Chapter 35

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Jo Marie followed Manphis and Sinoye into the reception hall of the Assyrian royal palace. Though familiar with the place, the carefully selected maidservants and guards passing by had all been ordered from above to pretend not to know her.

It was easy to imagine that once the Egyptians had fully entered, the elite forces of Assyria had almost entirely mobilized, encircling the palace on every floor and every side.

A sudden, indescribable pang of sorrow gripped her heart. This young man, as beautiful as a maiden and radiant as the sun, was about to be ensnared in Aran’s cruel web. Yet, when Jo Marie recalled the urgency and worry on Manphis’s face when he mentioned the Daughter of the Nile after entering the city, a sharp jealousy gnawed at her heart like sharp teeth. She pressed her lips together, swallowing the warning words nearly escaping her mouth.

Humans have long used sleeping poisons. Aran ordered his men to collect unripe, bluish dates and extracted a small amount of dark green powder from piles of intensely bitter sour jujube seeds. This was sprinkled into the wine cups meant to welcome the distant guests. Manphis hesitated briefly, but knowing that Kairo was somewhere inside the city and confident that Aran wouldn’t dare openly provoke Egypt, he drank the cup without further thought.

But Aran was truly audacious. The former Assyrian ally, Prince Izmi, had already deeply experienced his treachery. Now Manphis was following in Izmi’s footsteps, fully grasping Aran’s ruthless betrayal.

Jo Marie looked at Sinoye, who had a dagger strapped to his thigh and refused to succumb to sleep, protecting Manphis even unto death. She turned her eyes away and quietly followed Aran as he left. The bronze gates with massive chains slammed shut behind her, cutting off the last glimmer of hope for the imprisoned Egyptians.

She followed Aran to a secluded spot, forced a smile onto her face, and feigned the excitement of a long-awaited reunion: “My king, Jo Marie has returned!”

Aran looked at her stiff, forced smile, far less joyful than when she had once shamelessly amused herself before him. He found it dull. The breasts he once longed for were back in his presence, but now they held no interest. Aran was not angry, but coldly sarcastic: “What’s this? Feeling sorry for Manphis? I see he’s obsessed with the Daughter of the Nile, not you. Jo Marie, oh Jo Marie, women say one thing but always end up with a losing deal. Heh heh heh. But no matter, I do not despise you!”

Jo Marie was stunned for a long moment, then decisively cast Manphis from her thoughts: “My king, since Jo Marie has brought King Manphis to you, I have fulfilled my promise. Might I ask…”

Aran was deeply disappointed. He once thought Jo Marie clever, but it seemed all the women he possessed were fools. Had she pleaded for Manphis, he might have thought better of her. Yet she immediately shifted her gaze to gain, unaware she had no such right. If not for the tense situation in Egypt, she would have long since lost her head.

He replied coldly, “Jo Marie, you are bold. If Queen Isis hadn’t intercepted the Daughter of the Nile’s servant trying to sneak a message into the palace, you’d already be feeding the fish in the Nile. As for becoming queen consort, if you wish to stay, there will always be a place for you in the Assyrian harem.”

Jo Marie’s whole body weakened; her usually delicate face looked like she had lost her soul, her graceful figure swayed like reeds in a strong wind, fragile enough to break at any moment.

Her chance to change fate slipped away in hesitation and calculation. The gods never side with opportunists; they only favor their devout followers.

Before sunset, General Hazas, hiding in a residential building in Assyrian city, received a message from Luka via pigeon. Only two days prior, he had escaped from a Lower Egypt prison. As the personal guard of the Daughter of the Nile and a thorn in Queen Isis’s side, he had been captured soon after boarding a small ferry on the Nile.

Once free, Manphis had already led an elite force toward Assyria, and the situation was sliding irreversibly into chaos. Luka, battered and bruised, sent word to the general to find another plan, as hoping to profit from Egypt was now a pipe dream.

Hazas clenched his fists and struck his thighs in fury: “This is terrible! Luka was intercepted by Queen Isis. Manphis has entered the city. Aran’s scheme succeeded and he gained a great favor from Isis. Now we cannot count on Manphis to conquer Assyria; instead, we must guard against that Egyptian queen seizing power and allying with Assyria. My position in Butado is truly precarious!”

