[Fantasy] The Slave Wife Wants to Turn the Tables (Complete) - 4

Chapter 23 Discovery? Capture (Part 3)

Luo Zhu stumbled along, roughly pushed and yelled at by two burly men in leather armor as if they were livestock.

Along the way, a group of men in similar leather armor passed by frequently, and occasionally a troop of cavalry swept by, their horses also clad in leather armor, their ranks imposing and their killing intent palpable. There was no doubt; the army that attacked the village was indeed a battle-hardened force.

The village's strong yaks and dairy goats were brought out, their possessions were looted, and many hiding villagers were found. She then discovered that there were more than one Tibetan mastiff; almost every group of leather-armored soldiers had one. Although their coats varied in color, each one was tall, strong, and fierce, capable of fighting wolves and tigers. She

could no longer scream; even crying had become incredibly difficult. What fate awaited her ahead, she didn't know, but one thing was certain: it would not be a life of luxury and ease. Her only gratitude was that the broadsword hadn't severed her neck, and the mastiff hadn't bitten through her throat; her small but precious life had been temporarily saved.

A king? From which king? The history of this high plateau she inhabited had undergone too many changes, perhaps even altering the course of history in the Central Plains. For her, who barely understood history and could foresee danger, this was nothing short of a catastrophe. The peaceful village where she had lived for half a year was gone, and the man who had vowed to give her happiness was missing. In this chaotic world where the strong prey on the weak, how difficult it was for a weak and ordinary foreign woman to survive.

After wandering around, she returned to the large open space in front of Zaxi's house. The prayer flags still fluttered in the wind, the extinguished campfire had been relit, and the messy low table and food had been swept to the side. Hundreds of yaks and goats were driven to a distant grassland, guarded by several leather-armored soldiers wielding spears and a dozen or so Tibetan mastiffs.

Many villagers were held captive in the open grassland, with a circle of cavalrymen holding spears standing every few dozen paces around the outermost edge. In front of the cavalrymen were a circle of leather-armored soldiers with large swords at their waists, each one fierce and menacing, exuding a chilling aura. There were about a hundred people in total.

"Go in!"

Before she could take a closer look, she was suddenly shoved hard from behind. Losing her balance, she fell awkwardly to the grass again. A sharp pain shot through the edge of her left palm, and a bright red liquid quickly oozed out; it had been scraped by a rough stone hidden in the grass.

The people around her huddled in silent fear, their half-closed eyes filled with horrified despair. A blankness and sorrow permeated their faces, revealing not a trace of vitality. No one glanced at her as she suddenly intruded, no one offered a helping hand, or a whispered word of comfort. They were all immersed in the shadow of death, immersed in the fear of their tragic future.

Luo Zhu, enduring the pain, slowly moved her body, silently crouching and curling up into a ball, secretly wiping her face even dirtier with her muddy hands. She didn't need to demand kindness or selflessness from others, nor did she need to crave warm assistance; she was, in fact, just as selfish, cowardly, desperate, and trembling. Now, she had no extra energy to think about whether the Zaxi family, hiding in the cellar, would be discovered, to worry about Zaxi Langcuo's life or death, or to search for Gesang Zhuoma. Only one thought swirled in her mind: how to escape the threat of death and live a good life.

She arrived late and, unfortunately, was placed in the most dangerous first row, on the left. Her hat had been accidentally lost when she hit the wall, and a dozen or so thick, black braids hung down, half-concealing her forehead and cheeks, giving her a self-deceptive sense of security. She hugged her knees tightly, peeking around through the gaps in her braids.

In the middle of the open space, where she stood, were middle-aged and young women being held captive. To her right were the elderly and children. Dozens of children huddled around a dozen or so elderly people, their innocent faces devoid of their usual liveliness and radiance, their clear eyes filled with terrified bewilderment. There… was no Tashi Azu or the three little Tashi boys among them.

Leather-armored soldiers patrolled among the prisoners with long black whips. Whenever a slight sob or commotion arose, the whip would crack down sharply, accompanied by suppressed screams and the soldiers' stern shouts.

Seven or eight meters ahead, three people on horseback stood out. In the center, a white horse with an ochre-yellow brocade saddle adorned with lotus patterns sat a middle-aged monk in a purple-red robe and a red cap. On either side stood a brown horse, its back saddled with soft leather upholstery inlaid with dark blue brocade. Seated on these horses were two young men clad in thousand-layered iron armor. Their helmets, besides having ox tails inserted into them, also had malachite inlaid on the foreheads. The scabbards of their large swords at their waists were also inlaid with silver and stones. The two men were robust and burly, with dark red faces and deep, hard features. Their fierce and murderous aura far surpassed that of the leather-armored soldiers, clearly indicating they were high-ranking generals.

"Commander Gongga, when will the King return?" the middle-aged monk asked politely, hands clasped together, to the armored man on the left.

The man called Commander Gongga had a more rugged face than the armored man on the right, and his helmet had an extra malachite inlay. Upon hearing the question, his sharp gaze shifted from the eastern hilltop to the monk, and he grinned, revealing a set of pearly white teeth.

“The king will return once he has had his fill of hunting. Rest assured, Master, the king will offer the finest sacrifices to the Dharma King.”

The monk who had asked the question smiled, nodded, and said no more, gazing eastward with the two horse leaders. He was Khenpo Chokyi Gyaltsen, in charge of the Dharma King's various sacrificial activities. To botch things and displease the Dharma King would be a grave offense.

Suddenly, a large, dark mass of figures leaped from the distant eastern mountains, followed by the clatter of hooves. Initially like muffled thunder, it quickly grew like the beating of hundreds of large drums, each sound shaking the heart and testing the mind.

Luo Zhu cautiously looked in the direction of the sound, her heart sinking. A fierce cavalry force of over a thousand men was galloping from the eastern mountains! Wasn't the east the direction the men of Namtso village had headed for the battlefield? Could it be that Tashi Langtso and the others had already…? She bit her lower lip hard, swallowing back the sob that rose in her throat. She buried her head in her knees, letting tears stream down her face, soaking her filthy knees. She felt as if her heart and all her dreams had been shattered by the thunderous hoofbeats.

She had only developed a liking for Tashi Langtso, not yet in love, but he was the only man in twenty years who had given her love unconditionally. How could she not be heartbroken if he died? Six months of tender care, several nights of intimate intimacy, and countless sincere vows flooded her mind, turning into a torrent of tears.

Time seemed to stretch on endlessly, yet also felt like a fleeting moment. The rapid hoofbeats grew louder, then quieter, until finally they stopped.

Heavy footsteps passed by on her left, followed by the shouts of soldiers, the cracking of whips, painful groans, and the thud of heavy objects hitting the ground. Luo Zhu glanced sideways, her vision blurred, and saw that the empty space to her left had been filled with hundreds of young men. Their arms were bound behind their backs with hemp rope. Most of the men wore simple leather armor, and some had mottled dark red bloodstains on their robes, foreheads, and bodies.

