Chapter 1397 - 649: Shadow Nether Cave, Under-Bed Ambush!

Byron was startled awake, and a sudden crash of thunder illuminated the luxurious bath, flooding the room with white light.

Above the Royal Capital of the Fire Worship Empire, what was once a cloudless, star-filled night sky suddenly filled with wind and clouds, and in the blink of an eye, it was shrouded in darkness.

Amidst the flashes of lightning and crashes of thunder, a sudden storm poured down.

The sound of rain was continuous...

Unbeknownst to him, Byron no longer needed to consciously use any transcendent ability; merely a dramatic shift in his emotions could easily alter the weather.

"Ah!"

A figure stealthily approaching Byron was clearly startled and couldn’t help but let out a timid shriek.

Despite the foggy mist in the bathroom, Byron immediately recognized the identity of the voice — it was Princess Amita, the ugliest princess.

Byron didn’t pay attention to her but instead connected with the Law Network.

As an escort, Bruh of Iron Wall and Gus of Phantom Blade, along with the Commander of the Imperial Guard, should be standing vigil outside the door.

Frowning, Byron inquired through the Law Network, "What’s with Amita?"

Immediately, Gus’s pleading voice echoed in his ears:

"Your Majesty, you know me, I’ve never been one to act on my own.

The situation was unusual.

The massage team, part of the steam bath suite, just arrived, ready to provide massage service once you finish bathing.

You wouldn’t believe it; all the attendees are beautiful ladies from the upper echelons of the Fire Worship Empire, each an acclaimed beauty of the Royal Capital!

Led by Princess Kazal, The Most Beautiful Princess, with impressive prowess and robustness, you can imagine their strength.

From afar, I overheard them say that the steam bath also serves as a pre-marital matchmaking venue on the West Coast.

Wouldn’t that be an affront? If I let them in, you might punish me on the spot for some minor infraction!

I boarded the ship at Iron Anchor Bay, still unsure of your preferences.

Any other outsider like a Tentacle Girl would have been welcomed.

Ultimately, I settled for a compromise and only allowed Princess Amita, the ugliest princess, entry.

Oh, by the way, those beauties haven’t gone far. If you wish...

Byron interrupted without hesitation:

"Alright, I’ll let you off this time; let Princess Amita take on the massage therapist’s duties."

The thought of the "traditional" beauties of the West Coast made him feel uneasy, having no desire for the goodwill of the Fire Worship Empire’s elite.

Right before hanging up, Byron added:

"Furthermore, Mr. Gus, you know too much.

If there’s another issue, I won’t hesitate to help you wed a noblewoman from the Fire Worship Empire, and give you a proper appreciation for their beauty as if they were fairies!"

Outside the door, Gus shrank his neck, grimaced, and replied:

"Fine!"

Resolute and prepared to protect his lord’s honor with his life, he was determined to keep watch.

The mist before Byron parted slightly, and Princess Amita’s alluring figure became clear.

She had shed her desert gown, wearing only a provocative red intimate garment.

Her long black hair cascaded down her shoulders, revealing large expanses of snow-white skin and an exquisite collarbone.

Her waist was slender, her abs defined with strength; her hips as wide as her shoulders, and her long legs like pillars, strikingly gorgeous.

The veil had been removed, revealing a stunning face adorned with a decorative golden chain, her expression still as delicately pitiful as a pure fawn.

Gazing at Byron’s face and broad, muscular chest, she lowered her emerald eyes in modesty, gently biting her rosy lower lip, she shyly murmured:

"I’m sorry, Saint Byron Your Majesty.

During the banquet, Father mentioned introducing my sister to you, but when you suddenly excused yourself and left hurriedly, I got a bit worried and bravely followed.

Today, let me serve you; don’t send me away, please?

I am the ugliest princess from the West Coast, disliked throughout the Empire and my family.

If word spreads that even as a massage therapist I failed, my future would be bleak; I am very capable, I beg you."

Her face was full of hope.

In Byron’s memory, unmarried young women from the East Coast weren’t supposed to perform such duties.

But local traditions are what they are, showing disrespect would be unwise, so after a brief hesitation, he agreed.

"Alright then, it will be an inconvenience for Her Highness Amita."

Wearing only large beach shorts, he stepped out of the bath to lie upon a warm, 40-degree belly stone in the center of the bathroom.

In essence, the belly stone was a marble bed large enough to accommodate a dozen people comfortably.

Post-bath, steam bath massage therapists would provide scrubbing and massage services here.

Amita followed him out of the bath, draping herself in a red translucent shawl that, once soaked, adhered to her body, more tantalizing than nudity.

Byron surmised that even in traditional steam baths, massage therapists would unlikely dress this way; the princess made no effort to hide her intentions.

As she admired Byron’s broad, firm back, a flicker of reluctance and regret crossed her eyes, but resolve quickly returned, and she softly murmured: