The Female Boss (Pussy Bitch) Speaks with Her Pussy
The parlor of the brothel madam on the fifth floor of Cheon-sang Ru. Just heading there as if it were the most natural thing in the world made it easy to grasp Mo Ryeo-won's position in the brothel.
The true master of Cheon-sang Ru. There had been no lies or exaggeration in what Nangong Ji had said.
"I won't tell you to sit. You're neither guests nor anything of the sort."
Mo Ryeo-won spoke haughtily as she crossed her legs on the ornate chair. With a slight tilt of her head, a guard beside her brought over a long pipe packed tight with tobacco.
Click. She struck a flint to light it.
"Fuuu."
She inhaled the tobacco smoke deeply, then exhaled it long and slow—right toward Bang So-un, who stood before her. A deliberate rudeness.
Yet Bang So-un didn't so much as blink.
Mo Ryeo-won's eyes gleamed with a look that said, Hah, look at this guy.
"So? What is it? Some grand bullshit you have to spout?"
A provocative jab. Given the situation, she clearly intended to dominate through sheer presence.
"Bullshit, huh."
Bang So-un murmured, picking up her words. It wasn't a retort—just buying time.
His eyes had already scanned the surroundings before even entering the parlor. The locations of other rooms, whether they were occupied, the guards posted nearby... He'd run through every potential variable in his mind several times.
Lucky break.
His original targets had been just Nangong Ji. Approach him first. Leave a deep impression second. The brothel's madam hadn't even registered on his radar. Hell, he'd only learned of her existence moments ago.
Truth be told, he would've picked a fight no matter who she was. Just one means to make that impression stick.
But still. He couldn't deny his luck.
First, she was a woman.
Second, her position was perfect.
The parlor. It was always isolated from the rest. Why? Because it belonged to the top dog. No one at that level wanted the surrounding noise. It wasn't dignified. Sharing space implied equal status.
Hence, the fifth floor. The first four were for the girls entertaining guests, but the fifth held nothing but the parlor.
That was why Bang So-un felt lucky.
Only one problem.
The guards.
Mo Ryeo-won had guards at her side. Anyone would, meeting a stranger whose identity they didn't know.
Bang So-un had Jang Il as his guard, after all.
Two guards.
Bang So-un sorted his thoughts swiftly. Not an easy situation. Even if he ambushed and took one down, a shout from the other would ruin everything.
He had to neutralize both as fast as possible.
Let's see.
Bang So-un pondered his final dilemma. Two choices: go for it or not.
If there was a chance, strike. If not, back off smartly.
His verdict?
Chance is plenty.
Jang Il's martial arts. His internal energy had skyrocketed thanks to elixirs, but his practical combat skills and technique application were still raw. Still, after numerous real fights, he'd improved his physical handling. And he'd been learning battle-useful arts from the peak expert Yeon Su-rin in his spare time.
Bang So-un trusted that growth.
That leaves...
Mo Ryeo-won. If she screamed while they handled the guards, it was over. She had to be silenced simultaneously.
Couldn't leave it to Jang Il. Not enough hands.
He'd do it himself.
Doesn't seem like she knows martial arts.
Bang So-un concluded. Why would a brothel madam need to learn anyway?
He flicked his gaze to Jang Il, rubbing one eyebrow with his finger.
The signal.
A subtle one they'd set before arriving. Meaning: proceed.
But that was it—no specifics. No time for details.
Still, Bang So-un wasn't worried. He and Jang Il understood each other with just a look, no exaggeration.
Jang Il would get it perfectly from his glance. How he'd move. How Bang So-un would.
As if confirming, Jang Il gave the tiniest nod downward.
Bang So-un smirked inwardly.
That was when it happened.
"What're you doing? Suddenly going mute like a dumbass? If you've got something to say, spit it out. Don't act all choked up like some idiot."
Irritated at his silence, Mo Ryeo-won shot him a glare.
Bang So-un met it head-on.
"Was just about to."
His words came slow and steady.
"Let's go."
Let's go? What kinda weird bullshit...
Mo Ryeo-won's thought didn't finish.
Bang So-un lunged at her in a flash.
"K-KYAAAK?!"
Shrieking in shock at the unimaginable assault, her eyes wide with horror.
Bang So-un's hand clamped over her mouth just in time.
"Mmph! Mmmph!"
Sweat beaded on Bang So-un's forehead. Tension.
Meanwhile—actually, even before—Jang Il had already tackled one guard, landing a strike.
Thud!
"Guhk?!"
Jang Il's fist slammed dead-center into the solar plexus. Breath crushed, the guard blacked out instantly.
The remaining guard. True to his role, he moved to roar before even grasping the scene—alerting the outer guards.