The tears that had been flowing gradually stopped. She wiped her eyes vigorously with her sleeve, her sharp eyes spotting dozens of men from Namtso village, but even more men from other villages she had never seen before.

Nothing! Nothing! She didn't see the face of any of the men from Tashi's family! Had Tashi Langtso and the others… died in battle? Or… escaped? Or were they hidden among the prisoners and hadn't been seen by her? Her sorrowful and desperate heart began to pound again, a glimmer of hope appearing. She moved her body little by little, subtly hiding half her body behind the woman on her right, searching even more diligently.

"Your Majesty, was the hunt enjoyable?"

In her hazy search, she heard a man respectfully ask from directly in front of her.

"Hmph, as these women say, the two lords are fighting with their respective armies and civilians in the mountain hollow east of the valley." The responding male voice was deep and resonant, with a slight magnetism, and an indescribable cold indifference beneath its slightly smiling tone. "Besides the sacrifices, they also brought back some prisoners. One could say it wasn't too boring."

Chapter 024 A King Like a "Beast"

?!

That deep, resonant voice, like the suppressed howl of a Tibetan mastiff, both smiling and coldly indifferent, was the response of the supreme commander of this cavalry army—a king?! Was it he who led his troops to plunder the fiercely fighting Tashi Langtso and his men, and was it he who commanded his subordinates to attack Namya Village from the rear?

Many of the women, children, and elderly people piled up on the empty grassland were not from Namya Village, enough to show that this army had attacked more than just Namya Village.

Looting, abducting women, capturing the elderly and children, and killing young men—how was such behavior any different from the heinous bandits of ancient times? Could this king be a bandit king who ruled the mountains and became an outlaw?! But could a bandit leader possess and build such a fierce, imposing, and disciplined thousand-strong cavalry?

Although the sound of hooves had stopped, the chilling and murderous aura of the Zhou Dynasty was a hundred times stronger than before. She dared not turn her head to look around, only able to glean glimpses from the corner of her eye to deduce that the cavalry she had seen in the distance had likely surrounded the area completely. Not even a fly could escape, let alone a person.

A cold sweat broke out again, soaking her cotton undergarments. Her heart pounded wildly and tightly. Every cell in her body swelled with fear. Her eyes, stinging and sore from crying, futilely withdrew their gaze from searching for Tashi Langtso, cautiously peering through the gaps in her braids towards the front. She wanted to see just how monstrous the king was, capable of such a hateful and terrifying act of banditry.

There were no more horse legs in sight. First, she saw a pair of flat black leather boots embroidered with golden lions and swastikas. The boots, reaching to the knees, had two rows of silver rivets fastened to the sides, and the edges were inlaid with a row of gold-threaded turquoise. Bloodstains dotted the snow-white trousers tucked over the boots, and a crimson leather robe concealed a black, willow-leaf-shaped iron armor, its dark gleam chilling and thick with the stench of blood.

Moving upwards, her gaze settled on the large sword slung diagonally at the left side of the armor's waist. The gilded scabbard was entwined with several raised sixteen-petaled gilded lotus flowers, each exquisitely crafted, with a lifelike greyish-white human skull at its center. Each skull's eye was inlaid with sapphires, reflecting a ghostly brilliance in the sunlight, exuding a mysterious and eerie aura within its understated luxury, seemingly radiating a demonic killing intent capable of cleaving the heavens and earth and devouring souls.

Luo Zhu didn't know why she was looking at a sword so clearly, so intently. It was as if some terrifying force was drawing her gaze, preventing her from looking away. She could only stare fixedly at the sword, as if trying to see into the hidden, bloody blade, into the dark universe deep within the skull's sapphire eyes.

"Bring up the offerings," a male voice, seemingly belonging to the bandit king, said indifferently.

"Yes, Your Majesty,"

came the respectful reply, followed by a cold, stern command and a chorus of heavy, chaotic footsteps.

"I'll fight you to the death!"

Suddenly, a bloodcurdling roar shattered the heavens, jolting Luo Zhu from her descent into madness. Instinctively, she looked up abruptly and witnessed a terrifying scene that would never be erased from her mind.

A burly young man in leather armor, his arms bound behind his back, charged headlong at the willow-leaf-shaped iron-armored man in the center like a wounded lion. But the iron-armored man neither dodged nor yielded, merely flicking his left arm lightly, as lightly as swatting away a fly, as gently as brushing aside a willow branch—

a head the size of a bucket flew high into the air, a proud body collapsed, and a spray of crimson blood gushed out like a fountain.

"Roar—"

Accompanied by a joyful and excited howl, a lithe and elegant figure leaped high into the air, snatching the falling head in its mouth before quickly turning back to its original position, enjoying it like a delicious ball of flesh.

"Roar—Roar—"

Several more joyful and excited howls followed, and the headless body on the ground was surrounded by several charging beasts. Instantly, the sounds of cheerful, low howls, tearing flesh, and chewing filled the air.

The one biting the head was a powerful snow leopard; the ones tearing at the corpse were an equally powerful snow leopard and three enormous, silver-gray Tibetan mastiffs, each resembling a Tibetan donkey. A huge, dark brown shadow howled mournfully as it swooped down from the sky, snatched a piece of flesh, and flew to a distant rooftop. On that rooftop, rows and rows of sinister and arrogant black figures stood. Still using their hands? How could it be so pleasurable? Forum reputation guaranteed! High-grade silicone video, Fan Bingbing's lower body, realistically molded, highly realistic vulva shape, soft and delicate skin! Built-in large particle protrusions, close to the female physiological structure, experience a more realistic feeling... rhythmic and irresistible! Click to enter.

On the vast open grassland, nearly a thousand prisoners who were fortunate enough to witness this scene fell into a deathly silence. Suppressed sobs and painful groans all disappeared the moment the head flew off.

What kind of powerful force could send a strong man's head flying with a light swing? What kind of cruel and ruthless heart could commit such a horrific act of taking a life and destroying a corpse?

Luo Zhu now realized that when a person's terror reaches its peak, they cannot scream. At this moment, her mouth was wide open, but her tender throat was stiff and could not tremble. Her eyes bulged painfully, but she could not blink. She could only stare at the horrifying scene in front of her, forced to imprint this scene deeply into her mind.

Bloody carcasses, stark white bones, snow leopards and Tibetan mastiffs feasting on the carcasses, and vultures scavenging flesh—all these challenged the limits of her nerves, a woman who had just crossed over from a peaceful land. But these weren't the most terrifying things. The most chilling sight was the man who had casually swung his left arm. His

over two-meter-tall, armored body appeared far more imposing and powerful than that of ordinary highland men. His skin was a deep bronze, tinged with the reddish-brown hue characteristic of the plateau. His slightly narrow face was sharply defined, and beneath thick, dark eyebrows were a pair of slightly sunken, piercing brown eyes, exuding a cold and ruthless aura. His nose was slightly upturned, its bridge high and straight, as if carved by a knife. His lips were clearly defined; the full lips didn't exude allure, but rather a domineering and ruthless sharpness. A distinct concave curve in the center of his strong chin added to his masculine strength.

