Chapter 77.1

The people outside reveled in the fiery atmosphere of the festival for two full days and two nights, while His Majesty the Emperor, who was said to be "incurably ill," dragged Commander Kevin Fassbender around the room for two days and two nights.

For the Emperor, this Golden Leaf Festival was like ascending to heaven. He knew that he was in a niche of where beauty and wonder.

On the morning of the third day, when everyone outside was still in the throes of their final revelry, sunlight streamed through the window of the Emperor's bedchamber in the inner courtyard of Wujin Xuan Palace, illuminating the wide four-poster bed.

Kevin's brows furrowed as he pressed the back of his hand to his forehead. His eyelids fluttered slightly, as if he were trying to resist the pull of sleep.

The heat of his skin warmed the delicate skin of his palm, and the scent of his musky fragrance filled the air. He was so close to waking up, but he was also so content to stay in this hazy state of half-sleep.

He lay on his side on the bed, the quilt draped loosely around his waist. His lean, muscular torso was a work of art, with smooth, pale skin and the faintest dusting of dark hair.

The only blemishes were a few ambiguous marks, which only served to add to his allure.

The emperor stirred awake after a long slumber. He was unsure whether he was simply too excited or if something was amiss with his muscles.

Without a word, he transformed into a Sirius, his fluffy tail sweeping back and forth over Kevin's exposed calf and ankle.

For the first time in more than two decades, the emperor, who had not tasted meat in all that time, was filled with dark desires.

He had been sweeping his tail for some time, but his lustful urges only grew stronger. He lifted the quilt and lifted Kevin's waist, his eyes burning with a feral hunger.

Oswald's breath was hot on Kevin's neck, and his dog nose nuzzled the sensitive skin.

His rough wolf tongue swept back and forth, leaving a trail of wet heat. Kevin shivered, his body responding to Oswald's touch.

He closed his eyes and let himself be swept away by the sensations.

Oswald's tongue was like a firebrand, setting Kevin's skin ablaze. He felt Oswald's teeth graze his skin, and he gasped.

Oswald's tongue dipped lower, tracing the outline of Kevin's phoenix tattoo. Kevin's breath caught in his throat. He could feel Oswald's desire, and it was like a drug.

Oswald's tongue swirled around the phoenix, and Kevin felt himself melting. He was lost in Oswald's touch, and he didn't want to be found.

His Excellency the Commander, who had risen in a furious temper, could contain himself no longer.

He frowned, sat back down, and gave an impatient tsk. He squinted at the large dog, who had his head down and a look of guilt on his face.

The Commander's forehead was creased with anger. "Oh no, Sirius," he said.

The emperor's eyes opened, as transparent as crystal. He stared unblinking, as if he were considering all of Kevin's words and had no intention of responding.

"Are you done yet?" Kevin kicked Sirius' furry haunches, sending the creature tumbling off the bed.

"What does it mean to open your eyes and deny people? That's it."

Oswald squatted beside the bed, eyeing the emperor's waist suspiciously.

Kevin lashed out, "What are you looking at? Go find some clothes!"

Oswald chuckled as he went to clean Kevin's clothes. "I'm just wondering if your back can take it anymore. You're known as a copper-skinned iron bone, after all."

Kevin scowled. Although he would not come back to life or heal his wounds automatically, his body was still much better than that of an ordinary person.

It was not so easy to wear him down. To be precise, he was not in pain from keeping up; he was hungry.

Oswald returned to the bed with clean clothes in his mouth.

His companion watched him impassively, then spoke in a measured tone. "You are fat, thick, and fleshy. I am so tired of you that my brain feels like it is flooding. I am going out to have a good meal. You hug the pillow and rub yourself."

Oswald stood by, silent.

Kevin took the clothes and pulled them out. They were Oswald's private clothes, unadorned and informal.

They were not much different from what Kevin usually wore, but to him they seemed slightly ill-fitting, a little roomy.

He did not care. He picked up the clothes and put them on.

The fabric hung loosely on his frame, but he did not mind.

Oswald ceased his canine antics as Kevin rose and composed himself. He resumed his human form and knelt beside the bed as Kevin began to dress.

Oswald reached out and placed a hand on Kevin's well-defined abdomen.

"What's the matter?" Kevin asked, puzzled.

Oswald's expression was one of perplexity. "We all ate a great deal last night, if I recall correctly. Why are you already hungry again? Your appetite has grown rather large, hasn't it?"

Kevin was speechless.

He looked down at the hands attached to his abdominal muscles, his expression frozen for two seconds as he finally understood what the Dog Emperor meant.

He nodded, then sneered, "I think you really don't want to live anymore! How about this, I'll force myself to eat wolf meat later. You go and prepare first?"

Oswald was silent.

The hall was too noisy, and they didn't bother to grab food from a bunch of drunks. Instead, the two of them washed up and went to the place where Oswald usually ate by himself.

The kitchen staff scurried about, preparing a feast fit for an emperor. The dishes were brought out one by one, each more sumptuous than the last.

Kevin sat at the head of the table, his long legs crossed and his fingers loosely clasped together. His little finger tapped lightly on the table in a calm rhythm, his eyes sweeping over the food with a discerning gaze.

The dog man, who was seated to Kevin's right, glanced at the overview of the feast. He seemed satisfied, for he finally stopped his lazy movements and stretched out his hands.

"Excellent," he said. "Let us begin."

Kevin nodded, and the servants began to serve the food. The first course was a delicate soup, followed by a platter of roasted meats and vegetables.

With a flick of his index finger, the wicked man pushed the milk porridge towards Oswald. "This is too dry," he said. "You can have it."

He then shoved the ear vegetable soup in Oswald's direction. "I don't eat grass," he sneered. "If you like it, you can have it."

The despicable man wrinkled his nose at the mint mussels. "Fishy," he said, and pushed them away as well.

He then proceeded to pick out the dishes he doesn't wanted to eat, scattering the others around the table. His actions were rude and dismissive, and he seemed to take pleasure in Oswald's discomfort.

Oswald's brow furrowed as he surveyed the meager offerings. "I've only just awoken, and I'm famished," he said. "I need to warm my stomach before I can eat these things, or I'll be in for a world of pain."