Novel Full Chapter 1471 Nope
Chapter 1471 Nope
“What do you mean, ‘nope’?”
The question came out calmly. The kind of calm that preceded natural disasters.
Blossom lunged forward with her ears pinned flat and her teeth bared, every protective instinct in her body firing at once. Vex was right behind her, already moving to grab Black Fang’s shoulder and haul her off.
The killing intent rolling off the ancient killer’s body pressed against her skin like heat from an open furnace, but despite all that, the Hexwitch reached forward without care for her own safety.
The maids moved too.
These were women who had just been given ageless life by the man currently pinned beneath a murderer. Three seconds ago, they’d been weeping with gratitude. Now Clarisse was advancing on a legendary assassin with the posture of a woman who fully intended to beat her with a serving tray if it came to that.
“Stop,” Quinlan’s voice cut through the courtyard. “It’s okay.”
With perfect sync, everyone stopped. If Quinlan himself, in his position, said it was okay… Maybe he knew something they didn’t?
Blossom whined, tail rigid, every muscle in her body vibrating with the need to act.
Vex’s hand hovered an inch from Black Fang’s shoulder. She looked down at Quinlan with an expression that could have curdled milk. “…Okay? This is not what I’d call okay…”
Her eyes flicked to Black Fang, whose fury was thick enough to taste.
“…” The Hexwitch knew her master. This version of Black Fang was not fine.
“She won’t hurt me,” Quinlan decreed.
“Quinnie…” Seraphiel called from behind playfully. “I know you have a thing for the crazies…” she said while gesturing at Vex, “But this situation might be the time to practice some caution, no…?”
“It’s all under control.”
No, it wasn’t. He didn’t know something they did not. He was just displaying the result of his questionable taste in women when applied to perhaps the most dangerous of them all.
The girls looked at their man with extremely wry eyes. When it came to interacting with manic baddies, especially ones who could truly hurt him, Quinlan had very questionable survival skills.
Black Fang didn’t acknowledge any of it.
Her eyes hadn’t left Quinlan’s face. Not once. Not when Blossom lunged, not when Vex reached, not when eight maids formed a battle line armed with nothing but loyalty and domestic fury. The world beyond the man beneath her had ceased to exist.
“I need the pills.”
Quinlan looked up at her. That grin hadn’t moved.
“No.”
“Why.”
“Because we have a deal, Miss Terror. One year. I seduce you. If I win, the problem is solved.” He held up a finger. “The pills just make the deal cleaner. If I lose, you get a supply of those instead of having to go through with the alternative. No seed required. No compromise on your end. You walk away with what you need, free and clear.”
The words registered.
Black Fang processed them in silence, her grip still twisted into his collar, her weight still planted firmly on his chest.
Then her expression darkened further.
“You’re serious.”
“I am.”
“I don’t need your courtship. I need the pills. Mandate your terms.”
“Terms…? Seeing the bet through, of course.” Before Black Fang could respond, Quinlan added, “You’re already max level, Black Fang. The Heavenly Restriction caps you at a maximum of one XP per kill. Even with the triple bonus, leveling is functionally impossible for you. The experience buff was never going to be your path.”
Hearing this nonsense, Black Fang’s gaze darkened even further. She looked like she could truly snap at any moment as she growled with the most animalistic sound. “I don’t care about your levels. I care about not rotting!”
Quinlan smiled in return, infuriating the woman even further. It was as if he were being obnoxious on purpose. “What’s the rush?”
Her fingers twisted the fabric another inch. The collar pressed against the back of his neck.
“What’s the rush?” she repeated. The words came out incredulous. “Every day that passes is a day closer to decline. Every morning I wake up is a morning my body is older than the night before.”
Quinlan’s gaze held hers without flinching. “What exactly are you worried about? You started leveling as a baby. You look like you’re in your twenties at age 400. One year isn’t going to change that.”
Black Fang’s hands moved.
They released his collar and found his throat instead, both palms pressing against his neck, fingers curling around the sides. She didn’t squeeze. Not yet. But the positioning was unmistakable, and every person in the courtyard understood exactly what it meant.
The shift in the air was immediate.
