[Fantasy] The Slave Wife Wants to Turn the Tables (Complete) - 13

Chapter 88 A Beast's Punishment

Zanbu Zhuodun wasn't angered by Luo Zhu's disrespect. Instead, he took advantage of her forceful push, half-lying on his side on the bed. He propped his head up with his right hand, openly displaying his powerful, unmasked body. His healthy bronze skin was smooth and even, his muscles undulating and well-defined, exuding immense and terrifying strength. His

long, slightly wavy, dark brown hair was disheveled and unruly, with an exquisite silver skull hair ornament inlaid with sapphires shimmering with a cold, mysterious luster, subtly revealing a ruthless and menacing aura. His full, ochre-red lips curved into a shallow arc, and his hawk-like eyes flashed with a cold, sharp light that seemed to be both smiling and not smiling. The concave curve in the center of his strong chin reflected a captivating coldness, while the slight stubble added a touch of languid decadence to this coldness. This King of Guge was as noble as a lion, as majestic as a vulture; as elegant as a snow leopard, as cruel as a wolf.

His gaze lingered on Luo Zhu's scarred and filthy naked body, as if admiring a beautiful landscape painting, savoring the moment. When his eyes landed on her swollen and broken lips, he clicked his tongue, reached out his left hand to lift the braid that was loose on her chest, and said, "Good girl, your service has satisfied me. I will keep my promise and release that mastiff slave." His deep laughter carried a sexy huskiness after the release of lust, but it could not bewitch Luo Zhu's mind.

Your service?!

Hah, how...how ironic those four words were! She had fainted, her body used at his will. She never wanted to experience this kind of passive service that satisfied a beast! Hah, life is short, a fleeting hundred years. Her life was even shorter and more fleeting, only twenty years! Twenty years!

Another sharp pain shot through her lower abdomen, as if her intestines were ruptured. Several large gushes of hot, sticky blood gushed from her body like a tidal wave, still mixed with tiny, dark red mucus, completely extinguishing her last shred of will to live.

Under the beast king's sweeping gaze, although she was completely naked, she no longer had the energy or emotion to maintain any semblance of female shame. Apart from the gushing hot blood, her body felt no temperature; the piercing, sharp, and burning pain gradually became numb in the bone-chilling cold.

A mocking smile played on her lips as Luo Zhu stared steadily at the beast king before her, saying calmly, "Will Your Majesty truly keep your promise and release Zhuoma?"

Zanbu Zhuodun raised his right eyebrow slanted, a wicked yet somewhat cold smile curving his lips: "Of course."

"No matter what changes or circumstances occur along the way, will Your Majesty keep your promise and release Gesang Zhuoma back to Namua Village?" Her face did not show any joy at Zanbu Zhuodun's answer; she remained expressionless, asking in a flat voice.

“You’ve already sacrificed your tender flesh, how could I, as the King of Guge, break my promise to you?” He twirled her thin braid, his large hand covering her high, bruised breasts, kneading them wantonly, sighing with regret, “I only used a little force, how did it turn into such a hideous state?”

She had not only sacrificed her tender flesh, but also her life!

Cold sweat streamed down her forehead, and Luo Zhu, enduring the pain in her chest, pleaded in a low voice, “Your Majesty… Your Majesty, can you immediately send someone to send Gesang Zhuoma back?”

Zanbu Zhuodun’s hands suddenly stopped, he looked at her deeply for a moment, and then suddenly raised his voice towards the curtain, ordering, “Send someone to send that mastiff slave named Gesang Zhuoma back to Namu’a Village. There must be no mistakes along the way, or else you will be beheaded.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,”

the guard outside the curtain replied in a deep voice, and then fell silent.

He turned to look at Luo Zhu, his smile turning chillingly menacing. "You slut, you're the first living creature to dare question the promises of King Muchi Zanbu Zhuotun of Guge. Could it be that you've become arrogant and presumptuous just because you've pleased me?" His fingers gripped her delicate chin, his hawk-like eyes narrowing, his voice sinister. "Remember, everything that dares to challenge me, Muchi Zanbu Zhuotun, will meet the same fate—" He paused slightly, the final word escaping his lips, "Death." The soft utterance concealed boundless cruelty.

Another threat? What use is the threat of death to someone with one foot in the grave? For over a month as a slave, she had lived in constant fear, in utter humiliation, in a state worse than a dog, just to survive, to escape. A single act of service that caused her to faint had turned all her forbearance into a complete joke. And that hateful beast was still threatening her with death right in front of her!

A hot, sticky sensation surged from her lower body again, and her vision suddenly blurred with a slightly burning, aching sensation. A string deep within her soul snapped.

She jerked her head away, shaking off the large hand gripping her chin, and simultaneously swung her arm, swift as lightning, and slapped the approaching bronze face.

"Smack—"

A pleasant, fiery, crisp sound rang out as a soft, white hand swept across Zanbu Zhuodun's left cheek, leaving a faint red mark on his bronze skin.

The slap was too sudden, too unbelievable, too terrifying.

Zanbu Zhuodun covered his left cheek, never expecting that this seemingly harmless, cowardly, and timid slave girl, after hearing his threat, would not tremble with fear and fawn, but instead swing her arm and slap him hard. This was the first time in his twenty-three years of life that he had been slapped. The one who hit him was a lowly slave, treated like a plaything! Utter shock and disbelief momentarily stunned him. His left cheek didn't hurt much, but a burning sensation gradually rose on his skin. A torrent of rage surged within his chest, unleashing a series of tearing roars.

"You! Dare! Hit! Me!"

He rubbed the faint red mark, gritting his teeth and snarling coldly. His hawk-like eyes were terrifyingly dark and sinister, a murderous aura instantly filling his dark brown pupils, a black, pungent aura surging wildly within, clamoring to destroy everything.

"I'm hitting a beast!"

Luo Zhu roared back without showing any weakness. His plump, soft body moved like a rabbit in that instant, unexpectedly leaping onto Zanbu Zhuotun, raising his fist and delivering a relentless, headlong punch, catching him off guard once again.

"Get out!"

Enraged by the insults and the two unexpected punches, Zanbu Zhuoton grabbed whatever was wrapped around him and threw it off the bed, shouting fiercely.

"I'll fight you to the death!"