He wasn't wearing a hat; his slightly wavy, dark brown hair was disheveled and draped over his shoulders, but the sides were braided into several thin braids like a woman's, adorned with exquisite silver skull rings inlaid with sapphires. Unlike the large earrings worn by typical highland men, his left ear was adorned with a precious ruby the size of a broad bean, radiating a cold, eerie light—the only red adornment on his body, like a crimson birthmark.

He was about twenty years old, and though he stood casually with his legs apart, he possessed an imposing and unshakeable grandeur, exuding not only an inviolable, noble aura but also a soul-stirring, bloodthirsty ferocity.

Looking at the man whose face was stained with sticky blood, Luo Zhu's blank and frozen mind slowly conjured up the mysterious and legendary figures Wangbiqumu had told her.

"...The people of Guge deeply revered the King of Guge. Legend has it that, like the great king Songtsen Gampo of hundreds of years ago, the King of Guge was a son of the gods. He was born with the ability to summon vultures and command snow leopards. His body was as strong and powerful as a wild yak, his eyes as majestic and sharp as a vulture, his strength as terrifying as a bear, and his speed as swift as a leopard. He was nobler than a lion, more cruel than a wolf, more..."

At the time, she found it absurd and laughable, thinking that he wasn't describing a human but rather a hybrid of beast and predator. She wondered if a person could still be called human if they looked like that. But now it seemed the legend was true; the mistake lay in her ignorance, her limited experience, and her narrow-mindedness!

The young man before her looked less and less like a human, and more like a beast! A monster beast, a hybrid of bird and beast, wearing human skin!

What was most terrifying was that this majestic, noble, and fiercely cruel beast was not a bandit king who had taken over the mountains, but the king of the Guge Dynasty, who had ruled the Ali region for over seven hundred years! A king who is like a "beast"!

Chapter 25 Bloody Sacrifice

The twenty-odd prisoners brought before the Guge King were either forced to kneel by soldiers or collapsed to the ground, their legs giving way in terror. Among them were men and women, all dressed more luxuriously than the average villager. They trembled and cowered, their faces filled with fear, offering no resistance whatsoever; clearly, overwhelming terror had seized their minds.

Although he had seen them fewer than ten times in the past six months, Luo Zhu, standing only four or five meters away, recognized the lord of Namu'a village, his wife and children, and other blood relatives among them.

"Quben Khenpo, these offerings are all nobles," the Guge King said indifferently to the middle-aged monk standing to his left, pointing to the group of kneeling prisoners.

"Thank you for your trouble, Your Majesty. I believe the Dharma King will be very satisfied," Quben Khenpo said, his face beaming. Nobles were high-class offerings, very difficult to obtain. Most temples could only offer inferior slave sacrifices and middling commoner sacrifices during rituals; only a powerful son of a god like the King could regularly provide superior offerings.

The King of Guge chuckled, clapped his hands, and a squad of soldiers carrying silver vessels stepped forward. The vessels varied in size, roughly categorized as silver jars, boxes, and bottles.

"Master, please recite the offerings required by the Dharma King." The Gongga knight, standing to the King's right, stepped forward and bowed respectfully to Khenpo Quben.

Khenpo Quben took a roll of ochre-yellow silk from his robe pouch, devoutly unrolled it, and read aloud the horrifying contents in a drawn-out voice: "Fifteen human heads, ten pairs of human eyes, twelve human tongues, twenty human hearts, eighteen human intestines, five human skins, three bottles of human blood, seven pieces of human buttock flesh, six pairs of treasure vases, eleven lotus flowers."

A cold wind rushed into his wide-open mouth, chilling his already stiff throat even more thoroughly. Luo Zhu thought she must be hallucinating; otherwise, why would she hear so many terrifying things? However, before she could doubt further, the horrific scene unfolded vividly before her eyes.

The soldiers guarding the prisoners forced all of them, men and women alike, into kneeling positions with their arms bound behind their backs, and used daggers to cut and tear off their clothes, exposing their naked bodies.

Meanwhile, a dozen soldiers stepped on the backs of the male prisoners, forcing their chests to the ground and their buttocks raised. Each soldier held a three-inch-long, chained iron hook, using one hand to pry open the prisoners' buttocks and the other to shove the hook into their anuses. The curved hooks, gleaming with a cold, metallic black light, instantly sank into the prisoners' rear ends. The soldiers twisted their hands slightly and then withdrew slightly, the hooks immediately hooking into the soft intestinal walls.

"Ah—!" the prisoners screamed in agony, the excruciating pain in their anuses causing them to struggle desperately. But the large foot pressing down on their backs was incredibly firm and steady, like a thousand-pound boulder, rendering them immobile.

The soldiers gripped the thin chains, flicking their wrists outwards, and the iron hooks embedded in their rectums, along with a section of bloodied intestine, burst out. They threw down the hooks, grasped the pulled-out intestines with their bare hands, and skillfully pulled them out.

Strands of red and white intestines, sometimes thick, sometimes thin, were continuously pulled from their anuses; with each section pulled out, the captive screamed in agony. The soldiers alternated between pulling and pulling, the captives' agonizing howls echoing endlessly.

Over there, dozens of soldiers kicked seven or eight female captives, sending them sprawling backwards. One soldier spread a woman's legs apart, pinning them to her head, forcing her buttocks high in the air; another soldier stood between her legs, his thick, dark fingers, like iron pestles, inserted into her soft vagina.

Amidst the female prisoners' heart-wrenching screams and gushing blood, the strong, muscular forearm carefully penetrated deeper. After a moment, as if grasping something, with a pull and a tug, the blood-soaked arm slowly withdrew from the vagina, finally becoming a clenched fist. In the blood-soaked black hand, a glaringly red membrane was revealed, connected beneath which were bright red, folded fleshy walls, like a piece of tender sausage—completely exposing the woman's internal reproductive organs. Without batting an eye, the soldiers drew their daggers and severed the exposed female internal and external genitalia, then turned them back into their original position like turning over a leather sack.

The soldiers holding down the legs released the female prisoners' legs and drew their daggers to cut along the base of their high, rounded breasts. A flash of light, and several pairs of breasts were brutally severed, leaving only two bowl-sized, blood-soaked wounds on the chests.

Daggers flashed incessantly, reflecting a crimson light in the bright sunlight. The prisoners' eyes were gouged out, their tongues ripped out, their hearts ripped out, their heads severed… A sharp blade slashed open their skulls, peeling away the skin bit by bit to reveal still-pulsating, blood-red flesh… One by one, these so-called sacrifices were placed into different silver vessels, with soldiers occasionally pouring in an unknown, pale green liquid.

