Ke Xue: I picked up a bottle of sherry at the beginning.

Ryoko stretched out her hand and pulled Shiraizumi Masaru into the room.

"Ryoko, where are you asking me to go?"

"Of course, go to my room. Seeing that you look so depressed, I won't make things difficult for you."

"What do you mean I'm the one who's holding it in? It's you, Ryoko, who's holding it in."

"Okay. Don't talk about such trivial things."

With a "bang", Ryoko closed the door.

She kicked off her high heels, unzipped the back of her long skirt, and let it slide to the ground, followed by her bra and panties.

"I'm ready, are you ready? Quan Yi."

Ryoko smiled charmingly, looking like she was ready to do something big.

Seeing this scene, Bai Quanyi couldn't help but tremble. Sure enough, other things were incidental, and now was the time to do it.

"Wait a minute, where is the air conditioner remote control?" Bai Quanyi deliberately talked about the air conditioner to ease his nervous mood.

"This is a summer resort, there's no need for air conditioning." Ryoko came closer, becoming even more charming.

Ryoko is getting more and more crazy

Baiquanyi found that Ryoko was getting more and more crazy. She had a monster body and was very energetic. If Baiquanyi didn't have a cheat, she would have turned into a mummy.

Shiraizumi Yoshi thought it was over, but unexpectedly Ryoko called Lucien and Marian over.

"Ryoko, why did you call them here?"

"Just this is not enough. Quan Yi, don't you think this will satisfy me?"

Lucien and Marian waved their arms, and all kinds of strange props were scattered on the bed for people to use.

Seeing the dazzling array of unknown props, Bai Quanyi was scared.

"If this goes on, will someone die?"

"It's okay... Baiquanyi, you are so good at fighting monsters, you can handle a weak woman like me."

"Ryoko, you're really not weak."

Bai Quanyi was embarrassed, this was a bit too much...

……

Finally it was dinner time and Ryoko stopped torturing Baiquanyi. Although it was torture, Baiquanyi enjoyed it. Ordinary methods could no longer satisfy him.

"The Rotelli family's banquet is at six o'clock, right? We need to prepare in advance."

"Must I be there, too?"

"Just stand behind me. Since you have the body to wear an English suit, wear it respectably and put on a smile."

"But I didn't bring a dress."

"I knew this would happen, and I've already prepared a dress. I'm giving it to you so you can wear it and accompany me."

As they spoke, Marian and Lucien had already started helping Shiraizumi Masaru and Ryoko take a bath.

I have to say, maids for rich people are really convenient.

Shiraizumi Masu looked handsome in his expensive suit, and Ryoko transformed into an aristocratic lady in her beautiful long dress.

The two came to the living room. Jackie Wakabayashi crossed her legs and looked at the man and woman who had been in the room for several hours before coming out.

"Young people have so much energy. I'm so envious."

"Are you going too?"

"Yes. What is Xiaoliang thinking about, GAT?" Jackie Wakabayashi replied.

Qin Xuan looked at Liangzi, who indeed looked thoughtful.

"What did you say?"

"I said GAT, G, A, T."

"What's that abbreviation?"

"Golden Angel Temple is one of the thousands of Christian denominations in the United States and an emerging religious group."

“Are there many believers?”

"Only about 50,000 people."

"But the number of people isn't the point—is it?"

"Yes, the key is their money and influence."

Jackie Wakabayashi held a fan that might have been made in China, nodded her chin and raised her head, and the fragrance of sandalwood came to her.

"The Routledge family are their sponsors, right?"

"More than that, the two have almost become one."

He gently waved his folding fan again, and the scent of heavy makeup overwhelmed the white sandalwood. This was not unbearable. After all, Jackie Ruolin was not wearing a cheongsam yet.

"What is the teaching of GAT?"

"I'm not entirely sure, but it seems they adhere to extreme Christian fundamentalism. They say they believe the end of the world is coming soon, and that Jesus will be resurrected and come down in person to kill all pagans."

