Seeds of Corruption

Rotten, reeking, the city sewers were a den of iniquity in the eyes of ordinary citizens, yet a joyful haven for schemers and gang members alike.

Saranya and Nazareth had ventured quite far, occasionally encountering individuals bundled in heavy clothes, hurrying along. As if by unspoken agreement, both parties briskly passed each other, neither making eye contact nor pausing.

“You speak of cooperation, but the Redwater Tavern has two masters. I alone cannot decide everything.”

“Would you care to hear my suggestion?”

Saranya looked at Nazareth, her brow furrowed in confusion. “What suggestion?”

“Whatever preferences you and Lady Hillburg share in bed, who takes the lead or who submits, those are your private pleasures, perfectly harmless.”

“No, you’ve misunderstood—”

“But once out of bed, you should be the sole dominant one. You must wield absolute authority, making her willingly submit to you.”

‘To possess absolute authority over Kaelan, to make her willingly submit to me.’

‘Master… if it were to become like that…’

A peculiar thought took root and began to blossom in Saranya’s mind, her throat suddenly dry, a tingling sensation stirring within her heart.

“It’s a joke. How could she possibly accept that…”

“Train her, subtly dominate her, use every means to make her understand that in this great melting pot of Vero City, without you, she is nothing…”

“…”

‘This is a divisive scheme; it must be Nazareth’s attempt to sow discord!’

‘But, damn it… just thinking about what he said makes me so excited! These rebellious thoughts refuse to calm down!’

‘It seems… I’ll have to find a way to make Master punish me more when I get back…’

Saranya licked her lips.

“I-I’ll consider it… So, what do you need me to do now?”

“We will divide the labor and cooperate, with the ultimate goal of seizing control of all Vero City. The Shadowscale Gang will be responsible for cultivating relationships with the upper nobility, securing the support of the imperial center, and ultimately overthrowing the council. You, however, must focus on the lower populace, inciting them at critical moments to serve our cause.”

Nazareth’s single eye gleamed with intense brilliance, igniting the flames of ambition.

“The Moonscar Sect church is an excellent point of entry. Haven’t you already developed Paresha as a puppet? Follow that line of thinking, and help her rise to become a priestess… Speaking of which, your ability to control that stubborn girl already proves your competence. Just satisfy her desires as much as possible and keep her firmly bound.”

“You know all this…”

Saranya mused.

‘To be precise, she and Kaelan had jointly ‘conquered’ Paresha. On one hand, they used Westir’s recovery as leverage, and on the other, they had unexpectedly discovered the girl’s peculiar proclivities… In essence, if she and Kaelan wished, they could indeed overload Paresha’s pleasure sensors, sending the drooling girl spiraling down a path of utter depravity…’

‘After all, a cuckoldry fetish like Paresha’s is an exceedingly easy ‘xp’ to satisfy, wouldn’t you agree~’

****

“Haa-choo~”

Paresha, in the resting room, sneezed.

After tucking her brother in, Paresha moved to a corner of the room, opened her private storage box, and retrieved a small bottle of magic potion from a hidden compartment at the bottom, placing it on the windowsill.

The dark green liquid swirled within the bottle, shimmering brightly under the moonlight.

Her brother had once told her that if food and drink were placed before the window, the Pale Moon Goddess would bestow magical blessings upon them.

“Great Goddess… please forgive my past negligence towards you, and I beg of you… allow my brother to recover soon…”

Paresha pressed her palms together, praying devoutly to the moon, then picked up the magic potion and approached Westir’s bedside.

“Brother, just one more dose of this magic potion, and your voice will be restored to its former self…”

“Alright…”

Westir, lying in bed, slowly opened his eyes, responding with a weak, breathy sound, his gaze tinged with a deeper shade of dimness.

Paresha knew her brother disliked witches and magic potions, but at this moment, the potion provided by Kaelan was his only hope…

“Knock, knock, knock.”

Someone knocked on the door, causing Paresha to tremble all over in fright. She quickly placed the magic potion back on the windowsill, concealing it with the curtain, then extinguished the candle by Westir’s bed, drew the bed curtains, and only then hurried to open the door.

Lucius stood outside the door, and behind him, a captivating and alluring black-haired beauty smiled as she watched Paresha.

“So late, what brings you here…”

“My dear fiancée, how is your brother?”

“He’s asleep… you shouldn’t disturb him—”

“Two bishops from the Holy Fire Sect have just entered the city. Their procession is quite grand this time, accompanied by twelve Holy Fire Paladins.”

Paresha froze, startled.

“The Holy Fire Sect? Are they here to vote in the priestess selection?”

