Knight's Bloodline Episode 20, Parts 4-5

Chapter Four: Misfortune
After three days in Casmolina, Leach had gained some understanding of the city.
He had visited three countries so far, each so different.
The people of Montstock were busy from birth; without it, they couldn't even survive, let alone enjoy a good life. In Montstock, although there were social classes, these weren't fixed; one could improve their status through hard work.
The people of Parkington were the complete opposite. It was a rigidly hierarchical society where climbing the social ladder was extremely difficult. Therefore, the people there simply did their jobs and didn't have many ambitions.
The people of Varedin were another story. Their social class was also very strict, and advancement was incredibly difficult. Therefore, most people there didn't have much ambition, and like the Parkingtons, they were leisurely. However, the Varedin were different from the Parkingtons. Instead of pursuing higher status, they pursued wealth, and their greed for wealth was no less than that of the Montstocks.
The rigid hierarchical system and the insatiable greed for wealth combined to create the unique atmosphere of Varedin.
It was a country groveling before privilege, and the capital, Casmolina, was rife with all sorts of privileges, which had become more valuable than money.
To be honest, Richie enjoyed this feeling.
Like now, sitting in a rickshaw, a woman in his arms, enjoying her service while admiring the surrounding scenery—nothing could be more pleasant.
Rickshaws were something he'd never seen before, somewhat like treating people like beasts of burden, so he was initially quite uncomfortable. However, after a while, he actually found this kind of transportation quite good; after all, it was a person pulling the rickshaw, and communicating with people was much easier than communicating with horses. Besides, these things were exceptionally agile, able to go anywhere in the streets and alleys.
This rickshaw wasn't hailed from the street; it was specially prepared by the club for customers who enjoyed sightseeing. It had a roof for shade and rain protection, and a perimeter fence to keep mud and dust out, so there was no need to worry about exposure while making love inside.
The real key point, however, was that riding in such a rickshaw was like a signboard, telling those outside that the person inside was a privileged individual.
These past two days, he'd spent his free time riding rickshaws all over town. Partly, this was to familiarize himself with the terrain; he had the rickshaw pull him to the most bustling and vibrant areas of Casmolina—the perfect places for rendezvous, secret meetings, or escaping pursuit. Another reason was that he enjoyed the feeling.
Making love secretly in public had a unique thrill. It
was particularly exciting, particularly heart-pounding.
Richie wondered if he was becoming more perverted.
But today, he wasn't out for pleasure; he was going to meet his accomplice.
The rickshaw gradually slowed down, and after a moment, the rickshaw puller called out in a hoarse voice, "Young master, we've arrived."
Richie reluctantly lifted the woman in his arms and withdrew his penis from her body.
The woman's buttocks and genitals were still swollen and red. The wound on her buttocks was much better than two days ago, but her genitals were even more swollen, so she could only prop herself up on the seat with her buttocks raised, making her look pitiful.
After straightening his clothes, Richie pushed open the rickshaw door.
These rickshaws had a small door at the front, mainly to block the view and prevent people from seeing what was going on inside. The driver stood beside him, his knees slightly bent, his back bent at almost a ninety-degree angle, nodding and bowing with a smile on his face.
The rickshaw stopped at a rather famous food street in Casmolina, which Richie had visited on his first day there.
It was indeed a good place to meet up.
It wasn't mealtime, but there was still a mouthwatering aroma, a very complex fragrance mixed with many tempting scents.
The restaurants along the street were arranged in a neat and orderly fashion, large and small, but this street wasn't just full of restaurants; there were also many roadside stalls. The street was already narrow, completely filled with tables and chairs, making it impossible even for rickshaws to pass. If there was anything unpleasant about this food street, it was the filth of the ground. Whether it was oil or something else, the ground always felt sticky underfoot.
As he walked, he looked at both sides, not at the restaurants or street stalls, but at the secluded alleyways.
Every single alleyway here had a restaurant.
In Montstock, this wouldn't be the case; a restaurant without a good location would likely close down after only a few days.
Counting the house numbers, Richie finally found the place he was looking for.
Entering the deep alley, at the end was a simply decorated restaurant: bamboo doors, bamboo windows, bamboo eaves, and a clump of reeds growing in a ceramic jar by the door—all exuding an air of detachment from the world.
Unlike other restaurants, there were no formally dressed waiters at the entrance. Richie pushed open the door; there wasn't a single person inside. He went straight up to the third floor.
Behind the restaurant was a small river, and Richie sat down in a corner. It was right by the window, offering views of the flowing water and passing boats.
He hadn't been sitting long when the bamboo curtain beside him was lifted, and a woman entered, walking straight to Richie. Richie's eyes widened; he couldn't believe that the one who had greeted him was Trisley.
Trisley was now made up, her hair dyed a reddish-brown and cut very short. She used to have long hair, perfectly matching her quiet demeanor, but now, she looked like a tomboy.
To match her current appearance, Trisley had changed into a black, tight-fitting leather outfit.
The women of Omor were already slender and bony, and this outfit accentuated their beautiful curves even more.
"Don't look at me like that, or I'll dig them out!" Trisley snapped.
"How could I dare think that?" Richie raised his hands in surrender.
Trisley wasn't easily fooled, but she didn't want to dwell on the matter any longer.
"How's the situation over there?" Leech asked. Although he had learned something about the Ironblood Legion's camp back in Sky City, he still wanted to hear Trisley's opinion.
"It's bad. The security is far too tight." Trisley sat down, crossed one leg, and rested her chin on her hand, looking out the window. "Even the Valedin aren't allowed in. The only ones who can get in are a bunch of latrine workers."
Although she was reluctant, compared to completing the mission, the stench was nothing.
"Can they sneak in?" Leech asked.
"I'm afraid it's difficult. The latrine is in a corner of the camp, and there's a wall blocking the way. You can't see what's inside, and there are people watching while they're pumping the latrine. They can't do anything fancy." When Trisley said this, it was unclear whether it was regret or relief.
“There are two areas around that camp. One is a warehouse where daily food and supplies are stored, and the other is a garbage dump, which a group of workers cleans up every week,” Trisley explained, further recounting the information she had.
“Can you find the blueprints for the sewer system?” Richie asked.
“I’ve even considered using cesspools, why wouldn’t I think of this?” Trisley scoffed. “The sewer system here isn’t that advanced; it’s all just gutters.”
The mention of the ditch reminded Richie of the one at the street corner—a narrow ditch covered with stone slabs.
"So, sneaking in is simply impossible?" Richie was troubled. Sneaking in would be the best outcome; otherwise, they'd have to use other plans, each one highly dangerous.
"There's an opportunity I wonder if we can use?" Trisley had put in considerable effort for this mission: "There's a railway line leading directly to the camp, and a train goes in every so often."
