warriors of exceptional skill. As for outstanding martial artists, they are more suited
to be bodyguards for nobles and dignitaries. Since, as the name suggests, a knight who doesn't carry a weapon is hardly a knight. Therefore
, most martial artists recommended by the knightly guild masters voluntarily become bodyguards for high-ranking officials and nobles, rather than
joining the knightly order.
The sight of this group of disciplined knights, advancing and retreating with methodical offense and defense, demonstrates
the strict selection criteria the Kingdom of Shat places on its knights, especially the elite trained by Ruba Geddar, the Grand Master of the Knights of Nokron
. This also reveals that this man is a serious old-fashioned fellow; otherwise, he wouldn't have trained such lifeless-faced subordinates.
"Ah—!" A sharp, terrifying scream rang out.
Lucida, who had stolen my cheap iron sword worth only four copper coins, was disheveled, looking like a demon from hell
, frantically swinging her weapon, preparing for a desperate fight. Unfortunately, she forgot that she was facing
the most prized members of the Kingdom of Shat's Knights.
An unnamed, valiant knight swung his sword fiercely, slicing the iron
sword from the fat woman's hand with a clang. He then kicked her to the ground, and several law enforcement knights pounced on her, a dozen feet in hard leather boots
kicking and stomping on the fleshy mass, turning into a brawl.
In an instant, Lucida's screams and wails filled the air, as if she were about to be tortured to death.
Within minutes, Lucida's face was swollen and bruised, covered in blood, looking more like
a ghost than a human, groaning on the ground.
The knight captain coldly ordered, "Take her away!"
Seven or eight law enforcement knights hurriedly carried the heavy woman away. The knight captain
gave me a cold glance before leaving without looking back, leading his men away.
Although the hotel was empty, a crowd of onlookers had gathered outside, preventing me from taking advantage of the situation
to loot the bar's cash register. Reluctantly, I retrieved my sword and went outside.
As expected, the people outside began pointing and whispering about my wet genitals.
An ordinary person would have wanted to dig a hole and hide. However, a down-on
-his-luck youth like me, who had been unsuccessful since childhood, was used to being looked down upon. I had traveled all the way from my village to Nokron City,
relying on begging for food. If I had been afraid of losing face, I would have starved to death long ago. What did these strange looks
matter to someone who had weathered many storms like me? It's the same old saying: life is about living
well and enjoying yourself, who cares what others think?
However, I was still a little embarrassed, so I quickly slipped through the crowd and fled this troublesome place.
Nokron City is a large city belonging to the Kingdom of Shat, with a population of over 80,000 households. Its industry and commerce are highly
developed, and prosperity is evident everywhere. Walking along this main street leading to the Roya Warrior's Hall, weapon and armor shops, prop
shops, general stores, and bars line both sides, signifying economic prosperity.
However, no matter how developed a place is, there will always be a backward and dark corner. Turning from this bustling
street, I entered a dirty and chaotic alley. Several homeless people lay on the roadside, bottles and garbage were piled up everywhere
, and a stench filled the air—it was practically a slum.
And the Roya Warrior's Hall, where I was currently staying, being built in such a location, was naturally not
luxurious.
After walking a few steps, several dilapidated, tall buildings appeared at the end of the alley. Despite their crumbling appearance
, the spaces inside were quite large. A training hall and competition arena that can accommodate a thousand people, two
dormitories for men and women, a canteen, a large bathhouse, a fitness center, and medical facilities—it's the oldest
martial arts academy in Nokron City, seventy years older than me.
The head of the Roya Martial Arts Academy, Abachiv? Roya, is the first headmaster and the current headmaster
, almost a hundred years old. Everyone
calls this old martial arts fanatic, who still clings to his position despite his advanced age, "Old Immortal" behind his back.
As I entered the old martial arts academy, John, the guard dog who shares my name, was squatting at the guardhouse
door, barking incessantly at me.
What an annoying dog! We share the same name, and I've been in and out of the academy more than twenty times
, yet he still treats me like a stranger.
If it weren't for our shared name, I would have poisoned this stupid dog long ago.
"John, what are you shouting about?" A lazy voice came from the guardhouse, followed by a balding
head peeking out from the doorway.
The middle-aged man, with a small mustache and a hairy black mole near his mouth, saw me, flashed a
row of yellow teeth, and grinned, "Oh! So it's John back. No wonder he was shouting so loudly."
"..."
"John,
there's something going on at the martial arts school today, aren't you going to join the fun?" "Oh, what's the big deal? Is it another one of those martial arts tournaments where they pick dogs for rich and powerful people?"
"Go away, go away, why are you putting it so harshly? It is a martial arts tournament, but today's program is a bit special—
someone's come to challenge us." The middle-aged man gestured suggestively to the luxurious carriage and about twenty tall,
magnificent horses parked in the open space.
I immediately recognized the emblem on the carriage: Gallo Martial Arts School.
The school was established to promote martial arts and encourage everyone to learn. Besides the old king's fondness for martial arts
, there was another reason.
Eighty years ago, currency reform brought enormous profits to trade between countries. At that
time, lured by the ease of doing business, many people changed professions, chasing this financial trend to try and make some money.
The economic prosperity at that time could be said to have reached its peak.
However, every advantage has its disadvantage.
As more merchants traveled to various countries for trade, bandits and thieves formed gangs to rob
caravans traveling long distances across the world. Merchants at that time didn't know how to hire bodyguards,
and when faced with these armed bandits, they were helpless, many losing their fortunes in a single day, with countless committing suicide.
This alarmed the four great kingdoms, who dispatched armies
to frequently crack down on the bandits in order to protect merchants and maintain trade interests. The bandits' arrogance subsided. However, the army couldn't protect caravans 24/7.
Therefore, the previous king of the Kingdom of Shat devised a solution: establishing a Warrior's Hall to train martial arts talents for
hire.
Initially, the Warrior's Hall primarily trained bodyguards for caravans, but later gradually evolved into
a channel for the state to recruit talent.
The warriors and martial artists in the Warrior's Hall most desired to be selected for a knightly order or
become bodyguards for wealthy nobles—both promising careers.
Conversely, being a caravan bodyguard was a less desirable profession in those days. Because
traveling long distances with caravans, often involving hardship and danger, and offering low pay and no real power,
warriors were generally unwilling to take on this thankless and arduous job. However, many still did take it, as it was
better than spending all day cooped up in the warrior's guild, a job that would make even birds sick.