Luo Zhu screamed hoarsely. Her body, curled up on the carpet, sprang up instantly, like a wounded and raging leopard, lunging onto the bed and biting Zanbu Zhuoton's thigh with a "howl."

Zanbu Zhuoton, in pain, was about to kick her, but hesitated when he saw the slave girl's tears welling up and her teeth bleeding.

His hesitation was Luo Zhu's opportunity. Almost without pause, she unleashed all the vicious fighting techniques she had used before.

“Beast! You’re a beast! Do you think it’s easy for me to live, all alone, far from home? To survive, no matter how scared, how painful, or how sad I was, I dared not scream, dared not shout, dared not cry out loud. I ate leftover bones, mixed them with hardened tsampa, ate from the same bowl as the mastiffs, and slept in the same room. I threw away my dignity, letting you beasts threaten and torment me every few days, making me worse than an animal. As long as I could live, I could endure all of this! But you’re a beast! A beast!”

She howled in grief and anger, almost frantically tearing, scratching, punching, and kicking Zanbu Zhuodun, the resentment and grief that had been suppressed deep in her soul for so long erupting in the moment before her death.

"Why did you rape me? Why did you rape me? You are the high and mighty King of Guge, and I am a slave as low as dust. What have I done to offend you? You want to rape me to death! Tell me! Tell me!"

Luo Zhu roared, biting hard with each bite; grabbing and twisting with each roar, her entire face a mess of tears and snot streaming down. Her cheeks and lips were pale and bluish, radiating a deathly decay. Through the glistening tears, her large eyes were bloodshot, a web of anger, determination, and despair intertwined within. Behind this web lay the loss of any strong will to live, a hollow numbness of death seeping out layer by layer.

At this moment, he saw the emptiness and numbness he had always longed to see, and his chest felt even more suffocated than when he saw her faint from fright. This suffocation even suppressed the raging fire within him.

Chapter 89 Locked in the Dungeon

With parents who loved and hated each other, who would never focus their attention on their children, Luo Zhu was destined to be cold-hearted. Lacking love, she craved it and was moved by the care others showed her, yet the only person she truly loved was herself.

Her greatest desire was to find a good man to marry and live a simple, ordinary life; her greatest fear was death. As long as she could live, she would kowtow to beasts, eat and sleep with mastiffs, endure all kinds of torture, and even give up her most important dignity and most precious chastity. However, this only thought was shattered by a horrific rape, and death had already cruelly arrived. Now she had nothing, no fear left, so how could she willingly endure a humiliating and repressed death?

"Beast! Waaah...beast!"

Her ten fingers formed claws, scratching and clawing at Zanbu Zhuodun's broad chest muscles, leaving bloody welts. Her bloodshot eyes burned with a raging, self-destructive fury, and glistening tears of despair continuously gushed from the crimson flames, giving her eyes a strange, breathtaking light.

Zanbu Zhuodun's expression was like ancient ice, utterly cold. Beneath the ice, a dark, ferocious killing intent surged like a bloodthirsty, savage dragon, frantically assaulting the ice that bound it. With a single reach, he easily subdued the white, tender claws scratching at his chest. With a flick of his arm, he instantly pinned the unruly thing clinging to his body beneath him. Still using his hands? How could that possibly be satisfying? Forum reputation guaranteed! High-grade silicone video of Fan Bingbing's genitals, molded to a highly realistic shape, with soft and delicate skin! Built-in large protrusions closely resemble female anatomy, providing a more realistic experience... The sensation is irresistible! Click to enter.

"I didn't rape you." He stared at her almost crazed face and said coldly, "You're still alive and well." A heavy, oppressive feeling filled his chest, tinged with a strange ache. It was this ache that, like an iron chain, restrained the burgeoning, almost explosive, murderous rage.

Her wrists were twisted so tightly they felt like they were about to break, and the heavy body pressed down on Luo Zhu, almost suffocating her. She gritted her teeth, enduring the torment of pain, and without the slightest flinch or fear, screamed at that cold, cruel, and angry face, "Liar! You didn't rape me, so why am I bleeding? Why does my lower body hurt? Why does my lower abdomen hurt?"

"I didn't rape you,"

Zanbu Zhuodun repeated a second time, his stiff, cold voice filled with obvious suppression and forbearance. His dark, sharp eyes suddenly turned venomous, slowly corroding the thick layer of ice on the surface of his eagle eyes.

She paused, then suddenly burst into a loud, grotesque laugh, a laugh filled with despair and shrillness. Strings of tears, like broken pearls, overflowed from her reddened eyes.

Zanbu Zhuodun silently watched her, the venom in his eyes growing stronger, the killing intent sharper, his full lips pressed into a straight, sharp line.

"You didn't rape me? You didn't rape me?" she retorted with a sneer, her eyes widening suddenly as she roared, "If you didn't rape me, why would your beastly root be covered in—"

A shadow, accompanied by a powerful, bone-scraping gust of wind, crashed down on her, abruptly cutting off her roar. Before she could even close her eyes, the shadow had already swiftly shifted, barely grazing the left side of her head. Immediately following was a dull thud, her body suddenly lurching downwards as the heavy bed collapsed into ruins with a series of crashes, the entire bedchamber trembling three times.

Her left ear burned with pain, and even after sticky, hot fluid oozed out, she could still faintly feel the lingering tremors. Several thin braids, whipped up by the wind and then violently severed by a hand, were scattered across her face. If that hand had struck her face squarely, it wouldn't be the bed that was now ruins, but her head.

The last word, "blood," stuck in her throat, impossible to spit out or swallow. She stared blankly at Zambu Zhuodun's狰狞 and twisted, furious features, her body and mind deeply shaken by the extraordinary, terrifying power he exuded.

Her large, red, tearful eyes and his sharp, sinister, dark brown eagle eyes met silently, neither looking away. One was stunned and horrified, the other filled with murderous intent; one was empty and helpless, the other struggling to suppress her emotions.

"I...didn't...rape...you," Zambu Zhuodun said, one hand propped against her ear, each word deliberate. He closed his eyes briefly, then slowly added, "You're menstruating."

One second, two seconds, three seconds, four seconds, five seconds…

time ticked by, and finally, a ripple appeared in Luo Zhu's blank, vacant eyes. She rolled her eyes in confusion. What…what was the beast king's last sentence? Why did she hear it…but not understand it?

