Morro slowly regained his consciousness. He was in a cell—a small, sauna-like space, hot and close. The only thing on him was a white towel. There was no door, only wood bars; the opening could be worked from the outside, but the gap was too small for him to squeeze through. A warm draft moved through from somewhere, but it did nothing to cut the heat.
What was I thinking? How could I have made that call?
He felt weird—tired, as if the technique were still working on him.
I should check my stats once again.
— Stats —
Name: Morro
Age: 19
Gender: Male
Appearance: 185 cm; black hair; dark blue eyes (retained from Earth).
Cultivation Stage: Rank 0 Initial Stage
Cultivator Type: Basic Beginner Cultivation
Stage Progression: 0%
Path: None
Claimed: No
Special Note: Under Basic Paralysis Technique ( 10% left )
——
He wondered what would happen to him now. He moved closer to the bars and saw a female guard—towering, broad-backed and muscular, green-eyed, dark brown hair falling to her shoulders, heavy breasts and thick, powerful thighs, a sword at her hip. Morro shifted back so she wouldn't know he had woken. He seemed to be in a special, isolated cell.
There was nothing he could do, so he sat down again and waited. He noticed warm water, rice, and meat had been left for him; he ate and drank. Another twenty minutes passed. The guard heard the bowl move and came to check.
"Hello, lovely," she said.
"How do you feel?"
"Good," he replied awkwardly.
"That's awesome." She smiled. "Can I ask who you are?"
"Well—I'm nobody. I just came here." He offered the story he had pieced together. "I'm a lone traveler."
"That's good. It's rare to find men like that." Something shifted in her gaze. The air between them felt charged.
"The clan will soon decide what to do with you," she said.
She stared at him, her breath irregular.
Morro looked striking with only a towel around his waist. Most women here were Asian-looking; he was European, which in this world was exotic.
Morro was afraid to look at her curves or directly in her eyes.
"You're only Rank 0." She studied him. "Seems like you're fresh fruit."
Instead of guarding, she took a chair and sat in front of the cell.
Morro looked away, shy.
But she kept looking.
She was very muscular, with scars on her body—arms, maybe her shoulders. She made no effort to hide them.
"What's your name, Ma'am?" he asked, trying to ease the awkwardness.
"My name is Sara."
"Nice to meet you, Morro." She shifted her gaze to his abs.
"Um. Yeah," he said.
"You have a very nice body," she said.
Morro slightly shifted his legs, not knowing what to say.
They kept talking for several minutes. The sexual tension rose. Morro felt himself yielding—out of his depth.
Finally Sara stood up and opened the cell. She was at least ten centimeters taller than Morro, if not more.
She looked at him. It was clear she was not satisfied with just talking.
Morro kept his gaze low, avoiding eye contact.
She walked closer and sat beside him on the wooden sauna bench.
The tent in his towel had already been obvious; now it grew, pushing the white towel up. He couldn't control it.
She was on his left. She placed her hand on his right shoulder, her arm across his back.
She was much bigger than him—her thighs powerful, her breasts full and well-shaped.