There were three warrior's guilds in Nokron City: besides Roya, the other two were the Gallo Warrior's Guild and the Lando Warrior's
Guild. Among them, the Gallo Warrior's Guild was the wealthiest but also the most tyrannical. Many of its disciples were from wealthy
families—sons of nobles or daughters of tycoons—and they were extremely arrogant and disdainful of Roya
's poor warriors, frequently clashing with the warriors inside the guild.
However, I've never encountered anything like this. Whenever a samurai in fine clothes asks if I'm from the Roya Samurai School
, I always deny it outright. Then, I act like a country bumpkin, asking which
brothel is the cheapest and which bar has the cheapest drinks. Faced with my dimwitted appearance, even the most hot-tempered samurai
will find themselves humiliated. This is one of my methods of self-preservation.
Now, those rich, dead dogs from the Gallo Samurai School have come knocking, trying to tear down Roya's old reputation. As a typical lazy,
good-for-nothing warrior, I'll naturally stand by and watch. Besides being unremarkable in appearance, my martial arts skills are utterly unremarkable
, my strength is weak, and as for speed, it takes me twenty-five seconds to sprint a hundred meters at full speed.
With this kind of strength, I'd just be easy prey in the arena. I don't want to die so soon; I'm still a virgin.
Let those fearless guys who dream of being knights show off.
Just then, a commotion arose from the direction of the training hall. I wondered what had happened.
I waved to the guard, "Uncle, take care of yourself, I'm going to watch the show."
"John, remember to come back and tell me what happened after you're done."
I ignored his shouting and walked straight towards the training hall through the parking area. There wasn't a soul in sight;
everyone had crowded there to watch the dogfight.
The training hall was located in the center of the samurai's estate. To its left and right, about two hundred paces away, were two-story buildings
housing the male and female dormitories. Behind them was another building containing a canteen, a large bathroom, and a medical room.
Although the wooden buildings were old, the facilities inside were quite complete. That old geezer, Apachev, claimed to be preserving
the history and layout of the samurai's estate, but he probably already pocketed all the state subsidies for the estate. I really wondered
why he didn't go into business.
Upon entering the training hall, I was met with nothing but a sea of people. Inside the spacious training hall, six or seven hundred men, women,
and children were shouting wildly. This scene was always present whenever a martial arts tournament was held.
However, today the atmosphere was clearly even more heated than usual.
In the center of the training hall was a circular fighting arena, about one person high and twenty meters in diameter, its surface paved
with neat stone slabs. There were steps leading up to the arena on both the east and west sides. The arena was surrounded by
crowds cheering for the warriors on stage. From my observation, everyone's expression seemed to suggest they were eager for chaos, as if they had all placed
heavy bets on the competitors.
Most of the people in the arena were disciples of the Roya Martial Arts School; only a few were dressed in more ornate yellow uniforms. I could immediately recognize them
as the hypocrites from the Gallo Martial Arts School. Only their martial arts school would wear such beautiful yellow uniforms, seemingly
to signify their superior status. They all wore disdainful expressions and slight sneers as they watched the
six people fighting on the arena.
In contrast, some of the members of the Roya Warriors' Guild were dressed in shabby clothes, looking like beggars.
Compared to Gallo and his group, it was like the difference between commoners and nobles.
It turned out this was a three-on-three match. Our side consisted of warriors dressed in uniform blue robes, each wielding a greatsword
, a giant axe, and a spear. As for Gallo and his gang, they sent out a
martial artist who was unarmed but had brass knuckles attached to his hands, who fought alongside two other warriors with a shield and a hammer.
Just then, someone emerged from the crowd, put his arm around my shoulder, and chuckled, "My little John, you've
finally arrived! We already lost a match, you know that?"
I hate it when people call me Little John. In my mind, any name containing the word "little"
carries a strong sense of insult. Being called Little John feels like being called a little bastard,
a little bitch, a little scumbag, and other such vulgar nicknames.
I slapped the guy with my arm around my shoulder, making him yell in pain, like a hemorrhoid had burst.
"Call me Little John again, and I'll kill you. You little brat, how dare those scumbags from Gallo
come to our hideout today? Did you rape their boss's daughter, and now they're coming after us?" I
grabbed the guy's collar with both hands and shook him hard a few times.
This brat is my best friend—Shookich, a third-rate martial artist. His parents both died of malaria.
He's short, a head shorter than me at 1.7 meters, with a shifty, beady face. His triangular
eyes constantly dart around, giving him a cunning look; overall, he looks like a little mouse. He only knows a few
rudimentary moves before trying to make a living, much like me. So when we met, it was like we'd known each
other for centuries—we clicked instantly, birds of a feather flock together.
"How could I possibly dare rape someone's daughter? My tigress is so strict; I
don't even have a chance to go out to prostitutes or drink," Shookich said, looking utterly aggrieved. He was thin and sallow, with sunken eyes; he must 　　have been nearly exhausted to death
last night by that strong, tall, and more masculine-than-man Alice, his girlfriend and wife . 　　 Hugh Keich brushed my hand away, chuckling, "Our representative from the Roya Martial Arts School 　　lost to Gallo in the first match. The old man's not in a good mood right now." He acted as if it were none of his business; only such selfish 　　friends could be on my level. 　　 In a match like this between martial arts schools, the loser loses face for the entire school 　　. And since martial artists value honor highly, being beaten to his knees begging for mercy in front of over a hundred people is worse than death 　　. 　　 I then noticed a temporary VIP platform in the martial arts hall and glanced over. Sure enough, the 　　nearly one-hundred-year-old but still ruddy-faced and imposing old master was 　　staring coldly at the battle on the stage, his face tense, his expression like someone who had been constipated for decades. He sat in a large brass chair with a backrest, his master and assistant 　　martial artists standing beside him, and a dozen of his prized students behind him. 　　 To the right of this old man stood another large brass chair, upon which sat a 　　thin, elderly man in ornate robes, stroking his white beard with a smile, watching the warriors fighting fiercely on the ring as if he were watching a striptease 　　. 　　 Behind him stood warriors and martial artists in yellow robes and armor, the most striking of whom was a 　　voluptuous female warrior with a long sword at her waist. 　　 