"I...I don't think I understood the last sentence." She murmured timidly, her lips barely moving.

The ice on the surface of his dark brown eyes was finally corroded by the venom deep within them, creating a thin crack. Instantly, the bloody, dark killing intent broke free of the chains of pain, whistling as it burst through the ice.

"You're menstruating!" Zanbu Zhuodun roared, repeating. His hawk-like eyes narrowed, a flash of bloody light appearing before him. He raised his hand and flung the half-confused, half-dazed Luo Zhu away.

Thud—

"Ouch—"

A dull thud and a sharp scream rang out almost simultaneously. Luo Zhu's stagnant brain was jolted back into function by the fall. Yes, the pain in her lower body seemed to be only on the outside; there was no pain inside. The icy, cramping pain deep in her lower abdomen was actually...actually quite familiar. She looked up urgently, incredulously seeking confirmation from Zanbu Zhuodun, who had risen from the ruins of the bed, dressed in his robe.

"Your Majesty... what Your Majesty said is... is true? I... I just had my period? I... I won't die?!" A faint blush of surprise rose on her pale, withered face, and the aura of death vanished almost instantly.

"Your Majesty?" Zanbu Zhuotun's lips curled into a cold smile. He took a few steps forward and kicked her, sending her tumbling over. "You pig, now you know how to call me Your Majesty? Weren't you quite happy calling me a beast? Keep it up!" He sneered repeatedly, kicking Luo Zhu several times before finally placing his foot on her back. His tone was so gentle it sent chills down her spine. "Who said you won't die? Have you forgotten what I said before? Anyone who dares to insult or provoke Your Majesty is doomed."

Once she realized she hadn't actually stepped into her coffin yet, the deep-seated fear of death in the depths of her soul quickly resurfaced. Live, she must live! The shattered belief was instantly rebuilt, becoming stronger and more resolute than before. She struggled to lift her head from beneath Zanbu Zhuotun's feet, turning to look at him, and like a Boba, hastily pleaded in the most devout tone, desperately trying to salvage the grave crime of insulting the king.

"No, no, the entire plateau praises the king's majesty as a vulture, his nobility as a lion, his elegance as a snow leopard, his body stronger than a yak, his temperament more cruel than a wolf, his phallus more magnificent than a donkey's, his entire being brimming with wild, beastly charm. This lowly servant calling him a beast is not an insult to the king, it is… it is praising the king, yes, it is praising the king!" Her face, filled with humility, fear, and obsequiousness, mingled with tears and snot, making her look utterly disgusting and filthy.

Zanbu Zhuotun's face flushed red, then paled, finally turning ashen. His large foot, pressing against her fleshy back, trembled slightly; the strong muscles of his calves tightened and loosened repeatedly, but he still couldn't press down firmly even an inch. He exhaled a long, stale breath, abruptly turned around, and sneered, "You pig, let me remind you, that mastiff slave named Gesang Zhuoma shouldn't have been sent out of Guge border town yet."

Luo Zhu was stunned, then turned pale with fright. He lunged forward, grabbing Zanbu Zhuotun's right calf from behind, and cried out in panic, "Your Majesty, you promised that no matter what happened along the way, you would release Gesang Zhuoma back to Namua Village. A king's word is his bond; you cannot break your promise!"

Zanbu Zhuotun's body suddenly stiffened. A dangerous aura and a chilling killing intent hissed from Angzang's body, coiling around Luo Zhu's neck, tightening inch by inch.

Large beads of sweat rolled down her forehead. Luo Zhu clung tightly to the beast king's leg, her head buried low, her throat dry and suffocating, her heart pounding in her chest, her entire body tense.

Suddenly, a deep, resonant, yet cold and icy laugh rang out. Zanbu Zhuotun slowly turned to the side, his head bowed, coldly staring at the slave girl's deeply buried black head, his full, ochre lips curving into a sinister arc: "Good! Good! A mere lowly slave girl dares to scheme against me, Mu Chi Zanbu Zhuotun!"

The laughter abruptly stopped, and Luo Zhu heard a furious shout.

"Guards, lock her in the dungeon!"

She felt her right leg, which she was tightly clutching, seem to move, a powerful force striking her right shoulder, and her body was immediately launched into the air. This time, however, there was no mastiff to catch her.

Luo Zhu screamed in terror, crashing headfirst into the thick cashmere curtain. With a few ripping sounds, the curtain was ripped off, covering her completely from head to toe.

In the sudden darkness, two strong hands caught her.

Two guards pulled her head out, roughly wrapped her up with the curtain like a rabbit, and dragged her quickly towards the dungeon.

Chapter 090 It was just a liking.

Thin wisps of blue smoke curled from the gold-inlaid skull shrine, swirling around the nearly two-meter-tall Buddha statues. The Buddha statues were all of the commanding form, with fierce and wrathful expressions, appearing even more eerie and terrifying in the dim light and swirling smoke. Baimadanzeng lowered

his brows and closed his eyes, sitting quietly cross-legged on a golden lotus cushion. His hands were placed on his knees, forming the meditation mudra. Behind him, on an altar, lay a row of ever-burning butter lamps, their warm glow casting a soft halo around him, making him appear almost divine. His serene face, shrouded in the shadows of the backlight, subtly revealed a chilling, sinister air, yet his slightly upturned lips held a compassionate smile.

This was the scene Shakyamuni saw when he entered the inner sanctum of the mandala. He silently knelt before Pema Tenzin, patiently waiting for the Dharma King to open his eyes.

After an unknown amount of time, Pema Tenzin finally opened his eyes slowly. In that instant, the ice and snow melted, and the entire inner sanctum seemed to bloom as if thousands of snow lotuses were slowly unfolding, releasing a pure and pristine radiance.

The sacred purity and the eerie terror intertwined in the dim light of the inner sanctum, not at all jarring, but rather perfectly complementing each other. Just like the wrathful Vajra statues within, inspiring both reverence and awe.

"You've arrived." Pema Tenzin spoke softly, the three words gentle and warm, like a spring breeze or the murmuring of snowmelt, seeping into the depths of one's soul.

"Yes."

Shakyamuni respectfully raised his head, his handsome face solemn and dignified, his slightly sunken eyes filled with reverence and respect.

