Chapter 21: With a Gun Pointed at Him

Feeling the young man’s strong body—the firm muscles, long legs, and slender waist—Lady Ordos drifted into a dreamy reverie. It was like the story in that magazine novel, the ambiguous tale between a duchess and her attendant officer. Beside her now was that seemingly omnipotent, somewhat wicked yet charming attendant officer, and she herself was the restless, romance-seeking duchess hidden deep within.

She began to wonder if she had, just a little, fallen for this young magician—not merely thinking of using him or playing with him.

But what did it matter? Lady Ordos was too lazy to overthink. The fullness and satisfaction filling her made her languid, and she finally felt at ease. His promise to help her remove certain obstacles seemed genuine.

After all, she had already given herself—when a woman faces a true powerhouse, a man who can control her and bring her multifaceted fulfillment, she naturally and eagerly offers him her most primal assets.

“Afterwards, you should return to your own room to sleep. It’s better to avoid gossip. I don’t mind, but as the future head of the family, you should be mindful of your reputation in this small town. Also, if you sleep next to me, I’ll have to constantly split my magic and mental energy to stay alert,” Johan said knowingly, aware that Lady Ordos had awakened.

Under the covers, Lady Ordos writhed softly like a caterpillar, only to cling to him even tighter.

She didn’t mind his now rational, somewhat cold demeanor. She wasn’t some fragile, sensitive, pretentious little girl like the duchess’s daughter in that novel—the proud heiress who was forever denied the attendant officer’s “stick.”

“Stick” was a slang term in many regions referring to a man’s member.

“Mmm—” Lady Ordos let out a soft breath, half-lying in his arms. “But in weather so cold that even freshly boiled water poured on the ground freezes instantly, don’t you find it hard to part from holding me as you sleep?”

Her tone grew bolder and more direct. Women always believed that by offering their bodies, the nature of their relationship with a man changed entirely.

The warmth of the bed alone was enough to make one reluctant to leave.

Especially when embraced by a voluptuous beauty.

But Johan was a man of great discipline—how could someone lacking it survive the grueling trials of 5+3+3+3 and still emerge victorious?

He decisively sat up.

The blanket slipped away, revealing Lady Ordos’s fair, soft body, delicate as a lamb’s. She let out a small startled cry before laughing softly.

Johan took a deep breath, steeling himself with a flush of passion, and headed to the bath.

Redhazel Town had hot springs, and as the landowner, naturally he made full use of this resource. To ensure the estate had sufficient natural hot water, the late Lord Ordos had monopolized the middle and lower reaches of the springs, preventing other residents from diverting or polluting them.

Johan savored the hot spring bath in the bathroom. Lady Ordos arrived to provide bathing companionship. Though she had long been served rather than serving and was somewhat rusty in her technique, she still managed to satisfy Johan.

After all, in his previous life, he had never indulged in the sinful luxuries of the wealthy. Even a slight improvement in quality of life was a great satisfaction for a beast of burden.

“When I’m gone, neither you nor anyone else should enter Seriad’s room without permission,” Johan warned.

Lady Ordos obediently nodded.

Wrapped in a dampened bathrobe that accentuated her alluring figure, she nervously tightened the sash at her waist, concealing her slender, pale legs.

Since witnessing Seriad bite her father’s neck, Lady Ordos had begun to fear her daughter.

Even if Seriad’s illness were cured, she would still inspire fear.

When Johan left the estate, everyone he encountered bowed respectfully, their eyes filled with admiration.

Since his arrival, the estate had ceased purchasing blood, and no one feared being suddenly sent to “attend” the young lady overnight.

It seemed that their lives had been spared—for now, their gratitude was sincere.

Johan smiled faintly, as if transported back to his days of healing, often receiving such looks from patients and their families.

Yet sometimes saving lives did not earn gratitude, but death threats.

In his previous life, he had risked his own life to rescue a woman who had fallen into water. Seeing her weak breathing, he immediately performed artificial respiration and CPR.

“I’m dying laughing. She was already moving—why the CPR? Was he just enjoying the feel and hadn’t pressed enough?”

“Using the guise of saving her to molest her—that’s clever. He kissed her, touched her, how is she supposed to marry after that?”

“Look at those pale thighs and ample chest. No wonder he was so enthusiastic with the CPR—a freebie if there ever was one! If she were ugly and old, would he have bothered?”

Such was the public outcry at the time. The rescued woman vanished without a word in Johan’s defense. Instead, her brother arrived at the hospital wielding a hunting rifle.

The dark muzzle was pointed directly at Johan.

Johan pondered: if the woman’s brother had shot him then and there, would he still have crossed over to Roland Continent? Would he still have met Yemmengarde?

Impossible to say.

His thoughts drifted from the hunting rifle to the magic bullet gun.

He drew the magic bullet gun from beneath his robe. Lady Ordos seemed to regard it as his trophy, never attempting to retrieve it.

“A magical device that ordinary people can use without any prior knowledge or skill,” Johan admired it in awe.

Those who understood, understood.

This invention could fracture ancient, conservative magical empires, causing them to lose their dominance and become colonies of emerging magical weapon-producing nations!

But why had his mentor never recorded such an important creation?

Could it be that his mentor was shortsighted and failed to realize its significance?

Impossible. That was Yemmengarde—a great mage who had lived through countless human eras since ancient chaotic times, wise and powerful beyond measure.

The only plausible explanation was that during the eighteen years Johan spent on Yerantis Island with his mentor, the outside world underwent earth-shattering changes. The magic bullet gun was invented and had even become common in Redhazel Town.

It was a terrifying thought.

Johan toyed with the magic bullet gun in his hands. If such a place as Redhazel Town already possessed these weapons, what of the great cities Lord Ordos mentioned?

Did they have even mightier magical weapons?

Perhaps rapid-fire, greatly amplified in power, even capable of annihilating cities or wreaking apocalyptic destruction?

Johan felt uncertain. Just because he had survived unscathed under the magic bullet gun’s assault didn’t mean he could withstand more powerful magical arms.

What troubled him most was the magic crystal embedded within the gun’s handle that powered it.