Her beautiful, flowing blonde hair cascaded down like a waterfall, her skin was snow-white, her face cold and alluring, and her full, slightly upturned 　　lips seemed to speak of her stubbornness and pride. Under the thin, belted yellow robe, her proud breasts 　　bulged out as if unafraid of being taken advantage of. A long strip of cloth hung from her waist, exposing her two long, powerful legs, 　　the subtly revealed yet aesthetically pleasing muscle lines clearly the result of long-term training. This blonde beauty looked 　　like a shimmering, scantily clad, sexy goddess, almost making my nose bleed. 　　 "John...John..." 　　 "What are you doing? Don't disturb my enjoyment of the scenery..." 　　 Before I could react, amidst the gasps of the crowd, a sound of bones breaking and flesh shattering came from the arena. Immediately 　　afterward, a massive body appeared above my head, a dark shadow looming over me. 　　 I looked up, and good heavens! A warrior weighing at least two hundred pounds was flying towards me. 　　I quickly rolled aside. 　　 A loud thud. 　　 Where I had been standing, lay a warrior, his face covered in blood, a clear fist mark on his cheek, his nose mangled 　　. The wooden floor of the training hall was slightly dented from the impact. If I hadn't dodged quickly, I 　　would have been crushed into pieces. It turned out to be a warrior from our Roya Martial Arts School, blasted down by the opposing martial artist's punch. 　　 The remaining two warriors were still fighting desperately on the stage, but it was only a three-on-two situation; the tide had 　　 turned completely against them 　　. 　　 Two of Gallo's warriors restrained the Roja warrior's weapon, allowing the martial artist to fully utilize his 　　strengths: agility and unpredictable attack angles. After all, punching is far more 　　agile than wielding heavy weapons. Soon, another Roja warrior was struck in the jaw and sent flying, while another was kicked down, 　　rolling off the stage like a gourd, utterly humiliated. 　　 Seeing their own martial arts school's members so humiliated sparked outrage, and 　　shouts of "Damn it!" filled the training hall. 　　 "Fuck your mother! You dogs look down on us!" 　　 "Fuck your mother, you bunch of Gallo dogs, are you out of your minds, daring to act so arrogantly here!" 　　 "I'll fuck your mother!" This was the most direct. 　　 The Roja warriors' curses overwhelmed the Gallo warriors' cheers. 　　 As martial artists, we're naturally rough around the edges. Gentlemanly manners are irrelevant to us; swearing is 　　commonplace. However, when I saw several men, overwhelmed with grief as if their mothers had died, dramatically cursing and weeping—grown 　　men sobbing—I knew these gambling addicts had placed heavy bets on their own warriors. 　　 At this moment, several agitated spectators jumped onto the stage, ready to give the three arrogant Gallo warriors 　　a good beating. Just as the chaos reached its peak and a riot seemed imminent, the 　　 old 　　 man, the master of the Roya Warriors, stood 　　up. 　　 This enormous old man, nearly two meters tall, suddenly seemed to shrink in size, appearing shorter than those around him. 　　He stood straight, his posture imposing, showing none of the signs of old age. His ruddy, square face 　　was stern, his short, silver beard twitching slightly, his large, bell-like eyes radiating power without anger. They saw him 　　raise his right arm, which was much larger than normal, clench his fist, and lift it into the air. The movement was very slow, yet it generated a powerful force.

An invisible, oppressive pressure emanated from him; his red cloak billowed without wind, and his entire being exuded an aura of dominance.
Under this pressure, the face of the Gallo Warriors' Guild Master, seated to his right, tightened, a
strange light flashing in his eyes. His followers' expressions changed drastically, seemingly shaken by the old man's aura, while the blonde beauty trembled
slightly, highlighting her cultivation level, second only to their guild master.
Although I'm not an outstanding warrior, my
good-for-nothing father painstakingly cultivated me from childhood, instilling commercial knowledge in me day and night. My basic knowledge of judging goods is passable, and I
even possess superior eyesight, a valuable tool for spying. Perhaps this is the only blessing God bestowed upon this useless person
. I think the only thing I can be proud of is this ability to observe; everything else
is utterly worthless.
The enormous old man took a deep breath, puffed out his broad chest, and wore a sullen expression as if he was about to urinate or defecate. Seeing his
expression, I already knew what foolish thing he was about to do, so I quickly covered my ears.
Sure enough, the old geezer roared,
"Shut up—!"
His words, like a tiger's roar in the mountains, were a deep and powerful shout, like a sudden surge of a
giant wave, instantly drowning out the noise of the crowd. The impact of the violent sound waves
seemed to shake the training hall. If I hadn't covered my ears in time, I might have ended up like the shocking old man next to me
, with crooked eyes and a slightly twitching mouth, almost turning into a
senile old man who had just been sodomized.
This was the first time I'd seen him display such internal power as a lion's roar; as a warrior, he
also knew how to use the qi of martial arts. I wasn't surprised by his inner and outer cultivation; to become the head of a martial arts school,
one must possess superhuman strength, otherwise how could one control these unruly martial artists?
I once heard the older generation of the martial arts school say that whether one becomes a warrior or a martial artist, these two diverging
paths of martial arts begin differently, but in the end, they find their destinations are the same. However, I chose
to be a warrior, not to climb to the highest peak of martial arts, but to escape studying business. Therefore,
such boring achievements as becoming a martial arts giant, like business, hold no appeal for me whatsoever.
Everyone stared in astonishment at the enormous old man, and the previously noisy martial arts practice instantly fell silent.
Apachev, the master of the Roya Martial Arts Academy, stood like an unyielding mountain, his imposing presence surveying the
crowd below. He declared sternly, "Defeat is defeat, victory is victory. Where has the spirit of a martial artist gone?
This chaotic scene is utterly disrespectful!"
His powerful voice echoed throughout the vast training hall, each word clearly reaching everyone's ears.
Although Apachev reprimanded his disciples, his earlier outburst had also served to establish his authority, subtly suppressing
the Roya Martial Arts Academy's arrogance after two consecutive victories. He had only resorted to shouting and yelling
to save face because of his disciples' lack of spirit; being a master wasn't easy.
However, intimidated by their master's imposing presence, the few who had rushed onto the stage now rubbed their noses
, their faces filled with resentment as they left.
Those damned dogs from the Gallo Warriors, who were just surrounded by our group of irrational thugs and terrified
, are now smug and mocking. They seem oblivious to the fact that without the old man's intervention,
hundreds upon hundreds would have died on our turf. If the Gallo Warriors are the most domineering,
then we, the Roya Warriors, are the most despicable and vile. These madmen, when they go berserk, are more
terrifying than any desperate criminal.
I felt the temperature around me gradually rise—a furnace effect caused by everyone's anger flaring up simultaneously.
At this moment, the leader of the Gallo Warriors also stood up. Compared to the old man, he looked like an
old monkey standing in front of a bronze tower—the difference in height was enormous, creating a bizarre scene on the VIP platform.
