Chapter 441: Blast

A blast of thermal pressure hit Su Liuyun squarely in the chest.

The Top Courtesan was literally launched backward, flying off the stage, crashing into a pile of plush velvet cushions twenty feet away, neutralizing the sex appeal with blunt-force trauma.

"Do not interrupt my negotiations, peacock," Yan Zhaoge muttered dismissively. He turned back to Ji’an, tapping his foot impatiently. "The wine. Now. Or I melt the floor."

Ji’an let out a long, heavy, agonizing groan.

She was surrounded by simps, wearing sheer silk. She had just been telepathically threatened by her old kitchen nuisance.

And now, she was being extorted by a pyromaniac CEO.

"Fine!" Ji’an snapped, reaching into her spatial ring. "Take it! Take the damn wine! But if you critique the tannin structure, I am taking the Phoenix Ember back!"

She pulled a heavy, sealed jade jug from her ring. The jug was cold to the touch, radiating a faint, intoxicating aroma of dark plums, aged oak, and a subtle, numbing spice from the neutralized nightshade.

She practically shoved the jug into Yan Zhaoge’s chest.

The Sovereign of the Iron-Stone Monastery caught the jug effortlessly. He didn’t wait for a cup. He popped the heavy cork with his thumb, raised the jug to his lips, and took a long, slow, deep swallow.

The cavernous atrium was dead silent, save for the sound of the deity drinking.

Yan Zhaoge lowered the jug.

He closed his dark eyes.

He stood perfectly still for a full ten seconds.

When he opened his eyes, the smug, lazy, arrogant amusement was gone. It was replaced by a look of soul-shattering, absolute culinary awe.

The wine was perfect.

The acidity was flawlessly balanced.

The neurotoxin had been transmuted into a rich, deep, numbing umami that danced across his palate, leaving a trail of warm, comforting fire in its wake.

It was the greatest thing he had tasted in five centuries.

"It is acceptable," Yan Zhaoge whispered hoarsely, though his eyes burned with a manic, obsessive fire.

He immediately stoppered the jug, tucking it securely under his arm like a priceless artifact.

"You have met your first deliverable, intern," Yan Zhaoge smirked, his swagger returning in full force.

He took a step back, the air around him beginning to warp with spatial magic. "I will expect the next batch when you arrive at the western dunes. Do not be late."

"I hate you," Ji’an stated flatly.

"I look forward to our continued synergy," Yan Zhaoge laughed, offering a final, two-fingered salute.

On the other hand,

With the suppression array destroyed, the Vanguard Retinue boys finally regained their senses.

"THE ARRAY IS DOWN!" Gu Zhiwei roared, his golden holy light exploding into the room, entirely blinding the succubi in the front rows. "I SHALL PROTECT YOUR HONOR, BROTHER LIN!"

Zhiwei, still wearing his crop-top, vaulted onto the stage, placing himself protectively in front of Ji’an.

Lu Jianheng, ignoring his leather harness, drew Autumn Frost, freezing the melted doorways.

Hu Yanlie roared, grabbing a massive marble pillar and ripping it directly out of the floor to use as a club.

And Xie Wangchen stepped onto the stage, his black ice scythe humming.

He didn’t look at the crowd. He looked at Ji’an’s outfit, his ruby eyes darkening with terrifying possessiveness.

He smoothly unwrapped the heavy, pristine white silk outer robe he had kept stored in his ring.

With flawless precision, he draped the heavy robe over Ji’an’s shoulders, effectively covering her scandalous performance attire from head to toe.

"The show is over," Wangchen purred softly, tying the sash around her waist, completely ignoring the fact that he was currently wearing a belly-dancer outfit himself. "No one else is permitted to view the performance."

Ji’an, too exhausted to even comment on the absurdity of his outfit, just pulled the white robe tighter around herself.

"Alright, boys," Ji’an sighed, rubbing her temples. "Grab the hostages from the dungeons. Burn the accounting ledgers. Let’s get out of here before Madam Rouge wakes up."

But as she touched the spot behind her ear where Yan Xuanye’s telepathic voice had echoed, a cold knot of dread settled in her stomach.