Alive! Those being gutted, disemboweled, skinned, their tongues pulled out, their heads chopped off—they weren't mindless corpses, but living people! Luo Zhu stared intently at the horrific, bloody, and perversely cruel scenes before her, her vision a blood-red blur. In that moment, she deeply understood the agonizing pain of animals whose intestines were ripped out raw, whose brains were ripped out raw, whose flesh was cut raw, and whose bile was extracted raw. Why? Why did they have to put her so close? Why did they have to see it all so clearly?

A thick, pungent stench of blood filled the air, staining the earth crimson. The screams of the dying rose and fell, piercing the high heavens, turning the barren grassland into a terrifying hellish slaughterhouse. Yet, the imposing king standing in the center remained unmoved, even displaying a hint of appreciative smile. Not only him, but the monks, the generals, the soldiers—none showed fear, not a single change in expression, as if they were slaughtering not human beings like themselves, but inferior beasts.

Beasts, a pack of beasts. No, true beasts kill only for sustenance; these were a pack of bloody monsters, worse than beasts, devoid of any humanity!

She had read in books about the heinous human sacrifices that often occurred on the ancient Tibetan Plateau, about the tragic fates of prisoners. Back then, she had read and moved on, never letting a trace of fear linger in her heart. However, when the real scene unfolded before her, she realized just how much horror, how much devastation, how much bloodshed lay hidden behind the words, and how utterly pale and powerless the printed descriptions truly were.

People were no longer people; they were merely livestock to be slaughtered, or rather, their deaths were even more gruesome than those of livestock.

She regretted it deeply, deeply regretted ever feeling pity for the mysteriously vanished Guge Kingdom, ever having been curious about the Guge King. He wasn't just like a beast in appearance; his nature and his actions were even more ferocious and ruthless than any beast!

"Ah—ah—" The woman leaning against Luo Zhu's right suddenly clutched her hair and screamed wildly.

*Whoosh—*

The patrolling soldier drew his broadsword and slashed down, the woman's head rolling forward instantly, her twisted features filled with extreme terror. The headless body collapsed to the ground, thick, pungent blood gushing from the severed neck, instantly staining a large patch of grass red.

The splattering, warm blood inevitably landed on Luo Zhu's head, face, shoulders, and hands, burning her like fire. She shoved her left hand into her mouth, biting down hard to stifle the overwhelming fear deep in her throat, desperately suppressing the instinctive trembling of her body.

Another desperate howl sounded behind her, and a warm, sticky, round object rolled down to her feet. She knew it was a human head; she dared not look, dared not move, and could only lower her head with all her might, fixing her gaze on the grass before her, frozen in place for a long time.

This was a nightmare! The most terrifying nightmare!

Her teeth dug into her flesh, the metallic sweetness of blood filling her mouth. Her heart spasmed, her stomach spasmed, every organ in her body spasmed. She wanted to vomit, desperately wanted to vomit; she wanted to faint, desperately wanting to escape this horrific slaughterhouse by fainting. But she couldn't vomit, nor could she faint; she could only remain motionless in her curled-up, squatting position. Because a large knife hung over her head; if she made any unpleasant movement, that knife would swoop down viciously, and she would become the next decapitated corpse.

And she had to live, she absolutely had to live.

"Your Majesty, the Dharma King's offerings are still short three lotus flowers."

Hearing a soldier report this, her convulsing heart suddenly stopped, then began to pound wildly.

Lotus flowers? Lotus flowers! Not the lotus flowers blooming in the blue waves, nor the lotus flowers blooming on the snow-capped peaks, but rather female genitalia! Three more meant three commoner women would have to be drawn from among them to make up the numbers.

"Khenpo Quben, since we don't have enough noblewomen this time, let's use three commoner women to fill the gap." The deep, resonant voice was as cold and indifferent as ever, without a trace of excitement, a trace of flattery, or a trace of reluctance, as it flatly suggested.

"We will leave it to Your Majesty's decision." Khenpo Quben clasped his hands and bowed to the Guge King.

With a command, Luo Zhu saw a pair of rough leather boots whirring as they approached.

She had never hated her position so much—the very beginning of the first row. Witnessing the brutal and perverse massacre up close to this hellish scene was bad enough, but now, with the male prisoner to her left about a meter away, and the women huddled to her right and behind her lying dead, she was utterly isolated.

Chapter 26: Becoming a Slave.

The leather boots stopped firmly in front of Luo Zhu without hesitation.

Her mind went blank, her wildly beating heart froze instantly. A sharp, tight pain shot through her scalp, and a large hand grabbed her braid and violently pulled her head up, revealing a familiar, rugged, and savage male face. His dark face, stained with drops of blood, appeared even more ferocious and terrifying, exuding a savage, bloodthirsty aura.

It was him, the terrifying man who had captured her with a Tibetan mastiff! So it was all preordained; she was destined to die at his hands. No! She refused to let those filthy hands penetrate her body, she refused to die such a humiliating and gruesome death! If she were dragged out, she would bite her tongue to commit suicide, or slit her throat with the Swiss Army knife hidden in her boot, trying every possible way to end her life first. Folklore says that those who commit suicide will never be reincarnated, but compared to dying by having her genitals cut off, she would rather be a ghost forever condemned to eternal damnation.

The man's bloodshot, cold eyes narrowed, and he recognized her. His lips suddenly curled, revealing his disgust and contempt once more.

"How come you're getting filthy, woman? Your face is covered in blood and mud." He violently shoved her head away, kicking her to the ground, and said contemptuously, "A woman too filthy is unworthy of being the supreme sacrifice to the Dharma King." With a turn of his toes, his tall figure moved away from her, walking to the right.

Unworthy, better! Unworthy, better!

Luo Zhu lay half-prostrate on the ground, her small face completely obscured by her loose braids. A low, strange groan escaped her stiff throat before she began to breathe heavily, panting silently. Her right shoulder, where she had been kicked, throbbed with pain, but she couldn't care less. Despite her narrow escape, her body and mind remained tense; she didn't even dare to breathe heavily, fearing that the heavy panting would arouse the guards' killing intent. Right

next to her right lay a gruesome headless female corpse, yet in that instant, she felt that only this corpse was safe and harmless. The stench of blood was pungent, the body cold, but it was precisely because she was stained with this blood that she had been able to escape the clutches of death, continue breathing fresh air, and bask in the bright sunlight. What else did she have to cower and hide for?

She buried her face in the blood-soaked grass, pressing her hands to the damp earth, struggling to suppress the churning fear and the urge to cry out, gathering the strength and courage to keep going.

Soon after, three well-dressed young women were dragged from the ranks by soldiers. They cried out in anguish, struggling desperately, but all their resistance seemed so futile. In the end, the soldiers ripped off their trousers and cruelly and mercilessly severed their internal and external genitalia.