The Gallo leader was dressed very elegantly, wearing a dazzling golden outfit underneath a long black silk robe,
and expensive rings on his hands. Overall, he looked like a richly dressed old monkey.
Everyone stared intently at the old man, waiting to hear his rambling.
The old monkey, bowing to the old man's clasped hands, revealed a sly smile: "Brother Luo Ya, this martial arts competition
is merely to give the young men some experience. Consider today's match
a warm-up for the city martial arts tournament a month later. Just spar a bit, no need to take it too seriously."
After some mental processing, I think his true meaning was: "You stubborn old
fool, we, the Gallo, are only here to challenge you all for the city tournament a month later. We're just beating up your trash
to boost our men's confidence and experience. There's no need to take it too seriously; we can easily slaughter you bunch of idiots
."
The old man coughed and also bowed, saying, "Brother Qi Yu, you're too kind. However, as a
martial artist, whether it's a small competition or a large-scale battle, one should always approach it with the spirit of a lion hunting a rabbit.
Because practicing martial arts... " Like rowing against the current, if you approach a martial arts match with a contemptuous attitude, you will never glimpse the ultimate realm of martial arts
, and it will be an insult to martial arts.
After my brain's annotation and interpretation, the original meaning should be: "You ignorant old monkey, you bastard, you
look down on people, you win a few matches and you're already showing off, just wait and see if I can beat you until you're pissing your ass, and let you
see the ultimate realm of my martial arts."
The old monkey chuckled and said: "Brother Gaia is right, I have learned my lesson."
Translation: "I curse your ancestors for eighteen generations, how dare you lecture me."
The old geezer said modestly: "Brother Qi Yu, you are too kind."
Translation: "You cunning bastard, don't give me that."
In this way, the two old men exchanged polite and modest words in front of everyone in the hall, which was actually a verbal battle, and then
spent a full ten minutes showing the demeanor of the head of the school before they both returned to their seats.
At this moment, the old man's proud right hand, the martial arts master Eisenhower, raised his voice and
shouted to the crowd below the stage with great vigor: "Today's martial arts competition between Roy and Gallo will consist of five matches. Gallo has won two and Roy has lost two.
Is there anyone else who wishes to step up and challenge?"
Before the echo had even faded, chaos erupted in the arena. These strong but mindless brutes scrambled to raise their hands,
frantically vying to get into the ring and tear each other apart, venting their frustration.
Just as the chaos reached its peak, a loud shout suddenly came from the other side of the crowd, drowning out everyone else
's voices.
"Free Fighting Club! Alice challenges!"
Hugh Kecchi and I were startled and looked towards the source of the sound.
A commotion arose on the right side of the crowd, and a path to the ring parted like a tidal wave, allowing a burly
, robust martial artist to stride through. If my eyes weren't deceiving me, wasn't this Hugh Kecchi's
girlfriend and casual sex partner, Alice?
I'd always been puzzled; Alice had such a feminine name, yet no one could find
a single womanly characteristic in her.
Alice, chest puffed out, swaggered confidently towards the ring. She was bald, square-faced, with large
eyes, thick lips, a lion-like nose, dark skin, and a strong, muscular physique. She wore a leopard-print tight-fitting t-shirt and shorts,
her arms and thighs covered in scars that accentuated her explosive muscles and highlighted her
battle-hardened nature. Her breasts, traditionally considered a woman's, had been developed into two firm, powerfully muscular
pectoral muscles, and her stomach, exposed beneath her t-shirt, displayed eight neatly arranged square abdominal muscles.
In contrast, I was all soft and flabby, with three layers of fat bulging out of my stomach when I bent over—the physique of a middle-aged man
, truly unpleasant. My physical fitness was even worse; I was out of breath and my legs were weak after running only two hundred meters.
I was truly unworthy of my warrior's status, perhaps due to excessive masturbation and kidney deficiency. It seemed I needed to be more disciplined in the future
, and perhaps establish a regular masturbation schedule, hitting the spot only when necessary.
I scoffed at Hugh Kech beside me, "Look at your girl! She's more manly than a man
! Her arm alone is thicker than my thigh! This kind of fierce woman is like a female King Kong,
coming out of the jungle to scare people!"
Hugh Kech ignored my sarcasm, instead showing a smug look, and said proudly, "As my girl, of course she
can't be bad. I have complete confidence in her. Just wait and see."
Looking at his smug face, I suddenly felt nauseous. The milk and bread I ate that morning almost
came right back up my throat.
Although Hugh Kech was utterly useless, I had to admire his good appetite and lack of pickiness.
Maybe his mother taught him from a young age not to be a picky eater and to eat whatever he could.
Besides, I was also very envious that he could have a girlfriend who was more manly than a man. It was truly a blessing from his ancestors
; my ancestors didn't leave me such good fortune.
The disciples of the Roya Warriors' Hall, regardless of age or gender, erupted in a frenzy of wild beasts. Whistles, shouts, and
screams filled the arena, creating a grand and spectacular scene. Someone even patted Hugh Kech on the shoulder,
cheering on his girlfriend's entrance, as if Hugh Kech was also benefiting.
The burly Alice, still ten paces from the ring, suddenly bent her leg and launched herself towards
the ring like a cannonball. She spun several times in the air before landing firmly in the center,
skipping even the steps of climbing the ladder.
"Damn, is she even human?"
The clamor subsided, and everyone, like a loyal spectator, quietly awaited the show.
The three Gallo warriors in the ring, as if encountering a monster, couldn't hide their astonishment, scrutinizing
this suddenly appearing female martial artist.
Alice raised her chin, looking down at her three opponents with disdain. She slowly raised her arm, extended her index finger, and disdainfully
gestured towards the two Gallo warriors on the stage. Then she pointed outwards, signaling them to get off the stage. Next, she pointed fiercely
at the Gallo martial artist, clearly indicating she wanted a one-on-one duel.
This action caused another wave of roars from the crowd of troublemakers below
.
Alice was one of the top martial artists in our gym, possessing strength enough to shatter large rocks with
her bare hands. The number of men crippled by her attacks could be counted in the hundreds. If you saw her
running and practicing her punches every day carrying a 50-kilogram iron bag, you would be even more astonished. As for how she ended up with that good-for-nothing Hugh Kitsch,
no one knew the reason; everyone just considered it a tragic fate.
Because of Alice's request, and because a three-on-one fight was unfair, under our screams of "Get off the stage!",
two Galo warriors reluctantly left the stage, leaving only a
martial artist with a headband, a small mustache, a strong and muscular physique, and an air of agility.
