Game World: I Can Share Talents

Chapter 372 - 14: Moaning Softly

What happened next was not something to be shared with outsiders.

The annex, built beside a giant fir tree, was meant for relaxation. Its rooms were adorned with magically trimmed vines and leaves, and enchanted with various Techniques to ensure comfort. One of these was top-tier soundproofing. Once the door was closed, no matter what happened inside, not the slightest sound would escape.

Westheid’s stamina and power in this regard were beyond question. He was a Powerhouse in the absolute sense of the word, and with that came a certain loneliness... Although he had a painful past of being soundly defeated by Mivana, things were different now. Ever since his ascension to the Legendary Celestial Rank, Westheid was no longer plagued by that shadow.

If facing the combined might of Reiya and Mivana would still make him break a sweat, then against anyone else, Westheid had no fear—not even for Mephit, a Yonglan Knight of the same Legendary Tier.

’In terms of constitution, the gap between us is just too vast!’

Yolanda and Mephit were well aware of this, and they even reveled in it. They could naturally accept any favor their lord bestowed.

Amithren, however, was utterly shocked. This tall, beautiful, and coolly stunning Elf Sister was a pure-blooded member of the Elf Nobility, flying the Old Royal Court Banner. Her birth and entire background placed her in the Direct Lineage of the Pure Blood Faction.

For this very reason, she could be considered a conservative within the Elf Royal Family, and this was especially true when it came to matters of love and marriage.

Amithren only had a rather shallow understanding. Her ignorance fostered her arrogance.

’It’s just some human "tutoring," what’s there to be afraid of? Just watch me scoff at it...!!!’

’Wait, no, that’s not right. No no no no, what is this?’

’What in the world is that?! Is that something a human is capable of?’

’What are those afterimages? I don’t even swing this fast when I’m hacking at training dummies on the practice grounds!’

’What is this, some anime-level volume...? You’d get pumped full, wouldn’t you? You’d absolutely get pumped full!’

Amithren’s beautiful eyes widened as she stared, transfixed, at the scene unfolding before her. Her pupils quaked, and her cherry lips parted and closed as she repeatedly muttered a single word under her breath.

Shameless! Shameless! Shameless!!

Although Westheid’s title, "King of the Wheel," had started as a joke, it was by no means an exaggeration. If anything, it was an understatement.

Even with his Extraordinary Abilities to back him up, it was still absurdly powerful.

The Silver-haired Elf Sister was dumbfounded. Restless in the debauched room, her originally cool and aloof expression completely crumbled. She gritted her teeth, her gaze darting about with nowhere to rest. She couldn’t even bring herself to bolt out the door—her pride wouldn’t allow it. But whether it was simply a matter of saving face or some other hidden reason, it was impossible to know.

So she could only curl up, trembling, in a corner. But her shaking form seemed less from fear and more from desperately holding something back. The Elf Knight’s beautiful eyes were veiled in a heavy mist as she stared intently at Westheid and the others. Seizing a moment when Duke Qinghui wasn’t looking, her hand actually reached down, and she let out a soft whimper.

This ordeal lasted until the early hours of the next morning. Only when the morning light spilled onto the windowsill did Amithren leave the room, as if a great weight had been lifted. She stood on the balcony, letting the cool breeze wash over her as she patted her crimson cheeks, hoping to cool down.

But when Westheid came out and stretched languidly, Amithren jumped back as if she’d been electrocuted, retreating defensively as if facing a formidable foe.

The Silver-haired Elf Sister stumbled back to the very edge of the balcony. One hand grasped her Rune Short Sword while the other crossed over her chest. Although it was a gesture meant to cover herself, her slender arms only sank into her ample bosom, and her already form-fitting clothes did little to hide her alluring figure.

"GULP..."

The Stringed Swordsman’s sharp, panicked eyes stared at Westheid, her guard up for all to see. It was as if she would immediately jump off the balcony if he dared to take another step forward.

’She’s making me out to be some kind of villain.’

"What’s wrong, Miss Amithren? Didn’t you rest well last night? I did say that you didn’t have to stay in the room. You could have gone to sleep whenever you wanted."

Westheid’s eyes lowered slightly as he leaned against the railing, looking at the high-ponytaled Elf Sister.

Duke Qinghui was wearing only a silk robe. The light, cool fabric did nothing to hide the perfect contours of his muscles. His handsome face, which looked as if it had been lifted from the pages of a fairy tale, held a faint smile. His navy-purple eyes were deep and captivating, like black holes pulling in one’s very soul.

In the pale golden morning light, his short black hair was dusted with a layer of gold, adding a touch of softness to his appearance.

Normally, this would be a sight to make any young woman swoon. But not Amithren. The mere memory of last night’s scene brought a look of terror to her face. She trembled slightly and squeezed a single word from between her teeth:

"Monster..."

Westheid tilted his head. "Hm?"

Amithren bit her lower lip. After a moment of thought, she finally decided to vent her shyness, indignation, fear, and unspeakable desire in another form:

"You’re a complete monster! Scum! The very incarnation of lust, you lewd beast!"

This well-mannered Miss Elf clearly couldn’t squeeze many curse words from her little head. It sounded less like she was cursing him and more like she was pouting.

Words like these couldn’t possibly stir the slightest dissatisfaction in Westheid. They only served to buff his attack speed.

"Yolanda, someone just said the same thing to me that you did."

Westheid wasn’t the least bit angry. Instead, he just smiled and spoke to the platinum-blonde girl.

Yolanda fastened the clasp of her cloak on her shoulder. She emerged, straightening her clothes, and said flatly: