The Martial God who started at Mantuo Manor

Page 159

The cavalry on the shore was led by Elder Lu Youjiao of the Beggars' Sect, and all the boatmen and laborers who had traveled along the way had also boarded the boat.

In addition, five of the thirteen major escort agencies in Jiangnan have already loaded all their personnel and supplies onto ships, ready to be deployed at any time.

"Then let's go!"

Wang Meng took a deep breath, channeled his inner strength, and his voice, like rolling thunder, resounded throughout the entire fleet and even reached the distant opposite shore.

Yang Fan!

set sail!"

At a single command, the atmosphere of the world changed completely!

"Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu"

On several sand barges, several muscular, shirtless giants sounded huge bull horns. The desolate yet powerful horn sound soared into the sky, dispelling the thin mist.

Yang Fan!

set sail!"

Yang Fan!

set sail!"

The orders were relayed from ship to ship like waves, and countless sailors on hundreds of giant ships responded to the call.

The enormous sails were rapidly raised like dark clouds, blotting out the sky and fluttering loudly.

The thick, python-like cable was cut, and the heavy iron anchor was pulled up by the winch with a loud "creaking" sound, splashing up a large amount of water.

Meanwhile, on the official road on the south bank of the canal, a cavalry team that had been fully prepared also moved upon hearing the news.

"drive!"

An elderly man dressed in a pudding-patterned outfit raised his command flag and waved it forward sharply.

"Rumble..."

The hundred cavalrymen instantly sprang into action, their hooves thundering like a black torrent of steel, kicking up clouds of dust as they raced downstream along the official road.

Their sole mission was to act as the eyes and ears of the fleet, always staying dozens of miles ahead to detect any potential dangers and clear away any possible obstacles.

Wherever the fleet goes, their reconnaissance range must cover it to ensure the safe passage of this water behemoth.

On the water, hundreds of sails race, cutting through the waves.

On land, cavalry galloped on, raising clouds of dust.

This magnificent momentum, advancing by both land and water, and overwhelming the world, shocked everyone.

Inside the cabin, the cloying scent of humiliation and desire had been blown away by the river breeze, replaced by the fragrance of wood and the unique, cold, and substantial aroma of gold and silver.

Several heavy wooden crates were opened, and inside were neatly stacked golden gold ingots and gleaming silver coins. Jewelry and jade glittered dazzlingly in the light streaming in through the portholes, almost blinding the eyes.

Wang Meng casually picked up a piece of gold ingot from the box, weighed it in his hand, and the heavy weight made him smile with amusement.

"Tsk tsk tsk, everyone says that in the daily necessities of life, as long as you can cultivate yourself in any industry for many years, you will surely become extremely wealthy."

It seems that what was said was indeed true.

His gaze swept over the wealth that was almost overflowing from the boxes, and finally landed on the silver notes neatly stacked in a small sandalwood box at the top, each note having an astonishingly large face value.

"These seemingly insignificant grains of food have somehow made these guys so wealthy!"

He turned his head to look at Fang Yanqing, who had tidied herself up and was sitting upright beside the coffee table.

She had changed into a clean, moon-white Taoist robe, and her face showed no trace of her previous dishevelment, only an icy coldness.

Between her fingers, she was slowly and deliberately twirling a cool, smooth black chess piece.

"How many knocks did you give them?"

Wang Meng's tone was very calm, as if he were asking about the weather today.

Upon hearing the question, Fang Yanqing, who was holding the black card, let out a very light snort. The snort was filled with disdain for those merchants, as well as confidence in her own methods.

She didn't even look at Wang Meng; her gaze remained fixed on the chessboard in front of her, as if she were pondering the placement of her next move.

“I released them directly and told them that if they were unwilling to pay, the evidence of their secret grain supply and collusion with the Mongols would be sent to the Yingtian Prefecture government office intact first thing tomorrow morning.”

Her voice was clear and flat, without a trace of emotion: "They are all old foxes who have been in the business world for so many years. They know that compared to losing money to avoid disaster, if they really fall into the hands of those ruthless officials, they will be truly unable to live or die."

Upon hearing this, Wang Meng shrugged noncommittally and casually tossed the gold ingot back into the box, making a crisp "clang" sound.

He turned around, his back to the boxes of wealth that would drive countless people mad, and said calmly, "That's too good for them."

There seemed to be a hint of regret in his tone, as if it was a pity that he couldn't personally send those people to hell.

"Snapped."

A white chess piece, smooth and lustrous like jade, was gently placed on the center point of the chessboard.

The person holding the cup was Zhao Min, who was also sitting in the cabin.

Her face was an almost transparent paleness, like someone recovering from a long illness, or like a secluded orchid in a deep valley that had never seen the sun, carrying a fragile yet stubbornly poignant beauty.

Her voice, like a stream frozen in winter, was hoarse and chilling: "Your grain ships have already set sail. When are you going to release me?"

She was wearing an ill-fitting, moon-white Taoist robe, which belonged to Fang Yanqing.