That would've ended it.
As his mouth opened to bellow—
Crack!
"Gurgle..."
A heavy roundhouse to the head. Foam at the mouth, eyes rolled back, he crumpled unconscious.
All in a blink.
"Mmmph! Mmmph!"
Mo Ryeo-won thrashed wildly, her face screaming disbelief.
Th-These murdering bastards!
No scum like this existed. Boldly attempting heaven-defying evil right in the heart of her brothel.
Real lunatics. Only a madman would pull this here.
They'll pay dearly, you filth!
Even now, her spirit held. She knew the brothel's guards. The eyes everywhere. Swarming with people. No wings meant no clean escape.
The bastards' fate was sealed.
"Mmmph!"
She glared at Bang So-un with venomous hate.
He took it calmly. Even smirked.
"You think we're the crazy ones, huh?"
"Mmph!"
"Fair. Even if these guards wake up alone, we're done for."
"Mmph!"
Yeah, whatever happens, you're finished. Her eyes said it all.
But Bang So-un's mouth curled in mockery.
"Heh. Guess we gotta finish the job first."
He nodded at Jang Il.
Jang Il approached.
Mo Ryeo-won's glare shifted to him. What're you—
Then Jang Il's eyes widened.
"Fall away, you bitch."
In that instant.
Aa...
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Mo Ryeo-won's consciousness plunged into darkness.
"Wha?!"
"H-Huh?!"
The two guards shuddered awake simultaneously.
No coincidence. Jang Il had stimulated their neck pressure points at once.
They couldn't know.
"M-Madam!"
"G-Get behind us, now!"
They rushed to shield the seated Mo Ryeo-won.
Dazed from blackout, their memories blurred. Felt like mere moments had passed.
But one thing stuck: the sudden ambush. Clear enemies.
Guards had to respond.
But.
"No need."
Mo Ryeo-won said casually.
"Wh-What?!"
"What do you—?!"
The guards panicked, naturally.
Mo Ryeo-won repeated clearly.
"Just a little misunderstanding between us. It's cleared up now. No need to worry."
"Wh-What do you mean...?"
"You saying you can't hear me right?"
She scowled sharply. The full force of Cheon-sang Ru's iron madam.
The guards flinched involuntarily.
"N-No, madam."
"W-We heard you clear."
They bowed meekly, checking her again. Face unchanged from usual. No scratches.
No harm done.
As if proving it, she leisurely puffed her pipe, exhaling long.
"Fuuu."
Relief washed over their faces.
Then.
"Go downstairs now. Misunderstanding's cleared. I want to talk openly with our guests."
Mo Ryeo-won spoke again.
The guards hesitated.
"B-But..."
"No backtalk. Go. Or you want me rude to our guests?"
Her tone chilled them.
Anhui's proud landowner, big player. When she got serious, even guards wilted.
"Y-Yes, madam."
"A-As you command."
Deep bows, then retreat. To the fourth floor.
Only three remained.
"Fuuu."
Mo Ryeo-won exhaled again.
"Well then, shall we resume our chat?"
Bang So-un grinned suddenly.
"Damn good in such short time. Natural as hell."
"Haha, I've been working at it, young master. Gotta improve."
Jang Il grinned too.
Doubt creased Mo Ryeo-won's frown. What the hell are these guys on about?
"Look, when people talk, you listen..."
"Pussy bitch speaks with her pussy."
Bang So-un sneered, uttering the eerie phrase.
In that instant.
All emotion vanished from Mo Ryeo-won's eyes, turning vacant and blank like an idiot's.
"...Yes... pussy bitch... speaks with her... pussy..."
Mumbling like a fool, she flipped up her skirt.
Her red undergarments exposed brazenly. She yanked those down too.
With nothing covering, her pussy bared. But thighs pressed tight, only dark bush and slit visible—no inner flesh.
Then.
As if flaunting it, she spread her thighs wide.
Her stuffy slit gaped open, revealing the pink within.
Browned from years of use, like it told her history. Clit protruded like a nipple, well-sucked. Yet labia stayed firm, not too sagging—decent shape.
Bang So-un and Jang Il knew: for her age, prime fuckable pussy.
And that pussy suddenly throbbed wildly.
Throb-throb-throb-throb.
Mo Ryeo-won flexed just her pussy muscles frantically. Clench-release, clench-release, over and over.
Relax-contract, relax-contract.
Throb-throb-throb-throb.
It looked just like her pussy was talking.
Proving with all her might that a pussy bitch speaks with her pussy.
"Puhahaha!"
"Puhkukuk!"
Bang So-un and Jang Il burst into triumphant laughter.