Chapter Seventy-Three: Beast, What Have You Done to Me?

Just after Han Shuo and his companion had left, Grover burst into the room with a group from the Buster Trading House.

“Who did this? Who did this? I’ve spent so much gold on you all, and not a single one of you noticed an assassin approaching? If the assassin’s target had been me, I fear it wouldn’t be those two lying on the ground right now!” Grover flew into a rage the moment he saw the scene, roaring at the men who had followed him in.

“Mr. Grover, this assassin was exceptionally skilled. He managed to bypass my Wind Barrier and, in such a short time, assassinate both Darnell and Yuna. This proves his abilities are far beyond our expectations,” a long-haired man, his complexion somewhat sallow, observed the scene and spoke to Grover.

Grover took a deep breath, glanced at the long-haired man, and said apologetically, “I’m sorry, Ellis. I lost my composure.”

The wind mage Ellis remained expressionless. His gaze was drawn to Darnell’s left hand, and with a soft “hmm,” he stepped closer to the corpse. Staring at Darnell's left hand, now missing a finger, Ellis said in puzzlement, “The middle finger of Darnell’s left hand, where he wore his spatial ring, has been severed. What’s going on here?”

“Not just Darnell—even Yuna is the same. Could it be that the assassin’s motive was robbery?” Grover echoed Ellis's confusion.

“Impossible!” Ellis rejected this outright. After scanning the surroundings, he explained, “If the assassin’s goal were mere robbery, these two would be the last targets to choose. Combined, they’re the most difficult to deal with. Moreover, there are plenty of valuables in the trading house. If he only wanted money, there’d be no need to target them. With the skills this assassin demonstrated, he could easily obtain greater profits from the Buster Trading House without anyone noticing.”

After Ellis spoke, Grover considered it and nodded, his face darkening. “If it wasn’t for money, then it must be my dear niece Phoebe’s doing. I never thought she’d hold back this long—she finally couldn’t restrain herself any longer!”

“That’s right, it must have been Phoebe who hired someone. Last time, Darnell and Yuna personally tried to assassinate her. Although they failed and withdrew, I’m certain Phoebe knows they were behind it. After all, the lecherous way Darnell looked at her was obvious even to an outsider like me. She must have noticed. The fact that only those two ended up dead is telling enough. Still, it seems the assassin was tempted by profit—otherwise, he wouldn’t have taken the spatial rings under such dangerous circumstances. When did Phoebe acquire someone like that?” Ellis frowned, thinking aloud.

Grover paused, his expression growing even colder. “I know who it is. It must be that Brian—the one who helped Phoebe kill three ‘Shadow Remnants’ experts recently. The guards say he came to see Fubin about some business, so he’s probably short on money. If he could kill three elite swordsmen from the Shadow Remnants, he certainly has the ability to take down Darnell and Yuna.

Damn it, how did Phoebe win him over? Who knows where she’s hiding him—since he left the trading house last time, he hasn’t shown up around her again. I’ve had people watching for ages, but still no sign of him. This will be troublesome.”

Ellis nodded, concluding, “It does seem likely to be him. I think we should do whatever it takes to eliminate him first. Otherwise, he could assassinate any of us at any time.”

“Fine. Pass down the order: don’t attempt to kill Phoebe for now. Focus all effort on finding this man at her side. He’s ruined my plans twice—I’ll make him wish he were dead,” Grover said, his tone icy with malice.

***

At that moment, Han Shuo—the very person Grover now loathed beyond measure—had already left the Buster Trading House with Phoebe, hurrying toward her residence in the northern part of the city.

Phoebe was in a strange state, dazed and feverish, and could barely keep up despite Han Shuo’s constant urging. Both were dressed in nightclothes, slipping through dark alleys to avoid attention.

However, the closer they got to the city’s northern outskirts, the more frequently they encountered patrols of city guards. Forced to keep hiding, Han Shuo found Phoebe growing ever weaker; soon, she couldn’t even walk.

Left with no choice, Han Shuo simply hoisted Phoebe onto his back, whether she agreed or not. To avoid the guards’ notice, he abandoned the idea of taking her straight home and instead carried her toward the graveyard behind Babylon Magic and Martial Academy.

That place was always quiet, never patrolled, and Han Shuo knew it better than anywhere else—so it was the first place he thought of in a crisis.

After winding through narrow paths and finally entering a grove, Han Shuo suddenly noticed Phoebe on his back tearing at her own clothes, her hands wandering unconsciously over his body.

Startled, Han Shuo stopped. In that moment of stillness, he became acutely aware of her soft, ample chest pressed against his broad back—a sensation that instantly ignited a fire in his heart, spreading like a spark catching dry grass. Phoebe’s restless hands roamed across his chest, pushing Han Shuo past the brink of restraint.

He set her down and, unable to hold back, wrapped her in his arms, pinning her against a nearby tree. His hands instinctively wandered toward forbidden territory, kneading and caressing her body.

Even through the nightclothes, he could feel every curve, the fullness of her chest shifting under his touch. His hands glided over her shapely thighs and rounded hips, every sensation stoking his passion, urging him deeper.

Phoebe’s mask had already been torn away. Her star-like eyes were clouded with desire, her face flushed a feverish red, lips parted in shallow, enticing sighs that threatened to drown Han Shuo in temptation.

With a ripping sound, his right hand tore open her nightclothes at the chest, baring smooth, snow-white skin and the curves of her breasts, a rosy bud revealed in an instant.

Han Shuo finally lost all control, his right hand roaming with abandon.

“Oh… it hurts!” A faint protest escaped Phoebe’s lips. Her brows knitted in pain, and she moaned weakly from the discomfort in her chest.

The shock jolted Han Shuo awake. Seeing her state, and recalling the strange scent he’d inhaled earlier, he realized Phoebe must have been drugged with an aphrodisiac. His own lapse in self-control was likely due to the same cause.

Thinking quickly, Han Shuo weighed the situation, then made up his mind. He scooped Phoebe up and dashed ahead.

Han Shuo knew this area well. Soon he reached a small, shallow stream whose course he’d never traced, but he’d frequented the place enough to know the river was safe.

There, he waded in with Phoebe. It was nearly winter, the night air bitterly cold, and the water even colder. He pressed Phoebe into the stream, splashing water onto her head. After several splashes, Phoebe suddenly sneezed.

Han Shuo dunked his own head as well. The icy water instantly cooled his fever, and his body’s responses calmed down.

“Pah… pah!” Phoebe sneezed a few more times, the cold water gradually clearing her mind. Spitting out the chill, the flush faded from her face, and her once-dazed eyes regained their clarity.

“Where am I? How did I get here? Ah-choo!” Phoebe looked around in confusion, sneezing again. As she lowered her head, she caught sight of her exposed chest, the snow-white skin and rosy peak sending a shock through her.

With a slap, Han Shuo’s cheek was struck.

Phoebe, her face twisted with almost crazed fury, shrieked at Han Shuo, “You beast! What did you do to me?”

At this, Han Shuo truly felt a pang of guilt. Facing Phoebe, who seemed on the verge of collapse, he stammered, at a loss for words.

Seeing his reaction, Phoebe broke down in tears, all her usual pride and poise lost. She flailed at him with fists and feet, sending splashes of water flying.

The strong emotion made Phoebe forget she was a skilled Swordmaster. Instead, she attacked like an ordinary woman, with no technique or force behind her blows.

Had she used her combat aura, even with Han Shuo’s considerable magical training, such a barrage would have left him gravely injured if not dead. But as it was, her attacks felt like nothing more than a tickle.

Han Shuo endured her outburst with a bitter smile. Only when she tired herself out did he say, “We were both drugged, but your body is still untouched.”

Phoebe paused, her hands dropping. Standing just two fists away from Han Shuo, she gazed at him with red-rimmed eyes, her voice trembling, “Really? You really didn’t do that to me?”

Han Shuo nodded earnestly, raising a hand to swear, “I promise—I didn’t do anything like that.”

A trace of relief and joy appeared on Phoebe’s tear-stained face. She was about to speak when she noticed her bare chest, hastily pulled her nightclothes up to cover herself, then glared at Han Shuo, biting her lip in fury. “Then can you explain why my clothes are torn at the chest?”

Shrugging, Han Shuo replied innocently, “How should I know? You lost your senses and ripped your own clothes. I resisted temptation and brought you here to cool off with cold water. I’m an upright gentleman—you shouldn’t misunderstand me!”

“Damn your so-called uprightness! You despicable, shameless scoundrel! Last time you held my hand and hugged me without even apologizing. In the rock garden at the trading house, you took advantage of me and said nothing. Now you’ve gone even further! I’ll fight you for this!” Fury blazing, Phoebe charged at Han Shuo, this time clearly using her combat aura.

Han Shuo was alarmed. He realized she must have remembered how her clothes were torn—surely his doing. He turned and scrambled up the bank, shouting, “Miss Phoebe, let me explain! I inhaled the drug too, that’s why I lost control. But as soon as I regained my senses, I brought you to the river. Heaven knows I never wanted to take advantage of you.

When you were out of it, you groped me all over too! You had your way with me—no other woman has ever touched me. I’m still a virgin! After what you did, I’ll have psychological scars. So we’re even—let’s just call it quits…”

As Han Shuo ran, his words tumbled out like cannon fire, just as they had when Chu Canglan had taken him to the moon—though then, his words had been curses, while now he was desperately explaining himself.

“Shut up, you despicable scoundrel! Not another word!” Phoebe, her clothes soaked and hair dripping, looked alluring yet terrifying with her sword at the ready.

“Fine, I’ll take the loss. I’m leaving now. When you calm down, I’ll come back for the black iron ore. Goodbye!” Knowing it was useless to argue with an irrational woman—especially one who was a Swordmaster—Han Shuo sighed and dashed away toward the graveyard, quickly leaving Phoebe, unfamiliar with the terrain, far behind.