The twenty-odd noble prisoners ahead were all brutally murdered, and many of the commoner prisoners on the open field also collapsed and had their heads chopped off. The sacrifices were complete, but the tragedy was far from over.

The male prisoners who were missing limbs or seriously injured were thrown into the open area to the right of the elderly and children, and the older female prisoners were also thrown into the same area.

Just as Luo Zhu struggled to sit up from her prostrate position, she heard a man shout, "Brand all the chosen slaves!"

Brand all the chosen slaves? "What branding?!"

She watched in horror as soldiers plunged hundreds of iron bars into the campfire. In the leaping flames, each bar gradually turned from black to red.

Several red-hot bars were pulled out and rushed towards the group of male prisoners on the left. The soldiers forcefully pulled down the robes from the right shoulders of the prisoners, pressing the gleaming iron bars against their bare shoulders. Sizzling flesh and wisps of smoke rose, and once again, painful screams echoed across the empty field. When the bars were removed, an ancient Tibetan character for "slave" suddenly appeared on the strong shoulder, surrounded by a sixteen-petaled lotus flower with a skull, possessing an eerie and mysterious beauty.

No matter how beautiful, it was still a slave mark, a slave mark that stripped people of their human dignity, a slave mark

that made a person less valuable than livestock. The horrific and bloody massacre just now had crushed the last vestige of resistance in the hearts of all the prisoners. Having lived in such chaotic times, they had now become numb, resigned, and submissive walking corpses. It was just a slave mark, just becoming a slave—far better than being cruelly killed.

Even ants cling to life, let alone humans. As someone who had lived for a long time in a utilitarian modern society, Luo Zhu lacked the pride and integrity of a human being. She clung to life and feared death, truly dreading it. During her three years of traveling, she had faced and overcome countless difficulties to survive, displaying unimaginable courage. Her thoughts of suicide came only because she thought she had no other choice. Given the option of living, she, like most ordinary people, chose to remain intact rather than perish.

Becoming a slave would tragically mean losing human dignity, but it meant survival. To live is to see the blue sky and white clouds, the flowers and green grass, the mountains and lakes, to see everything in the world, beautiful or ugly—only the living can see it. Life is short, only a few decades; she couldn't waste it like her parents, entangled in conflict, ruining her precious life prematurely.

Watching the soldier approach her with a red-hot iron rod, Luo Zhu's heart pounded so hard it felt like it would explode, her muscles tensing. A barely perceptible, dark, bitter smile crept across her lips. It was the same man who had captured her, then released her as a sacrifice. She and he were truly destined—a tragic fate.

"I intend to brand my prey myself," the man grinned as he walked up to her, grabbing her robe and yanking it down to the right. With a tearing sound, her clothes were ripped open, revealing a clean shoulder, starkly different from her blood-soaked face. Though the skin on her shoulder was covered in horribly bruised and red, it was easily distinguishable from the delicate smoothness of a typical highland woman. The man seemed to pause for a moment, then suddenly shifted his body, blocking her right side. The red-hot iron rod, suspended in mid-air, fell mercilessly.

As the man tore at her clothes, Luo Zhu tightly closed her eyes. She clearly felt a searing heat scorching her skin drawing ever closer, followed by an unprecedented, excruciating pain in her shoulder. Her heart, on the verge of bursting, suddenly contracted. Her tightly closed eyes snapped open, her teeth biting into her lower lip, her fingers gripping and twisting the hem of her robe.

Pain! So much pain! It felt as if countless scorching knives were relentlessly cutting into her shoulder. The burning pain, clinging firmly to her flesh, seemed endless, penetrating to her very bones, reaching her very soul. The sizzling sound of her flesh searing was like lamb skewers on a barbecue grill, even the aroma of the burnt flesh was indistinguishable. Indeed, humans are animals after all.

"Ah—"

she could no longer control herself and let out a painful howl. Sweat mingled with tears, flowing like a gushing stream. A tightly taut string in my soul suddenly snapped. My body, burdened by too much fear, could no longer withstand the excruciating pain, trembling and swaying like an autumn leaf in the wind. Dark circles appeared before my eyes, waves of dizziness swept through my mind, and I was about to sink into the abyss of darkness.

"Filthy woman, you can scream in pain, but if you faint, you'll only die."

In her dizziness, she vaguely heard the man's low, gruff laugh as the branding iron pressed against her shoulder slowly moved away.

Death?! Absolutely not! Her fading gaze sharpened slightly, and she screamed and howled desperately, releasing the pent-up, overwhelming fear, forcefully pulling her mind back from the brink of unconsciousness. Her fingers, loosening the hem of her robe, clenched into fists, her nails digging into her palms, giving herself another kind of painful stimulation.

The bloody, murderous aura lingered around her, the darkness receding from her vision, and through her hazy, swollen eyes, she vaguely saw the back of a tall figure in leather armor. She gave a cold, mocking smile. Was this a kind warning from a bloodthirsty monster?

A burning pain shot through her right shoulder. She struggled to turn her head and, unsurprisingly, saw an ancient Tibetan slave mark entwined with a sixteen-petaled lotus and a skull. It marked her as a modern transmigrator who had become the lowest and most degraded slave in the ancient Tibetan Plateau, a slave to be trampled upon at will.

Living well had become even more difficult. But she wouldn't give up. One day, she would destroy this slave mark and escape to a peaceful, beautiful, and warm place to start a new life.

Using her braid as cover, her left hand, covered in blood and mud, carefully avoided the charred and swollen slave mark, quickly smearing the large patches of bruised and purple skin, then slowly pulling her torn clothes back together.

The terrifying man's brief pause and seemingly ordinary sidestep reminded her that it wasn't just her face and hands; her neck, wrists, shoulders, and all other skin that could easily reveal her true appearance needed to be smeared.

Chapter 027 The Beginning of Slave Life (Part 1)

The brilliant sunlight was tinged with a faint glow; dusk was approaching.

Luo Zhu stared at the grassland flashing by, her eyes, swollen to a thin line, dry and aching, unable to shed a single tear.

Her wrists were bound with a thick hemp rope, flanked by two unfamiliar women, and another woman was piled on top of her back—six women in total, stacked on top of each other, lying prone on the back of a strong yak, secured with strips of coarse cloth.

In the empty grassland of Namua village, all the men and women who had fainted during the branding process were killed, while the conscious slaves had their wrists bound. A hundred or so female slaves and three hundred or so male slaves were bundled together like cargo and transported on the yak's back.

Perhaps his bloodlust had finally been satisfied, for the beastly King Guge did not kill the old people, children, and the wounded men and older women on the right side of the empty grassland. He merely waved his arm, summoning hundreds of vultures perched on distant rooftops, letting them feast on the carcasses alongside the ferocious mastiffs. The scene of the ferocious beasts feasting continued the chilling and horrific atmosphere. Fortunately, the able-bodied adults automatically formed a circle, tightly embracing the crying and screaming children, offering her a glimpse of humanity's warmth in this hellish place.