I couldn't help but doubt my ears:

“Jesus will be resurrected?!”

"correct."

"Well, but, that's... too..."

Isn’t this too unscientific?

"Yeah, that's too much. But actually, it's not just GAT that believes in Jesus' resurrection. Hey, freedom of religious belief after all."

"See you almost there. Get ready."

Ryoko interrupted the casual chat between Shiraizumi Masaru and Jackie Wakabayashi.

As Ryoko said, the party began.

Cars rolled up to the western-style hotel, shrouded in thick fog, and groups of nobles and ladies flocked to the entrance. While their qualities and character were unknown, they were all among Japan's most influential and famous figures.

Qin Xuan, arm in arm with Ryoko, dressed in a formal gown, entered the banquet hall. The antique crystal chandeliers hanging from the high ceiling shone brilliantly. A Renaissance-style ceiling painting depicted an angel blowing a trumpet, though it was unclear whether it was a restored work.

"Ah. The walking dead man is coming."

Ryoko suddenly shouted.

The man was a bit older, with a build like a snowman, his head and face glowing with health, his short arms and legs connected to a body that looked like a standing dinosaur egg. His neck was so short it was almost negligible, as if his head was directly connected to his limbs.

"Hey, that's the perverted secretary-general of the Reform Truth Party."

Even though Ryoko called him so unbearable, he was a big shot who served as the Minister of Agriculture, Forestry and Fisheries.

There was a commotion at the entrance to the hall as a group of men and women arrived. Most of them were bodyguards dressed in black, and they were there to protect the person in the center of the circle.

Mela Routledge, Artemisia's mother, 220, the owner of UFA. She wore a dark blue dress, her bare shoulders and arms sparkling white, a youthful and energetic expression.

The perverted secretary-general, whom Ryoko had harshly labeled a walking corpse, swung his obese body toward Meira. Of course, he had to go through a translator, but he seemed to have managed to convey his social graces perfectly. As the Minister of Agriculture, Forestry, and Fisheries, he naturally had some connection to the UFA, owned by the Routledge family.

Ryoko whispered maliciously, "Besides the Golden Angel Temple's guardian priest, there's also UFA's Chief Vice President Kaplan, UFA Japan's President Hiroike, and consulting attorney Krauthammer. It's truly a Mella Routledge gangster extravaganza."

"I have a strange feeling that there seems to be someone missing from the names Ryoko just listed."

"What's wrong, Izumi-kun?"

"Is Mela Routledge's husband a married woman?"

"Well, it seems he didn't hold any important position. Did they just give him a sinecure?" Ryoko replied somewhat coldly.

"Mera Routledge was never married."

"But she has a daughter. She's an unmarried mother, right? Why? You want to give her a home."

"I already have you, Ryoko. I don't have that ability."

"That's pretty much it."

Ryoko smiled softly.

I'm really not interested in that mother and daughter.

The Routledge family can even be traced back to the American Revolutionary War and has always been a prominent family in the South.

Ryoko seems to be dissatisfied with both her mother Mera and her daughter Artemisia.

"Don't have any bad thoughts about beautiful mother and daughter, understand?"

Dressed in a gown, Ryoko, stunningly beautiful, hurled accusations at Izumi, then called the waiter for another glass of champagne. A faint rosy blush tinged her smooth cheeks, a beauty so charming that even the goddess of dawn would be amazed.

"I didn't, I was wronged!"

Although Quan Yi liked the combination of beautiful mother and daughter very much, he had no plans to take action.

Seeing that Quan Yi was sincere, Ryoko tentatively believed Quan Yi.

There were many people around who were either in awe or deeply impressed by Ryoko's beauty. I don't know how many men approached her, only to be turned away disappointed by her slight indifference.

The crowd began to applaud. On the stage stood a golden folding screen, a valuable antique work of art. A middle-aged man in a suit and tuxedo emerged and began to speak. He was a well-known host of an afternoon talk show on television.

"

Tonight, we've prepared a delicious feast of American beef. It's a completely safe and hygienic product, consumed daily by Americans. That's why it's a world leader and respected by many nations.