"At dawn, take a thick felt blanket to the palace dungeon." Pema Tenzin's smile deepened, and before Shakyamuni could speak, he added, "Oh, and also, take some of the items the noblewomen of the Bopa use for their monthly menstrual cycles."

Huh?!

Shakyamuni stared in astonishment at his most revered Dharma King, speechless for a long time. He could barely guess that the Dharma King wanted him to protect a criminal imprisoned in the dungeon, but this… this was the item women used for their monthly menstrual cycles—it was truly incomprehensible. Did the Dharma King want him to protect a woman?!

Having lived with him for twenty years, he, like all the Guge people, deeply revered the Dharma King's compassion and benevolence, yet he was the only one who knew how terrifying indifference and ruthlessness lurked behind that compassion.

Gods and Buddhas love all things, and all things only fall into the eyes of gods and Buddhas. The hearts of gods and Buddhas are pure and immaculate, untouched by any dust. His Dharma King had always been such a lofty and unattainable deity. Now, why would he suddenly pay attention to a woman in a dungeon?!

"The King has a bad temper and has locked the most precious and rarest offering in the dungeon," Pema Tenzin explained patiently to Shakyamuni with a gentle smile.

Shakyamuni was startled, then suddenly understood. Between the two mastiffs, he already knew perfectly well which was the precious and rare offering. So, the one locked in the dungeon was… a piglet? Thinking of this, his heart suddenly clenched, a sharp pain like a needle prick.

Pema Tenzin didn't miss the fleeting anxiety and heartache in Shakya Tashi's eyes. His smile deepened, and he said softly, "Shakya Tashi, you have indeed been hiding something from me." Shakya Tashi's

expression changed abruptly. Meeting Pema Tenzin's seemingly all-seeing dark blue phoenix eyes, his shoulders slumped helplessly. Twenty years of companionship had given him a deep understanding of the Dharma King. The Dharma King, in turn, knew him intimately. To deceive the Dharma King was utterly impossible. The previous time, the Dharma King had simply not exposed his intentions, and he had been smugly believing he had temporarily fooled the Dharma King.

He honestly recounted everything—how he had captured the piglet in Namtso village, how he had branded her, how she had become his mastiff slave, and so on—in detail.

"From a faraway land, after praying, she opened her eyes and found herself standing on the grasslands of Namtso village where herds grazed..." Pema Tenzin murmured, his fingers slowly turning the Bodhi prayer beads. After a moment of contemplation, a strange light flashed in his dark blue phoenix eyes. "Judging from her soul, she is indeed a precious and rare offering." A jolt went through him

. Shakya Tsering cautiously asked, "Your Majesty, how did you see the soul of the offering?" It didn't make sense. Only the spirits of the dead could enter the Soul Eye set up in the royal palace. The little pig hadn't died; how could Your Majesty have seen her soul and learned about her situation?

After listening to all of Shakya Tsering's concealment, Pema Tenzin showed no anger. He smiled at the man he had practically raised, and said calmly, "The offering's menstrual blood became the catalyst; the soul was dragged into the world of the Soul Eye by the spirit of the dead."

"What?!" Shakya Tsering exclaimed in shock. If a living soul were dragged into the Soul Eye, it would be completely dissolved.

Pema Tenzin glared at him and continued, "What are you panicking about? I sensed the fluctuations in the Soul Eye and sent her out in time."

Shakya Tashi breathed a sigh of relief, a hint of embarrassment on his face. "Your Majesty, please forgive my rudeness."

Pema Tenzin smiled, unconcerned. "You just liked that offering, so your rudeness is understandable."

"No...no...I didn't...like it." Shakya Tashi hurriedly waved his hands and shook his head, but the more he spoke, the more guilty he felt. His dark face gradually became hot, and he awkwardly didn't know where to put his hands and feet. This rare sight made Pema Tenzin unable to help but chuckle.

“Silly boy, though she is a rare and precious offering, she is still a lowly slave. What is there to like about her?”

“I…I don’t…like…” Shakya Tashi stammered, trying to argue again, but under Pema Tenzin’s knowing and mocking gaze, he had no choice but to give up in dejection, hanging his head and saying dejectedly, “I don’t know when I developed feelings for her. I asked the king for her, but he wouldn’t give her to me.” As he said this, a faint shadow fell over his eyes. He wouldn’t compete with the king for the little piglet; he only hoped that he could also have the opportunity to possess her. The little piglet was a lowly slave; the noble king probably wouldn’t maintain an interest in her for long. Right, perhaps that interest had already faded, otherwise he wouldn’t have so cruelly locked her in the dungeon. A gleam of joy flashed in his shadowy eyes.

"Hehe, don't worry, that female slave will eventually become the sacrifice for your ultimate initiation." Pema Tenzin raised an eyebrow slightly, a gentle light flowing in his azure phoenix eyes. "The king will send the sacrifice over soon. Take the items to the dungeon first, don't let her die easily."

"Yes." Shakya Tashi was also somewhat anxious, so he said nothing more and respectfully withdrew.

The gentle smile in Pema Tenzin's eyes gradually turned cold, and his movements of turning the Bodhi prayer beads became slower and slower.

He remembered that small figure struggling and terrified in the Soul Eye. That was the first person who could glimpse the Soul Eye and fall into its world using blood as a lure.

Upon closer inspection, her soul faintly emanated the purest and clearest aura from ancient times, so clean and without a trace of impurity—the ultimate female body for enhancing cultivation. "

Zanbu Zhuotun, as long as you bring this interesting and rare offering, I will forgive your deception."

He stepped off the golden lotus, slowly straightened up, and walked to the prayer wheel in the center of the hall. Holding prayer beads in one hand, he formed a mudra at his chest, turning the prayer wheel while silently reciting scriptures with lowered eyes.

The dim hall, the ever-burning oil lamps, the swirling blue smoke, the terrifying Buddha statues, the monks turning prayer wheels—everything seemed so distant, mysterious, tranquil, and peaceful.

