Future Masters in Modern Times

Chapter 41: A Night of Passion

Anne was thrown heavily onto the soft bed, her eyes still gleaming with seduction. The lingering, suggestive softness still clung to Zhao Wuji’s back, causing even his otherwise steadfast resolve to waver slightly. Glancing back, under the dim yellow light, a peerless beauty was radiating endless allure. “What a stunner!” But Zhao Wuji was a man of principles. These principles didn’t require Zhao Wuji to be a saint, but at the very least, he would never do such a thing for no reason. Even if she was a stunner—all right! Even if he craved it himself… “What are you waiting for, darling?” The languid voice was brimming with allure—it was enough to make one’s bones go weak. Anne arched her long, shapely legs; the tight miniskirt clinging to her pearly-white thighs rode up slightly, revealing most of her perfectly curved, snow-white thighs. Anne bit her full lower lip, cast a flirtatious glance at Zhao Wuji, lifted her right foot, slipped off the little boot on her left foot, and then removed the boot from her right foot in the same manner. Her ten slender, delicate toes were painted with purple nail polish in the size of cardamom seeds, adding an extra touch of exotic allure to Anne. Zhao Wuji stood by the bed, just half a step away from Anne. She lifted her alluring, delicate, and slender foot and gently tapped him with it. Zhao Wuji grabbed that delicate, jade-like foot in one swift motion and said in a deep voice, “I’ve told you I won’t join the Fire Wolf Mercenary Corps. Don’t waste your energy on this anymore, because I’m going to the Siberian Training Camp.” Zhao Wuji cradled that exquisite foot in his hand and couldn’t resist giving it a gentle squeeze, thinking to himself how wonderful it felt. A tingling sensation spread from her toes throughout her body. Anne’s slender frame trembled slightly, and a complex expression flashed in her beautiful eyes as that strong hand gripped her delicate foot tightly. Anne tried to pull her jade-like foot back, but found it impossible—Zhao Wuji’s grip was simply too strong. The attempt to pull it away caused excruciating pain. “Bastard,” Anne snapped angrily, unable to muster any strength in her body. Anne was now torn inside. She was acting this way because she had set her sights on Zhao Wuji’s strength; if one were to use an inappropriate term to describe her actions, it would be “seduction.” Was she a promiscuous woman? Was she willing to sacrifice her dignity and resort to seduction just to lure a powerful man into the mercenary group? Anne felt a bitter taste in her mouth; half of her earlier passion had instantly vanished, and an indescribable chill spread through her entire body. She couldn’t deny that she did have feelings for Zhao Wuji. Was that inexplicable? Yet in the eyes of Westerners, this was simply the most natural thing in the world. Thus, the half-impulsive act she’d committed stemmed partly from her fondness for Zhao Wuji, and partly from a purely transactional motive. Half and half. Zhao Wuji could see the conflicting emotions and inner turmoil on Anne’s face, and his gaze softened considerably. “Don’t overthink it. Get some sleep!” Turning around, Zhao Wuji was about to leave. A look of resolve flashed across Anne’s face; in an instant, all her hesitation and inner turmoil were cast aside. Her eyes were fixed only on that receding figure—a figure that exuded a profound sense of security, as solid and steadfast as a mountain. “Wait,” Anne called out, stopping Zhao Wuji. “Hmm?” Zhao Wuji turned around, and a warm, soft body wrapped itself around him, her soft, steady breath brushing against his neck. “I don’t care. Give it to me. You don’t have to take any responsibility.” Anne murmured the words, her slender hands wrapped around Zhao Wuji’s neck as she gently caressed his face, her eyes shining like cold stars. Anne’s hot breath brushed against him as she parted her full lips ever so slightly, pressing them against Zhao Wuji’s neck. This single touch was like a spark igniting dry kindling, setting Zhao Wuji’s suppressed desire ablaze. He cupped Anne’s lovely face; she closed her eyes slightly, her eyelashes trembling ever so slightly, her gaze seductive and alluring. She was anticipating it; she was anxious. Then, she felt a strong, masculine scent envelop her, melting her away. Zhao Wuji kissed her deeply. He savored the softness and moisture of her red lips to his heart’s content. Anne’s face was radiant with ecstasy, and she thought to herself: “Just tonight, just tonight—after tomorrow, it will all be over.” Anne wrapped her slender arms even tighter around Zhao Wuji, as if trying to meld herself completely into his body. Tonight, she just wanted to let herself go completely. Zhao Wuji kicked the open door shut and placed both hands on Anne’s supple waist. In the lamplight, Anne’s flushed cheeks looked even more alluring. Her rapid breathing seemed to urge Zhao Wuji to take the next step. As he gently caressed Anne’s smooth back, Zhao Wuji’s right hand swept swiftly across her body, and her low-cut, form-fitting top slid gently down. The two moved step by step toward the bed. Anne undid the buttons on Zhao Wuji’s shirt one by one. When she reached the last one, she leaned down, her breath hot against his skin. She parted her alluring lips, her delicate tongue peeking out, then gently bit down on that final button and gave it a tug. Zhao Wuji’s entire shirt came off, revealing his incredibly well-defined muscles. Anne’s eyes were filled with rapture as she gently caressed Zhao Wuji’s chest and slowly lay down on the bed. Zhao Wuji’s fire of desire was fully ignited. He reached out with both arms, rolled the curvaceous Anne over, and revealed her smooth back. Suddenly, a red wolf tattoo stood out strikingly. Anne propped herself up on her elbows on the bed, tilted her head, and gazed at Zhao Wuji with her alluring, crescent-shaped eyes—a sight that perfectly complemented the wolf’s head tattoo on her back, stirring an unusual sense of impulse and teasing within Zhao Wuji. “Roar!” Zhao Wuji let out a low growl and pounced on her. Anne let out a soft sigh of pleasure and wrapped her arms and legs around him like an octopus. He didn’t know how much time had passed. “You really are a lion,” Anne gasped in a coquettish voice, murmuring to herself—yet her words sounded like the trumpet call for another round of battle, and Zhao Wuji once again mercilessly subjected Anne to “inhuman” lashing. It was a night of madness and delirium. In the endless darkness, the lights in this room stayed on all night, finally going out only at dawn. In the room, strewn with scattered clothing, a pink, suggestive aura lingered in the wake of their passion. Zhao Wuji suddenly opened his eyes; Anne’s arm was still draped across his chest. Glancing to the side, he saw that Anne’s sleeping face was flushed a peach-blossom red. The corners of her mouth turned up slightly, and her alluring eyes were filled with a sense of contentment. Gently removing Anne’s hand from his chest, Zhao Wuji rolled over, got out of bed, and dressed. Just then, the tips of Anne’s fingers began to tremble slightly. Zhao Wuji drew back the curtains, and sunlight flooded the small room, bathing Anne’s perfect body in a golden glow. With a smile on his lips, Zhao Wuji walked to the bed, leaned close to Anne’s ear, and whispered, “I owe you a favor. You can call on me anytime to collect it—I owe you that much.” Then, unable to resist, Zhao Wuji spent a moment caressing Anne’s voluptuous body once more. His fingers gently brushed across her cheek as he turned and walked away with a smile. The door closed, and silence fell over the room. Her eyelashes suddenly fluttered, and then Anne opened her eyes. “Bastard,” Anne said, biting her lower lip as she watched Zhao Wuji’s retreating figure, her eyes filled with a mix of shame and anger. Anne rose from the bed; the thin sheet slipped from her jade-like body, leaving her flawless, exquisite figure exposed to the air. A hint of melancholy flashed in her eyes, and she let out a long sigh. “Let’s just pretend it was a dream. Asking you for a favor? Where am I supposed to find one?” Anne felt as though Zhao Wuji was joking. On the bed and off it, Anne picked up her clothes one by one and slipped them onto the body that drove men wild. Tiptoeing, she slipped her slender legs into her ankle boots, then opened the door and left this enchanting place filled with memories. She wanted to forget, but she realized she would probably never be able to forget that passionate, wild night. “Hey, Anne, how’s it going? Did he agree?” Hager and Krum were sitting in a fast-food restaurant. Hager idly picked up a french fry, dipped it in ketchup, and shoved it into his mouth. Anne forced a smile and sat down at the fast-food table. But Hegel and Krum were both thick-skinned; they didn’t notice anything unusual about Anne Yihagel. Anne picked up her Coke, took a sip, and looked a little downcast. “He really is such a proud person, isn’t he? How could he possibly agree to my request?” Anne said, shaking her head. Hagel slammed his fist on the table, his eyes wide with shock. “He’s such a jerk.” Anne smiled faintly, a look of reminiscence flashing in her eyes. “You’re right—he really is a jerk, isn’t he?” Hagel and Krum exchanged puzzled glances, unsure what was going on—this didn’t seem like the attitude Anne had shown toward Zhao Wuji earlier! A truck drove by, revealing a familiar silhouette. Anne froze, remaining silent for a long time. The road conditions were getting worse and worse, and the truck jolted constantly as it drove along. Dust swirled half a meter high behind the truck, making it appear and disappear in the cloud of dust. Zhao Wuji sat alone in the back of the truck, still feeling a touch of nostalgia for last night’s romantic encounter. It was really a joke—hadn’t he even touched a woman since his rebirth? Catherine—he did have feelings for her, but those feelings were purely platonic. As for Anne—strictly speaking, because of that one night with her, which was little more than a fleeting affair—she was, in essence, the first woman he’d ever been with in this world. That endlessly intoxicating night—whenever he thought of it, the sensations were always unforgettable. Perhaps the two of them would never cross paths again, or even if they did, it would be nothing more than that so-called promise. But Zhao Wuji would never forget that, in the far north of Earth—in that world of ice and snow—he had met a young woman named Anne, nor the intimate night they spent together. As for