Richie didn't speak; his intuition told him it wasn't a good idea. This kind of transportation was too restrictive; they could only travel along the tracks.
Seeing Richie's lack of response, Trisley pressed him: "Why don't you think of a way?" "Can you drive that thing?" Richie
asked helplessly. Trisley shrugged. "So even genius girls have things they don't understand," Richie joked. This earned her a glare. Trisley cautiously looked around; the term "genius girl" was far too sensitive. “Even if we intercept the next train, getting into that barracks will still be extremely difficult. Those railways aren't highways; you can't just go wherever you want. I recently studied it and found that the entire railway system is incredibly complex. Every train's departure point and destination are predetermined, and even the travel time won't change much.” Trisley had indeed put in considerable effort. Richie could only listen blankly to Trisley's explanation, unsure of her meaning. Wasn't this her plan? Why was she only talking about the difficulties? Richie didn't really understand trains, which was one of the reasons he instinctively opposed the plan. This thing was created by the Alliance. The Alliance countries are geographically located in the south, with humid and rainy climates, making highway construction and maintenance difficult, so they chose railways. The Alliance countries are mostly in the north, and the three great empires have well-developed road networks, so they didn't value railways. Before the war, Montintok had already started building railways, but those were only experimental. “In any case, this is an opportunity,” Trisley said, changing the subject. Leach could only roll his eyes. A mountain of difficulties lay before him, and he truly couldn't understand why Trisley was so persistent. A year ago, he would have listened to whatever Trisley said, but the situation was completely different now. Leach tried to calculate the probability of success, but his mind went blank. He was utterly inept at devising tactics. However, putting on an act was still necessary; he was genuinely worried that agreeing too quickly would be detrimental to him. Being led by the nose was no fun. The Ironblood Legion's base was located on a place called Mendel's Plateau, with no higher terrain in the surrounding area. This meant that Leach either had to enter the barracks or scout from the air; otherwise, he wouldn't be able to find out what was happening inside. One crucial reason he was entrusted with this mission was that only he could fly to that altitude and observe the barracks from the air. However, this was a last resort; he would never take such a risk unless absolutely necessary. The Alliance has researched several methods for dealing with aerial targets, but it's impossible to deploy them everywhere in a short time. They can only be placed in a few crucial locations, and the Ironblood Legion's base is certainly one of them. Mendel's Plateau is quite large; it's a spindle-shaped platform six kilometers long and three kilometers wide, hundreds of meters high. This place originally grew lush vegetation, but since the Ironblood Legion moved in, all the vegetation has been cleared away—not a single tree, not even a blade of grass. Only a road and a railway track connect this plateau. Looking at the railway track in the distance, Richie shook his head at Trisly. The genius girl bit her lip, looking very unwilling. Retracting his observation scope and removing the telescope, Richie casually picked up a twig and drew a line on the ground, then poked several holes around the line. These were all hidden sentries. All the high ground along the entire railway line was covered with hidden sentries. Anyone appearing within two kilometers of this railway line would definitely be detected. This was far more sophisticated and treacherous than the Varedinians setting up observation posts every few hundred feet along major roads. Leach gestured a series of hand signals to Trisly: "Luckily you were cautious and didn't get too close, otherwise we'd be finished." "I'd already considered that possibility; I didn't need your reminder," Trisly replied, gesturing impatiently. It wasn't just about being cautious; she had to contact the rear daily and consult them on every idea. The enemy had a large number of advisors, so naturally they considered all sorts of possibilities. The two quietly retreated. Varedin was a paradise for scout knights; the dense vegetation provided ample hiding places. Once they were far from the camp, Leach sighed, "Any other ideas?" "I think this road can still be useful, even if it's just to draw attention. A feint attack here will make things much easier for you," Trisly said, not intending to give up completely. "Just the two of us? Do you think you can attract the Ironblood Legion's attention by yourself?" Lich knew Trisly had several people with her—a mob from the Kingdom of Omor planted in Valedin. This mob had been there for over a decade, never used, just in case. However, they were all ordinary agents; even if they were slightly better than average, they wouldn't be of much use in this kind of operation. "I can quickly gather a group..." Trisly decided to reveal her hand. This was a joint operation by the alliance, but Parkinton and Rossotto had never paid attention to Valedin, a small place. Only the Omor Empire had some resources to allocate, and the decision on how many to send rested with Trisly. Back when Valedin accepted Monstok's surrender, the Omor Empire sent a team of infiltrators, and Trisly, as the Omor Empire's representative at the ceremony, was responsible for liaising with this infiltrator unit. After the surrender ceremony, Trisly nominally returned home with the group, but in reality, she remained in Valedin. This infiltrator force was quite strong, originally intended for an attack on the Valedin Palace if necessary, but for this operation, they were indeed qualified to use it. After a fruitless search outside the city, neither Rich nor Trisley were pleased. To maintain secrecy, the two had to circle the city for half a day before entering from another direction. Upon entering, Rich flagged down a rickshaw. He didn't intend to take advantage of Trisley; otherwise, it would arouse suspicion. Trisley always wore makeup when traveling with Rich; she wore a wig and the short jacket and sarong commonly worn by Valedin women. She chattered in Valedin throughout the journey, and Rich occasionally stammered in response. The rickshaw puller didn't find it strange; this was common in Kasmolina. Varedin is a second-tier country within the alliance. Foreigners who come here fall into two categories: those who are high-ranking officials with special privileges, and laborers who don't even receive the same treatment as ordinary citizens. Richie didn't seem like the second type at all. As soon as they got on the bus, Trisley gave them a place name; she lived nearby.

This caution was always necessary; she never took a car directly back to her lodgings, always getting off somewhere nearby and walking back.
Richie didn't live there; he was still in that private club.
Trisly had told the driver the place was a bustling area, passing by the hotel where Trisly was staying. The street was lively, with shops lining the road, their signs haphazardly hanging like plasters.
Suddenly, Richie felt a gaze sweep over him.
It wasn't that no one had noticed him along the way, but this feeling was completely different; this gaze was exceptionally sharp and carried a hint of murderous intent. Before Richie could figure it out, another gaze swept over him, this time from a different direction. In just a short moment, he felt over a dozen gazes, all directed at nearby "high points."
The vast network formed by these "high points" perfectly encompassed the hotel where Trisly was staying.
The rickshaw continued on, turning a corner. Richie could still feel the menacing gazes, several fixed on him.
Fortunately, the place Trisly had mentioned was some distance from her hotel; after two intersections, the gazes gradually disappeared.
The rickshaw slowly came to a stop. Trisly bowed slightly, about to get off, when Richie grabbed her arm and said to the driver, "I... changed my mind. To... the seafood... dock."
The seafood dock was at the other end of Casmolina, almost across half the city.
Trisly looked at Richie, puzzled.
