Chapter 141: One Night Stand

Wujue observed the women before him. Some were middle-aged yet feigned shyness, while others were in the bloom of youth, brimming with bold enthusiasm. Initially uneasy at being exposed in the company of so many, they gradually adapted to the atmosphere under Wujue’s appreciative gaze. Soon, a competitive display of seductive antics began to unfold.

Having been a monk for so many years, Wujue had never witnessed such a scene of unparalleled hedonism. It would be a lie to say he had never felt worldly desires before, but the weight of national trauma, personal vendettas, and the separation from Yao’er had forced him to cast everything aside, leaving only the relentless pursuit of martial arts for vengeance. And what had that earned him? The world remained as treacherous as ever; without the mastery of deception, even the greatest martial prowess would lead to one’s downfall. Now, having completely unleashed his desires, he found a sense of profound satisfaction that fueled his drive to push forward. He had come to understand deeply that only desire could stimulate a person to strive endlessly. That was why he was able to enjoy this moment with such ease.

As the atmosphere in the room intensified, Wujue turned on the sound system, playing a slow, sensuous dance track. He shed his last remaining garment, stepped among the women, and patted their porcelain skin, leaving faint red handprints. "Come now, ladies!" he commanded. "Show me your best—let’s see how you intend to please me."

The women began to moan, vying for his attention, but strangely, perhaps due to Wujue’s years of rigorous martial training and profound internal energy, no matter how they maneuvered, he remained unreleased. This caused them great distress; they grew desperate, competing to perform, only to end up defeated one by one. No matter the technique they employed, they could not force him to surrender to their charms.

Wujue had set a rule: he would not engage in formal intimacy with any of them, allowing them only to assist him in other ways. After all, these women had likely passed through many hands, and he was unwilling to risk his health. What should have been a night of pleasure devolved into a grueling tug-of-war. Eventually, the eight women were left exhausted, eyes brimming with tears, unable to utter a word through their small, trembling mouths.

An older woman complained resentfully, "Brother, you’re too cruel! Did you take some kind of pill beforehand? I’ve never seen anyone so formidable. I even used the most advanced techniques, and it did nothing! If I were a few years younger, I would’ve unleashed my ultimate move!"

Another, named Jiaojiao, interrupted, "Stop joking. You and your 'ultimate move'? The point is to get through the main gate. Brother, can’t you just do it once? I promise I’m perfectly clean." She moved to mount him, but he pushed her away with disgust. "Get out! Don’t let me see you again. I’m not in the mood anymore. Everyone, leave."

After shooing all eight women away, Wujue remained in the room, letting out a long, relieved breath as he reclined on the sofa and lit a cigarette. He felt a wave of frustration, realizing that his internal desire had ballooned but remained unsatisfied, his body still stubbornly rigid. Feeling an inexplicable sense of loss, he paced the room restlessly. Suddenly, he heard a sound outside the window.

Alert, he hurried to the door and opened it, only to find a woman’s figure scurrying down the corridor before tripping and falling to the floor. Who would dare to spy on him? Wujue strode over, pulled her up, and discovered it was Sister Ming, the cook. He smiled and asked, "What is this? Are you all back already?"

Sister Ming hung her head, unable to meet his naked gaze, her face flushed with shame. "Yes. Everyone has been brought here. I didn’t want to disturb you, so they’ve all been arranged to rest. But when I came out and saw the lights on in your room, and saw people leaving, I just wanted to ask about the meal arrangements for the next few days..." Her voice trailed off, as if she realized how flimsy her excuse sounded.

Wujue studied her embarrassed expression and suddenly understood. It seemed this woman, too, had been stirred by desire, enough to come spying in the middle of the night. It was an unexpected development. Although Sister Ming was over thirty and possessed only average looks, her culinary skills—which satisfied the appetites of the men—had ensured she remained safe from harassment. That such a woman, supposedly known for her virtue, would harbor such thoughts was truly a curiosity.

Wujue reached out, hooked his finger under her chin, and pulled her toward him. "It’s windy out here. Come into my room and we can talk."

Sister Ming hesitated at first, especially as the masculine scent radiating from Wujue caused her to blush even more deeply. "Is this... really appropriate?" she murmured, nearly covering her face in anxiety.

Wujue simply laughed, swept her off her feet, carried her back into the room, tossed her onto the large bed, and locked the door behind him. "Whatever you want to ask, you can ask properly tonight." He stood brazenly before her, displaying every cord of muscle on his powerful frame, a sight that left her dizzy.

Sister Ming covered her face with her hands, blushing profusely. "This isn't right. Don't bully me. I’m not like those other women who will do anything with you, I..." She turned her head away, unable to continue.

Wujue laughed heartily. Not in a rush to take advantage, he lay down beside her, pressing close and occasionally brushing against her. "What are you afraid of? We’re all adults; there’s nothing to be ashamed of. Sister Ming, you have talent and self-respect—be my woman. I guarantee you’ll live a better life from now on."

As his touch sent tremors through her body, Sister Ming suddenly said, "You make such easy promises. I know how you men are—treating people like toys, playing with them when you feel like it and tossing them aside when you don't. I’m so old, and I don’t know how to play these games. Why pick me? Aren't there plenty of beautiful girls you like?"

Wujue chuckled. "Those women... once the apocalypse hit, they lost all sense of self-respect. Yes, they sell their bodies to survive, but there is no sincerity in them. Don't let my ruthless reputation fool you; my standards aren't that low." He turned her to face him, gazing into her shy eyes. "I like a woman like you—you have character, and you are clean. I don't ask for eternity; I only ask for tonight."

His words moved her. She slowly grew passionate, beginning to respond to his advances. Wujue did not rush; he spent time engaging her in intimate conversation, heightening their mutual anticipation. Only when the time was ripe did they share the night together.

That night, the phrase Sister Ming repeated most was: "Slow down... how much longer will this take?"