When Fang Zheng opened his eyes again, the first thing he saw was familiar fair skin.
"Good morning."
"Good morning, Master."
"Mm... good morning, Esther, Lestia."
Looking at the two Sword Spirits lying on top of him, Fang Zheng reached out and gently stroked their smooth silver-white and deep purple hair. The two of them lay in his arms, one on each side, their eyes narrowed contentedly.
That was exactly why Fang Zheng had no interest in the women of the wasteland. Weren't two Sword Spirits enough? Esther was fragrant, Lestia was soft—weren't they both far better than those wasteland drifters? What could be better than waking up with soft, warm beauties in his arms? Could wasteland women offer such wonderful sensations?
"We had a peaceful night yesterday."
Lestia hugged Fang Zheng's arm and smiled like a kitten. Esther, meanwhile, lay expressionlessly on top of him, staring at him without blinking.
"That's why we chose an inn."
Yawning, Fang Zheng sat up and looked around. Although the owner had called this a top-class suite, it looked little different from ruins in Fang Zheng's eyes. The windows were intact, there were no cracks or holes in the floor, and the surrounding walls were passable aside from a few bullet holes... that was about it.
Of course, in Fang Zheng's opinion, nothing here met his standards. The bed was unbroken, but it gave off a strange smell. There were bloodstains in the corner that had not been fully scrubbed away, making the place feel like a murder scene. The sofa against the wall was filthy, and its springs were so damaged they were practically ruined. Only its exterior barely looked presentable, which was why it had been placed here—in a world where most things had been destroyed, anything that looked intact was