"Your place is surrounded. I wonder if they're after you," Richie transmitted telepathically.
Trisly's expression immediately turned serious. She knew Richie's background, so she trusted his intuition.
The journey to the seafood dock took a full half hour. During that time, Trisly was lost in thought, her mind wandering. Richie wasn't in a good mood either, but compared to Trisley, he was much calmer because he had no connection with Trisley; he had only communicated with her from beginning to end. The
seafood wharf was arguably the busiest and most bustling place in Casmolina, which was why Richie had chosen it.
The roads leading to the wharf were packed with people, making it impossible for rickshaws to squeeze in, so the rickshaw driver had to stop in the square outside.
"I'd like to hire you again. Would you like to wait here?" Richie tossed the driver a medium-denomination bill, enough to cover the rickshaw for the day.
The driver nodded and bowed repeatedly, agreeing immediately. He pushed the rickshaw to the side of the square, took a rag from under the footrest, and began wiping it down.
Seeing this, Richie knew the driver wouldn't leave.
It wasn't that he was interested in the driver, but rather that he was worried the guy might pass by that street again, and if someone lying in wait stopped him for questioning, things could get complicated.
He and Trisly hadn't left many clues, but the sudden change of destination was suspicious in itself. In short, caution was always wise. This
wasn't Richie's first time at the seafood wharf.
It wasn't a large wharf; all the boats docked were small, shaped like pike or willow leaves, with shallow bottoms. The slightly larger ones could seat eight people, but most only four. A unique feature was the small stove mounted on the bow of each boat.
The river itself wasn't large, just one of the larger ones in the crisscrossing network of smaller canals in Casmolina, but it was incredibly lively, practically a floating market.
Many boats were moored in the middle, selling river and seafood, as well as vegetables and various meats. You bought what you wanted and tossed it to the boatwoman to cook.
Richie randomly picked a small boat, but only one of him boarded. Trisly didn't; she was eager to get to the bottom of things.
After parting ways, Trisly took a small detour and emerged from the other side of the seafood wharf to avoid running into the rickshaw driver she had just met.
Once on the main street, she hailed another rickshaw.
She had arrived a week earlier than Richie, and in that week, aside from scouting the area, she hadn't done anything else, so if there was a problem, it certainly wasn't with her.
If it wasn't a coincidence, then there must have been a traitor in her contact network.
Since something was likely wrong, she certainly didn't dare go directly to him. With the rickshaw driver pulling her, Trisly reached the nearest commercial street, where she bought quite a few things from several shops.
In Vareding, labor was cheap, and commercial streets were always lined with porters carrying goods on shoulder poles.
Trisly's large purchases naturally attracted a group of porters. This was exactly what she needed.
After dividing her purchases, she got some papers from a shop assistant, wrote down addresses and recipient names, and had several porters each carry a portion to the destination.
After dismissing the porters, Trisly had the rickshaw puller take her to the entrance of a clothing shop. She went inside and emerged about fifteen minutes later, looking completely different.
This time, she was dressed in men's clothing, her hair parted, with a small mustache, and tinted glasses obscuring her captivating eyes. Her cheekbones and jawline were padded, making her appear masculine.
She hailed another rickshaw, not specifying her destination, but instructing the driver to pull the cart, telling him at intersections whether to go straight or turn.
After about seven or eight blocks, the area ahead suddenly became crowded, with police officers walking around.
Trisly's heart skipped a beat; she knew what was going on there. The people on her route used small businesses as a cover, and that shop ahead was one of their hideouts.
She was using a "test the waters" tactic. Buying those items and having the porters deliver them was a way to see how it would turn out.
The pebble worked, luring out the "wolfhound" hidden in the shadows. Trisley stepped on the pedals twice and shouted to the driver, "Go back and turn right."
Two hours later, Trisley returned to the seafood dock with a serious expression, now dressed as a woman. She
glanced at the river and immediately spotted Richie.
A bamboo pole stood upright on Richie's boat, topped with a small, delicate red lantern. She had hired this boat because it was eye-catching.
The small boat was moored next to a large ship, a multi-story vessel, not exactly ornately decorated, but still exquisitely elegant. The ship had three decks, the bottom two already full of people, the sounds of clinking glasses echoing through the air.
These kinds of floating restaurants were common on this waterway, and they always did good business. After all, the food prepared by the boatwomen was generally not very good, not comparable to that of a real chef, and many of the people who came here didn't care about the price. Of course, many people like Richie also bought their own ingredients and had the chef cook them.
Trisley also called a boat, and after her boat docked at Richie's, she stepped over.
Once on board, she casually pointed to her own boat at the boatwoman.
The boatwoman understood, knowing that the two had something to discuss, and quickly and tactfully went to another boat.
"You certainly know how to enjoy yourself," Trisley said, staring angrily at the pile of clam shells on the table.
"Don't take it out on me if you're in a bad mood." Leach's backbone had hardened considerably; his status had risen, and his thoughts were naturally different from before.
"Did something really happen to you?" He didn't care if the question was idiotic; judging from Trisley's expression, he could guess.
Trisley didn't answer the idiotic question. She stared coldly at Leach, whose hands were greasy, while he was still eating.
"That infiltrator unit won't have any problems, will it?" Leach continued.
"Don't worry about that. There's no connection between the two sides. As long as I'm safe, they're safe." Trisley sighed. She had always maintained a high profile, but this operation was so important that it had created a slight opening. This incident, however, had made her let go of many things.
In an instant, she returned to her previous calm and indifferent demeanor.
"Are you planning to continue this operation?" Trisley looked at Leach.
Leach wasn't as calm as he appeared; he had also been pondering this question.
Deep down, he wanted to end it here, because this operation was far too dangerous. Now that the Omor Empire's covert operations in Kasmolina have been completely exposed, the difficulty of the operation has increased significantly.
But after thinking for a long time, he finally came up with the same saying—when the nest is overturned, no egg remains unbroken.
"How much do those people actually know about this operation?" Lich needed to clarify this first.
Trisly didn't dare answer easily. Although she hadn't mentioned the purpose of this trip to these people, she wasn't sure if she had inadvertently revealed anything. After about five or six minutes, having reviewed everything that had happened recently, she said, "Probably not. When we set up these outposts, we didn't intend for them to collect any intelligence; it was just to coordinate some covert operations. So this time, I didn't ask them to do anything. When I went out to scout the terrain, I didn't tell them where I was going." "
Then what about the intelligence you have?" Lich couldn't help but ask.
"The Alliance has more than just this one group of spies in Kasmolina. Even if I had them help spread some messages twice, I used codes," Trisly said.
Richie wasn't worried about any leaks during the transmission of the message. He had also obtained a code when he left Sky City. Lauralis had told him that this code was specifically prepared for his operation, never used before, and never to be used again. Deciphering it wouldn't be easy. He believed Trisly possessed something similar.
