The Martial God who started at Mantuo Manor

Page 126

Which girl doesn’t have love in her heart?

Besides... this is the powerful figure in front of us who slaughtered the entire Murong clan of Gusu.

An indescribable heat suddenly rose from deep within her lower abdomen, instantly burning through her entire body.

Her throat was so dry it felt like it was on fire, and without thinking, she gently licked her equally dry lips with the tip of her tongue.

Between her legs, an unspeakable ache and emptiness made her almost lose her grip on the horse's belly and fall off its back.

She tried desperately to look away, telling herself not to look at what was improper, but her eyes seemed to be drawn to a magnet, fixedly, greedily, and fearfully staring at that place that made her blush and her heart race, full of masculinity and primal energy, unable to look away even a fraction.

Wang Meng noticed something was off about the girl behind him.

He did it on purpose.

More importantly, it was he who proposed that the two of them ride together on one horse.

The black horse was exceptionally fine; even with an extra passenger, its speed did not decrease in the slightest.

Zhou Zhiruo sat behind Wang Meng, her small hands having to tightly wrap around his steel-like waist and abdomen.

Her cheek was almost pressed against his broad back, and her nose was filled with a strong, masculine scent that was a mixture of sweat, dust, and sunshine.

The scent aggressively penetrated her breath, making her flustered and her already flushed face burning even hotter.

The horse galloped along the official road, and the occasional jolts inevitably lurched her forward, her soft breasts pressing tightly against his hard, iron-like back muscles time and time again.

Every contact felt like an electric current coursing through her body, making her feel both shy and strangely secure—a sense of security she had never experienced before, a feeling of dependence on a powerful figure.

Suddenly, the black horse seemed to have stepped on a pebble, and its body jerked to one side.

Zhou Zhiruo gasped in surprise, her body swaying slightly. To steady herself, the hand wrapped around his waist instinctively slid down, trying to grab onto something more stable.

But her fingertips touched a place she shouldn't have touched.

Through the fabric of her pants, her fingertips could feel a protrusion that was much harder than muscle, with a striking shape and radiating intense heat.

With the swaying of the horse's back, the pulse beat slightly in her palm with a rhythm more steady, intuitive, and powerful than anything visible to the naked eye, like a lurking beast poised to pounce.

"..."

Zhou Zhiruo's breath caught in her throat.

Her fingers felt as if they had been burned by a hot iron, or as if they had been attracted by a magnet; they froze in place, unable to move.

An indescribable heat suddenly exploded from deep within her lower abdomen, instantly rushing to her limbs and bones, making her legs weak and almost causing her to slip off the horse.

"Zhiruo, you'd better hold on tight!"

Wang Meng gave a reminder as if he hadn't noticed anything.

It wasn't until he heard Zhou Zhiruo's voice, which was barely louder than a mosquito's buzz.

She smiled and glanced at the pigeon.

The divine light was awe-inspiring!

Then Wang Meng casually placed the carrier pigeon on his broad shoulder.

It didn't fly away, but instead obediently preened its feathers.

Wang Meng held the reins with one hand and used the other to remove the small letter tube from the pigeon's leg, from which he pulled out a strip of paper rolled up to the width of a finger.

He casually unfolded the note.

As his gaze swept over the area, Wang Meng's expression did not change much.

But Zhou Zhiruo keenly sensed that the surrounding air seemed to have suddenly dropped several degrees.

An invisible, chilling killing intent slowly emanated from Wang Meng's body, causing her heart to tremble violently, as if she were being stared at by a prehistoric beast.

Wang Meng tightened his fingers slightly, and the note covered in writing was silently squeezed into a small, firm ball between his fingers.

The note contained a simple message: the fifth batch of grain they had collected, totaling 150 large carts, was supposed to be transferred to ships at the canal wharf in Jiaxing Prefecture and transported to the front lines in Xiangyang.

However, during the handover and transfer, the goods were forcibly seized by the largest local gangster force in Jiaxing, the Caobang, under the pretext of "toll fees".

The other side announced that if they wanted the grain to cross the river, they would have to pay three thousand taels of silver as a "tribute" to their brothers in the grain transport gang.

This is no longer extortion; it's blatant provocation.

"hehe."

A low, ambiguous laugh escaped Wang Meng's throat.

He didn't turn around, but his voice clearly reached Zhou Zhiruo's ears behind him.

"Zhiruo, how much do you know about the canal gangs of Jiaxing?"

Zhou Zhiruo was startled by his sudden question. She quickly composed herself, tried hard to recall the intelligence gathered by the sect, and respectfully replied, "Brother Wang."

All I know is that the Jiaxing Canal Gang were local tyrants entrenched on the Grand Canal, led by a man named Feng Xifan, who commanded tens of thousands of followers and controlled all water transport in Jiaxing Prefecture.

They...they've always acted domineeringly and colluded with the local government; ordinary martial arts sects wouldn't dare provoke them.

"overbearing?"

Wang Meng slowly turned his head, a chilling and unsettling smile curving his lips.

"very good!"

Before he could finish speaking, he suddenly pulled on the reins!

The intelligent black horse neighed loudly, reared up, and then fell heavily back down.

"We'll see who's more domineering, me or them!"

