The Exiled Lord: My Maid is a Battle Goddess-Chapter 80: Ashina,’s utterly exhausted

Phield grabbed Ashina’s foot directly.

"I surrender! I surrender!" Ashina said, half-laughing, half-crying. "How could I ever strike you for real? But please, behave normally—don’t bully me."

"Surrendered? Too weak."

Phield’s hands began to roam over Ashina’s body.

"Mm-hm, please stop! I beg you, I don’t want to hurt you if I resist."

Ashina’s face flushed red, a soft hum escaping her lips. Her body tingled with a strange warmth, and she nearly lost her balance.

A sweet, cloying scent kept flooding her nostrils, completely shattering Phield’s once-proud rationality.

Relying on a power advantage that barely existed, Phield easily overpowered Ashina, one hand gripping her trembling, retreating foot, the other pressing her down.

"Heh, the power of a Divine Chosen—so pitiful, laughable."

The first Divine Chosen, about to be crushed by one of equal rank! Phield’s blood boiled.

No one in this world had ever defeated a combat-class Divine Chosen at the same rank!

"Ugh... no, my divine power will go out of control. It’s hard to restrain it." Ashina could no longer control herself, her sharp nails lightly digging into Phield’s skin. The prickly, ticklish sting and countless silky sensations made Phield’s mind crash entirely.

"Hmph-hmph, little she-wolf, stop underestimating humans. Let me show you the true strength of mankind!"

Utter madness!

...

Phield cupped Ashina’s face and kissed her deeply. The kiss was slow, warm. His tongue gently traced the line of her lips before slipping inside.

His hands weren’t idle. One held the nape of her neck firmly, his thumb stroking the sensitive skin behind her ear. The other slipped from her waist under her shirt, his palm pressing against the smooth skin of her back, sliding slowly upward. His hand was hot, and everywhere it traveled, Ashina’s skin shivered faintly.

As they kissed, Phield’s breathing grew heavier. He pulled back just slightly, his nose nudging hers, looking into her damp eyes before kissing her again—deeper, more absorbed than before. He kneaded her back, pressing her tighter against himself until their heartbeats thudded together through their clothes.

Ashina’s hands climbed to his shoulders, clutching the fabric of his T-shirt. When his hand moved from her back to her front, the calloused pad of his thumb grazing the sensitive skin of her ribs, she let out a soft sigh against his lips. Phield heard it, chuckled low in his throat, and fed that laughter back to her with another kiss.

The room held only the sound of their mingled breaths, the soft rustle of fabric, and the distant traffic from outside the window—none of it mattered anymore. His kisses trailed down to her chin, her neck, his warm breath puffing against her skin. His hand still rested at her waist, his thumb drawing slow circles.

"Is this okay?" he rasped against her ear.

Ashina didn’t answer with words. She just pulled him back, answering every question with another kiss.

...

"Alright, alright, I’m exhausted, my lord." Ashina yawned, dark circles under her eyes. "This knowledge is too profound; your wisdom has filled my brain. I can’t absorb any more."

"As expected of me," Phield said, thoroughly satisfied, rising to his feet. He almost lost his balance, but still asked coldly, "Do you dare anymore? Ready to engage in the primitive accumulation of capital?"

"I dare not." Ashina slurred her words, then fell asleep, mumbling, "Knowledge... all mastered."

"Our next goal is to trade in Maple Leaf City, right? Wait, first eat and drink—we’re starving."

Phield felt an unprecedented weakness. This battle, in truth, had been a pyrrhic one.

Because they would soon leave the territory for some time, Phield needed to settle all local matters first, keeping him especially busy.

Three days later.

"My lord, the goods are loaded." Ashina pushed open the door, still in her maid outfit, entirely composed. She gently reminded him, "The army has also been assembled."

"Mm, go to the quarry and bring Rosalia along." Phield set down his quill and stretched lazily.

Rosalia had recently been constantly hunting corrupted creatures. In her spare time, she went to the quarry to cut stone.

Even the hardest rock, she could cleave with her greatsword.

Ashina frowned. "Rosalia’s coming too? Then who will protect the territory?"

"The garrison will hold it. I’m only bringing five infantry and five cavalry—just enough to manage the slaves. You’ll handle any encounters on the road. Rosalia won’t intervene unless it’s a crisis."

"A special operation?" Ashina’s instincts detected the issue.

In normal operations, Phield would always leave a Divine Chosen at home.

Phield nodded. "Exactly. That’s also why I’m bringing potions."

As they spoke, Rosalia climbed through the window herself, casually shedding her black robe. She shot Ashina a sour glance, fuming, "From today onward, I’m going nowhere except by Phield’s side, so I won’t be persecuted by some beast who actually stole my foot slave."

I saw how you were going to harass me. Besides, I am not your foot slave!

Phield rubbed his temples.

Rosalia bared her teeth at Ashina, who in turn made a triumphant face.

"Enough fooling around. Business comes first." Phield stopped their antics. "Rosalia, you’ll have to stay in the carriage."

"No need, I’m easy to conceal anyway."

With that, Rosalia transformed into countless crimson threads, flowing into the Greatsword of Gluttony. Only a single thread entered Phield’s neck, linking him to the greatsword.

"See? Disguised as a divine artifact." Rosalia’s triumphant voice echoed in his ear.

"It really is." Phield picked up the Greatsword of Gluttony, swinging it a few times—it felt as light as nothing. "So light."

"That’s because I’m controlling it; otherwise, it’d be heavy."

"Fine, let’s depart." Phield wrapped the Greatsword of Gluttony and slung it on his back.

Downstairs, Sam and the others were fully armed, square shields and long spears at the ready, standing straight, awaiting Phield’s command.

"My lord, not taking wine to sell?" Kaor asked, puzzled.

"Not yet. Bringing wine too often would drastically reduce its value. We’ll sell it later." Phield personally inspected the goods, then mounted his warhorse. "Depart. Destination: Maple Leaf Territory."

Maple Leaf Territory, dusk falling, over fifty robust figures gathered together.

Torches flared, allowing them to see one another clearly.

"I felt amazing killing them. Did you see that? The spear went into that female officer’s stomach; she even peed." A naturally curly-haired man, wearing leather armor with a breastplate, said with glee.

"The defenses here are weak. Dress as refugees and you can slip in easily." Another man, with a thick beard, wiped blood from his longsword. "Hey, wizard, killing and recovering lost goods are two separate charges."

"Don’t worry. Bloodhand won’t shortchange you." The man in red robes chuckled.

"Who are we killing again?" Bloodhand cracked his fingers with a horrific click.

The wizard pulled out a portrait. "Kill this baron."

"Clang~"

Bloodhand drew his sword immediately. "You kidding me? No wonder you’ve been mysterious—it’s a death wish."

The mercenaries’ eyes hardened, weapons trained on the wizard, eyes brimming with unhidden murderous intent. Many spat and cursed, "Unlucky."

Kill the baron—why? For a woman, power, or land? None mattered to Bloodhand’s mercenary company. What mattered was that the baron had fully armed guards, crushing heavy cavalry, and if unlucky, knights, all of whom they could cut down like chaff.