Just then, a commotion arose in the distance.
Both ends of the seafood pier were sealed off by police. There weren't many officers, only about a dozen.
Richie initially thought Trisly had accidentally attracted people, but seeing so few, he felt slightly relieved.
Sure enough, the dozen or so officers dispersed. Except for four who remained to guard each end of the pier, the others began checking identification documents.
Not only were no one on the pier going to escape, but six officers boarded small boats and headed towards them.
Richie glanced at Trisly; her face stiffened. She had identification, and more than one, but all of it was now useless.
The police were probably searching for her everywhere with photocopies of her documents.
Police officers checked boat after boat, and as the figure drew ever closer, Richie's heart pounded.
Just as he was wondering what to do, Trisly suddenly leaned in, carefully peeling an oyster and "gently" bringing it to his lips.
Richie was surprised and looked up at Trisly.
In Trisly's eyes, Richie saw a resolute look, and he immediately understood.
A boat pulled up, and the police on board kept their eyes fixed on Trisly, whether attracted by her beauty or having discovered something, it was unclear.
After a long while, the man turned to Richie, and the hint of lust in his eyes made both Richie and Trisly breathe a sigh of relief.
"Please show me your identification." The policeman didn't dare to be negligent towards Richie in the slightest; Richie's uniform was no mere decoration. The uniforms of the Borencia Park were very similar to those of the Franza Empire, and the Franzas could practically walk sideways in Casmolina; anyone who dared to offend them was doomed.
Richie didn't take out his identification; he simply raised both hands. His hands were greasy, but he was mostly just putting on airs.
Trisly obediently moved closer and pulled the identification from Richie's jacket pocket.
The policeman took the identification and examined it carefully, but he was mostly just going through the motions. This low-ranking officer only knew a little about ordinary identification; he was completely clueless about this kind of "high-class stuff."
He wasn't sure if it was fake, but the texture of the paper and the clarity of the seal made him more convinced it was genuine.
The only thing that made him feel slightly better was that this wasn't an identification from the Franza Empire, but from the Duchy of Berencia. Berencia held a higher position in the alliance than Valedin, but was far inferior to the Franza Empire.
"This identification isn't under my jurisdiction. Please leave it here for now." He didn't dare disrespect Richie, carefully returning the identification before turning to Trisly and extending his hand. "Miss, please show me your identification." "
She doesn't have...identification." Richie craned his neck, using his only clean left pinky to pull out the necklace hanging around his neck.
The pendant swayed, and the policeman's heart rose and fell with it. He was incredibly glad he hadn't said the wrong thing.
As a policeman, he knew what the symbol on the pendant meant—it was both heaven and hell, but for ordinary people like them, it was a legendary place.
He was incredibly surprised, yet also felt a deep sense of regret. He even felt a pang of sadness for Trisly's identity; such a beautiful woman was from that Fang family.
"What...is happening outside?" Richie asked casually.
The policeman wasn't obligated to answer these kinds of questions, but he was too busy currying favor with Richie to care. Unfortunately, he didn't know much: "We don't know what's going on either. We've been told to investigate someone, a woman, supposedly a spy sent by the Alliance."
"Just to catch a…spy, and…it's causing such a fuss?" Richie feigned disbelief.
"It's absolutely true. Kasmolina is completely sealed off now. And it's not just here; several districts are under even tighter checks." The policeman quickly explained.
"The whole city…is under lockdown?" Richie finally showed a hint of surprise. To be honest, he hadn't expected such a commotion. "The streets…are they blocked off too?"
"Yes, yes." The policeman nodded repeatedly.
"How…am I supposed to get back?" Richie was somewhat troubled, and his predicament was genuine.
He knew what a city-wide lockdown meant. Now, if he wanted to go back, he'd be stopped and checked at every intersection.
The policeman pointed to the pendant: "You're going back to this place?"
"Uh-huh." Richie nodded.
"No problem." The policeman felt his chance had come. He had always dreamed of one day going inside that club, but someone like him never even had the chance to get close enough to enter. "I'll make a trip for you and get them to send a car over. The roads are blocked now, but no one there will dare to stop a car, provided you don't head out of town."
Of course, Richie wouldn't refuse such a good deal.
The taste of privilege was indeed delightful.
The policeman left without telling anyone where he was going, only instructing the other officers to take good care of Richie's boat. About 45 minutes later, he returned in a rickshaw, followed by another rickshaw—the one used by the club.
Upon disembarking and getting into the rickshaw, Richie casually tossed over a few banknotes.
"No need, no need, it's what I should do, it's what I should do," the policeman said obsequiously, not even bothering to pick up the money. Frankly, he hoped Richie would remember him. The favor was far more valuable than the money.
Once in the rickshaw, Trisley remained silent until it left the seafood pier and entered the main road, at which point she let out a heavy sigh, a sigh filled with bitterness and resentment.
Richie knew what Trisley was sighing about; he hadn't anticipated things would develop this way.
With a sigh, Trisly seemed to cast aside all hesitation and distractions. She gently lifted her tube skirt and straddled Richie's lap.
She unbuttoned Richie's trousers one button at a time, reaching inside to pull out his large member.
Although it was her first time doing this with a man, Trisly's technique was exceptionally skilled. Her hand moved very gently, her thumb and forefinger pulling back the foreskin. In
just a few strokes, Richie's penis was erect.
Trisly didn't remove her underwear; she simply pulled it aside, revealing her beautiful vulva.
As if to stop her hesitation, as if afraid she might change her mind, she sat down on the enormous member, all the way in.
The tearing pain was nothing compared to the pain in her heart. Trisly wanted to cry, but she couldn't. She could only comfort herself, telling herself that a woman like her would eventually have a man, would eventually have sex with a man, and her family would never allow their bloodline to end with Fu Cheng. "It's not so bad now."
Though she tried to comfort herself, she couldn't stop her tears.
Richie hadn't moved. Although he knew this was going to happen, his mind went blank the moment Triss lifted her skirt.
Unlike others, Triss had always been the embodiment of perfection in his eyes.
But now he finally came to his senses; this embodiment of perfection was now his woman.
Richie gently touched the spot where they were joined, and when he withdrew his hand, he saw a trace of blood on his fingers.
He was the genius girl's first man.
"Is it okay?" Richie wrapped one arm around Triss's slender waist and supported her buttocks with the other.
At this point, what was there to refuse? Triss nodded.
Richie supported Triss's buttocks, lifting her high, then slowly lowering her. His enormous penis was sometimes fully inside, sometimes mostly exposed.
For a virgin, this was definitely a strong stimulation, but to Richie's surprise, Triss didn't seem to care much; she seemed quite used to this feeling.
