Bathroom Passion, Assassin's Methods

Although Seer had already witnessed Mutou’s divine abilities, hearing that two ordinary missiles had inexplicably been reflected to destroy the helicopter still filled him with profound admiration. A feeling naturally arose in his heart: "How wonderful it would be if I possessed such power. I wouldn't trade it even for the throne."

Lost in these thoughts, he recalled how Solas had managed to become Mutou's disciple, and wondered why he couldn't do the same. However, being a man of high intelligence, he knew that making such a request abruptly might fail, so he grew even more attentive and flattering. He immediately instructed his servants to prepare a lavish banquet, partly to thank Mutou for coming to save his father, and partly to help Mutou recover from the shock of the attack.

However, as Mutou entered the royal palace, a petite figure darted out and threw herself at him. It turned out that Qiao'er had arrived along with Chen Yi and the other four biochemical warriors. Standing around two meters tall, they were striking and conspicuous no matter where they were placed.

Qiao'er pestered him coquettishly, "Big Brother Mutou, you went out to have fun without even waiting for Qiao'er."

Mutou smiled faintly, calculating that judging by the time, they should have arrived by noon; she must have been waiting for him for quite a while. Meanwhile, Nasser looked on with a tongue-clicking sense of awe. Arab nations allowed a man to take four wives, but they were required to maintain separate households, and these wives were not allowed to meet one another. Of course, as a royal grandson with countless concubines in his quarters, his situation was different. Yet, seeing that Mutou, a man from China, unexpectedly had several companions who appeared quite close to him, Nasser felt deep admiration. He knew that China currently practiced a monogamous system; being able to keep multiple wives together without jealousy required truly extraordinary skill.

Having just thrown herself into Mutou's arms, Qiao'er noticed Yaxin Yi standing nearby, and hastily detached herself from Mutou's embrace to say to her, "Sister Xin, is there anything fun around here? You must take Qiao'er along with you."

Because Yaxin Yi was the only woman Mutou had officially married thus far, everyone treated her with utmost respect. Furthermore, Yaxin Yi did not push the other women away from Mutou. On the contrary, she was deeply aware that she was just an ordinary woman; aside from using her body to satisfy Mutou, what other skills did she possess to win his favor?

...

That evening, the Faisal Palace hosted a grand banquet set in an atmosphere of joyous celebration, for Nasser's father, Prince Faisal, had fully regained consciousness. Although his body remained weak and he still required bed rest, his mind was clear, and he had even spoken a few words to the visiting old king, moving the aged monarch to tears of overwhelming joy.

Yaxin Yi produced yet another medicinal pill designed to nourish $qi$ and replenish the blood for Prince Faisal. She instructed that it be dissolved in water and administered in three separate doses, once every four hours. The reason for dividing a single medicinal pill into three portions was that the prince's body was already extremely frail, and she feared he might not be able to withstand the potent spiritual herbs of the cultivation world.

Seeing that the prince's vigor grew increasingly robust after taking the medicinal potion, the old king was overcome with excitement and insisted on conferring a noble title upon Mutou. Mutou declined repeatedly, but the old king was resolute and declared, "We shall first bestow upon you the title of 'Pasha.' This is a title reserved only for the highest-ranking officials of our nation."

Mutou had no idea what a "Pasha" signified, but since the king had spoken, Nasser eagerly accepted the title on his behalf from the side, whispering, "This is equivalent to the position of a governor."

Mutou was slightly startled, thinking that this country was quite generous to grant him the title of governor so quickly. Seeing that he had not refused, a flash of delight crossed the old king's eyes. Exchanging a meaningful look with his precious grandson, the king continued, "Master Mu possesses divine medical skills. Would you be willing to settle down in our country? Hahaha. You and my grandson are of a similar age; if you interact more in the future, you will surely be enfeoffed as an 'Emir' before long."

Even if Mutou did not understand the Arab aristocratic system, he knew very well that the title of "Emir" was used in Arab countries to designate high-level rulers and military commanders. He instantly understood that the old king was attempting to recruit him for the sake of his grandson.

Before Mutou could reply, the old king clapped his hands and announced, "The banquet is served. Tonight, I shall personally host our distinguished guests from afar."

The attendants had long since prepared everything. Upon hearing the king's applause and recognizing the signal to commence the banquet, they immediately struck up the music. A group of beautiful attendants stepped forward, bowing to respectfully invite the king, the royal grandson, Mutou, and the others to take their seats.

Although Arab restaurants offered lobsters, pigeons, chickens, and ducks, they completely lacked the "delicacies of mountains and seas" prized by the Chinese, nor did they consume bizarre "wild game" such as bear paws, giant salamanders, snakes, or pangolins.

This lavish banquet personally attended by the king consisted merely of fish, shrimp, beef, and mutton. Although the dishes were exceptionally well-roasted, they appeared somewhat monotonous, falling far short of the complex variety and transformations found in Chinese Sichuan cuisine.

Nevertheless, during the banquet, a troupe of beautiful maidservants performed the traditional Arab white-robe whirling dance, adding a touch of festive cheer to the gathering. The old king first continuously urged Mutou to take on Arab nationality, promising him high office and generous emoluments, and then frequently directed his grandson to press drinks upon him. Finally, in front of all the women present, the king declared, "Master Mu, whichever of these women catches your eye, just speak up, and she shall be sent to attend to your bed."

This remark nearly caused Mutou, who was in the middle of drinking, to choke. Fortunately, the king spoke in Arabic, and Yaxin Yi and the others did not understand the language. Moreover, the old king spoke with an air of complete naturalness, devoid of any pretense, so the women, whose sixth senses were normally quite sharp, failed to notice anything amiss. Only a group of Arab maidens blushed with shy modesty before slowly withdrawing after the dance.

The banquet lasted for over three hours. With the exception of Yaxin Yi, who disliked meat and partook only of some melon fruits and plain water, the rest of the company drank to a state of mild intoxication under the warm hospitality of the old king and Nasser. Seeing that the hour was late, Nasser arranged for maidservants to assist everyone to their respective quarters for rest.

There were easily a thousand or eight hundred rooms within this royal palace. Nasser's intentions were unclear, but he assigned a separate room to each person, even giving Yaxin Yi, Mu Siyu, and the other two women separate chambers of their own.

In his slight intoxication, Mutou was not escorted to Yaxin Yi's room by the maidservants; instead, he was guided into a luxurious bathroom. Through a hazy blur, he saw a lavish pool emitting waves of steam. The room was filled with vapor, and stepping inside instantly induced a lazy, comfortable sensation, making it feel wonderfully relaxing.

The two maidservants who escorted him in gently stripped away his garments and lowered him into the pool. Immediately afterward, they cast off their own long robes, revealing rounded, athletic bodies, and smoothly slipped into the water to bathe Mutou.

Only then did Mutou snap to full sobriety. He hurriedly submerged his body in the water and demanded, "What are you doing?"

Seeing Mutou shy away, the two women giggled and said, "We are the maidservants assigned by His Highness Nasser to attend to the Master tonight."

Mutou quickly replied, "No, thank you. I have a wife."

Seeing Mutou refuse, tears welled in the eyes of the two women as they said, "If the Master rejects us, it means you find us lacking, and His Royal Highness the Grandson will certainly not spare us lightly."

Mutou could least bear to see women cry, especially since these two women possessed high bridges of the nose and deep-set eyes, exuding a unique exotic beauty. Their skin was smooth and possessed a healthy wheatish tone, and their figures were curvaceous and well-proportioned, making them genuine beauties of the highest order. He thought to himself, "It's not like I'm losing anything; surely I won't be devoured by them." With that, he closed his eyes slightly and allowed them to scrub his body.

Seeing that Mutou no longer resisted, the two women were overjoyed. They first applied a layer of fragrant substance to his body and washed him meticulously. Once that was finished, they helped him to a reclining chair by the edge of the pool and began to massage him with practiced care.

This massage possessed a rather unique technique. Rather than using merely their hands, the two women used their full, firm breasts to massage his entire body. Mutou felt only a single word echoing in his mind: "Awesome." He muttered inwardly that this was the life of royalty—something ordinary commoners like themselves could never imagine.

Mutou was a normal man, and having two stunning, stark-naked women bathing and massaging him naturally caused his male symbol to stand proudly erect, blue veins throbbing. This sight caused the two women to blush furiously.

After massaging for a while, one of the women lowered her head, kneeling between Mutou's thighs. She parted her cherry lips and engulfed his manhood, sucking on it tenderly.

Ah! Mutou felt a jolt of intense pleasure. Having his manhood enveloped by warmth and wetness felt indescribably comfortable and cozy. Meanwhile, the other woman lowered her head to gently lick his chest, making Mutou feel as though he were floating on air.

After a moment, one of the women straddled Mutou's body and guided his manhood into her warm, moist depths. Instantly, Mutou let out a long sigh as a wave of wondrous sensation surged over him. The woman moaned softly, swaying her hips in a slow, rhythmic motion. Looking into Mutou's delicate face with misty, seductive eyes, she felt as though her heart was about to leap right out of her chest.

Mutou felt as if he had ascended to ultimate bliss, with waves of exquisite sensation crashing over him like a tide. The intense pleasure made him unwilling to control his desires; after a series of fierce thrusts, he let out a hoarse roar.

Right at the peak of his ecstasy, when his body was completely relaxed, he suddenly sensed a thread of danger. Snapping his eyes open slightly, he saw that the woman who had been licking his chest was rolling her tongue, spitting out a thin, concealed razor blade and slashing it toward his neck.

Given Mutou's currently reinforced physique, let alone this tiny blade, even ordinary firearms could not harm him. Yet, out of pure instinct, he raised his hand slightly and pinched the blade between his fingers.

However, this woman was fierce and unrelenting. Loosening her bite and lifting her hand, she pulled an exquisite hair hairpin from her hair and lunged to stab Mutou. Mutou let out a cold snort, flicked his finger to snap the hairpin in half, and reached out to grab the woman's arm.

At that very moment, he felt a series of contractions from the warm depths where his manhood was lodged. The woman sitting atop him flushed crimson—she was actually reaching a climax.

For a split second, his attention wavered. Taking advantage of the moment, the other woman wrenched her arm, and realizing she could not break free from Mutou's grip, she ground her teeth together. Immediately, a dark hue suffused her face, and she instantly expired—she was a suicide operative.

Only then did the woman sitting on Mutou snap back to reality, realizing that the royal grandson's distinguished guest had been targeted in an assassination attempt, and she herself was inextricably linked to it. Her heart instantly plummeted from the heaven of pleasure down to the depths of hell; her face turned ashen white, and she collapsed limply across Mutou's body.

Mutou snorted coldly, pushed her aside, and was about to question her when he noticed a streak of bright crimson blood staining his manhood.

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*The following word count is free: The third chapter of today is offered as a reward for the 50th monthly vote. Mutou honors his word.*