Chapter 091 Little Prisoner Dorje Bang— Luo Zhu was brutally thrown onto a pile of hay by two guards, followed by the clanging of chains and the clattering of the guards' footsteps as they walked away. Dizziness was accompanied by waves of icy, cramping pain in her lower abdomen, causing her to groan in agony. After enduring the dizziness and cramps, she struggled to move and sit up from the haystack. The palace dungeon wasn't much different from the slave grottoes of the past, except the walls were covered with various instruments of torture, giving it a sinister and cruel feel, and the air was thick with the stench of blood and decay. Her cell was a large grotto, divided into three sections by fist-sized wooden bars, each about ten square meters. She was on the far left; in the middle section, she could vaguely see a dark figure lurking in the haystack, while on the far right lay two bloodstained, lifeless prisoners, their fate unknown. Opposite her were rows of cells, some one cell per grotto, others two or three cells per grotto, sparsely holding a small number of prisoners. Most were male, filthy, poorly clothed, or covered in blood. Not a single prisoner showed any curiosity or interest in her arrival; at most, they glanced at her indifferently, and most didn't even look at her. They simply huddled in the corner of their cells, numbly awaiting the next torture or death. Luo Zhu withdrew her scrutinizing gaze and wrapped herself tightly in the cashmere curtain. She was extremely grateful that after being thrown out, she had managed to cling to such a thick and soft curtain. Being locked naked in the dungeon was a minor matter; freezing to death would be the real problem. But no matter how tightly she wrapped herself in the curtain, the chilling air still seeped in, and her body remained as cold as ice. Hot fluid gushed from her lower body like water from a burst dam, quickly soaking the curtain beneath her. This time, her period was delayed by several days, and the bleeding was heavier than ever before; her lower abdomen was also in excruciating pain, likely a consequence of the cold. She endured the intense pain and gave a bitter smile. For over a month, she hadn't slept in a bed or even used blankets. The freezing cold in the beast king's palace had given her a high fever and a cold; her body had long been eroded by the cold, so how could she not be in pain? This dungeon, though not damp, was incredibly cold and damp. She could only hope that her ordeal wouldn't leave any lasting effects. The teeth marks and bruises on her body were definitely from the beast king's abuse, and the abrasions on her inner thighs and the burning pain in her external genitalia were certainly caused by his lewd acts. Damn it, that beast had ejaculated all over her body, leaving her covered in a foul, musky smell. Sigh, she had been familiar with that icy, cramping pain for years; menstruation naturally caused the shedding of lining membranes. How could she have mistakenly thought her internal organs had been damaged by rape? Not only did she blurt out the word "beast," a term that had echoed in her mind a thousand times, but she also recklessly scratched and bit the beast king. It was already a miracle she hadn't been killed on the spot by the beastly king. Alas, it was all because Alanima's death had left such a profound and horrifying impression on her that the moment she saw blood flowing from her lower body and felt excruciating pain, she made wild, incoherent conclusions. Luo Zhu sighed repeatedly, her inner turmoil beyond words. Her only solace was that Gesang Zhuoma had been released. Despite the beast's fury, he hadn't ordered Gesang Zhuoma to be recaptured and tortured. Hopefully, little Zhuoma could let go of all her horrific memories and sorrow, bravely give birth to her child, and live happily again with her grandmother, mother, and brothers. But would she ultimately die in this dungeon? Would anyone come to rescue her? Would Shakyamuni bring her another blanket?… She leaned against the cold stone wall, biting her lower lip tightly, staring blankly at the torch stuck in the stone wall opposite her cell. Only by constantly distracting herself with thought could she endure the torment of pain and cold. Last time, it was Tashi Langtso who warmed her. This time, would someone miraculously appear to warm her? The tuft of straw in the corner of the middle cell suddenly moved, and then a disheveled head popped out, vigorously shaking off the straw stuck to its hair. The straight nose wrinkled, and following the fresh scent of blood, its brown eyes brightened when it saw a pale, bluish-white woman in the cell to its left. It quickly climbed to the wooden bars and called softly, "Hey! Hey!" Luo Zhu was forcing herself to think when she suddenly heard someone calling from her right. She quickly turned her head and, in the dim firelight, saw the face of a boy. The upper half of his head had short, half-curled black hair, while the back of his head had long, curly hair tied in a bun with a tattered, colorful rope, hanging diagonally down to his chest. His slightly grimy skin possessed the characteristic tan of people from the highlands, with two patches of ochre red from sun exposure on his cheeks. His thick, dark eyebrows were straight and long, with slightly upturned ends—a distinctive feature. Beneath them were a pair of large, slightly sunken brown eyes, so bright they seemed to be filled with brilliant sunlight. His nose was straight, his lips full, the corners naturally curving upwards like his eyebrows. His face looked no more than eleven or twelve years old, a mixture of innocent charm and cleverness, a blend of childishness and mischievousness. A faint smile graced his eyes and lips, making him as playful and adorable as a boy next door, instantly disarming Luo Zhu. "You…called me?" she asked, pointing to herself, somewhat uncertainly. "Yes." The boy nodded firmly, his eyes and thick eyebrows curving upwards, his small face becoming even brighter and more radiant, melting hearts. This was the second person she had ever seen with such a radiant smile. The first was Alanima, who tragically died because of his obsession with revenge. This one's smile was not only as radiant and warm as Alanima's, but also possessed an indescribable brightness, intelligence, and endearing clumsiness, making one involuntarily want to smile along with him. "Why did you call me?" she asked softly, controlling the corners of her mouth that had unconsciously turned up. "I smell fresh blood on you, sister. Are you injured? Why don't you move closer, I'll bandage you up." The boy's voice was clear and melodious, like a stream flowing down from a snow-capped mountain, crystal clear. Luo Zhu's pale, bluish face suddenly blazed with fury, which quickly spread to her ears. Oh no! This is so embarrassing! Can you even bandage that spot? She coughed twice, shaking her head dryly in refusal, "No...no need." "Sister, if you bleed too much, you'll die. Don't worry, I'm very good at bandaging." The boy patted his thin chest as if to assure her, rolled up the hem of his tattered leather robe, pulled out a coarse linen undergarment, and dusted it off. "Sister, don't worry about the unbandaged strips; I have plenty of cloth in my clothes." Luo Zhu looked over; the linen undergarment was tattered, barely covering the boy's upper body—it couldn't withstand further tearing. A touch of emotion welled up inside her, and she smiled, shaking her head, "Thank you, but really, you don't need to bandage me." It wasn't a hemorrhage; he wouldn't die. Losing too much might just cause some anemia. "Sister, are you disgusted by my dirty clothes?" The boy's bright smile instantly dimmed. "I'm sorry, sister." He listlessly put down his robe, his eyes losing their warm brightness. Huh?! She had unintentionally hurt a child's pure and innocent heart, yearning to help others. Looking at the boy with his head down, Luo Zhu felt a strange sense of guilt and remorse.