This lone mustachioed martial artist, with a pair of thieving eyes, observed Alice's body, finally fixing his gaze
on her tight shorts with a few hairs sticking out. He revealed a lewd grin, licking his lips, and said, "So you're a
strong little slut. Want to fight me one-on-one? Then let me give you a good beating, little darling."
A strong little slut? Based on those words alone, this perverted martial artist, whose appetite was as voracious as Hugh Kitsch's, was destined to 　　be eliminated
by extremely cruel methods. 　　 With the old man's nod of approval, a martial artist versus martial artist duel immediately began. 　　 Several gamblers nearby secretly placed bets, determined to win back their losses. 　　 With a loud shout, the man with the mustache ducked and lunged forward, striking first towards Alice, who stood fifteen paces away. His 　　speed revealed him to be an exceptional martial artist; the Gallo Warriors must have come prepared. Unfortunately 　　for him, his opponent was the Mighty Mother, whose iron fists had swept through Nokron City. Just 　　 as the man with the mustache was about to enter Alice's range, he feinted, shifting to his right, 　　his right hand, clad in brass knuckles, aimed a punch at Alice's waist. Perhaps he was taking advantage of Alice's size and clumsiness, hoping to 　　win through speed. 　　 The Gallo warriors below cheered loudly at their comrade's excellent performance. We, the Roya bastards, 　　gasped in surprise, clearly astonished by the man with the mustache's agility. 　　 At this critical moment, a roar erupted from Alice's mouth. 　　 "Ha!" 　　 The man with the mustache was momentarily stunned by the roar, his movements faltering .

Alice imitated Appachev's roar of a lion, though only at about 30-40% of her power, it already had a shocking
effect on her opponent.
In the instant he was stunned, a large hand firmly grasped the mustachioed man's fist, forcefully intercepting his tricky, angled
strike.
The mustachioed man's face showed a look of panic, like someone who had meticulously planned to steal underwear but was still
caught red-handed by his mistress. Driven by his well-trained reflexes, he quickly tried to pull his hand away, but his
fist, held captive, was like it was embedded in a rock wall, unmoving.
Alice revealed an ugly smile, looking at her struggling prey in her hand,
like a cat playing with a mouse, making the audience below shout and cheer excitedly, keeping the audience on the edge of their seats.
Having one's hands and feet restrained is a major taboo for martial artists; the opponent was now in danger.
The mustachioed man suddenly raised his leg, delivering a sneaky knee strike to Alice's lower abdomen, attempting to turn the tide.
Alice scoffed, "A mere trick!"
With a snap, her other hand gripped the man's foot tightly. The man's hands and feet were thus
held in the grasp of this leopard-skinned female warrior, and Alice, with her brute strength, deliberately pulled them apart, spreading
them out in a spread-eagle position like a ballerina.
Seeing the martial artist Gallo in this pathetic state, the warriors of Roya in the audience erupted in laughter.
Just as I thought she was about to tear the man apart alive and began to pray for his fragile life, Alice
suddenly roared, her muscles bulging, the sound of bones cracking echoing throughout the arena. The man's limbs were mercilessly
crushed by her monstrous strength.
"Ouch—! It hurts—!" the man cried out in pain.
Just as the man's face contorted like a broken puzzle piece, Alice's massive arm tossed him into
the air.
"Go to hell, you son of a bitch! How dare you come to Roya and peek at me like that! Today I'll
smash your balls in!"
Every magician chants a long incantation before unleashing their ultimate spell, ensuring its destructive power
. Alice had the same perverse fetish; before cruelly eliminating someone, she would list their
ten major sins, ensuring her opponent died with their eyes wide open in dismay.
"Yada da da da da da da da da da!"
This powerful woman, three parts human and seven parts Vajra, unleashed a barrage of punches, sweeping through the air with the force of an autumn wind
.
Damn! Isn't this the kind of scene you only see in comics?
The mustachioed man's body trembled in mid-air like a toy, each punch landing squarely on
flesh, the cracking of bones echoing loudly.
"Game over!" Alice roared.
The final punch struck the mustachioed man's groin, producing a strange, explosive sound. Blood splattered everywhere,
causing a sharp pain in the groin of the men present. The mustachioed man's mangled body flew in an arc towards the edge of the ring
, crashing back into the crowd of Gallo's followers.
Thud!
The mustachioed martial artist's body twisted, like a boneless octopus, lying limply on the floor outside the ring,
his fate unknown.
The training hall fell silent. After a long while, the Roya warriors erupted in cheers.
"Alice! I love you to death!"
"You're fucking strong and awesome! Smash those bastard Gallo's balls and make them all childless!" "
The fiercest woman in Nokron City! One strike and the world is over!"
A bunch of vulgar praises and titles kept coming from the mouths of these rude martial artists. Many people ran
over and patted Hugh Kech on the shoulder, saying that he had made a good fuck buddy, making him laugh like an idiot,
as if all the credit was his.
On the VIP platform, Gallo, the master of the guild, suddenly stood up, his face full of anger.
Next to him, Apachev was still sitting calmly in the bronze chair, stroking his short silver beard, revealing a smug smile.
The old man said something to the old monkey, and after speaking, he burst into another smug laugh.
The deep and shrewd Qi Yu, the master of the guild, was also so angry that his old face changed color several times before he slowly sat
back down, his expression extremely ugly. As for his disciples behind him, they were all gritting their teeth, their eyes practically spitting fire
. My gaze fell again on the sexy blonde female warrior's body beside him. She stepped forward, seemingly
about to challenge him, but was stopped by the old monkey.
Meanwhile, Alice was swept off the stage by cheers in a victorious manner. As she passed through the crowd, everyone
patted and grabbed her, curiously touching this terrifying female fighter. Some even deliberately grabbed her breasts
, feeling her pectoral muscles, which had transformed from tofu into steel. Alice, however, no longer considered herself a woman. She showed no
shame at being molested, and even boldly raised her hands, walking forward with her chest out, allowing people to touch the muscles bulging on her body.
"Hey, I'm going to find my wife. You figure it out yourself," Hugh Kitsch said hastily, and
chased after the inhumanly fierce woman.
Damn it, this lewd scoundrel who forgets his friends for a pretty face, he's probably going to flatter Alice.
Episode 4: Adultery
Lying in bed, I recalled today's martial arts tournament. After Alice beat that mustachioed guy to a pulp,
the Gallo Martial Arts School sent its top warriors to the ring, but our Roya Martial Arts School still managed a narrow victory, bringing the score to two
wins and two losses for each side. The fifth duel was canceled by the two old men through an agreement, clearly to save face
, as neither side was guaranteed victory. Moreover, to conserve strength for the city's martial arts tournament a month later, the tournament
ended so hastily, leaving everyone feeling disappointed.