fulfilling Chen Nuo’s request, Zhao Wuji had actually thought it through quite thoroughly. A year later, when he left the Siberian Training Camp, he would head to the United States to fight in underground boxing matches. Given his skills, he was bound to make a name for himself in the United States underground boxing scene. By then, finding Zhao Wuji would be quite simple. It could be said that Zhao Wuji’s promise carried immense weight. As the truck jolted, Zhao Wuji let out a long sigh, cast aside all distracting thoughts, and his eyes once again took on a sharp, predatory glint. Sikov wasn’t with him, because the rules of the Siberian Training Camp stipulated that only the boxer himself was allowed to register; thus, Zhao Wuji boarded this truck bound for the registration site. Since the journey was long and there were no other means of transportation, Zhao Wuji chose this truck in keeping with the principle of keeping things simple. By his reckoning, the truck had already been on the road for half an hour. The road beneath the truck’s wheels had shifted from bustling city streets to desolate country lanes. Zhao Wuji sat in the truck, silently watching the dust billowing from the rear as he waited—this was the beginning of a new journey. After an unknown amount of time, the truck slammed on the brakes, causing the cabin to lurch. Zhao Wuji looked up. He saw the driver step down from the cab and say to him, “Sir, we’ve arrived at our destination.” “Thank you,” Zhao Wuji said, casually handing the driver a few bills before jumping out of the truck. The driver took the money, thanked him, cast a wary glance around, then quickly climbed back into the truck. Accompanied by the rumbling of the engine, the truck kicked up a cloud of dust and drove away. With a “thud,” Zhao Wuji set down his not-too-heavy suitcase and surveyed his surroundings. Apart from a sparse grove of trees, there were only a few isolated cottages in the distance. It looks pretty desolate, Zhao Wuji thought to himself. Looking at those few isolated houses, Zhao Wuji didn’t hesitate; he set off immediately. After taking a few steps, however, his expression suddenly turned cold, a flash of icy intent flickering in his eyes as his hand slashed backward with lightning speed. “Stop!” The voice sounded panicked. Although Zhao Wuji had held back most of his strength, it was still too late—with a loud “crack,” the attacker’s arm was actually broken. Zhao Wuji turned around and shot a cold glare at the man—a burly figure clad in a fur coat—who was clutching his arm and hissing through gritted teeth in pain. “Who are you?” Zhao Wuji asked coldly. The man cautiously lowered his broken arm, which hung limply as if boneless, cast a look of utter fear at Zhao Wuji, and then said, “I’m actually just here to test the waters. Most boxers can usually withstand my attack—it’s meant to keep unauthorized people from entering this area—but I never expected your attack to be so fierce.” ” As he spoke, he seemed to have aggravated his injury; the man’s eyes narrowed to slits in pain. He clenched his jaw uncontrollably. “I’m sorry,” Zhao Wuji said apologetically. To his surprise, the man waved his hand and said, “It’s no big deal. There are risks involved in this line of work. A few years back, someone like me tried to test a visitor who came here, but unexpectedly, instead of passing the test, he was beaten to death. And the man who killed him went on to make a name for himself in the United States underground boxing scene after leaving the Siberian Training Camp.” Zhao Wuji thought for a moment, then walked up to a tree as thick as a bowl’s rim. With a swift kick, the tree snapped clean through the middle and crashed to the ground with a loud crash, sending leaves flying in all directions. Zhao Wuji examined the broken log for a moment, then aimed his blow precisely at the tree. His hands moved as fast as lightning; in just a few brief moments, he had split the tree bare-handed, crafting two splints of just the right size. These two splints were just enough to immobilize the man’s broken bones. The man’s horror was beside the point. Ignoring the man’s horrified expression, Zhao Wuji ran his hands over the man’s broken arm, located the correct spot, and set the bone. The process of setting a bone is naturally painful, but with Zhao Wuji performing the procedure, the pain was significantly lessened. In just a moment, Zhao Wuji released the man’s arm. It turned out that Zhao Wuji had already set the man’s bone with remarkable precision. “Just stay still like this; it will heal on its own in time,” Zhao Wuji said calmly. The man stared at him blankly; it wasn’t until a while later that he began thanking him repeatedly, clearly moved by the gesture. Strictly speaking, this man was merely a peripheral member of the Siberian Training Camp, with no access to its inner workings. Their duty was to receive boxers arriving from all over the world and ensure they could smoothly enter the registration area. Their status was extremely low, so it was only natural that this man would feel grateful upon encountering a boxer like Zhao Wuji, who showed such kindness. Well, there was now one more person who saw Zhao Wuji as well-intentioned, and in the future, even more people would come to regard him as a good person.