"I need a vacation," Ji’an muttered, stepping out into the cool desert night. "A very long, very secluded vacation."

The heavy, smoldering wreckage of the Crimson Lotus Pavilion’s lacquered front gates faded into the distance as Lin Ji’an finally, mercifully stepped out into the cool, arid night air of the western dunes.

Behind her, the Vanguard Retinue staggered out of the canyon.

They had successfully liberated the mortal hostages, severely traumatized the succubi, and managed to retrieve their stolen outer robes.

However, because they had dressed in darkness while suffering from adrenaline-fueled romantic panic, their outfits were a chaotic disaster.

Gu Zhiwei had managed to put his white outer robe on backward, meaning his chest was still exposed to the night air.

Lu Jianheng had somehow tangled his sash with a piece of the leather bondage harness he’d been forced to wear, resulting in a look that screamed "Goth Aristocrat."

Wen Shiru was muttering furiously, attempting to scrub glitter off his abacus.

And Xie Wangchen was walking with the rigidity of a reanimated corpse.

He had layered three pristine white robes over his outfit, but his aura was flaring so violently that he left a trail of frozen sand dunes in his wake.

His ruby eyes were locked onto the white silk robe currently draped securely over Ji’an’s shoulders, his robe, which he had wrapped around her to hide her performance outfit.

Ji’an took a deep breath of the dusty desert air.

’It is over,’ Ji’an’s internal monologue wept with exhausted relief. ’The dancing is over. The auctions are over. I just have to summon the yacht, load these idiots into the back, and finally take a nap.’

She reached into her spatial ring, her fingers brushing the rough, woven bamboo of her trusty palm-leaf fan.

"I was beginning to wonder if you were going to stay and negotiate for a residency, little intern."

The voice was rich, resonant, and too close.

Ji’an flinched, her hand freezing inside her spatial ring.

She slowly turned her head.

Sitting on a petrified sandstone boulder just outside the perimeter of the brothel’s ruined gates, bathed in the silvery light of the desert moon, was Yan Zhaoge.

The Sovereign of the Iron-Stone Monastery had not returned to his sect.

The Overtime Boss had simply walked outside, found a comfortable rock, and waited. He was still draped in his chaotic, midnight-purple silk robes.

He had one knee pulled up to his chest, his arm resting lazily across it.

He wasn’t smoking, true to his high-stakes wager, but he was currently tossing a gold coin into the air and catching it with a rhythmic precision.

Ji’an stared at him.

The audacity of this man’s existence was beginning to cause her physical pain.

"Why are you still here?" Ji’an demanded, dropping her respectful junior-disciple facade.

She marched up to the boulder, pointing an accusing finger at him. "You got your wine. You blew up the door. You did your dramatic, overpowered exit. Why are you loitering in the desert like a vagrant?"

Yan Zhaoge caught the gold coin, slipping it into his robes. He looked down at her, his dark eyes crinkling with obnoxious amusement.

"I am providing a professional courtesy, Chef," Yan Zhaoge drawled, sliding gracefully off the boulder. He towered over her, his presence suffocating and intense despite his lazy posture. "I have decided to personally escort your diplomatic envoy back to my monastery."

Ji’an narrowed her silver-flecked eyes, her paranoia instantly spiking. "Why? The Vanguard Tour has a map. We know where the Iron-Stone Monastery is. We don’t need a chaperone."

Yan Zhaoge smiled.

It wasn’t his usual, smug, foxy smirk.

It was a bright, wide, incredibly enthusiastic, and absolutely terrifying smile.

It was the smile of a man who genuinely loved his job, and whose job primarily consisted of mass casualties.

"Because, my dear, stubborn Chef," Yan Zhaoge beamed, clasping his hands behind his back. "The Arrays protect the perimeter of the Iron-Stone Monastery. It is a marvel of modern thermal engineering! I designed it myself. It uses a matrix of hyper-compressed magma veins that react to unauthorized footfalls."

He leaned forward, his eyes sparkling with pure psychopathic joy.

"If you do not know the traversal sequence, the array does not merely attack you. It instantly boils the water inside your cellular structure!"