He was fully aware of the same-sex love between Trisley and Robin. Now it seemed that sex between women could be just as intense; otherwise, how could this woman have such a high tolerance?
The thought of being outdone by Robin made Richie uncomfortable.
He increased the intensity, simultaneously gathering a bit of fighting spirit on his genitals.
Trisley let out a soft moan, but instantly she retaliated.
Richie felt an indescribable pleasure surge from his urethra, traveling up his spine, all the way to the top of his head.
This move was incredibly powerful.
But at the peak of pleasure, he also felt bewildered. Because that move was clearly his own unique technique.
Trisley's divine skill was best at borrowing external power; could she even borrow someone else's power while doing this?
This was truly unbelievable.
Chapter Five: A Twisted Heart.
The sharp needle gently pierced the fair skin, and as the potion was gradually injected, the skin gradually turned reddish. The two petals were a deep, blood-red color. After a moment, with a tremor, a semi-transparent, sticky fluid secreted from the swollen stamen.
The needle was pulled out, but it wasn't over yet; another needle was used, and the syringe was filled with medicine again.
This time, the injection site was lower.
It was the chrysanthemum bud.
When the needle pierced the sphincter, Trisly trembled violently. It was incredibly painful, but she was willing to endure the excruciating pain, because the aftermath would only be worse.
Seven days, only seven days, yet it felt like seven years.
In those seven days, she had become a completely different person.
She was no longer the high and mighty princess, but had utterly become Richie's plaything.
With the last injection, the swollen, slightly purple flower path was once again stretched open, and a thick, fleshy penis was thrust straight in.
This should have been very painful, but she immediately responded as if she had been waiting for a long time. Her movements were large; with each withdrawal, the vaginal walls would fold inside out, and with each insertion, a wave of flesh would surge.
The women of Omor were slender-waisted, and their hips swayed in various patterns during sex, as Trisley proved at this moment, her appearance indescribably frenzied and lewd.
To be honest, Richie was genuinely startled. Trisley's behavior over the past seven days had astonished him.
This woman had given herself to him as a virgin; her panties stained with her virgin blood were now in his hands.
But as a virgin, her sexual skills were no less than those of Lina, the juice-sucking woman. Like all Omor women, Trisley was also adept at hip-shaking; her wild hip movements were absolutely deadly.
Even more impressive was her ability to "use leverage" during sex; forbidden techniques used against women would only result in mutual destruction when applied to her.
Therefore, the only way to subdue this woman was through ordinary means.
However, none of this was the most surprising part.
What was truly shocking was that, besides her lesbian fetish, Trisley had another unusual hobby—she enjoyed being watched during sex.
Right now, the two weren't in a secluded room, but in the courtyard. It was a rather simple yet elegant courtyard, with only a lawn and potted plants dividing it into small sections.
The courtyard was quite large, containing at least forty bamboo couches, each with someone lying on it. Richie and Trisley were lying on one of them.
Trisley's constantly swaying buttocks and her swollen, penetrated vagina were completely exposed to the public eye, but this didn't make her uncomfortable; instead, it aroused her even more.
Richie was somewhat uncomfortable. He was a bit "secluded" and absolutely didn't want to share his woman with anyone, not even just visually.
Not to mention, he sensed the naked desire in many of the gazes directed at him, a desire not just directed at Trisley, but also directed at him directly.
At first, he thought he was mistaken, until a few days ago when a guy actually came up to him and asked if he wanted to be a "special friend," he realized he was also a target.
Terrified, he practically fled.
Fortunately, the club prohibited harassment, so the man was warned, and no one made the same mistake again. However, the club couldn't block people's view.
This annoyed Richie, and he could only vent his frustration on Trisly, since it was Trisly's request to come here.
Suddenly, Trisly's movements became faster and faster, her eyes completely closed, her fair skin turning crimson. With a scream, her body arched violently, and vaginal fluid gushed out.
Richie felt a surge of yin energy enter his body, coursing through him, which felt very good.
This was what made Trisly unique; she emitted a yin energy when she orgasmed, which seemed to be very beneficial to men. Of course, she wasn't entirely without benefit herself; she would naturally absorb a yang energy.
Lich also pretended to reach his climax at the same time, his penis throbbing incessantly, as if injecting something into the beautiful woman's body. After
a long while, both of them went limp.
A moment later, Lich snapped his fingers, and two maids immediately rushed over. They gently pulled Lich's penis out of Trisly's body. One of the maids swiftly inserted two plug-like objects into Trisly's front and back orifices, then secured them with a belt around her waist.
The other maid took Lich's penis and put it in her mouth to lick it. In this place, there was no need to shower afterward; women would naturally clean the customer's body with their mouths.
"Hey, beautiful, your chick is really good," a chubby young man lying on the bamboo mat beside them chuckled, his eyes fixed on Trisly.
This man was one of Lich's "bad influences" here; he was a direct heir to a prestigious family in Varedin.
The world of knights reveres strength, but there are also many spoiled brats who abuse their family background, as it is a world that values bloodlines, and the Valedin Empire is clearly more focused on this aspect.
"Anything new?" Rich asked, his Valedin language becoming increasingly fluent, no longer the awkwardness of the past. "It's so boring not being able to go anywhere these past few days," he complained.
"Yeah, yeah, even if this were paradise, playing this game all the time would be pointless," someone else chimed in.
Most of those who came here shared similar tastes and knew each other's status was high, so no one dared to be particularly arrogant, and over time they naturally became friends.
"The checks on the streets are over, but getting in and out of the city is still quite troublesome," the chubby boy said.
"What's there to do in the city? It's just a tiny, crappy place,"
a chorus of voices echoed. For these spoiled brats, there really wasn't much to do in the city; they preferred horseback riding, boat racing, mountain climbing, and hunting. Although they were spoiled brats, most of them were knights, with inexhaustible energy.
"Has anyone seen Hauge lately? Where we want to go is just a matter of a word from him!" someone shouted.
"What's going on this time? Why is it so tightly sealed off?" Richie displayed the curiosity expected of a foreigner.
"I heard a big fish has slipped away. But the military intelligence is tight-lipped; even I don't know what kind of big fish it is," said a thin, rather handsome man.
Seeing this man pick up on his topic, Richie couldn't help but shudder. This was the same guy who had "harassed" him a few days ago.
"In such a long time, the fish must have vanished without a trace," the chubby man complained.
"It's not about that fish; it seems something else has happened. Several special vehicles have been dispatched in the last few days; it seems some army is being mobilized." The man who gave Richie the creeps had exceptionally sharp senses, though he was unaware that a spy was right beside him.
His casual remark caught Richie's attention.
If any army was most likely to be transferred, it would undoubtedly be the Ironblood Legion. From the previous conversation, it was clear the Alliance knew Trisly's identity and deduced that her infiltration of Casmolina was aimed at the Ironblood Legion.
