Such an obvious lie, and these knife-wielders still bought it. No wonder their Qi Luck is in the negative. Looks like they're all doomed to end up as this woman's prey.
But he couldn't help wondering—was she some kind of demon, or a ghostly monster?
While he mused over it, the woman and one knife-wielder were already heading off toward the rear of the main hall. The other six watched, faces full of jealous longing.
Once they'd put some distance between themselves and the main hall, the woman gave a soft cry—"Oh!"—and stumbled, almost falling. The knife-wielder behind her hurried forward to steady her, but his hands started to roam, clearly taking liberties. He grinned and said, "Careful, sweetheart. If you trip, it'd break my heart."
"Thank you, sir," she murmured sweetly.
The woman blushed, her voice shy and delicate.
"Just a thank you? Aren't you going to give me something a little more... real?" The knife-wielder wouldn't let go, his gaze turning openly lustful.
"Sir, please don't..." she protested, her tone coquettish and teasing.
She pouted, playing the part of a spoiled beauty.
That did it—the knife-wielder practically melted, grabbing her with rough hands and pulling her into his arms. His foul mouth went straight for her lips, while his callused fingers slipped inside her clothes, groping and kneading.
"Sir... please, don't!" she whimpered.
She pushed him away, her movements feigning resistance.
The knife-wielder's eyes went cold. "Sweetheart, don't be so ungrateful."
Faced with his threat, the woman shrank back, her voice timid. "Not here, sir—someone might hear us!"
"Ha! Then let's go somewhere more private!"
Ecstatic, the knife-wielder scooped her up and darted off into the darkness.
Soon enough, they'd left the main hall far behind. The knife-wielder couldn't wait any longer—he tore open her clothes and pressed himself on her.
What happened next—
The woman didn't resist at all. Instead, she met his advances with eager enthusiasm. Before long, the two were tangled together, lost in the moment—and the knife-wielder never noticed the cold, sinister smile twisting at the woman's lips.
A quarter of an hour slipped by.