The host held the microphone and made a promotion, his proud white teeth gleaming.

The hall was filled with the aroma of barbecue. Yakushiji Ryoko, a sinister smile on her face, approached a table. She filled a large plate with thickly sliced ​​roast beef and approached the perverted secretary-general.

"Please use it, Secretary General."

"Well, I'm trying to lose weight. Thank you for your kindness, but I have to limit my meat intake."

As he spoke, his greasy eyes remained fixed on Ryoko's beauty, not leaving her gaze for even a moment.

"Don't worry, I've specially prepared some domestic beef for you, Secretary-General."

"Oh, is it so."

It may look the same, but this is the finest Matsusaka beef. Come, enjoy it.

"Oh, really? No, but it's not good to prepare it specially for me, right?"

"The Secretary-General is a national treasure of Japan, a symbol of reform. Your precious health is important, so of course you should eat the safest food. Come on, ah!"

The secretary-general stuffed his mouth with roast beef in great excitement. When Ryoko came back, Izumi asked her quietly:

"Is it really Matsusaka beef?"

"How is that possible? It's probably Texas beef. If he eats anything delicious now, that uncle's brain won't be able to make up for it〃〃!"

"Everyone, please applaud!" the host said, raising his voice with a pretentious effort. Applause erupted, and immediately spread like a storm. Mella Routledge, wrapped elegantly in an evening gown, walked onto the stage and began her speech.

A young American woman in an elegant suit who looked like a teacher stood next to her and looked like the translator.

I love Japan as much as I love my own country.

The applause resumed. The most enthusiastic applause came from the perverted Secretary-General, who even shouted "Good!" superfluously. The Americans around him smiled wryly.

Quan Yi observed the mother and daughter again. The mother, Mela, was by her side, and the daughter, Artemisia, was indeed not by her side.

The men who worked in the company and looked like they were members of the religious order were all middle-aged or older men, all tall and handsome. It seemed that Dr. Mosha was the only exception around Meera.

"...So, when the world inevitably ends, I hope that Japan and the United States can survive together. The final day of judgment is coming soon!"

There was applause again, but this time it wasn't very enthusiastic. The attendees glanced at each other in the room, their hands poised for applause. The only one still clapping enthusiastically was the perverted secretary-general. It was unclear whether it was out of social etiquette or if he simply hadn't understood what Melara Routledge was saying. Perhaps it was a combination of both.

Mella Routledge continued her speech. It was more like a preacher's sermon than a tycoon's greeting. She completely ignored the audience's confusion, and her voice became more excited with each sentence, resounding with excitement:

Soon, humanity will face a direct crisis of world destruction. This crisis will also engulf Japan. Japan has always been a wonderful country, its people are excellent, and they are deeply loyal to the United States. However, for some reason, they have never awakened to religious truth. Instead of converting to the one, absolute, true God, they have blindly embraced evil polytheism and idolatry. If this continues, when the end of the world comes, they will surely embark on a dark path from which there is no escape.

Upon hearing this, even the polite smile on the lecherous secretary-general's fat face vanished, though not completely. Flattering the powerful seemed second nature to him, and the remnants of his smile clung to the lower half of his face.

The woman translating, perhaps because she'd heard enough or perhaps because she felt it was God's will and not me speaking, was completely expressionless, her voice mechanical and precise, a stark contrast to Mella Routledge's frenzy.

"When the Lord returns, He will no longer tolerate all evil. He will send down His armies from heaven to wipe out all evil from the earth. The worst manifestation of evil is attacking the one God who embodies freedom and justice, as well as all terrorist activities against His believers and their civilization. We must extinguish the apostles of evil and purify the soil they have defiled. Let sulfur fire turn into a torrential rain and fall upon the earth, annihilating all evildoers who disobey God!"

This worldview, which seemed to be common in low-cost doomsday movies, gushed out of the mouth of the female tycoon like a muddy torrent, engulfing the entire hall.