Everyone around fell silent in fear. Hazas sighed deeply and gazed toward the palace atop the city’s highest point, silently placing all his hopes in Inanna.

Inanna, however, did not feel the heavy burden. Though ancient architecture contained many intricate designs, to modern eyes, they were riddled with flaws—especially in defense, which seemed laughably weak. Otherwise, Kairo would not have managed to escape multiple times from the famously secure Butado palace.

Assyrian city’s defenses were no better than Butado’s, but to Inanna’s surprise, Kairo caused no commotion. It seemed that Aran, with his many women, truly had a way with them, managing even the cunning Kairo to submit quietly, as if swallowed by the sea.

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In the two days since King Manphis entered the city, no news had come. As the prince had predicted, tonight King Aran announced a grand celebration in the palace. The few granite columns and bronze carvings in the central hall were polished to a gleam. The banquet hall was filled with countless golden platters piled high with silver bull-headed double-handled cups, ready for guests to drink and revel.

A purple canopy was erected on a raised platform at the hall’s center, housing a massive sandalwood and gold-plated throne. Ivory adorned its four corners, joined by silver rivets, with a pure gold footstool beneath.

To the throne’s left stood a large wooden frame, from which hung several thick bronze chains. To the right lay a couch covered in layers of soft Syrian cotton, all veiled in pearl-embedded gauze.

Inanna sat in a small room near the entrance meant for dancers to rest, preparing for the grand evening with her companions.

Two country girls were tuning their fir six-stringed lyres; Canaanite girls fiddled with flutes and conch shells; Elamite maidens sat quietly, nervously moving their legs, their value resting solely in the golden chains around their ankles to fulfill men’s various desires. Only the two bold, alluring Babylonian women made Inanna exclaim at the world’s madness.

The two women were tightly wrapped, unlike their usual uninhibited style, likely hiding secret weapons to stun everyone.

But what made Inanna pale was their brazen act—lifting their skirts and prominently raising their buttocks, shamelessly rubbing scented oil on each other’s nether regions. When one of the country girls curiously asked, a certain priestess withdrew her oily finger with a mysterious smile: “King Aran has tried everything; if he’s in the mood, he’ll poke anywhere!”

Inanna broke out in a cold sweat. This Assyrian city and its ruler were truly perilous!

As the first star appeared in the night, the Assyrian palace, which had been tense and wary these past days, erupted into a cacophony of voices and lavish revelry. Only the city’s twin towers, spaced every few steps, with their eternal flames and the clinking of armor, reminded all that the city’s defenses remained vigilant.

In the banquet hall, Assyria’s nobles gathered, each silently raising a glass to celebrate the great victory of Ashur’s realm. Their king sat high on the throne, beneath him the future queen—the Daughter of the Nile, representing half of Egypt, who was only fit to sit beneath the king’s crotch. To his left, the wooden frame’s chains held a handsome black-haired youth, his tousled hair faintly revealing golden hues, a mark of his royal blood. On the right, veiled behind curtains on the soft couch, lay the gravely wounded Prince Izmi. The three most famed figures of the age were now entirely in Aran’s grasp.

Slaves moved through every corner of the palace, lighting incense on golden censers. This was no ordinary myrrh; it was mixed with the distilled essence of celestial herbs. The bride Aran intended to claim today was not one to steel him like iron, so he might need a little extra encouragement.

Such a purely male gathering made these indulgences harmless. Aran led the way in embracing women and ensured his subjects had enough to enjoy. More importantly, the toothless tigers flanking him were bound to reveal their disgraceful sides tonight.

The celebration, possibly lasting all night, drew not only Saru, a procurer, and waves of dancers coming and going, but also the two dazzling protégés of the goddess Ishtar, the brightest stars of the hall. Their performances proved they had excelled in the temple’s school of love. Even Inanna, who had seen drag shows and pole dancing, had to applaud their skill.

The two enchanting twin sisters performed, one bare-chested, waist sinuously swaying, gold dust sprinkling over her snowy skin, leaving onlookers parched with desire. Below, she wore no real clothes, only a belt from which hung dense golden tassels, barely concealing the ivory male phallus deeply embedded between her legs.

