92: Chapter 92 The "Service" in the Tavern: Jiang Jiuyou Has Arrived!

"Does Master have any other instructions?"

She rested her chin in her hand, her wine-red curls cascading over her shoulders, her tone deliberately languid.

The proprietress's hand trembled as she held the pot.

This woman was seducing a customer.

In her shop.

Right in front of her.

The red fox tail's fur bristled halfway before she forced it back down.

Chen Chen set down his cup.

"Stand up."

Blood Rose froze for a second, then obediently stood up.

"Turn around."

She did as she was told.

Chen Chen leaned back against his chair, observing her slowly.

He had to admit, Blood Rose's body was indeed a rare beauty in the Wasteland.

At 1.82 meters tall, her frame was slender, yet she was curvy where it counted.

Her waist was incredibly narrow, leading down to a sudden, explosive curve—viewed from behind, the fabric of her high-slit leather skirt was stretched taut, clearly outlining the rounded contours of her backside.

Her legs were long and straight, extending from the slit of the skirt down to the tops of her knee-high boots, with smooth, symmetrical muscle definition; her calves were slender, and her ankles were narrow enough to be gripped by a single hand.

Her shoulder blades protruded slightly due to tension, and the groove along her spine ran from the nape of her neck to the small of her back; the fabric of her camisole was so thin that the texture of her skin beneath was visible.

Chen Chen stood up.

The legs of his chair scraped against the wooden floor with a short, harsh sound.

Blood Rose's shoulders flinched.

She felt a searing wave of heat approaching from behind.

Then, a hand clamped onto her lower back.

The moment those five fingers dug into the small of her back, Blood Rose's knees went weak.

The memories of the entire night before were too profound; this strength, this grip, this position—her body had already memorized them.

"Mas—"

Before she could finish, she was turned around, and her lower back struck the edge of the nearby long table.

Chen Chen pressed one hand onto her shoulder, pinning her against the tabletop.

"That routine of yours might work on other men."

Blood Rose lay facing upward, her wine-red curls spread across the table, her chest heaving violently.

The strap of her camisole finally slipped off her right shoulder, exposing a large expanse of snowy skin to the dim, yellow light.

Her pupils were dilated, her breathing ragged, and her lips slightly parted.

"It doesn't work on me." Chen Chen leaned down, his voice dropping low, "Here with me, you can't just seduce me whenever you want. When I want it, you must accept; when I don't, you stay put and behave. Do you understand?"

Blood Rose swallowed hard.

"I—understand."

Chen Chen stared at her for two seconds.

Then he flipped her over on the table.

Blood Rose's abdomen pressed against the cold tabletop, her upper body pinned down, the back of her lace camisole almost entirely open—from her shoulder blades to the small of her back, the smooth, firm curves of her back were illuminated in exquisite detail by the lamplight.

Her high-slit leather skirt rode up due to her prone position, her two long, straight legs tensed tightly, and the heels of her knee-high boots scraped against the wooden floor, making small, fragmented sounds.

She did not struggle.

She even arched her back slightly.

The proprietress in the corner had already crouched back behind the bar, with only the tips of her furry red ears visible.

Her ears twitched back and forth, like two independently operating Radar antennas.

She was eavesdropping.

And very intently.

The long table began to shift rhythmically toward the wall.

The wooden table legs dragged scratches across the floor.

The kerosene lamp hanging on the load-bearing pillar swayed from the vibrations, casting blurry patches of light onto the wall.

Blood Rose buried her face in her arms, the sounds she made muffled, fragmented, and short, each one suppressed in her throat.

She had already learned.

In front of this man, all methods and tricks were superfluous.

There was only one thing he wanted—absolute obedience.

The long table finally hit the wall.

The bottles neatly arranged on the wine rack clattered against each other, and two nearly rolled off, only to be caught by the proprietress using one of her tails.

Her face was buried in her knees, and her ears were bright red.

The tip of her tail drew circles on the floor.

Who knows how much time passed.

The tavern fell silent once more.

Chen Chen sat back in his chair, picked up the cup of water that had gone cold, and drained it in one gulp.

Blood Rose lay slumped on the long table, unable to move.

Her leather skirt was crumpled in a heap at her waist, the straps of her boots were half-loose, and she was so limp she looked like she had just been pulled out of water.

"That's enough, get up."

Blood Rose struggled three times before she could prop up her upper body, her arms trembling; she managed to slide off the table with difficulty, but her legs gave out, and she collapsed onto her knees on the floor.

"……My legs have no strength."

Chen Chen ignored her, fished an energy bar from his silver-grade storage ring, and tossed it onto the table.

"Eat it and sit properly. We have things to do later."

Blood Rose crawled on her knees to reach the energy bar, tore open the packaging, put it in her mouth, and climbed onto the chair while chewing.

The proprietress finally rose slowly from behind the bar.

Her expression was extremely complicated; her amber slit pupils glanced at the area on the table where the paint had been rubbed off, then at the new scratches on the floor. She opened her mouth twice, and finally, she squeezed a sentence out from between her teeth:

"……The furniture damage fee will be deducted from your balance."

Chen Chen nodded.

About ten minutes passed.

The kerosene lamp had its oil changed.

Blood Rose tidied her clothes and sat quietly in the corner, gnawing on her third energy bar.

Chen Chen sat in his chair with his eyes closed, dozing, while his Mental Power maintained a low-power perception of the surroundings.

The proprietress wiped a cup, the frequency of her tail's swaying returning to normal.

Suddenly.

Her ears stood straight up simultaneously, and her tail froze.

"Someone is coming."

Chen Chen opened his eyes.

The proprietress's expression shifted from lazy to alert; she put down the cup and felt under the bar—where a row of buttons for her life-saving mechanisms was hidden.

"How many?" Chen Chen asked in a low voice.

"Six people. Three vehicles. The one with the highest energy fluctuation……"

The proprietress's slit pupils constricted.

"Very strong. At least an S-rank talent holder."

Chen Chen stood up, took two steps back, and walked into the dark corner to the side of the bar.

This spot was blocked by a load-bearing pillar and the wine rack, making it completely invisible from the direction of the main entrance.

"Blood Rose."

"Yes."

"Go sit in the corner and don't make a sound."

Blood Rose didn't say a word; she clutched her energy bar and retreated into the innermost booth, completely hidden by the high backrest.

The tavern door was pushed open.

Cold wind blew in, causing the kerosene lamp's flame to flicker violently.

Walking in front were two fully armed men in black, holding modified rifles, their eyes scanning the dim hall.

After confirming there was no obvious threat, one of them made a gesture toward the outside.

Then, a woman walked in.

Chen Chen's breath hitched for a split second.

Because this woman's appearance was truly excessive.

She wore a dark red military-style coat with an exceptionally sharp cut, the hem reaching her knees, with a belt at her waist that accentuated her extreme curves.

Underneath was a black turtleneck tight-fitting liner, which made her long, slender neck look incredibly fair.

Her military boots stepped onto the wooden floor with a steady, powerful gait.

Her hair was a rare silver-white; before the apocalypse, it might have been considered dyed, but on this face, it felt completely natural.

The silver hair was tied into a low ponytail, with a few stray strands hanging at her temples, framing a face so exquisite it was nearly cold.

Her features were extremely aggressive.

Her brow bones were high, her eye sockets deep, and her phoenix eyes were slightly upturned, with irises of a very pale ice-blue—cold enough to send a chill down one's spine.

Her nose bridge was high, and her lips were full but perpetually pursed; she wore no color on them, yet they held more oppressive power than Blood Rose's flaming red lips.

Her temperament was cold to the bone.

Unlike the "coldness" of a career woman like Shen Wanbing—this woman's coldness carried the edge of a blade, the scent of blood, and the metallic tang of someone who had spent years killing in the slaughterhouse.

After entering, she didn't look around, but walked straight toward the bar.

Four people followed behind her.

In addition to the two vanguard men in black, there was a tall, thin person carrying a sniper case, and a middle-aged woman wearing a black trench coat with an exhausted face—appearing to be a role like an adjutant or an advisor.