Primordial Villain With A Slave Harem-Chapter 849: Heavenly Feminine Physique

The bar of soap in Quinlan’s hand felt heavier than any weapon he’d ever wielded.

He stepped forward, feeling the cool river swirling around his waist, and paused right behind Serika’s waiting form. Her back was turned with her arms folded behind her neck in a relaxed stretch.

He swallowed once.

Then raised his hands.

Slowly, he pressed the soap to her tanned skin and began to work it along her spine. Her back was a map of muscle and battle, each curve and valley shaped by war rather than vanity. She was a weapon made flesh, and his fingers traced every honed edge.

There was nothing dainty here. No soft giggle. No shy recoil.

Serika merely sighed, closing her eyes.

’Holy hell... what a body,’ Quinlan sighed inwardly.

His hands slid over her shoulder blades. Every muscle flexed beneath his fingertips with a controlled strength, like a predator lounging in sunlight.

It was utterly intoxicating to his brain.

He couldn’t help but compare her to Vex, the sharp-eyed Hexwitch of his with a gymnast’s grace. He’d washed her back not long ago, his fingers skimming soft curves wrapped in taut elegance. Vex was sleek, dangerous, but delicate. A feminine beauty, traditional and smooth. She was athletic like Ayame, yes, but...

Serika was something else entirely.

She was Raika reborn in fire: all raw muscle and reckless glory, the kind of woman who threw herself into every clash like it was her last. He remembered Raika’s torn knuckles, her bruised ribs, her wild grin as she fainted mid-battle from giving too much. Serika gave him the same vibe.

Even their names sounded like they’d come from the same vein

And now he was standing behind her, with his hands roaming over an anatomy textbook carved by endless exercises.

His thumbs swept lower, following the ridge of her spine to the small of her back, where strong glutes hinted beneath the water, tight and deadly. His breath caught at their sight.

Serika chuckled. "You’re very thorough."

"Please think of it as my gratitude," he replied.

The soap slipped from his grasp, landing right on her perky butt.

"Excuse me..." He quickly caught it.

Upon the riverbank, Feng stared.

Pouted.

Glared.

Pouted harder.

She sat with her arms hugging her knees, cheeks puffed and eyes narrowed like a sulking cat watching her favorite lap be taken by someone else. She tried to look uninterested, but her foot tapped the grass in impatient irritation.

Quinlan didn’t even notice.

Not when Serika reached up to push her damp hair aside, revealing the graceful slope of her neck. Not when he followed the invitation and let his hands slide higher again.

Feng bit her lower lip, scowling to herself. It wasn’t fair. So what if she didn’t have thighs that could crush spirits or abs hard enough to bounce arrows off of? She had charm. She had personality. She had...

Okay, she had little breasts and a girly build with not a single muscle in sight that could catch the attention of a guy with strange tastes like him.

But still!

She folded deeper into herself with a tiny groan. ’Stupid old hag. Seducing him with those battle-scarred shoulders and overwhelming strength. What does he see in you, anyway?’

Her eyes peeked up again.

’...Oh.’

Quinlan had leaned closer. His fingers were massaging just below Serika’s shoulder blades now, his face a picture of reverent focus as if every contour of her body was a sacred text and he, the dutiful monk, learning it by heart.

’Okay’, Feng admitted inwardly, ’This fire bitch might be a little hot.’

But still! He was supposed to like her! Or at least notice her!

Instead, she sat here like a third wheel while he drooled over a tan-skinned warrior queen.

Feng grumbled and flopped backward into the grass, arms sprawled out dramatically.

’Maybe I should start doing pushups. A hundred a day. That’ll surely seduce him...’

Back in the water, Quinlan’s hands finally stilled.

"Thanks for trusting me," he murmured.

Serika turned her head, meeting his eyes. "What teacher doesn’t trust their student? Instead, it should be me who thanks you for being brave enough to give my back a good wash."

Their gazes held.

Feng groaned louder, as if the moment had personally offended her.

"I’m still here, by the way!" she yelled toward the water. "Just in case you two forgot!"

Quinlan blinked. Serika blinked.

"I totally forgot, to be completely honest with you," Quinlan admitted.

Then Serika added with a strict but somewhat motherly tone, "You look cuter when you smile, Feng Jiai. You should smile more often."

The two of them received a rather unladylike cursing spree from the young miss, which was thoroughly ignored by the pair.

"So about my deep muscle tissue massage...?" Quinlan asked, hopeful.

Serika let out a low hum, eyeing him with the calm detachment of a mentor.

"It’s best done before sleep. The muscles are more relaxed, and the body absorbs the benefits more deeply. So..." She tilted her head. "If you do well in our afternoon session, I’ll consider it."

When Serika caught the flicker of disappointment in his eyes, she sighed.

"... But I suppose I could wash your back now. If that’s any consolation."

His deep and troubled frown transformed into a big smile instantly.

And with that, her fingers began to move.

...

Their afternoon training was a storm.

Not just of elements, but of bodies.

Serika had discarded her earlier grace. Gone was the composed pillar of a teacher who parried and corrected with relatively gentle counters. In her place surged a whirlwind of martial might. Every blow she delivered carried weight, measured not just in power, but intent. She didn’t just want to teach. She wanted to mold.

Quinlan met her in the clearing, feet bare on the cracked dirt, his torso bare save for old bruises. He didn’t ask if she was ready. He could tell just by looking at this woman.

Then she charged.