Transferring the Ironblood Legion was a prudent move. Furthermore, with Valedin's army already deployed to the eastern front, the initial purpose of placing the Ironblood Legion here had been achieved, making their continued presence unnecessary.
A thought struck Richie; this was an opportunity.
The barracks were heavily guarded, making infiltration impossible, but the mobilization process wouldn't be as tight.
A long line of rickshaws traveled along the streets of Casmolina. For these restless young men, even if they couldn't leave the city, a stroll around was welcome.
No one knew who initially proposed it, but Richie certainly played a role in pushing it forward.
What happened inside the rickshaws is unnecessary to elaborate on; Richie, for one, never left Trisly's side.
Their destination was a newly opened museum, or more precisely, a war trophy exhibition, displaying mostly items looted from Montstoker—antiques, works of art, but mostly pure gold and silver jewelry. For these privileged individuals, any exhibit they fancied could be purchased directly.
It wasn't until they got off the vehicle that Richie reluctantly withdrew from Trisly's body. Although he was no longer short of women, having even slept with a descendant of one of the Four Emperors, the Shadow King, Trisly held a special place in his heart.
He had many mentors: Miss Dinah was his first, Lina was his most helpful mentor, and Trisly was the one who guided him to a higher level.
Another attraction was that although Trisly had given him her body and allowed him to defile her, her heart did not belong to him.
The more unattainable something is, the more precious it seems; the same was true for Vilia, and his treatment of Vilia was no different.
However, there's a slight difference between the two. Vilia's heart belongs to her husband, and he grants her body "priority access." This greatly displeases him, so he harbors a destructive desire for Vilia. He doesn't want to destroy her body, but rather her will. Vilia has been gradually turned into a sex slave and a beautiful dog, completely subservient to him, devoid of any dignity.
Trisly's heart, however, belongs to another woman.
Richie has a double standard regarding homosexuality; he absolutely cannot tolerate male homosexuality, but female homosexuality is acceptable.
Upon getting off the car, the group each embraced their women and walked inside. Tickets were required to enter the exhibition hall, but for them, that wasn't the case.
Except for Richie, no one knew that the instant they passed the entrance, Trisly flicked a clump of mud, which stuck to the edge of the advertising board.
The location was inconspicuous and slightly elevated, out of reach of most people.
Richie had been furious when he learned that Trisly and the infiltrators were using this exhibition hall as a relay point for orders.
This really hurt his feelings as a Monstoke native.
However, it must be admitted that this place is very safe. It's a public place, there are many people, and most importantly, no pedestrians would think that Alliance spies would come here. After all, what's inside is a disgrace to the Alliance.
Richie Trisley was initially worried that the infiltrator unit might have been withdrawn by their superiors due to the long period of lost contact.
Fortunately, when they came out, the two saw that the clump of mud had disappeared, and there was a petal in the corner of the wall.
"Where to next?" the chubby boy suddenly asked. Since he had finally come out, he naturally wanted to have a good time.
The others offered suggestions, but none of them seemed very good. After all, for these people, there was nothing left to do in Casamolina.
Seeing that everyone was arguing, Richie pointed to a small dot in the sky and said, "Can we go up there?!"
"You want to go up the reconnaissance balloon? What's fun up there?" the chubby boy asked dismissively.
"Have you ever been up there?" Richie asked.
"No." The chubby boy had to admit that he had never been up there.
"How do you know it's not fun if you haven't been up there?" Richie continued to ask.
Everyone thought for a moment and unanimously agreed. For these guys who had explored the entire city, even if it wasn't fun, the mere fact that they hadn't tried it was enough to attract them.
Kasmolina had quite a few of these reconnaissance balloons, all deployed on the city's outskirts.
Seven days ago, these things weren't there; their appearance was largely due to Trisley's escape. Although some speculated that Trisley infiltrated Kasmolina for the Ironblood Legion, there were many other theories, from assassinating Emperor Valedin to creating terrorist incidents, and even some bizarre speculations, such as Valedin intending to sign a secret agreement with the Alliance… In response to these speculations, the Empire's reaction had to be somewhat drastic, so Kasmolina remained sealed off, and these things were erected all around.
Reconnaissance balloons weren't new; they had existed before, but after Richie created the flying armor, they suddenly gained importance.
Looking up from below, it's just a small black dot, but it's actually quite large. Each reconnaissance balloon rests on a plaza, its main cable anchored to a base with a ten-meter radius. This base also functions as a giant winch, though none of the balloons have landed in the past seven days.
Next to this massive winch is a smaller one—but "small" is relative; turning it requires at least four people working together. This winch is connected to an elevator.
Besides the main cable, there are three other cables used to secure the balloons. These things sway wildly in the wind, so they can't function without the cables.
It must be admitted that these spoiled brats are quite strong. Such important military facilities shouldn't be accessed casually, but that guy who made Richie uncomfortable somehow managed to get them up there.
The first one to go up was the chubby guy, but he came down halfway because the elevator was too slow. As soon as he got off, he complained, "It's boring, boring! At first it was interesting, but after a while it's just the same old thing. And it's quite cold up there."
Everyone else gave up, but Richie insisted on going up.
The elevator was indeed very slow, but he wasn't in a hurry. As it gradually rose, the people on the ground became smaller and smaller.
It wasn't his first time looking down from such a height, but this time the feeling was completely different. He
wasn't up there to see the scenery; Richie hadn't forgotten his mission. He gently patted Trisly's buttocks.
Trisly obediently leaned against the elevator railing, her buttocks raised high. Her pants were specially made, with two holes at the bottom, the openings sealed with soft leather rings to prevent spills during sex.
Richie pulled out his penis and thrust it in.
Trisly swayed her hips gently in response.
The elevator was cramped, and the movement of the two men immediately revealed the anomaly. The basket swayed, and the main cable vibrated rhythmically.
"Damn, so that's how it is. This is quite novel. If I had known, I would have done the same." The fat man was filled with regret. He felt like he had a pig's brain; the elevator was so slow, yet he hadn't thought to find something to do.
What embarrassed him even more was that they, the veterans, were no match for a fledgling who had just started playing and hadn't even grown its feathers yet.
He wasn't the only one thinking this; the group of spoiled brats were all ashamed, yet their eyes gleamed.
"I can't wait any longer, Ronnie. Can you do me a favor and let me know? I'm going up to the observation balloon over there." Someone below immediately came up with a clever idea.
Ronnie was the guy who made Leach feel very uncomfortable. He shook his head repeatedly and said, "That won't do. The higher-ups are worried about this. It's fine to play around, but if things get out of hand, even my old man can't handle it." He pointed to the people around him: "We have more than a dozen people. If I help you, what will happen when others beg me?"
Hearing this, some people felt disheartened, while others had a sudden idea: "How many people are up there?"