Blossom surged forward again, a growl ripping from her chest. Vex moved with her. Seraphiel’s playful expression vanished, replaced by something cold and focused as light gathered at her fingertips, already casting healing magic on him. Ayame drew her katana, the click of steel against the guard cutting through the tension.
So did the rest of his girls.
Even Orianna stepped forward. “Black Fang, stop this.”
The Flower Queen rarely inserted herself into group dynamics, and her loyalty to Black Fang was well known. But right now, she was looking at her master with an expression that said, very clearly, this needs to be stopped.
Raika moved beside her. She might’ve found Quinlan greatly infuriating at times, but even the Brutalizer understood that no one would benefit if her master snapped his neck.
The courtyard was a breath away from erupting.
Quinlan raised his hand.
He reached up and touched her face.
His fingers settled against her cheek, his thumb brushing along the line of her cheekbone, and the motion was so gentle and so utterly wrong for the situation that it froze every single person present.
Black Fang’s hands stayed on his throat. Her eyes stayed on his. The contact didn’t register on her face at all, as if a man stroking her cheek while she held his life between her palms was beneath acknowledgment.
So Quinlan looked back.
From here, barely a breath apart, her eyes were devastating. Purple so deep it bordered on black at the edges, threaded with veins of silver. The mania swimming in them gave them a feverish glow, alive and volatile, pupils blown wide enough that the purple was reduced to a thin, luminous ring. They were the eyes of a woman who had killed millions and felt nothing.
Her skin was flawless beneath his fingers. Four centuries of violence, and her face carried none of it. Smooth and cool, pale in a way that made the dark sweep of her lashes stand out like ink on snow. Her hair had fallen around them like a curtain, dark and heavy and carrying a clean scent he couldn’t place. It brushed against his jaw, his neck, pooling on the ground beside his head. The weight of her on his chest was solid and warm, her thighs braced against his ribs, every line of her body taut with barely contained force.
She was, without exaggeration, one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen.
And she was currently deciding whether to strangle him.
Which somehow made her even more irresistible…?
‘Oops,’ Quinlan chuckled with his thumb still resting on her cheekbone. ‘I should really stop simping in these situations… The ladies will unjustly call me a masochist at this rate.’
He filed the self-awareness away for future use. It would not change his behavior whatsoever.
His grin returned.
“I propose a change to our original deal.”
His thumb traced the line of her jaw.
Black Fang’s hands were still on his throat. Her weight still pinned him to the ground. The courtyard was still one wrong breath from turning into a battlefield, and Quinlan Elysiar was stroking the chin of the woman who could snap his neck like a twig.
Casually.
“One month,” he said.
“I propose we reduce the length of the bet. From one year to one month, starting today. Thirty days. If I haven’t seduced you by then, you get the pills. I’ll supply you until the end of time. I’ll go out of my way to play delivery boy for you, traveling to your location no matter how far you are.”
Black Fang stared down at him.
Every person in the courtyard stared at him.
Serika’s lips parted. She looked at Quinlan the way someone might look at a fragile boy who had just volunteered to wrestle a bear for sport. Aurora’s expression wasn’t far behind; her brow creased with open disbelief. Lucille’s mouth opened, closed, then opened again.
One month.
One month to seduce a woman who had killed more people than the number of coins rich counts counted in their ledgers. A woman who had spent her childhood years alone in a forest, who had learned proper human speech only by listening to travelers she later murdered. A woman who was, at this very moment, debating whether to crush his windpipe.
And he wanted to seduce this cold, unfeeling person in thirty days.
Lucille tilted her head.
‘Huh…?’
The woman currently straddling Quinlan’s chest, both hands around his throat, fury behind those purple eyes, veins of silver practically glowing with how hard she was fighting to contain herself…
That woman didn’t look cold at all.
Lucille giggled.
It was quiet. Barely a sound. But Serika caught it, and their eyes met across the courtyard. The confusion on Serika’s face lasted another two seconds before it drained away, replaced by a slow, dawning realization.
She looked at Aurora. Aurora looked back.
One by one, grins spread through the group like a ripple.
Their man wasn’t a masochist, nor did he feel suicidal.
He was working, working toward achieving his goal.