This sudden and violent movement was nothing to Wang Meng, but it was like a thunderbolt from a clear sky for Zhou Zhiruo, who was completely unprepared behind him!

"what!"

A short gasp escaped her throat, and the immense inertia caused her to slam uncontrollably forward into Wang Meng's thick, mountain-like back, her soft breasts being squeezed out of shape.

Even more deadly, in order not to be thrown off the high-flying horse, the instinct for survival made her tighten her grip on the only thing that could keep her steady, the hand that was wrapped around Wang Meng's waist.

And so, that hard thing that had been scalding hot even through the fabric was now firmly, completely, and entirely grasped in her palm.

"!!!"

If the accidental touch just now was a fleeting glimpse, then this grip, exerted with all my might, is like grasping a lurking, furious dragon!

The astonishing size, the scalding temperature, the hardness that seemed capable of breaking through everything, surged wildly into her mind through every inch of her palm skin.

What terrified her most was that she could clearly feel that thing in her palm, because of her sudden, tight grip, throbbed even more fiercely and angrily! (The last part, "梅呢想有咏梅空你林在在没呢," is a nonsensical string of characters and doesn't translate directly. It's likely a result of OCR errors.)

That pulse was so powerful that it seemed to crack the bones in her hand.

Zhou Zhiruo's mind went blank for a moment, as if "buzzing" in her head.

A tingling, hot current, ten times stronger than before, shot from her tailbone straight to the top of her head, instantly draining all the strength from her body.

She went limp, her legs filled with an uncontrollable heat and wetness, and she almost lost control of her bladder on the spot.

Just as she was about to faint, the black horse's front hooves slammed down with a loud "thud," and the enormous shock pulled her back to her senses from the overwhelming sensory shock.

She released her grip as if she were on fire.

But the searing sensation in her palm, like a branding iron, and the surging, furious, and powerful pulse that seemed capable of shaking mountains, were deeply and indelibly etched into her body, never to be forgotten.

"Good...thick and strong!"

at the same time.

Deep within the boundless reed marshes of Nanhu Lake outside Jiaxing City, an enormous multi-story ship, like a lurking beast, rests quietly in the middle of a wide expanse of water.

This is the true lair of the Jiaxing canal gangs – “Dragon King Boat”.

This ship is more of a floating fortress than a ship.

The three-story ship's superstructure is ornately decorated, and the sides of the ship are covered with hidden holes that can fire crossbows and arrows.

According to the rules of the canal gang, there should be dozens of fast boats patrolling within a hundred feet around the Dragon King's Boat day and night. Any slight disturbance could cause the large ship to immediately weigh anchor and sail into the maze-like depths of the reed marshes to avoid any threat.

But today, the situation is completely different.

All the patrol boats were recalled, and the hundreds of Cao Gang disciples, armed with sharp blades, did not disperse to guard the area, but instead gathered densely on the deck in front of the Dragon King's Boat and on the temporary dock made of wooden planks below the boat.

They looked tense and fierce, but their eyes were fixed on the same direction as they stood in a tense standoff with a group of uninvited guests.

At the end of the dock, directly facing the bow of the Dragon King's Boat, quietly rests an eight-bearer sedan chair made of black lacquered wood, with silver bells hanging from its four corners.

The sedan chair was carried by eight burly men dressed in black, close-fitting outfits.

Around the sedan chair stood nine other guards dressed in the same attire.

These seventeen people, plus a middle-aged man who seemed to be the leader beside the sedan chair, made a total of eighteen.

Each of them was expressionless, stood upright like a pine tree, and exuded an aura of iron-blooded ruthlessness.

What is most striking is that each of them carries a large ox-horn bow on their back, which is three times larger than an ordinary bow and arrow.

Eighteen people, eighteen large bows.

They stood there quietly, yet they created a terrifying pressure that prevented the hundreds of Cao Gang disciples from making the slightest move.

But in the midst of this tense, deathly silence, the sedan chair curtain was gently lifted by a slender, fair hand with distinct knuckles.

A handsome young man dressed in a moon-white brocade robe, with a jade belt around his waist and a bamboo folding fan in his hand, slowly stepped out of the sedan chair.

He looked to be in his early twenties, with a handsome face, bright eyes, and a faint smile on his lips. He seemed relaxed, as if he were not in a dangerous place, but taking a stroll in his own backyard.

He stepped down from the sedan chair, gently shook the folding fan in his hand, and looked past the hundreds of fierce-looking members of the Canal Gang in front of him, his gaze landing directly on the gloomy-faced big man on the bow of the boat—Feng Xifan, the leader of the Canal Gang.

"Chief Feng, is this how you treat your guests?"

A sinister glint flashed in Feng Xifan's eyes. He subconsciously gripped the railing of the ship's side, the rough wooden planks calming his slightly agitated mind somewhat.

He certainly recognized the white-clad gentleman who stepped out of the sedan chair.

Or rather, he knew the person who represented the young master in making the arrangements and presented that heavy box of gold.

He glanced at the many gang members around him who looked tense, and a sense of regret swept through his heart.

At first, he thought it was just an ordinary business deal.

The guy in front of him sent someone to his door, offering him a price he couldn't refuse: to lead a group to rob a shipment of grain being escorted by Beggar Clan disciples.

There were approximately 30,000 to 40,000 dan of grain.