It was late at night, and everyone in the martial arts school was asleep. The dormitory was eerily quiet, save for
the occasional noisy barking of John, the dog at the school's main entrance.
I lay on a small bed in a cramped two-person dormitory. My roommate and best friend, Hugh
Keich, was snoring loudly, sleeping like a log, impossible to wake even if the sky fell.
And I, John Joe, one of the parasites inhabiting the Royal Knights' Mansion, have been lying in bed for a long time but cannot
fall asleep. It's not because I have insomnia, nor because I have a habit of staying up late, but because at this very moment, there is…
A naked, blonde, sexy woman straddled me, her legs spread wide, rocking me like a rocking horse.
It was none other than the sexy, aloof female warrior beside Master Gallo.
"Brother John, harder! Oh...oh...you're so strong...again...ah..."
The blonde beauty straddled me, one arm gripping the wall, the other hand on my chest, wildly shaking
her youthful, voluptuous body. Her D-cup breasts bounced rhythmically up and down in the air, her two pink
nipples erect and bright red, like two cherries dripping with honey, tempting me to suckle them.
Unfortunately, I was pinned down, unable to get up, my
hard, long penis being wildly thrust into her fluffy, golden-haired peach-like opening.
Perhaps it was due to her regular exercise, but her body was full of vibrant elasticity. I gripped her
waist, which had no excess fat, and thrust my hips wildly, making her moan repeatedly. I yelled, "You golden-
haired little wildcat, you're so fucking insatiable! Watch John, the number one warrior of the Roya Martial Arts School, fuck you to death, you slut
!"
My twenty-centimeter-long spear thrust upwards, and under the fierce attack, the walls of the blonde beauty's tender vagina
oozed slippery, lustful fluid, moistening my penis that was about to spark, making the squelching sounds even more intense. The small bed
creaked and groaned as we shook it, and the beauty's moans grew louder, almost echoing throughout the entire dormitory.
The sounds of lust shattered the tranquility of the night, but not a single person got up to visit my room.
As I fucked her, I yelled, "Scream again! Scream louder! Tell me! What's your name? How dare you cause
trouble on our turf!"
The blonde beauty trembled violently from my intense thrusts, her hair disheveled, her pretty face flushed, her phoenix
eyes gleaming with a seductive light, her expression complex, almost bringing tears to her eyes. She bit her full, red lips tightly,
humming a bittersweet melody intermittently.
"Still not talking! If you don't talk, I'll fuck you to death, you filthy bitch!" I thrust my hips forward forcefully, pounding upwards once more.
She cried out, "I... my name is Yishan... ah... it hurts... I came here... oh...
to be fucked by... Brother John..."
I slapped her plump buttocks hard, leaving a clear red handprint on her large, firm backside, causing the beauty 　　 on top of me to cry out
again, and then shouted, "Why did you come here to be fucked by me? Tell me! Are you such a slut that you need 　　to be fucked ?
I'll fuck you! I'll fuck you! 　　I'll fuck you, ... 　　 The blonde beauty wrapped her arms around my neck, pressing her voluptuous, sweat-drenched body against me. Her 　　large, sticky breasts rubbed against my strong chest, and she moaned softly in my ear, "Ah...ah... 　　because...I just...want to be fucked...ah...I can't take it anymore...I'm dying...ah...John... 　　brother...I love you..." 　　 "Don't think you can treat men like they're nothing just because you're pretty. Look! Now I've fucked you 　　like a slut. You always act all high and mighty, but deep down you're a whore, hahaha..." 　　 I laughed triumphantly on the bed, thrusting into her like a toy, making her bounce up and down, her breasts 　　swaying in front of me. 　　 "John...please have mercy...ah...I'm such a slut...I won't...do it again...ah..." 　　The beauty on top of me began to beg for mercy, tears streaming down her face as she sobbed and cried. 　　 The blonde beauty's secret orifice flowed with wet, sticky fluid, soaking a large area beneath me. 　　 I felt a surge of heat rising from my groin. 　　 I lifted her up, her arms wrapped around my waist, and placed her against the wall, her legs hooked around my waist. I clenched my hips and thrust 　　upwards again and again, as if trying to penetrate her tightly closed vulva, stubbornly holding back my impending ejaculation 　　. Her body floated up and down, enjoying my bounty in mid-air. Her hands 　　frantically clawed and waved against the wall behind her, her limbs dancing as she tried to grab something for support, moaning seductively. 　　 I buried my head in her sweaty cleavage and hissed, "I can't take it anymore..." 　　 A gush of semen burst from my glans, exploding inside her vagina. We trembled as if electrocuted, 　　our semen shooting into her honey pot in streams. A tingling pleasure 　　shot straight to my brain, vibrating through my very soul. Each spurt of semen was expelled, then flowed out of her vagina again. 　　 I let out a satisfied sigh. 　　 I'd been with the blonde beauty for so long, our passionate encounter almost collapsing the martial arts dorm, but why was 　　Hugh Kitsch, sleeping on the other single bed, soundly asleep? And why hadn't the dorm guard come to check my room 　　? 　　 Readers, doesn't this seem unbelievable? 　　 Because… 　　 all of the above is pure fantasy… 　　 just my sexual fantasy… 　　 The blonde beauty's name isn't Yi Shan, I don't have a ten-pack, and my erection is only eight centimeters. Everything is just 　　something to fill the void in my sexual fantasy. 　　 I stared at my penis, now limp and lifeless, under the covers, a far cry from 　　the vigor I'd displayed during masturbation. Lost in the moment, I'd sprayed a puddle of cloudy, sticky fluid all over the sheets, sure enough, I'd get another 　　scolding from the old woman washing the sheets. 　　 I'm a forgetful person; the memory of being hand-raped at the Lucida Hotel that morning was completely gone. Ever since 　　I saw that Gallup blonde warrior beauty in the martial arts hall, she'd left a beautiful yet lewd image in my mind. 　　Whenever I recalled her alluring, fiery body, it ignited a burning desire within me, forcing me to use her as a sexual fantasy, 　　releasing my pent-up urges through masturbation. 　　 Of course, all of this was done under the covers. If Hugh Kech saw me, he'd laugh at me 　　, calling me a hopeless virgin, forcing me to masturbate quietly in my room—what a 　　pain! Aren't virgins human too? 　　 I quickly cleaned up the mess on the sheets, tidied up haphazardly, and then fell asleep.