That day, she overcame fear and pain she had never experienced in twenty years, stubbornly surviving the hellish slaughterhouse. But whenever she closed her eyes, horrific images flashed through her mind, and piercing screams echoed in her ears. In

modern society, after major disasters, governments send specialized psychologists to provide counseling to survivors. But she could only rely on her own willpower to pull through. For two days straight, she kept hypnotizing herself. Forget, forget, it was just a nightmare, a horror movie. Her future was long and bright, and many beautiful things awaited her. The Tibetan Plateau, bathed in bright sunshine, boasts a vast blue sky, soft, cotton-like clouds, sacred and pristine snow-capped mountains, rolling hills, verdant grasslands, crystal-clear lakes, grazing cattle and sheep, and blooming Gesang flowers… She wanted to find Tashi Langtso, have a child with him, and live a warm and peaceful life. She wanted to go to the ancient Central Plains to see if history had changed, to see what era it was, and to see if, after losing Tashi Langtso, she could find a gentle, refined, and handsome ancient man like those in novels to love her again… She imagined many beautiful things to soothe her heart, which was already clouded by shadows.

Two days passed, and this psychological comfort seemed to have some effect. At least, the terrifying images had become blurry, the screams in her ears had lessened considerably, and she dared to close her eyes and doze off at night. With a stiff smile, Luo Zhu sighed softly, then took a deep breath, her delicate features once again contorting in discomfort.

After two days of endurance, she finally vomited from the bumpy journey, bringing up stomach acid and bile. Some of it landed on the grass, some on the yak hides, and some unfortunately clung to her body. The sour, bloody, and muddy smells, combined with the pungent odor of the woman beside her, created an unbearable torment, but she had run out of vomit to give.

For two consecutive days, she was the most unfortunate of the six women, sandwiched precisely in the middle. The yak's back cushioned her chest, her back bearing the weight, while her sides were wrapped around her. Under such combined pressure and the stench of the yak, whether her well-developed breasts would deform was a minor matter; more importantly, breathing became extremely difficult and heavy for her. But she had to continue, or she would surely die.

For two days, the slaves were only allowed to rest on the yak's backs by the soldiers at night. The resting place was near a water source. The slaves were forbidden from communicating with each other, only allowed to move to the water to drink. Their only food was the cow or sheep bones discarded by the soldiers after they had finished eating the meat. Fortunately, the army numbered over a thousand, while the slaves numbered only four hundred. The soldiers had large appetites, so the amount of bones discarded was relatively plentiful, and the slaves hadn't been starving for too long, preventing any fighting over bones due to extreme hunger. However, even with so many bones, after being devoured by the ravenous soldiers, how much meat would be left on the skeletons? They were merely clinging to their worthless lives.

At night, the soldiers slept in tents, while hundreds of slaves huddled together for warmth in the darkness of the plateau, huddled with cattle and sheep. Hundreds of soldiers with swords took turns guarding them; no one could escape. This morning, when they set off, a dozen or so slaves succumbed to hunger and cold, tragically becoming food for snow leopards, mastiffs, and vultures.

This was the life of slaves, as lowly as animals. No, it should be said that their lives were even worse than those of animals. At least, animals have low intelligence and emotional intelligence; they can't think of many things, live foolishly, and don't understand humiliation. So if a slave wants to live well, he must reduce his intelligence and emotional intelligence to the level of an animal, becoming a dog, a sheep, or a cow.

A slave has four paths: either live a life of humiliation and numbness like an animal, or be tortured to death halfway through, or escape successfully and live in fear like a rat, or awaken and revolt. However, throughout history, even if various slave uprisings achieve temporary victory, as long as the society as a whole remains backward, the final result is that the slave remains a slave, never having the chance to rise up and become their own master. Wasn't the Tibetan Empire overthrown by a slave uprising? And what happened afterward? Hundreds of years of social upheaval, slavery still existed, and life remained miserable and lowly.

Luo Zhu took a deep, nauseating breath of the polluted air. She didn't want to be a slave for life, nor did she want to be tortured to death, and she certainly didn't have the ability to rebel. She chose to escape. As long as she found the right opportunity, she would flee to the Central Plains. Of course, escaping also carried a great risk of death. Until she was absolutely certain, she would obediently be a lowly slave, as docile and submissive as a dog.

The yak beneath her stopped running, and she heard the soldiers passing around the orders to set up camp and rest.

Finally... finally, another day was over. She breathed a long sigh of relief. Fortunately, the woman on her back wasn't as heavy as yesterday, otherwise she would definitely be half-dead by now. She let the soldiers drag her off the yak's back and throw her to the ground with a thud, like a dead dog, and couldn't help but let out a muffled groan. Luckily, she was wearing many clothes, and although the grass on the ground was withered, it was still somewhat soft, so it wasn't too painful.

She slowly writhed on the ground, stretching her body little by little. Every muscle, every joint, every bone ached terribly; she longed to collapse and never wake up again. But she couldn't. She couldn't give in to the weak desires in her heart; she would never wake up again, and her body would become a feast for beasts. She was a spirit, and she couldn't be sure if souls truly existed. Even if they did, her body wasn't lying in a 21st-century hospital; there was no chance of her returning to possess another.

Life was too precious for her. Whether Gesang Zhuoma, who had been captured first, was dead or alive; whether Zaxi Langcuo, who had gone to the battlefield, was dead or alive; whether the old Zaxi and his family in the cellar were dead or alive—call her ungrateful, call her heartless and cruel, she simply didn't have the energy to think about it, to grieve, or to care. Her only thought was to survive.

Chapter 28 The Beginning of Slave Life (Part Two)

With a foot or so of space between her wrists, bound by coarse hemp, Luo Zhu struggled to prop herself up and slowly crawled towards the water's edge with a group of women. Walking upright was too strenuous; crawling on all fours was a better way to conserve energy.

Reaching the water's edge, the touch of her chapped lips to the icy river water cleared her somewhat hazy mind.

Even though her throat was parched, she dared not gulp down water without restraint, fearing the cold water would cause spasms in her empty stomach. The brand on her shoulder hadn't faded yet; she didn't want to suffer from stomach cramps as well. Thank goodness her period had just ended; otherwise, she might have developed some health problems from this ordeal.

She held the ice water in her mouth for a while to warm it before slowly swallowing. After drinking, her entire mouth was numb with cold. She glanced sideways at the campsite not far away. A campfire was burning, and the cattle and sheep had already been slaughtered and brought up. Soon, she'd have bones, but her stomach, empty after vomiting, was about to burst.