Ronnie, of course, didn't know. He beckoned the officer in charge of the area: "How many people are up there now?"
"Five. There's a scout knight in each of the four directions, plus a telepath. If we want to go up, we can send four more people up." The officer answered respectfully.
"Four people?" Ronnie pointed at Leach: "Does that include the two of them?"
"No." The group of spoiled brats were overjoyed. Ronnie waved his hand and said, "Tell your men to come down."
How could the officer dare to offend these people? He also knew that his superiors had already agreed to let them mess around. Anyway, there were so many scout balloons; they definitely wouldn't miss one more.
The entire exchange in the square reached Richie's ears, and a smile crept onto his lips.
Everything was exactly as he had anticipated; his goal was to relocate everyone on those balloons.
Looking at the enormous balloon overhead, Richie felt a surge of unease. This thing was highly flammable and explosive, which was why balloons, though long-standing, had never been used on a large scale.
Besides this dangerous contraption, there was only the glass capsule he was standing in. It was a capsule shaped like a large cauldron, constructed of metal frames and glass. He dared not exert too much force, lest he break the glass beneath his feet.
Although Varedin was in the south, and it was summer, it still felt rather chilly at this altitude. Unfortunately, even in the cold, they had to get to work. Richie began to unbuckle his belt, and Trisley, understanding the situation, began to undress.
In just a few moments, they were both naked. Trisley sprawled on the ground, her chest pressed tightly against the glass floor. Her legs were spread wide, revealing her most exquisite feature.
She was now over two thousand feet above the sky, below a glass wall, and below that, a metropolis of over two million people.
Anyone with a high-powered telescope could see every part of Trisly's body clearly, even down to the finest detail of her most alluring features.
The only cover Trisly wore was a purple headscarf, which concealed her face and hair, yet remained subtly alluring, creating an indescribable temptation.
Others might not see this scene, but the group in the plaza below saw it all clearly. These guys were used to watching others have sex, and they'd seen far more lewd scenes than this, but at this moment, they all felt their blood boiling, and some even howled like wolves.
"This...this is fucking ingenious! How come we didn't think of that?"
"We have to get the club to get something like this when we get back.
" "We used to argue endlessly about who was the most lewd person, but now there's no need to argue. If this guy is second, who dares to claim first? I remember this guy was a virgin just a few days ago, and when he first took his clothes off in front of us, his face turned as red as a monkey's butt."
"That's talent. No wonder my old man said that perseverance and hard work can't compare to talent. Talent is always the most important thing, no matter what it is."
The group of lecherous men below were extremely excited, but they couldn't do anything because the elevator was slowly descending, and there were still five people on it.
One of the guys yelled and ran off, leaving the others bewildered. Then he returned, this
time with a high-powered pair of binoculars. The others immediately realized what was happening and frantically searched for binoculars, but unfortunately, the squad stationed there only had one officer and that was all they had. They had to run further afield to find another pair.
Meanwhile, Trisly felt a surge of heat coursing through her body. The extreme humiliation and desperate thoughts of the past few days had twisted her personality. For some reason, she could derive pleasure from the humiliation—a pleasure even more intense than sex.
Before, the men's gazes sweeping over her, especially fixed on her most private parts, watching as Richie's ugly, monstrous member forced its way through, had already provided intense pleasure. But now, just thinking about the two million people below her made her feel like her body was melting.
Just then, Trisley felt a hot, throbbing penis forcefully push open her vaginal canal. The pain was mixed with an endless, wonderful sensation, making her tremble all over.
Leech pushed and pulled gently, much more tenderly than usual. He dared not use too much force, afraid of breaking the glass below. He didn't have a hang glider now; a fall would be fatal.
Besides, what was arousing him now wasn't the pleasure of sex, but the thrill of having intercourse in broad daylight, in front of two million people. Not to mention that there were other purposes hidden behind this extreme debauchery.
Leech's face was also covered.
To others, this would seem perfectly normal; doing such a crazy thing was for the thrill, not to create a scandal.
But in reality, the covering on his head concealed a periscope, the other end of which was connected to two long telescopes beside him.
The balloon carried four such long telescopes, each over a foot long with a large, bowl-shaped tip. Their magnification was an astonishing four hundred times, enough to see the nose hairs of a person standing on the horizon or the mottled craters on the moon.
These long telescopes were for the scouts stationed on the balloons, used to monitor everything below. However, at this moment, one telescope was pointed directly at the distant Mendel's Plateau.
Mendel's Plateau was higher than any surrounding terrain, so normally there was no need to worry about being spied on, but these scout balloons were an exception.
The Franza people would never normally allow anything higher than Mendel's Plateau, but this incident had indeed made them uneasy. Furthermore, they planned to withdraw, so they tacitly approved of the scout balloons.
Through the telescope, everything on the plateau was clearly visible.
The Franza people were very cautious; they not only built their barracks on the plateau but also their military quarters on its edge, effectively adding another layer of defense. If the scout balloons hadn't been so much higher than the plateau, they probably wouldn't have been able to see what was inside.
The platform was bustling with activity; the Franza people were moving goods, clearly preparing to retreat.
Below the platform was a station, and goods were being unloaded from cranes at the edge of the platform onto trains. Among the unloaded cargo were, as expected, suits of armor.
The types of armor were somewhat mixed, including older "Dancer" suits, but mostly "Cube" suits. What truly intrigued Leach was a suit of armor he had never seen before.
Judging from its appearance, it was a light suit of armor, likely the mysterious suit that Annelia had worried about.
After examining it closely for a moment, he felt that this suit of armor resembled "Dragon" in many ways.
This was understandable; "Dragon's" structure was near perfect, making it ideal for mass production during wartime, and such perfect designs were easily copied.
This suit of armor also consisted of many identical parts, mostly stamped from flat plates, possessing all the advantages of "Dragon."
However, Leach was absolutely certain that this was not the rumored replica of "Dragon" created by Boronov, because he had already seen those replicas.
Unfortunately, all the armors were stationary, and their performance couldn't be determined by their appearance alone.
Had this trip been a waste?
Just as Leach was feeling disappointed, he suddenly saw something familiar.
Beside a crane, two knights were carrying a flat wooden box, about to hook it onto the crane hook.
The box was seven or eight feet long, five or six feet wide, but only about the width of a hand.
Although the box wasn't open, Leach already guessed what was inside. Apart from the wings, no other component would look like this after assembly.
Leach quickly looked at the light armor again, secretly adjusting the binoculars to the maximum magnification.
At maximum magnification, he could even see every rivet on the armor.
If he hadn't seen the box, he might not have suspected anything, but now he suspected that this so-called new armor was just an empty shell.
Based on the size of the wings, they could only support a weight of five or six hundred kilograms at most, while the light armor, even without the external armor plates, weighed over a ton, not counting weapons and shields.