Although the wide Taoist robe concealed her exquisite figure and washed away her noble air, the innate, seemingly born heroic spirit between her brows could not be hidden by any clothes.

It was a kind of aggressive beauty; the girl had masculine features, distinct facial features, a high nose bridge, and lips with a naturally unruly curve.

With such looks, if Wang Meng had lived in his previous life, he would have been a top star who could captivate the world and turn the world upside down without any embellishment.

She disguised herself extremely well, almost perfectly.

From her posture to the tone of her voice and the cold, aloof expression on her face, everything seemed to be creating a false impression—she had forgotten all the humiliation she had suffered as a prisoner, forgotten her fear of the man before her, and had completely erased from her memory the experience that day that had made her soul tremble and her body collapse.

She sat there, seemingly still the Mongolian princess who strategized and played chess with him across the land.

However, a disguise is still a disguise.

Deep within those bright eyes, which were trying to appear calm, in the instant her gaze inadvertently met Wang Meng's and then quickly looked away, what was revealed was an emotion that was impossible to ignore and extremely complex.

There was a deep-seated hatred there, like a poisoned blade.

There was a lingering fear, like a fawn being stared at by a tiger, its body trembling instinctively.

There was resentment and humiliation in him as a king, the mark left by the trampling of the pride of the Golden Family bloodline.

Even... there was a trace of unspeakable trembling and confusion brought about by that extreme humiliation and violation, which she herself was unwilling to admit and dared not face.

These emotions intertwined, forming a bottomless vortex that made all her composure and pretense appear precarious.

Wang Meng's response was a very soft sneer, but one filled with disdain and mockery.

He put down the stack of silver notes in his hand as if they were just a few useless pieces of paper.

He didn't even get up, but sat cross-legged on the soft carpeted cabin floor, his gaze sweeping over the fiercely contested chess game between Fang Yanqing and Zhao Min.

Then, he moved.

The movements were so fast that no one had time to react, yet they carried a lazy, nonchalant air.

He reached out and grabbed Zhao Min's right ankle, which was sticking out from under her Taoist robe. "Ah!"

The color drained from Zhao Min's pale face instantly, and a short gasp escaped her throat, but she bit it back down with her teeth.

She felt as if she had been doused with ice water; her body stiffened abruptly, and the white chess piece she was holding fell to the ground with a "thud," disrupting the original game.

The beautiful Taoist nun's breath caught in her throat for a moment.

Her hand, holding the black piece, hovered in mid-air, her beautiful phoenix eyes slightly contracting. She looked at Wang Meng's face, which held a playful smile, and then at Zhao Min's instantly pale expression, filled with terror and humiliation.

Wang Meng ignored their fear, as if he had simply picked up an interesting toy and begun his wicked game.

His thumb, with its rough texture, began to slowly circle around Zhao Min's smooth, delicate ankle. The movement was slow, yet it carried a tormenting, aggressive rhythm.

"Let... let go..."

Zhao Min's voice was dry and trembling. She tried to pull her foot back, but the hand didn't budge and instead tightened its grip.

Her struggles, faced with that absolute power, appeared so feeble and powerless, more like an invitation that was both reluctant and welcoming.

Wang Meng chuckled softly, the sound echoing in the quiet cabin, filled with malicious pleasure.

His palm slid up her graceful ankle and grasped her entire small foot.

"Your Highness!"

His voice was low, with an intimate whisper like a lover's, but the content of his words was as cold as a knife: "You don't seem to understand the situation yet."

You are not qualified to ask questions, much less to make demands.

All you have to do is please me.

His fingers, one by one, forced their way between her toes.

It was an incredibly strange and unfamiliar feeling, with a strong sense of intrusion.

Zhao Min's toes curled up in tension, but his fingers forcefully pried them open and stroked them.

He kneaded each of her round, pearl-like toes with his fingertips, even gently scratching the most sensitive, tender flesh between her toes with his nails.

"no, do not want……"

Zhao Min's body began to tremble uncontrollably. An indescribable tingling sensation, mixed with intense shame, surged from the soles of her feet like an electric current, running up her calves and thighs, all the way to the depths of her lower abdomen.

This is so humiliating!

However, what welled up in her heart was a more complex emotion.

She could feel that her chrysanthemum-like opening beneath her Taoist robe was also beginning to react, and the quiet secret place between her legs was inappropriately damp.

Wang Meng's hand did not linger on the soles of his feet.

He got tired of playing with those poor toes, so he released his fingers and instead cupped her heel with his palm, while his thumb pressed and kneaded her arch.

"Um……"

Zhao Min could no longer hold back, and a suppressed nasal sound escaped from between her lips and teeth.

Her arches were one of the most sensitive spots on her body. As he pressed and rubbed them like that, the tingling and numb sensation instantly intensified tenfold, making her feel weak all over.

Her waist slumped involuntarily, her once straight back bent, and her whole body seemed to have had its bones removed.