Lying by the riverbank, she discreetly plucked some wild vegetables, still bearing a hint of green, and stuffed them into her mouth little by little. Autumn vegetables had long lost their spring and summer freshness and juiciness; the taste on her tongue was bitter and astringent, more painful than chewing hay. Each bite felt like swallowing a string of bitter tears, a razor blade slitting her throat. She was born in the Year of the Monkey; shouldn't her diet consist of fruits like peaches? How had she managed to steal the herding privilege of cattle, sheep, and horses? She

tried to swallow and chew, her mind wandering in a strange, bittersweet way. Gradually, her stomach, filled with water and the clumps of wild vegetables, felt much better.

She is grateful for her parents' long-standing indifference and neglect, which fostered a selfish and callous heart in her, making her capable of letting go, of being moved and restrained, and not easily swayed or burdened by emotions, preventing her from becoming a selfless and sacrificial saint. She

is also grateful for three years of hiking and six months on the plateau, which gave her a resilient will, a strong physique, and excellent wilderness survival skills.

Despite being repeatedly soaked in cold sweat and tormented by fear, pain, hunger, and cold, she not only survived but also didn't even catch a cold. This remarkable fact proves that once humans possess a strong will to survive, they can unleash incredible potential.

Through the clear river water, small fish can be faintly seen swimming in the depths. These fish have black backs and white bellies, with few or no scales, and their shape somewhat resembles the pollock from the Yalu River estuary. Namu'a Village is a semi-agricultural, semi-pastoral village. Due to the custom of throwing stillborn children into the water for water burial, and the belief that fish are relatives of the dragon god, almost no one eats fish.

Although they didn't eat it themselves, they didn't stop others from doing so. Sometimes she would use a bent sewing needle as a fishing hook, thread it with a line and tie it to a stick, catch a small fish, and use a knife to cut out a small piece of meat as bait. Despite the rudimentary tools, she always managed to catch fish easily. In hot weather, catching fish directly in the river with her hands was particularly effective, even without a fishing rod. However, to avoid attracting the villagers' stares as if she were an alien, she kept her fishing activities discreet, secretly bringing the fish back to her mud-brick house to cook and eat quietly.

Although this highland fish took a while to cook, the meat was very tender, and the fish soup was delicious. When survival difficulties arose, she wasn't particularly devout in her worship of gods, nor did she care about the rumors that the fish grew by eating corpses. After all, after a biological transformation, she wasn't eating human flesh. Besides, in the face of true famine, there were too many cases of cannibalism, and even today, many primitive tribes in the Amazon rainforest still practice cannibalism. Sigh, if slaves were allowed to fish, they wouldn't have been reduced to eating raw wild vegetables and gnawing on leftover bones.

Lost in thought, time passed unnoticed when a commotion suddenly arose behind her. Turning her head, she saw that dozens of soldiers had brought over piles of gnawed bones.

Many slaves rushed towards the piles of bones like madmen, tumbling and crawling, hoping to pick out a bone with more muscle. The scramble for food was significantly stronger than yesterday.

Luo Zhu sighed inwardly. At 1.62 meters tall, she wasn't too short on flat ground, but after being stranded on this ancient plateau, she had become an inferior cripple. Although she had a lot of flesh on her body, her frame was too slender, and she couldn't compete with the nearly starving native inhabitants. So

she decided not to waste her energy and slowly crawled away. Crawling is said to be one of the best forms of horizontal exercise. Modern society encourages everyone to spend some time each day crawling on all fours like animals to improve coordination and relieve pressure on the spine and pelvis. Why is the rate of dystocia in human women much higher than in animal females? It's because humans are used to walking upright, which has led to changes in the pelvis. Her crawling is a way of responding to modern health practices.

The slaves who managed to snatch a bone clutched it like a precious treasure, hiding in a corner to gnaw on it. Others, like Romeo, who couldn't compete, diligently searched through piles of bones, or sat by the remaining bones, enduring hunger and disappointment while waiting expectantly for the next batch.

This pile had only a few bare bones left, not worth gnawing on; that pile had only a handful of tiny bone fragments, too small to pick up; the pile on the left… Luo Zhu crawled around searching for bones, finally finding a sheep neck bone the size of a small watermelon in a clump of tall weeds. Someone must have kicked it into the grass, somehow it hadn't been discovered. She was really lucky; these kinds of sheep neck bones were the hardest to gnaw on, with relatively more remaining muscle and tendons.

Holding the bone, she roughly wiped off the bits of grass with her sleeve, then carefully used her fingernails to pry off the remaining tendons, skin, and bits of meat, not daring to waste a single bit before putting it in her mouth. Damn it, for twenty years, she hadn't been so careful with food since she could remember, eating cleaner than a beggar or a madman scavenging through garbage. Unfortunately, no one praised this hard-won virtue of hers.

Damn it, she wondered whose stinking saliva she had swallowed; she hoped it wasn't some deadly infectious bacteria. A spasm of nausea shot through her throat, but she had no choice but to grit her teeth and continue gnawing. At that moment, she envied tigers and lions—beasts with barbs on their tongues, able to lick every corner of the bone clean with a single, effortless lick, wasting nothing. How wonderful!

A small piece of lamb neck bone was far from enough; she had to keep searching. Tossing aside the bone she'd gnawed on again, she began her search once more.

After a dozen steps, her path was blocked by a pair of leather boots. She slowly raised her head, following the boots, and saw a tall man looking down at her.

In the dim twilight, the man's face was backlit, his features and expression indistinct; the only thing she could make out was a pair of eyes that gleamed with a cold, menacing light, like a predatory beast in the darkness—no wonder he was a soldier led by the King of Beasts. In his right hand lay a long, meaty lamb rib, glistening with oil and emitting an enticing, gamey aroma.

Suddenly, a large amount of saliva welled up in her mouth, and a long string of saliva slid down her chin without warning, perfectly embodying the phrase "drooling profusely."

"Want some?" The tall man chuckled at the sight, squatting down in front of her and teasingly waving the lamb ribs in his hand like a dog.

A familiar, rugged, and cruel face appeared before her—it was the man who had captured her and branded her with the mark of slavery.

Chapter 29 The Unfathomable Man (Part 1)

"You... what do you want?!" Luo Zhu, like a startled rabbit, suddenly crawled back a few steps, her eyes wide with suspicion as she stared at the terrifying man shrouded in murderous intent.

Since yesterday evening, soldiers with nothing better to do had been bringing meat and bones to tease the slaves; to eat them, they had to fulfill their demands.

She huddled in a corner of the crowd, observing coldly. The demands ranged from making someone crawl between someone's legs, to groping women, to oral sex, to sodomizing male slaves… a variety of insults and tastes, a veritable bewildering array. The only saving grace, and strangely enough, was that no female slaves had been raped or seduced. But tonight, this man… Her hair stood on end, beads of cold sweat appeared on her forehead, and her hands unconsciously gripped her robe tightly.

"Heh, why are you so nervous, you dirty woman? Are you still a virgin?" The man grinned lewdly. "Don't worry for now. Before the king issues a lifting of the ban, the soldiers won't dare to rape you female slaves."