However, even after I finished masturbating, the image of that blonde beauty still lingered in my mind. I lay
on the bed with my eyes closed, lost in thought for a while, before finally drifting off to sleep.
************
Clang!
I was startled awake by a sound, but I didn't immediately open my eyes, instead
listening intently. After a while, I heard a light footstep, followed by the creaking of an old door opening.
I slightly opened my eyes, squinting through a narrow slit, and peeked out. What I saw was Hugh
Keqi's sleazy back, slowly opening the door, as if afraid of making a sound to wake me.
"Damn it, where is this kid sneaking off to in the middle of the night? Something's fishy," I cursed inwardly,
but outwardly remained calm, pretending to be fast asleep.
Once Hugh Keqi deftly closed the door, I immediately rolled out of bed.
A steel cup lay on the floor; I suppose Hugh Keich had accidentally knocked it over while sneaking out, and it had startled me
awake.
I tiptoed behind him, watching his small figure move silently down the dimly lit corridor
. The two-story wooden dormitory was extremely old, over a hundred years old, and had never been repaired.
I wondered if the state-funded martial arts school funds had been embezzled by that old geezer.
Moreover, the male martial artists had terrible living habits, showing no regard for public property; a perfectly good building
had been reduced to a dilapidated ruin by these scoundrels. Living in this old building
gave me the illusion of living in a haunted house; even getting up at night to use the restroom was terrifying.
Because this old dormitory had been in disrepair for years, and due to vandalism by some unscrupulous individuals, some of the oil lamps on the corridor walls
were broken, leaving only a few barely burning, making the corridor extremely
dim. Hugh Kech's short figure flickered in and out of the darkness. I, who was following Hugh Kech, dared not get too
close, almost losing sight of this guy who didn't sleep at night several times.
Hugh Kech went down the stairs, walked out of the dormitory door, and suddenly turned back, startling me so much that I quickly hid
behind a locker near the stairwell, afraid of being discovered. I cautiously peeked out and saw him standing at the door,
looking around for a while, making sure no one was around, before walking west.
Sure enough, he wasn't getting up to urinate; the stinking public toilet was on the east side of the dormitory. This guy
was definitely going to sneak out to fool around again.
I quickly followed him out, and once outside the door, Hugh Kech was already ten meters away,
hurrying towards the martial arts hall.
I initially thought he was going to sneak out at night to indulge in debauchery, because Alice kept a close eye on him during the day.
I remember once, he went to a brothel, but someone told on him. Alice, upon hearing the news,
stormed into the brothel without a word, causing chaos and beating the bodyguards and pimps so badly
they nearly demolished it. As for Hughke, she dragged him from a prostitute's bed, gave him
a severe beating, and then punished him by making him kneel on a chair in the busiest street for a whole day and night.
This incident caused a sensation in Nokron, and for a long time, Hughke dared not set foot in the red-light district again.
The knight's mansion was very quiet at night, except for a few lights shining from the guardhouse at the main entrance and the corridors of the knights' quarters
. The sky was filled with dark clouds, obscuring the bright moonlight. The stars weren't twinkling as usual
; it was a very dark night, practically pitch black outside. If you weren't careful, you could easily
trip over something and fall flat on your face.
I followed behind, finally seeing Hugh Keich's figure disappear into the dark training hall.
If you said he was practicing martial arts in the middle of the night, I wouldn't believe it for a second. I'd rather believe that Alice, that tomboy, was
a gentle, considerate, and virtuous wife and mother, well-versed in the three obediences and four virtues.
The training hall didn't have doors, just a large archway with a rain shelter above it. I hid beside the entrance, afraid to enter rashly. I pressed myself
against the wall, peering in, my eyes wide open and ears perked up, listening intently for
any sounds from inside.
Hugh Keich called softly from inside the training hall, "My little Mary, your good brother is here, come out quickly
."
The usually noisy training hall was now completely empty, so even though Hugh Keich deliberately lowered his voice,
it still echoed in the vast, dark space, sounding desolate and eerie.
Mary?
Could it be that Mary?
Just as this thought crossed my mind, a female voice came from inside the training hall, her tone excited: "I'm over here at the arena
, come quickly."
Unconsciously, a strange image surfaced in my mind: a
frog-like woman with a ponytail, a thin, malnourished appearance, but unusually large eyes and a triangular face,
wearing heavy upper-body armor several sizes too large for her body, and tight black trousers,
with a greatsword at her waist. When this large-eyed, withered woman walked, the tip of her large sword scabbard, longer than her legs
, clattered and dragged along the ground.
Basically, the samurai dojo was very lax in its control over men and women; as long as a woman didn't get pregnant, the dojo
master would turn a blind eye. Therefore, if a samurai in the dojo didn't have money to go to prostitutes, he had
to rely on his own abilities to seduce the female warriors or martial artists within the dojo.
The condoms sold in the supply shop, made by alchemists from animal stomachs, were very popular among the lecherous men in the dojo,
serving as contraception and protection against pregnancy for their penises.
This talented couple—oh…no!—should more be called a pair of adulterers, staying up late to
meet in the training hall; it couldn't be as simple as just talking about love. In my view, there is no
such thing as "adultery," only "illicit love." Because, four years ago, when I was young and naive,
I was toyed with emotionally by a girl from my village and then cruelly dumped. From that moment on,
I stopped believing in love.
My lesson from that experience is that men and women are only together to satisfy each other.
It's all just lust. Love is nothing but a deception, using that sweet feeling to lure the other person into being
willing to be their slave, even to the point of death.
Forget it, why think about such trivial things? Getting down to business is more important.
I opened my eyes wide and saw a small flame burning on the arena in the center of the training hall.
It must have been a small oil lamp, emitting a faint orange-yellow light that illuminated only a small area of the arena; otherwise, the training hall remained dark.
Hugh Keich's short figure walked onto the arena to meet Mary, who was already waiting there.
I crouched low and tiptoed in, making no sound, afraid of
disturbing the adulterous couple.
I wonder which idiot designed this circular arena; it's a full 1.7 meters high! If I'm not careful
and fall off, I'll either die or be crippled.
However, it has now become my spying barrier. With just a slight tiptoe, in the dim light,
I can see the two of them clearly, while they can't see the lecherous
head peeking out from the edge of the ring. Because my head is in a dark spot, it has camouflage in the darkness.
"Little darling, do you know how much I've missed you? These past few days, I've thought of you constantly,
the longing almost made my heart ache and I couldn't eat."
