How the Golden Dragon Battlefield Obtains Information
No matter what happened, day always broke and the sun rose without fail. The same went for the Red Flower Tower. Even though a shocking incident had occurred just a week ago, the morning at the Red Flower Tower was utterly serene.
"Hoo."
Feng, a first-class courtesan sitting blankly gazing at the sky, let out a small sigh. Ever since that day, her will to live had plummeted for some reason. The madam she admired so much, defiled by that utter bastard of a man.
Yes, the worst kind of man. Since then, in Feng's heart, the Golden Dragon Battlefield's leader had become synonymous with pervert, beast, demon, devil... every vile thing imaginable.
She'd been forced by that monstrous creature. Sure, everyone chattered that the madam had completely crumbled under his superhuman cock and stamina, surrendering body and soul... but who cared what those fools said? In her mind, it was already fact: the madam had been violated against her will.
"Sigh... Still, work's work."
Feng stood, hoisting the large sack beside her. Whatever was inside had some serious weight; she grunted as she shuffled forward. Her destination: the seventh floor. Where the madam resided.
Arriving at the seventh floor, Feng called out cautiously.
"Madam, I've brought the bedding."
"Come in."
"Yes, ma'am."
Feng opened the door and entered. The madam seemed her usual refined self... except?! Feng's eyes widened.
A red miniskirt that exposed half her thighs. The very outfit from that nightmarish memory. And the madam was wearing it.
......Mental breakdown incoming.
"Just set it down beside me."
Her voice remained elegant and kind. Tears welled up.
"Y-yes, right away!"
Stifling her emotions, Feng placed the sack next to the madam.
"Could you unpack it and dump the contents on the desk?"
"Of course, Madam."
Feng untied the sack, then with another grunt, lifted it and poured onto the desk.
Whoosh!
Something spilled out. Not bedding.
Scraps of paper. Various sizes, but all clearly scribbled with writing.
"Good work."
Eun Hwa-yeong said. This was the intelligence from Haomen she'd been waiting for. Specifically, from the courtesan network. "Bedding" was just code for deception.
"N-no problem, Mad... Eek?!"
Trying to respond politely as always, Feng yelped in horror, eyes bulging.
"What's wrong?"
"N-n-n-nothing! I-I-I-I'll be going!"
Face flushed crimson, she bolted out. Slammed the door and raced down to the first floor in seconds.
"Hah... hah......"
Out of breath, but that wasn't the issue.
'D-d-d-did I really s-s-see that? Th-that......'
A glimpse up the short skirt. Silver pubic hair framing her pussy.
......No panties. Stark naked down there.
Oh god. Oh god. Oh god. Oh god.
The madam... even in private... no panties... that short skirt...
Aaaahhh......
The shock was too much for tears. The madam had changed. Utterly changed.
'......She's become a total slut.'
But why? That sultry allure, different from before... Idiot! Thwack!
Feng punched her own head. She couldn't lose her mind too. She had to stay vigilant against that beastly man and his depravity.
But... thinking of the madam brought that pussy flashing back first.
Feng's face burned red.
"Ugh... forget it. This brain! This stupid brain!"
Thwack thwack!
......That day, Feng downed three pots of liquor on an empty stomach, or so they say.
Courtesan intelligence was core to Haomen's network. Even the most iron-willed man loosens up with booze or pussy. Thus, courtesans serving drinks and beds gleaned the deepest secrets.
Hangzhou was prime territory. Intel funneled to the local branch, Red Flower Tower, before headquarters. Branch head Eun Hwa-yeong sorted it: urgent gems to worthless trash.
Today was no different. Her sharp mind made quick work.
Normally, that'd wrap it. But she had far more vital duties than Haomen busywork.
Her master's orders.
"Good girl, today too I'll diligently complete Master's task."
Vowing with fervent eyes, Eun Hwa-yeong set brush and ink on the desk. Spread paper, ground ink.
She'd transcribe today's intel, top priority first, for her master.
Via black paper. The world's stealthiest method—no one would suspect.
Haomen would lose its mind if they knew their assets were stripped bare.