"I won't eat." Get out of here! Luo Zhu stared at him in panic, swallowing the last three words in frustration. Slightly relieved, she became even more eager to get rid of the dangerous man in front of her.

"You dare tell me to get out?" The man raised his thick, long eyebrows, his cold eyes filled with malice.

"I didn't say that!" She couldn't help but take another step back on her knees, her heart pounding like a drum.

The man took two steps forward, leaned slightly, and stared at her fiercely. His thick lips slanted to the right, and his rugged face suddenly took on a ferocious and evil look: "Your mouth didn't say it, but your eyes said it." He suddenly took a step forward, stretched out his long arm, and pulled Luo Zhu into his arms.

"Ah—uh…"

Luo Zhu was caught off guard and fell into the man's broad arms, which reeked of blood and stench. She instinctively opened her mouth to scream, but before she could utter a single syllable, a fragrant lamb rib was stuffed into her mouth

. The man's low, fierce threat rang out above her: "Scream again, and I'll strip you naked and throw you out!" "Ugh…ugh…" She held the lamb rib in her mouth, shaking her head desperately in terror, her hands clutching her robe even tighter. She wouldn't scream, she wouldn't scream, she absolutely wouldn't scream.

"That's a good girl." The man's fierce tone softened, his calloused fingertips gently brushing across her swollen eyelids. He chuckled softly, "Dirty woman, even though your eyes are swollen to slits, your lively gaze still betrays your true thoughts."

Nonsense, you can see right through my swollen eyes, do you even want me to live? Luo Zhu angrily reached into her mouth, snatched the lamb rib from her mouth, and shoved it into the man's chest.

She rolled her eyes, signaling him to put the bone away. Actually, what she really wanted wasn't to return it to its owner, but to use the bone as a weapon to send back to the Southern Kingdom. However, after being pulled into the man's arms, her female intuition and the instincts of a higher animal vaguely sensed that the man holding her possessed a strength beyond the reach of ordinary people. Her physical training and self-defense skills were probably like the feeble gestures of a three-year-old in front of him.

A wise man acts according to the times; a discerning person is a hero. She suppressed the urge to punch him. However, even this slave had some backbone; she resolutely refused to accept charity.

"Oh? Not eating?" The man stared into her eyes, freeing one hand to pick up the lamb rib. He chuckled and wiped the chipped bone from the rib against her lips. "Then tell me, what's in your bulging mouth?"

Luo Zhu's face flushed red beneath the thick layer of blood and mud. Her eyes darted around, avoiding the large chip in the rib. Her heart was determined to refuse, but before she could remove the bone, her teeth took the liberty of biting into a large mouthful of still-warm lamb. Now, with the meat in her mouth, her saliva was overflowing, and her stomach, as if betraying her, began to churn with hunger the moment the man finished speaking. She steeled herself, chewing greedily while quickly snatching the lamb rib from the man's hand.

The man laughed loudly, attracting curious glances from several soldiers nearby who were also teasing slaves. However, upon meeting his warning and fierce gaze, they all quickly lowered their heads. The Black Rider's captain was one of the most ruthless and powerful in the army, with a capricious and unpredictable temperament. Once angered, he would show no mercy to even his closest relatives, and even the Gongga cavalry leader feared him. Apart from the King and the Dharma King, there was probably no one in the world whom he respected.

His rough, dark hands gripped the woman's dirty, slender neck, slowly stroking it back and forth with a lewd and provocative air.

Luo Zhu's body stiffened, her gnawing on the bone paused slightly before she continued to gnaw at it as if oblivious. She had almost forgotten that until she was confident of escaping, she was to be a submissive and obedient slave, like a dog. Since this man had said that the Guge King currently forbade soldiers from raping female slaves, her virginity was safe; the greatest humiliation would be being touched and molested by a man. Anyway, this body had already been touched by men. One man touching her was the same as two men touching her. Whether he loved her or not, it made little difference in the face of death. At most, after being touched by disgusting men, she could find an opportunity to wash herself ten times more thoroughly. On the contrary, if she resisted too much and angered this man, having her neck snapped would be a greater loss.

Thick, long fingers pulled open her tattered robe, peeling back the layers of clothing on her right shoulder. When she saw the still red, swollen, and blackened slave mark on her shoulder, a complex light flashed in her cold eyes. A large patch of purplish-blue skin next to the slave mark was covered by dark filth, which continued to extend down her back and chest.

A cold, sinister smile curled at the corner of his mouth. His fingers pulled the tattered clothing down further, and the filth gradually disappeared, revealing half of a light pink bra with a small red heart printed on it. His fingers pulled the bra down diagonally, and a full, snowy peak suddenly sprang out, delicate and smooth, white as jade with a slight pinkish tinge. The tiny bud at the tip was delicate and pink, surrounded by a pale pink areola as alluring and captivating as a halo around the moon. In the hazy twilight, this snow-capped peak was bathed in a light golden hue, breathtakingly beautiful, tempting to be ravaged and plucked.

Noticing the woman's stiff and tense body in his arms and the gradually slowing bites, he coldly glanced at her lowered head, then calmly pulled her bra back into place, then pulled up her tattered clothes layer by layer, instantly obscuring the dazzling beauty. Throughout the entire process, the man's breath was perfectly steady, cold as ice.

"Filthy woman, you really aren't a Boba. Tell me, where did you come from?" The rough voice was no longer gentle and smiling, but became fierce and cold, faintly revealing a bloodthirsty rage.

Luo Zhu was horrified, a chill running through her heart. This man... all his actions were to investigate her identity!? He suspected her, suspected her of being a treacherous spy with ulterior motives. She slowly raised her head, mustered her courage to meet those cold, bloodthirsty eyes, and stammered, "I...I'm a...a stranger who ended up in Namua Village, from...from a very far place. I...I don't know why...why I...came here? Anyway, after praying and opening...opening my eyes, I...I found myself standing on the grassland where the livestock graze in Namua Village. I...I'm not a bad person."

She knew that what she was telling sounded like a blatant lie, and she could have fabricated a more believable truth. But under those cold, bloodthirsty eyes, she had a premonition that if she said one wrong word, her life would end.

"You truly are an incredibly cunning woman."

The man's cold, bloodthirsty voice carried a hint of admiration as he lightly lifted her chin with his finger, his sharp eyes narrowing dangerously. "Your skin and features resemble those of a noblewoman from the Central Plains, but the clothes you wear underneath are completely different from theirs. No, they are different from the clothes of women in all the countries surrounding Guge; they truly come from a distant land." He released her chin and sneered, "You know very well that if you had uttered just one lie, you would have been dead."

This man's identity was definitely more than just a lowly squad leader. He appeared crude, barbaric, and ruthless, but in reality, he was meticulous and observant. Moreover, judging from his words, he seemed to possess considerable knowledge. Before she knew it, Luo Zhu's back was completely soaked with sweat.

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