“Um… um, I didn’t mind your clothes being dirty.” She swallowed hard, her voice dry. “I’m not injured, I just… just bled a little as usual, really no need to bandage.” Explaining women’s monthly menstrual hygiene to an ancient plateau boy was too embarrassing; she sincerely hoped the child wouldn’t curiously press her for the specific meaning of “usual.”

“You really didn’t mind my clothes being dirty?” The boy looked up, his gloomy little face brightening slightly, asking with a hint of doubt.

Thankfully, the child didn’t ask about the “usual” part!

“More real than pearls.” Luo Zhu cheered inwardly, speaking with absolute certainty. Wiping away her sweat, she decisively decided to change the subject immediately. “Little friend, my name is Luo Zhu, what’s your name?”

“Just call me Dorje, sister.” The boy smiled happily again.

"Dorje? That means Vajra Protector." Seeing the boy's bright and cheerful smile, Luo Zhu felt her stomachache lessen, and even the fear hidden deep in her heart dissipated. She moved closer to the boy, wrapped in the curtain, and asked with a smile, "What do your father and mother hope you will protect when you grow up?"

"Naturally, I want to protect the happiness and joy of my family." Dorje's large brown eyes shone with a determined light, and his dirty face radiated a beautiful glow.

"Sister believes you can do it." Her heart stirred, and she quickly encouraged the child's lofty aspirations.

"Thank you, sister. I believe I can do it too." Dorje scratched his head, smiling sweetly and innocently.

Luo Zhu was instantly charmed. Having been a slave for so long, this was the first time she had seen something so bright and adorable; it was truly rare. Children are indeed the purest and most adorable creatures in the world. But what crime had this lovely and pure child committed to be imprisoned in such a dark and bloody dungeon?

"Dorgi, what crime did you commit? Why are you locked in the dungeon?" she asked curiously. He was only eleven or twelve years old, practically a minor without criminal responsibility.

Dorgi's upturned lips drooped slightly, his thick lips pouting in dissatisfaction. He snorted twice before saying, "I angered my brother, so he stripped my clothes and locked me in the dungeon." He snorted twice more in dissatisfaction at the end.

This… was his brother the dungeon warden? His methods of disciplining his younger brother were truly unique and professional; wasn't he afraid of scaring his brother? Luo Zhu said somewhat indignantly, "The dungeon is cold and bloody; it's not a place for you at all. How could your father and mother stand by and watch? Why don't they discipline your brother?"

"Father and mother have long since gone to Shangri-La to reincarnate," Dorgi's bright eyes darkened.

Luo Zhu was speechless for a moment, then weakly advised, "Then don't make your brother angry in the future."

"My brother has a bad temper; he gets angry at the slightest provocation," Dorje scoffed, waving his hand dismissively. "Don't worry, sister. I've been in this dungeon countless times since I was a child. I've seen all kinds of bloodshed; I'm not scared. Besides, I'm naturally not afraid of the cold; I'll never get frozen. After a few days, my brother will let me out."

...

Don't underestimate her because of her young age; she's been through countless trials, and her mental and physical resilience is much stronger than Luo Zhu's. Her brother knows this well, which is why he so readily throws his younger brother in here every few days to discipline him. Luo Zhu suddenly felt a sense of helplessness, like someone meddling in other people's business.

"Sister, why were you locked up here?" Dorje asked, returning the favor with curiosity.

Upon hearing this question, the image of the beast king's ferocious and twisted angry face automatically surfaced in her mind. She shivered inwardly, her left hand, hidden behind the curtain, gently touching her right shoulder. The beastly king's final kick had really hurt; her shoulder was probably bruised and swollen by now.

"I offended the king, so I've been imprisoned in the dungeon," she said calmly.

Dorje's eyes widened in surprise, and he was about to ask more questions when the sound of footsteps suddenly echoed in the distance.

"Sister, we'll continue our conversation later."

He quickly jumped back to the corner of the cell, darting into the haystack, reverting to his bulging form.

Chapter 092 Shakyamuni's Visit to the Prison (Part 1)

Luo Zhu pulled the curtain tighter around her, pressing her left hand against her abdomen to ease the pain, her right hand wrapped around her knees, her head buried deep in her arms, letting her thin braid hang down to cover it. Her eyes peered through the narrow gaps in the braid, secretly observing the movements in the dungeon.

The footsteps were uneven, indicating that more than one person had entered the dungeon.

Leading the way was a familiar, tall, and robust man. His shoulder-length, slightly wavy black hair flew wildly behind him with each step. His dark red brocade robe, with its cuffs and collar trimmed with precious leopard skin, was embroidered with exquisite patterns of longevity characters, scrolling foliage, and Yungdrung motifs in silver-red silk thread. Around his neck hung a string of six-eyed dzi beads and a string of gleaming black Asura seed bodhi beads, which, along with the dozen or so obsidian stones embedded in his wide, dark brown leather belt, created a luxurious, profound, and dignified appearance.

A silver snake-shaped earring dangled from his left ear, its bright light flashing intermittently against his black hair, adding a touch of coldness and ruthlessness to his rugged and heroic face. His long, slightly sunken, dark eyes were filled with flickering firelight, indistinct and unreadable, revealing no emotion whatsoever. It was none other than Shijia Tashi, the captain of the Wang family's Black Flag Squad.

Behind him followed several well-trained palace servants, carrying various items, bowing and walking with extreme caution and humility.

Luo Zhu felt an overwhelming surge of excitement. According to Gesang Zhuoma, when she had fallen into a coma due to a high fever from a cold, it was this ferocious man who had brought her two coarse cotton-linen quilts for warmth.