But who could've imagined the Red-Eyed Fox, Haomen heavyweight, secretly feeding intel via black paper?
A disaster they couldn't dodge.
"Alright then."
Ink ready, she hiked her skirt. Made for this: easy on-off.
Bare pussy exposed, no panties for convenience. Just as Feng glimpsed.
She climbed onto the desk, stabbed the brush into her slit.
Expert in bed arts with near-divine pussy, she trusted her grip. Hence, a fine-tip brush for more text.
"Faster today."
She muttered self-encouragement. Always write with the pussy—Master's solemn command.
Nearly a week of obedience. At first, clumsy agony. But her talent shone.
Days later: speed surged, script refined, believable calligraphy.
Peak expert prowess, hilariously wasted on pussy-writing.
......She was thrilled, anyway.
"Hoo."
Dipped brush, steadied breath. Eun Hwa-yeong flexed her pussy.
Key intel memorized during sorting. That sharp she was.
She scribbled furiously, bare ass wiggling. Plump, bouncy cheeks in erotic frenzy—any man would've plunged in.
And fast. Hand-like speed.
Bang So-un would've marveled: Who knew a bitch like this existed?
Swish swish swish!
One stroke mastery. With her pussy.
What to call it? Lewd miracle.
Thus, tirelessly for her master.
"Hoo... done."
All intel transcribed. Sweat beaded her body—tough even for her.
Wiped with cloth. Still naked—more tasks.
Master's orders: Slave Ledger.
Hers incomplete. Vast details on slave bitches—not easy.
She recalled Master measuring: not just bust, waist, hips.
Nipple length, erect nipples, clit length, erect clit, pussy entrance, depth, asshole rim, pussy-asshole gap...
Master's ordeal. She just stripped and posed.
Plus skilled painter for five portraits: clothed full-body, face, tits, pussy, nude full-body...
Grueling. But she could help: count pussy hairs.
"Finish today."
This black paper report would delight Master. She smiled.
Sitting, she bent flexibly, face to pussy. Red eyes wide—no hair missed.
"One, two, three, four......"
Seventh floor echoed with her counting.
"Tch, even the Red-Eyed Fox turns bitch."
A sharp-faced middle-aged man tsked. His left hand: only two fingers.
Haomen's current lord: Seven-Finger Gambling Maniac No Deok-cheon.
Legendary gambler. Faced the Gambling King, lost all, wagered fingers—and won once.
Three fingers gone, but sole victor over the King.
"What're you on about?"
A drab-faced old woman asked. Iron Heart Granny, former courtesan rep. Now idling at HQ.
"Any heroine turns soft as a bitch. Loses edge. Don't you get it?"
No Deok-cheon snapped. But this iron-willed woman, risen on grit alone, didn't yield.
"Jeez, twisted mind. She found her man—good for her. Why the weird talk?"
"Sigh, can't discuss important matters with courtesans who've never risked life gambling."
He shook his head.
"You ever fucked a man, lord?"
Iron Heart Granny shot back.
"Why would I?"
"I have."
"That's your business!"
"Can't discuss important matters with gamblers who've never fucked a man."
"......"
No Deok-cheon speechless.
Then: "Whatever. Let's go."
"Where?"
"Courtesan rep. Not Red-Eyed Fox."
"Got a candidate?"
"Well......"
Stuck again. No one came to mind.
"Who fits Hwa-yeong? Beauty, brains, peak martial arts—miracle. Any successor measure up?"
Iron Heart Granny pressed. True enough. Top courtesan looks, eidetic memory, peak skills—once in two centuries.
"Ugh, forget it. Let's just go."
No Deok-cheon conceded. No better bitch in mind.
Thus, the debate fizzled unborn.
"Achoo."
Eun Hwa-yeong, mid-pussy hair count, sneezed.
......Someone badmouthing me? Wait, lost count. Restart at three hundred.
Tearfully, she began anew.
......The miracle girl of beauty, brains, skills—counting pubes.
Ignorance is bliss. Iron Heart Granny would've dropped dead.
Thus, murim's day flowed peacefully.