“Yes, this time, in addition to the two bishops from the Moonscar Sect, there are also two bishops from the Holy Fire Sect and one bishop from the Pethoma Sect participating in the vote. They’ve come a long way, so I suggest you give them a proper welcome.”

Paresha bit her lip, nodding reluctantly.

“Alright, I’ll go now…”

‘Becoming a bishop and dedicating himself to the church’s cause was her brother’s greatest wish in this life. To fulfill his desire, she absolutely had to become a priestess, clearing away all rivals for his fragile sake…’

Westir lay in bed, hearing two distinct sounds from the door.

‘He only knew that Paresha had left, and at the same time, someone else had entered. Who could it be?’

The two uninvited guests remained silent for a long while. In the pitch darkness, Westir heard rhythmic footsteps echoing in the room, a faint sense of dread creeping into his heart.

A creaking sound came from the corner, followed by the rustling of someone searching through things.

‘Someone is touching Paresha’s storage box!’

Westir squeezed his eyes shut, trembling as he clutched the blanket, not daring to breathe.

The bed curtains suddenly parted, and a startled Westir curled into a ball, letting out a whimper.

“Shhh~”

A soft, delicate hand reached inside the curtains, covering Westir’s mouth. The hand’s owner leaned half her body into the bed, strands of long black hair cascading onto his pillow.

Icy-blue eyes were inches away, and a captivating fragrance wafted over him. Westir felt her breath caress his face, devoid of warmth, yet it sent tremors of excitement through his body, and scalding sweat instantly drenched him.

“Saranya… milady?”

Those beautiful eyes seemed to hold a bottomless abyss, captivating his very soul. Westir gazed, his mind blurring, as a powerful desire surged from deep within his heart, utterly consuming him.

“Saranya, milady… thank you for saving me… thank you… In truth, from the moment I first saw you… I… liked you…”

“Is that so?”

The black-haired beauty leaned closer, her wolf-head earring reflecting the moonlight, casting dappled highlights on the bedsheets.

“Little Westir, you’re badly hurt~”

“Mmm… hah…”

Westir’s eyes suddenly widened. A soft, tingling sensation, like an electric shock, spread across his neck. He lifted his withered arm, grasping the delicate body before him with all his might.

The beauty gently nibbled at Westir’s neck, her fragrant tongue soothing his scorched skin. Her cold saliva stung his wounds, yet simultaneously brought him an experience of ecstasy he had never known in his life.

As passion mounted, the long-haired beauty kicked off her exquisite high heels, slipping into the bed curtains like a water snake, leaving only her two delicate, rosy feet exposed outside the drapes.

Inside the curtains, Westir eagerly extended a hand, lacing his fingers with hers. His breathing grew heavy, and he stared at her with an aching longing.

The beauty knelt upon him, clad only in a sheer gauze robe, her exquisite form tantalizingly visible beneath the thin fabric.

‘In that moment, he felt that all the scriptures he had read, every prayer he had uttered, were utterly inconsequential. For compared to the enchantress before him, even the most sacred Pale Moon Goddess would pale in comparison…’

‘To become a bishop, to serve the goddess… compared to all that, there was only one thing he most desired to do now…’

The bed began to gently sway, and Westir’s hoarse, joyful moans emanated from behind the curtains…

At some point, the room door suddenly swung open, and a red-haired divine guard stepped inside, his expression alert.

“Lord Lucius, Lord Mejga, Miss Paresha asked me to accompany you both to keep guard— Huh?”

The room was utterly silent. The night breeze gently stirred the curtains, allowing a few rays of tranquil moonlight to filter into the room. The bed curtains remained neatly drawn, the furniture was in its original place, with no signs of being disturbed. Everything was peaceful and serene.

“Have they left…?”

The divine guard, Phillo, glanced around the room, then slowly exited and closed the door securely.

“An overreaching fool…”

Mejga flicked away the limp little bird (TL Note: A Chinese euphemism for male genitalia) in his hand, casually wiped his palm on the bedsheets, then rose and emerged from behind the bed curtains. Behind him, an unconscious Westir lay with his eyes rolled back, the sheets beneath him in disarray.

“Did you find it?”

Lucius pulled back the curtains, jumped down from the windowsill, and handed the magic potion in his hand to Mejga.

Mejga took the magic potion, uncorked it, and poured all the liquid onto his hands. After thoroughly rinsing his palms, he tossed the empty bottle out the window, then produced an identical bottle of magic potion from his own pocket and placed it on the windowsill.

“When will the potion take effect?”

“Don’t worry, the process is very slow, enough to last until next week’s priestess selection.”

“Hmm… a sister, soon to be a priestess, willing to poison her own brother to help her beloved fiancé become a bishop… truly touching, wouldn’t you say~”