Hugh Kech frantically pulled down his pants in the center of the ring, spouting cheesy, cheesy love talk,
as if time were incredibly precious, requiring him to multitask. But thinking about it,
it's true; if he didn't visit a prostitute for three days, it would break his heart.
"Brother Hugh, me too… um…" The big-eyed frog girl's words were cut short as Hugh Kech,
that bastard, grabbed her and sealed her mouth with his stinking lips.
After a passionate, lingering kiss and exchanging saliva, the adulterous couple began whispering sweet nothings.
"Did you manage to get Alice?"
"Yeah, I put a twenty-person dose of sleeping pills in her water, enough to knock out an elephant."
"Good job, then we can go all out. Hehehe..."
"You're so bad... Oh... No..."
Hugh Kech violently pulled off Mary's tight pants, his right hand teasing her crotch.
"You little slut, you're already so wet down there before we even start. Hehehe..."
"Don't do that... I can't take it anymore... Waaah..."
"It's itchy, isn't it? Then let me relieve you."
Hugh Kech pinned Frog Mary down on the table, his penis already thrusting into her. The two
, naked from the waist down, one in martial arts attire, the other still in armor, began their bizarre act
.
Hugh Kecchi let out a joyful moan: "So tight... Ah... So good, unlike that tomboy's huge hole
. Maybe only an elephant could satisfy her... Ah... So tight... Sweetheart, you're amazing...
"
Hugh Kecchi once complained to me that Alice only treated him as a sex toy. Every time they had sex,
it was like inserting a toothpick into a toilet. Of course, this couldn't satisfy this fierce Alice, so she often made Hugh Kecchi
perform oral sex or arm sex—truly inhuman acts. Licking her filthy, huge hole, or even
sticking his arm in to help her masturbate—you should know how big Alice's vagina is now.
In addition, because Alice had caused a scene at the brothel, every brothel owner now avoids Hugh Kecchi like the plague
, forbidding him from entering, lest he attract another she-devil and leave Hugh Kecchi with nowhere to vent his frustrations. He also considered masturbation
a self-degrading act, so it was expected that he would hook up with other women at the martial arts gym,
but I never imagined he would fall for the big-eyed frog girl.
"What a blessing from his ancestors, truly a blessing from his ancestors." I, who was spying from the side, shook my head and sighed at Hugh Kech's taste.
But thinking about it, this weasel-faced kid wasn't much better. A rat and a frog, a perfect match.
"Mary... tell me... why do you always wear... such bulky armor?" Hugh Kech panted
, his lower body rhythmically thrusting in and out of the slender woman's body, as he asked this question that everyone was wondering about.
"Um... ah... gentle... because... I lack... a sense of security... so..."
"Hehe... now that I'm protecting you... you don't have to be afraid of lacking... a sense of security... oh... so tight
..."
The two chatted while they were having sex, they really knew how to communicate on a spiritual level. Hugh Kech's lower body was busy moving in and out,
but his hands were not idle either, and he began to take off Mary's large-sized upper body armor. After a few heavy breaths, the armor
parted from the center, revealing a emaciated female body like a gift unwrapped, fully exposed in the yellowish
light.
Mary's figure, like Hugh Kech's gaze, left me speechless. Not only did she lack breasts,
but she was so thin that her ribs were clearly visible.
"Wow! So beautiful, so beautiful..."
Hugh Kech uttered a compliment that almost made me vomit, then wrapped his arms around Mary's lower back, lifting her up
and making this skeletal coffin sit upright, her legs hooked around his waist. Hugh Kech thrust upwards forcefully
, continuing his work in a seated position, while pressing his head against Mary's flat breasts, sucking hard with his mouth,
making hissing sounds. Was he trying to suck milk from this female zombie?
"Ah...it's so itchy...don't suck...my nipples are so itchy...ah...my hole...mmm...oh
..." Faced with Hulk's double attack on her sensitive areas, Mary moaned softly,
the strange sounds echoing in the darkness of the empty training hall, stimulating me, who was stealing nearby.
Hearing Mary's moans, even though I knew she was ugly, my penis once again
defied my brain's will. Having just masturbated tonight, it was already engorged and erect again, slamming against
the side of the ring. Damn it, my desire always triumphs over reason; I have no power to resist.
The slender Mary placed her hands on Hulk's shoulders, her legs tightly wrapped around his waist, her body
bouncing like a spring, moving up and down on Hulk's cross-legged legs, moaning softly.
Ah, I can't take it anymore. My hands are out of my control now, gripping my erect penis.
I'm watching this worst porn ever, and unconsciously starting to masturbate. This feeling suddenly makes me feel
guilty for betraying my teachers' guidance... and my parents' nurturing... the dignity of my Joe family... my John
Joe's personality...
At this moment, something strange happens.
When I'm halfway through masturbating, a strange sense of fear rises from the bottom of my heart, and the atmosphere around me becomes a bit
weird. I stop my piston-like movements and look around uneasily. Apart from the faint light from the ring, the training hall
is practically pitch black, so dark you can't see your hand in front of your face. I can't even see my own penis.
However, my attention is immediately drawn to the couple on the ring putting on a free sex show.
Mary is moaning loudly, sweeping away the strange feeling from before, and I confidently start masturbating again.
"Ah...ah...I can't take it anymore...I'm about to cum...oh...oh..." Under the pale yellow light,
Mary writhed wildly on Hugh Kech's body like a water snake, her thin hands gripping his head tightly. She had lost her mind,
crying and screaming, reaching the peak of lust.
Waves of lewd moans echoed in the dark, empty training hall.
Hugh Kech, panting like a wild beast, tightly hugged the Mary-brand washboard in his arms, thrusting hard
a few times. The two sleazy, withered bodies trembled violently. After the man cried out "I've come!", the two collapsed
onto the ring, limp and powerless.
Damn! I'd only fired halfway, and they were already done. What kind of nonsense is this?
Just as I was helplessly clutching my erect penis, gazing resentfully at the two sluts tightly embracing on the ring , a tall, dark figure, who shouldn't have been there, silently appeared on the ring, standing 　　beside the couple
collapsed in ecstasy . 　　 Hugh Kech and his companion remained oblivious, the two still lying on the stage, enjoying the afterglow of their climax. 　　 "Mmm, little darling, your lips are so sweet and fragrant." 　　 "Brother Hugh, you did so well..." 　　 The figure, with blood-red eyes filled with murderous intent, glared fiercely at everything before them. 　　 I gasped, thinking of a deadly woman. My once proud and erect penis 　　drooped limply in my trembling right hand. 　　 It seemed that twenty doses of sleeping pills might not have been enough. 　　 (To be continued 　　 )

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