Although this beast had captured her, branded her with slave marks, humiliated her with bones and flesh, torn her clothes, and taken liberties with her, he had also warned her not to faint from the excruciating pain of the branding, patiently cared for her until she recovered, repeatedly warned her not to climb into the beast king's bed, and even knew to bring her two quilts as a sign of concern when she was ill. Compared to the beast king, the few remaining vestiges of humanity in the ferocious beast could almost be called kindness.

Of course, Luo Zhu's fallacy was also due to Gesang Zhuoma concealing from her the lewd acts Shijia Tashi had committed while she was ill. Otherwise, she probably wouldn't be raising her head with excitement and surprise, but rather shrinking as small as possible and running as far away as possible.

"Lie... Captain Lie! You've come to bring me a blanket again?!"

She wrapped herself in the door curtain, rushed to the cell door, and shouted from several meters away.

Shijia Tashi paused slightly, almost overwhelmed by the woman's enthusiastic welcome and greeting. From the moment they met, this woman had either been crying in fear or remaining humble and silent in his presence. Even when she smiled, it was mostly mocking or a fleeting, twisted smile. Now, wrapped in a thick blanket, she leaned against the wooden bars, her large, swollen eyes glistening with tears, filled with hope and surprise as she gazed at him expectantly. Her scarred, petal-shaped lips were slightly pursed, a mixture of crying and laughing, tinged with a hint of grievance, and also with a subtle, almost imperceptible, longing and reassurance at finding someone to lean on.

In that instant, his heart felt as if it had been pierced by a burning silver needle, slowly melting in a tingling, soft pain that spread layer by layer into his chest.

He slowed his pace, walked lightly to the cell door, and condescended to squat down, saying in a deep voice with a smile, "Yes, you pig, I've brought you a blanket again. I brought it early this time, lest you catch a cold, develop a high fever, and faint again."

A woman who has been through life is sensitive and vulnerable, but a woman who has been through life and is imprisoned is even more sensitive and vulnerable. If this woman, trapped in her predicament, had just experienced a terrifying ordeal, leaving her cold, hungry, and in pain, then her sensitivity and vulnerability would increase exponentially.

Upon hearing these seemingly caring words, Luo Zhu felt a pang of sadness, and her wariness—like a weasel offering New Year's greetings to a chicken—vanished instantly. Her lips trembled, and then she burst into a loud wail.

The cell door opened softly, and Shakyamuni entered. Ignoring his luxurious attire, he sat down on the floor and embraced the woman, who was sobbing uncontrollably and gasping for breath, pulling her and her blanket into his arms.

He offered no words of comfort, simply letting her lean against his chest and sob as she cried. His right hand tightly held her waist, while his left hand gently stroked her back, as he intently watched her weep.

His tears quickly soaked a large patch of the brocade on his chest, making his six-eyed dzi bead and Asura seed rosary shine even brighter. The woman, sobbing freely, unconsciously wiped her tears from her face with her dust-covered, delicate hands, turning her pale face into a dirty mess, which, combined with her swollen red eyes, made her look both ridiculous and pitiful. Her heart

was filled with a dull, aching pain, occasionally throbbing like needles. It was a feeling she had never experienced before, as if she had been poisoned, leaving her body weak and powerless. He had a vague feeling that if she asked for anything, he would give it to her without hesitation. It turned out that what the Dharma King said was true; he had simply fallen in love. He had unknowingly fallen for a lowly slave, a slave he had captured and branded himself. He never imagined that after living for twenty-six years, he, Shakyamuni Buddha, would one day fall in love with a woman. However, she was now the king's slave, not yet his, and could not be played with or pampered at his whim. His lips tightened slightly, his narrow eyes dark and deep, complex and unfathomable.

After a long while, the howling cries gradually subsided, and Luo Zhu released much of the fear and grievances she had suppressed. She sobbed intermittently, curled up in Shakyamuni Buddha's warm embrace, shamelessly unwilling to move.

"Have you cried enough?" Shakyamuni Buddha's rough, powerful masculine voice softened, becoming low and gentle, like the melodious sound of a cello in the quiet night.

"Mmm..." she murmured incoherently, snuggling closer to him through the curtain.

This instinctive act of seeking safety was like a pebble, creating faint ripples in the lake of Shakyamuni's heart. He lifted a few thin braids that barely held together at her left temple, a hint of surprise flashing in his eyes: "You pig, what happened to these braids?"

Luo Zhu glanced at him sideways, tears welling up in her swollen eyes, and replied with a pout, "It was...it was the King's hand that cut them off." She shifted her head, revealing her injured ear, "Look, the King also...scratched my ear."

Shakyamuni, having spent years navigating bloodshed and carnage, almost instantly guessed the dangerous situation. If the King's hand had shifted even slightly more, this woman in his arms would have been sent to Shangri-La for reincarnation. Twisting the few short braids, a thousand emotions and countless thoughts surged within him.

The king's decision to lock the little pig in the dungeon wasn't due to a loss of interest, but rather a rage born of uncontrollable, pent-up fury. What had this little pig done to provoke such a rage? Not only had he nearly killed her, but he'd also cruelly imprisoned her alone in the dungeon.

He pulled a silk handkerchief from his sleeve and gently wiped away the tears and grime from her face, asking softly, "How did the king end up in the dungeon?"

Luo Zhu remained silent for a moment before weakly replying, "I offended him, and he locked me up in a fit of anger."

Not anger, but rage, wasn't it? Shakya Suddhodana secretly scoffed, continuing to coax, "Little pig, tell me in detail, and maybe I can find a way to get you out of the dungeon."

"Really?!" Luo Zhu's swollen, misty eyes brightened instantly. She completely failed to notice the intimacy and affection conveyed by the sudden addition of the word "little" before "pig."

“Tell me first.”

Although Shakyamuni didn’t give a definite answer, the hope of escaping the cold, bloody dungeon was enough. Without hesitation, Luo Zhu immediately recounted in detail how he had offended the king.

Chapter 093 Shakyamuni Visits the King in Prison (Part Two)

Shakyamuni listened quietly, his rugged, heroic face gradually becoming expressionless.

“In short, you were unhappy that the king killed two palace servants who had committed the heinous crime of assassination, and in your anger, you rebuked the king, which is why you were imprisoned in the dungeon.” He gave a brief summary of what Luo Zhu had said.

"Hmm." Luo Zhu looked at him pitifully, asking hopefully, "Lord Lie, have you found... a way to get me out of the dungeon?"

