Appraising the Shadowless Flying Knife's Body
They couldn't tear their eyes away from the chance to openly judge a female peak expert's tits right in front of them. Despite her long years in seclusion, she owned several outfits, and they were all impeccably clean—properly washed and worn. Even a female peak expert couldn't escape her nature as a woman; fussing over her appearance must have been pure instinct.
As the green lightweight tunic slipped off, a thud unlike any they'd heard before echoed through the air. Thump! It was a weighty sound no mere cloth could produce. Both Bang So-un and Jang Il instantly knew why.
"Whoa... how many throwing knives does this bitch cram in there?" Jang Il stuck out his tongue in awe.
"No kidding. Makes you wonder how she even stuffs them in." Bang So-un let out a chuckle.
It was just too ridiculous—picturing a hidden weapons master lugging around that arsenal in her top. He couldn't help but laugh. In any case, the tunic packed with throwing knives was off. For a throwing knife expert like her, it meant total disarmament, a complete lack of any will to resist. The fact that she'd done it to herself, so obediently, was utterly tantalizing.
"No way she's got knives stuffed in there too, right?" Jang Il eyed Muyeong Bido's tits, half-obscured by her nipple covers.
"Haha, doesn't look like there's room." Bang So-un smirked.
Muyeong Bido's impressively hefty tits filled out the covers completely. Fine for flat-chested girls, maybe—but these were asserting themselves loud and clear even under the fabric. No chance of hidden blades there.
"Those milk bags are top-notch, at least."
"Heh, yeah. Definitely prime tit-meat."
Bang So-un and Jang Il appraised Muyeong Bido's tits like street vendors haggling over wares, tossing out the crudest slang. Right in front of her. Something they'd never dream of doing normally—especially not to a female peak expert. She'd cut them down without a word in any other scenario.
Yet the impossible rudeness washed right over Muyeong Bido. Her upper body was fully exposed now, save for those thin nipple covers, and she just stood there blankly. Like she was begging for more critique. With tits that big, who could look anywhere else? It only amplified the vibe.
Was there a single woman in the world who'd stand there while her tits got trash-talked to her face and react like this?
"Haha." Bang So-un laughed.
"Heh." Jang Il joined in.
An impossible reaction from any woman—let alone a female peak expert. And that was exactly why they could never quit this game. Nothing else satisfied that conquest lust, that domination high, and the insane pleasure that came with it. It was a one-of-a-kind thrill, felt only when utterly crushing and owning a female peak expert.
"Her face is decent enough too."
The appraisal shifted from tits to face. Not bad in Jang Il's eyes, apparently. Bang So-un nodded in agreement. A hint of venomous sharpness was the only flaw, but the features themselves were solid—clear eyes, nose, and mouth in perfect harmony. She'd rank comfortably above average in the Broken Flowers Unit, no doubt.
"Yeah, even with our tastes getting pickier, she's a beauty."
"Heh, sure. Pretty flowers are pretty flowers, no matter how high your standards."
The two men grinned in satisfaction. A perfect test subject and a tasty bitch to boot—what more could they want?
"Oh, right—guess we've got our answer?" Jang Il said, as if it just occurred to him.
"Of course. In the end, it's all about inner power." Bang So-un nodded firmly.
Inner power's strength or weakness. The rule they'd suspected was even more absolute than imagined. Even the slightest edge could drop a foe straight to rock bottom in an instant. Muyeong Bido—standing there dazed, tits half-out—proved it perfectly.
"Heh, perfect."
"And one more thing." Bang So-un twisted his lips at the grinning Jang Il.
Jang Il blinked. "One more?"
"Yeah. Your inner power boost ties directly to your ability's strength."
They'd hunted weaker targets before, but nothing like this instant takedown. It used to take more time—one-on-one was feasible, but never one-to-many. Now? Group hypnosis was a breeze, and even peak female experts fell in one shot. Vengeance ops had sped up with skill gains, sure—but not this much. Inner power was the real game-changer. Go-eui's recreation of Jeoldae Sin-ui's elixir had given them wings.