The only way to fly is with an ultralight armor, and there happens to be such a mature ultralight armor in the world: the "Yaksha."
Leach meticulously searched every inch.
He had to admit, this armor was indeed very deceptive. It was indeed an armor; it should be able to run, jump, and even perform complex movements.
Leach was observing with a purpose, so details he hadn't noticed at first were now all coming into focus.
Part of the armor's transmission mechanism was exposed, generally a sign of immense power output—Hercules had this design, and "Ming Wang" was even more so.
But now he suspected that this exposed part might be the armor's true transmission system, with an empty shell inside.
With Boronov's intellect, designing such an armor would only take two or three days; performance wasn't a concern for this type of armor anyway.
The more he doubted, the more clues he noticed.
He noticed that the armor's arrangement was somewhat unusual; a line was faintly visible along the side of the body. If this line loosened, the entire suit of armor would split into two parts, front and back.
Any armor maker would avoid such a design as much as possible. A good suit of armor must have overlapping armor plates that are structurally interlocked to ensure its invulnerability.
Boronov, of course, wouldn't leave any obvious flaws. In fact, he concealed the line quite well; it wasn't straight, but rather winding and twisting, with many parts deliberately covered up.
If another armor maker saw these designs and knew their designer was Boronov, they would first consider the advantages of the design, rather than questioning its function.
If they thought that way, they would find reasonable explanations for all these designs, some even quite ingenious. Leach, however
, was an exception.
His foundation was weak; he couldn't see the subtleties of those details at all. More importantly, he didn't idolize any armor maker, even if that person was a master craftsman.
The telescope's focus shifted, and Leach began gathering other clues.
He only had guesses at the moment.
Clues were actually easy to find; it was just a matter of whether the line of reasoning was correct. Previously, Leach had only seen an ordinary barracks, but now he saw many things.
For example, the cranes.
There seemed to be more cranes than usual, and on the other side, the side without the station, there was also a row of cranes, and the number was exactly the same.
He hadn't noticed anything amiss before, but now he did. At the same time, a possibility crossed his mind: if two cranes were suspended by a steel cable, a person could be suspended below to simulate flight.
Adjusting his observation point to the ground, although a layer of fresh soil had been added, faint traces were still visible—sure enough, people frequently ran between the two rows of cranes.
An image flashed through Richie's mind: a Yaksha suspended from a steel cable, pulled by a rope, the other end of which was dragged by a suit of armor. As the armor raced, the Yaksha swayed and slid… Flying by being dragged by a rope was definitely a clumsy method, but he had used it before, and it had proven effective.
This clumsy method wouldn't allow for high altitudes, but it could cover long distances and overcome most terrain obstacles.
Then there was the role of the Ironblood Legion.
Replacing the light armor with Yakshas, while significantly reducing combat effectiveness, would make the Ironblood Legion, already primarily focused on suicidal attacks, faster and more agile.
Leach broke out in a cold sweat, his previously erect penis almost shrinking. After creating "Ming Wang," he thought he could rest easy, but now his opponent had upgraded, and everything was back to square one.
Trisly sensed Leach's change. She propped herself up slightly and turned to ask softly, "What did you see?"
She was using telepathy, so there was no need to worry about being discovered. All the scout knights were on the elevator, which was sealed, and those below couldn't possibly hear anything.
"I'm not entirely sure, it's just a guess." Leach hesitated for a moment, but then he thought that this news had to spread no matter what: "That armor might just be an empty shell, with a Yaksha inside. The Franzas might want to give the Ironblood Legion the ability to fly."
Trisly gasped; she was genuinely frightened.
She understood suicidal fighting spirit better than Leach, and her understanding of strategy and tactics was far superior to Leach's half-baked knowledge.
The most terrifying aspect of suicidal aura is its ghostly speed, but it also has a drawback: its duration is very short. Therefore, the Franza people use the Ironblood Legion either for surprise attacks or as a decisive blow in chaotic battles.
But now, this venomous dragon, once it sprouts wings, will become even more unpredictable and powerful, with more tactics available. Even more terrifying is that it will be a hundred times harder to defend against in the future.
"Are you sure?" Trisley asked sharply.
This was no joke; Richie felt unsure, and the words stuck in his throat.
"Never mind, I'll have someone confirm it," Trisley said, not pressing Richie further.
She had initially hesitated slightly about using the infiltrator unit, but now she had no hesitation whatsoever.
The elevator slowly descended and then slowly ascended again, taking over an hour before four of the group below finally came up with their respective women.
The group had already started their activities inside the elevator, and once they reached the top, they each occupied a prominent position.
They were already prepared down there, wearing masks they'd bought from who-knows-where, looking like they were at a masquerade ball.
"Little Billy, your brain is truly speechless."
"Can't you come up with something new?"
"Yeah, yeah, we're tired of the same old tricks."
These guys, their minds filled with semen, were having sex with their women, their mouths never stopping.
Richie was thinking about how to leave the city, though it wouldn't be difficult for him. He hadn't been watching for nothing; he'd noticed every loophole in the security perimeter around Casmolina. He was confident he could leave quietly with Trisley. But it would be even better if these guys were willing to help.
As for trying something new, Richie's mind worked quickly.
When it came to playing games, these knights were no match for him. Back in school, he and his classmates were always coming up with new games.
"How about we go hunting?" Richie asked.
The men, who had been listening intently, lost interest immediately upon hearing this suggestion.
"This is boring, we're already tired of it," the chubby boy exclaimed.
The others chimed in, urging Richie to come up with another game.
"The hunting I'm talking about isn't what you think," Richie said nonchalantly, slapping Trisly's bottom. "This is the prey. We let it run first, then chase it after it in fifteen minutes. Whoever catches it gets to 'kill' it." "
What if we don't catch it?" the chubby boy asked, intrigued.
"If we don't catch it, we don't catch it. At most, we'll raise money to pay the club, consider it a ransom for the prey. Once we catch it again, it's ours. You don't care about the money, do you?"
Richie knew very well that women meant nothing to the club, and these men weren't just customers; some were even directors.
"What if several people catch the same prey at the same time?" another guy asked, his tone lewd and even more so.
"In that case, you can only say that the prey was incredibly unlucky," Richie said, unconcerned with his crude remark. The others immediately burst into knowing laughter.
(To be continued in Knight's Bloodline 21)
Richie and Trisley successfully persuaded the group to go to his destination for a "hunt," completing the final step of their infiltration plan…
The two successfully brought back the secret of the "Grey Feather." During their dual cultivation with Trisley, Richie's "Vajra" reached the fourth level, and Trisley also broke through her bottleneck, discovering another mystery of the "Heaven and Earth Annihilation"...

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Knight's Bloodline Episode 20, Parts 4-5

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