Her sister played the part of a man, clad in ancient warrior’s leather armor, though the chest piece lacked two cloth patches, pressing her ample breasts into firm, sword-like shapes.

She held a small silver axe, rubbing it between her breasts, also wearing a gold belt with an ivory phallus thrust arrogantly forward.

The two women enacted the playful games of the sexes, dancing, caressing, teasing, embracing, and kissing. Sometimes pressing their chests together face-to-face, other times swaying side by side with legs entwined. They were graduates of the temple’s public university of love from three millennia ago, mastering the distilled wisdom of matriarchal and fertility worship.

Even Aran, experienced with beauty, was gradually conquered by their expert skills and cheered for their passion. He clearly saw the woman with the phallus between her legs glistening with a clear fluid.

With Aran’s tacit approval, the two bold women danced toward the main tent. They dared not unveil Prince Izmi’s curtain but showed keen interest in the beautiful, pitiable Egyptian king locked in chains.

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Manphis, heavily drugged, still under the hallucinogenic haze and intoxicated by the fragrant incense, only knew that two slippery masses were pressing and sliding over his most sensitive parts. Beneath the “Roinkros” sash around his waist, a faint response was stirring.

Kairo was trapped between Aran’s feet, unable to move. Watching this scene, she almost cried out in despair, but Aran swiftly stuffed a half-eaten chicken leg into her slightly open mouth.

Then he laughed heartily: “Truly worthy of a priestess serving the goddess Ishtar—most spectacular. Today’s banquet is held firstly to announce the goddess’s daughter as my queen, and secondly to entertain two distinguished guests. Since these two priestesses are the finest women here, the young king regrets he cannot keep them all to himself. So King Manphis and Prince Izmi may enjoy them!”

Though the words sounded courteous, they were an encouragement for the women to force themselves upon the men—an immense humiliation for any man, especially kings. The Assyrians sneered cruelly. Kairo held the chicken leg in tears, Manphis remained unconscious, and Izmi could barely move his right hand. The incense was especially potent on the inexperienced; a thick curtain shielded Izmi from utterly losing control like Manphis.

Yet waiting passively was no solution. Izmi had no time to pity Kairo, his eyes searching the noisy crowd for Inanna’s figure.

Inanna secretly cursed her luck. If other women took advantage of the prince, no matter if she rescued him later, she would be blamed for failure. Only by outperforming those two women—or being even more lascivious—might she be sent by the scheming Aran to “torment” the prince.

She gritted her teeth, summoned Saru, and slipped into a side room. She raised her arms and pulled her linen dress over her head, revealing red lingerie underneath. Though her breasts had not returned to their former fullness, a little squeeze still revealed a cleavage.

This was the extent of Inanna’s exposure. She shot a sharp look at Saru, who stared unblinkingly, and lamented that saving the prince truly cost her dearly.

She kicked the stunned Saru: “Go, bring me seven veils of different colors!”

Wrapped in layers of veils, the voices outside blurred, and only her own nervous breathing filled the room. Suddenly, she thought of Gu Beikun.

Back then, at his villa on the western hills, the TV wall played a dazzling dance drama. Gu Beikun held Inanna on his lap, leaning back on a leather sofa.

He toyed with her black hair, smiling at her fixed gaze: “Salome danced a peerless dance and received a kiss from her beloved. Nana, give me a kiss.”

Inanna was pinned beneath him, letting Gu Beikun lick and kiss her face like a lustful dog. After a while, she coldly said: “Salome kissed the head of her beloved. If you died before me now, I would kiss you until you were satisfied.”

Author’s note: A buddy said this story reeks of masculine hormones... so my true nature as a guy is revealed...

This story will rarely feature any historically inaccurate Chinese elements—too cringeworthy, even my mom would be shocked. So rest assured, no Hanfu or such nonsense! Dark themes remain the main thread. Recently, censorship has tightened; if I fail to update and don’t ask for leave, it means I’m probably in the slammer having tea with the authorities. Anyone willing to bail me out?

The Legend of Yishi [Daughter of the Nile] Chapter 35 - Full free reading, Chapter 35 fully updated!