"Hahaha! Just as I thought. Like I said back then, I felt it surging—pure confidence overload. Inner power buffs are the real killer, huh?" Jang Il boomed with laughter, brimming with swagger. He had every right; with a little assist, he'd turned a peak female expert into this.
"Good stuff. Real good."
Bang So-un grinned too. Verdict sealed, satisfaction confirmed. Time to savor it.
Jang Il winked. "Shall we pick up where we left off?"
"Damn right." Bang So-un shifted into a comfy seat—not on the rough dirt littered with sharp rocks, but squarely on Ju Ok-yeong's firm ass, now his human footstool. Jang Il lounged the same way on Gal Sahyeon's pig-ass. Nothing beat a portable throne you could use anytime, anywhere. Unlike a boring wooden stool, you could grope tits or finger pussies at will.
"Hey, dog-pussy bitch."
"...Yes... Master..."
One word from Jang Il, and Muyeong Bido's doll-like silence broke.
"Strip everything below the waist except your panties."
"...Yes... Dog-pussy bitch obeys... Master..."
Finally, her hands moved to her skirt—matching green fabric gripped at the sides. Whoosh. Down it went without hesitation, pooling on the ground. Her lower half was bare now: slim yet supple ankles, toned calves and thighs. And above that—crotch, groin, cleft. None of it mattered. What counted was the sacred, shameful spot every woman hid away, now shielded by a flimsy scrap of white cloth.
"Ho... nice..."
"Heh, very nice."
Bang So-un and Jang Il whistled in approval. It was dressed to thrill a man's eyes. The coverage was minimal—just barely hiding her slit. Nothing like some baggy auntie granny-panties; this was hooker-level, brain-melting skimpy. The fabric was thin too—practically see-through. Hell, it was see-through; her pussy's outline clung right to it.
Bang So-un had a hunch why. No stray pubes poking out or visible through the cloth. She'd groomed it clean. Unlikely to be naturally bald down there.
"Probably hated the sweat buildup in this heat." He voiced his guess.
This was Haenam Peninsula, far south of the Central Plains—sweltering, sticky with coastal humidity. Great for hiding out, shitty for the weather.
"Ah, explains the skirt." Jang Il nodded knowingly.
Skirts were comfy for daily life, but martial artists shunned them. Fine for casual moves, hell for leaps, bounds, and fights—too restrictive, too revealing. Yet a peak expert wore one? Had to be for ventilation down there.
"Yeah, that underwear's got killer airflow. And a clean-shaven mound to match." Bang So-un smirked.
"Heh, your eye for detail never fails, young master."
Jang Il wasn't just flattering—this time it was genuine. He'd only clocked it as hot panties; Bang So-un read the full story. The guy's insight was unreal.
But if so... "Geomgak's Sword Peak wore a skirt too—same reason?"
That flashy red number wasn't martial robes by any stretch. How'd she smash pirates in it? And the real mystery: insane leaps and bounds, yet no skirt-flashing. It hugged like someone pinned it down. Left him blue-balled, dying to peek.
"Nah, doubt it." Bang So-un shook his head.
"Then?"
"Dunno. She's a total enigma. But if I had to guess—no issue at all."
"No issue?"
"Means it doesn't hinder her full power. Skirt or not, who cares."
"Oh..." Jang Il's eyes lit up—made perfect sense.
"Special goods live up to the hype. The more I learn, the more I crave her."
"Hahaha! Naturally. I'm barely holding back myself. But no rushing. She's not the type you force. We'd end up wrecked."
"Ugh, true. Woman who swims oceans bare-handed and wrecks warships solo? I'm all in for playing it safe till the time's ripe."
Even Jang Il treaded lightly around Sword Peak after witnessing her madness.
"Haha, smart attitude. Anyway, that's for later. Back to the fun at hand."
Bang So-un chuckled.
"Heh, got it."
Jang Il's gaze locked back on Muyeong Bido—near-naked, her voluptuous curves screaming temptation. Could strip her bare now, but one spot remained unappraised. As crucial to a bitch's hotness as tits—maybe more.
"Turn around, dog-pussy bitch." Jang Il grinned wickedly.
"...Yes... Dog-pussy bitch will turn... Master..."
With a dazed echo of obedience, Muyeong Bido turned her back.