He raised an eyebrow, twitched his lips, and looked at her with a half-smile. He gently flicked her nose with his finger and said, "Little pig, what you said is too simple. I can't find a way to get you out of the dungeon from that. Be good, tell me more details. Just tell me exactly how those two assassins died."

This is insane! Knowing how they died is enough, why do I need to know the specifics? Luo Zhu thought to herself, but she had no choice but to bite the bullet and try to remember.

"...Alanima was raped to death by the king. Her beautiful features were all twisted, her eyes were bulging out, her naked lower body was covered with bruises and welts, and her inner thighs were covered in blood. There wasn't a single piece of good flesh inside or out." The gruesome corpse seemed to be lying right in front of her. She shrank into a ball because of the bloody memories, and murmured with a somewhat dazed look in her eyes, "The king waved his arm back lightly, and Quzhen Meiduo's head flew to the corner of the palace in an instant. The blood gushing from the severed neck was like a spring, staining the king's entire back crimson, as terrifying as hell."

“Those who dared to assassinate the king naturally deserve death. Such a death is far too lenient for them,” Shakyamuni said coldly, embracing Luo Zhu. “If I had been by the king’s side, I would have thrown them to the mastiffs to be raped, then broken their bones inch by inch, skinned them, pulled out their tendons, and fed their flesh to the mastiffs.”

Luo Zhu’s mind involuntarily conjured up a series of gruesome images as Shakyamuni described them. Her throat tightened, and she almost vomited again. The warm embrace that held her suddenly seemed to sprout thorns, piercing back all her lost reason and vigilance. She had been blinded by pain, blinded by cold, blinded by fear, to the point of mistakenly taking a cruel beast for a kind man. Indeed, the man beside her had offered some reminders and help, but his nature was always cruel and bloodthirsty; that glimmer of humanity was nothing more than a fleeting shooting star. She shouldn't have let her guard down so easily because of the two quilts he gave her and the few words of concern he uttered.

Her shivering body stiffened, and she subtly moved away a little, distancing herself from the beast's chest. However, the iron arm around her waist suddenly tightened, pulling her in tightly again.

Her face was cupped in a rough, large hand, and a pair of narrow, slightly sunken dark eyes flashed with a cruel and ferocious smile, a smile tinged with a chilling indulgence: "Little pig, what are you running away from?"

"Who...who ran away?" Luo Zhu retorted sharply.

“I know who didn’t escape.” Shakya Tashi nodded readily, his eyes crinkling with a smile. “I just want to remind someone not to do anything as foolish as those two lowly creatures.”

“Who did anything foolish…” Luo Zhu’s retort was cut short by Shakya Tashi’s almost penetrating gaze. She lowered her eyes in a panic, staring intently at a six-eyed dzi bead affixed to her dark red leather robe. After a moment’s thought, she gritted her teeth and said, “When they assassinated the king, I was asleep with Silver Lion and Tiger Stripe in my arms. I know nothing.” She hadn’t said anything she should have concealed. How could this ferocious beast know that she was responsible for holding back the mastiffs and was an accomplice to the assassination?

"Really asleep, unaware of anything?" Shakyamuni Buddha repeated, his voice rising slightly at the end, carrying an inexplicable chilling glint. His thin, purplish-red lips parted slightly, revealing a gleaming, magnetic light. "Little pig, you think I can't guess just because you're cunningly silent? You're underestimating the leader of the Wang family's Black Flag Brigade." His fingertips caressed her delicate cheek intimately as he continued unhurriedly, "You've underestimated not only me, but also Yin Ni. That Yin..." "Ni is a Tibetan Mastiff, so intelligent it's almost a spirit, that it couldn't possibly not have guessed your little scheme of holding it back so the assassin could carry out the assassination. It just knows the king is strong, so it lets you play around. This beast is especially fond of you." He snorted coldly, a hint of helplessness creeping into his smile. "Not to mention it, even the king turns a blind eye to your crimes, you little pig."

"Benefit my foot! He threatened me with Gesang Zhuoma's life to make me lick the filth off his penis! Disgusting!" Luo Zhu blurted out in a fit of indignation. Only after seeing Shakyamuni's strange and astonished look did she realize her mistake, but the words were already spilled and couldn't be taken back. Her cheeks burned instantly, and she dared not look at Shakyamuni even more.

"You mean... the king not only showed you his penis, but also made you... lick it?!" Shakya Tashi looked at her incredulously, her eyes filled with shock. Although the Boba people revered a magnificent phallus, excess was as bad as deficiency; exceeding human limits became a terrifying and cursed demon. Therefore, the king's unusual phallus was an absolute secret. Apart from a very few people who knew about it, everyone who had seen the king's phallus was doomed. But now, the king not only took the initiative to let a female slave get close to him, but also let her live and frolic until now. This—

nonsense! What kind of damned tone was that?! What the beastly king presented was not a priceless treasure, but an ugly weapon that would give you styes just by looking at it, and make you feel nauseous just by licking it, okay? To her, it was an absolute humiliation, okay? Don't talk as if she had received some great honor, and don't show that horrified expression of seeing a ghost.

“Yes. That ugly thing is thicker and longer than a donkey's scrotum, terrifying beyond recognition. It's not a human organ at all; a woman who touches it will die. No wonder you repeatedly warned me never to climb into the King's bed. Speaking of which, I have to thank Captain Lie.” Luo Zhu, enduring the burning sensation on his face, raised his eyes and coldly laughed, “It's so fishy and smelly, it made me nauseous from licking it, and I finally couldn't help but vomit.”

“Vomited?” Shakya Tsering stared blankly at the little pig who was laughing so sinisterly and coldly, a chill creeping down his spine.

“Vomited. I vomited several mouthfuls of sour water onto the King's thing.” He had been terrified at the time, but now he spoke of it with immense pleasure, even with a slight sense of pride and satisfaction. Since the beast he was hiding had already guessed, and he had accidentally let slip what he shouldn't have said, Luo Zhu decided to just go all out.

...

A man was being pleasured by a woman's lips and tongue when suddenly he was doused with vomit, foul and acidic. This...this...As a man, Shakyamuni could hardly imagine how many bulging veins appeared on the king's forehead in fury, and how dark and terrifying his face must have been.

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