Fandel, a country unlike any other in the world, is known as the freest and most humanely governed nation on the world.
It welcomes all, accepting anyone who wishes to come, including criminals.
There are no checks upon arrival, and one can leave just as freely.
There is only one condition, which is that the penalty fine must be paid according to the severity of the crime. If the fine cannot be paid, the person will be sentenced to hanging.
For instance, if one was caught selling drugs, as long as one had enough money to pay the fine, one could even sell it openly on the streets.
However, the fine was many times higher than the profit one would make from selling drugs.
As the saying goes, if one have the courage to act, one must have the ability to face the punishment.
It is precisely because of Fandel's unique national policy that the country's crime rate has plummeted. However, as a result, ordinary crimes have almost become a daily occurrence.
The entire country has turned into a distorted and perverse semblance of peace, where all crimes can occur unchecked with the support of money, especially becoming a paradise for the wealthy.
Arabella and Julius walked along the streets of the capital, where the streets were exceptionally bustling. Various shops and street vendors lined the roads, offering goods from all over the world, providing a feast for the eyes.
Arabella walked slowly, her posture relaxed, like a curious young lady casually strolling through the streets, glancing around from side to side.
Common people were usually off guard around Arabella, because she really didn't seem like someone with an aggressive nature.
She wasn't stunningly beautiful nor purely enchanting. Aside from her fair skin, there seemed to be nothing about her that left a lasting impression. Especially her slim, lanky figure, which lacked the graceful curves of a well-endowed body, she lacked the curvaceous figure that would catch the eye of men, making it difficult for her to spark desire.
She always spoke in a soft and gentle tone, her eyes perpetually curved in a smile, giving her a demeanor that made people feel she was delicate and harmless.
Julius followed closely by her side. Before entering the city, he had changed into his robe, thinking that since they had come to Fandel, he could use this opportunity to spread the teachings of the church and recruit followers.
Arabella quietly observed every security checkpoint on the street. Although she had a secret base here, and committing crimes within Fandel's borders meant no checks on entry or exit, she still made sure to take every precaution.
But she always kept a backup plan. She didn't want to take any risks or have even the slightest mishap here.
She followed the markers left by Raven and the others, seeing that they had made it out of the city smoothly, heading straight towards the border.
Just before leaving the city, Arabella had Julius buy her a special durian from Island.
The smell of durian was overwhelming, almost strong enough to exorcise spirits and demons.
Arabella held the durian in her hands, savoring it on the long-distance bus. Julius held a tissue in his hand, ready to offer it to her to wipe her hands. He couldn't stand the smell either, but it was clear that Arabella loved it. Seeing her enjoy the durian so much, Julius couldn't help but feel happy.
This long-distance bus traveled from the capital to the border town, a journey fraught with danger and uncertainty.
Once beyond the capital, the road to the border was sparsely populated, with only a few small villages scattered along the way. The government forces were few and far between, and their ability to maintain control was weak, allowing crime to flourish.
As a result, the bus operated only twice a day—once in the early morning and once in the evening. Ordinary folks preferred to take the early morning bus, which was relatively safer. The evening bus, being an overnight ride, was typically avoided by women and children.
Julius, unfamiliar with the local situation, didn't realize how dangerous their evening bus ride would be.
Arabella, of course, knew the risks, but so what?
With few passengers and plenty of space, she was content to relax in comfort, completely indifferent to the danger.
Indeed, the bus was quite empty—aside from Arabella and Julius, there were only five or six scattered business people, all seemingly traders.
In the front row, a group of burly men sat, their eyes sharp and threatening, but for the moment, they hadn't turned their gaze towards the back, and everything was still calm.
As night deepened, the bus swayed and rocked, lulling passengers into drowsiness. The entire vehicle grew quiet.
After finishing her durian, Arabella lazily licked her five fingers clean, then accepted the tissue Julius offered to wipe her hands.
When she was done, she naturally settled into Julius's embrace.
Julius held her, and for a moment, it felt as though his very soul had left his body.
In the dim and cramped space, it felt as if it was biting at his skin, and it also itched his genitals.
He cautioned himself to remain unmoved by temptation and not to open his eyes, as seeing would only lead to his heart being captivated.
His stiff body had not yet eased, and what made it even harder to bear was Arabella's hand, which followed the lines of his clothes and slowly pressed against his lower abdomen.
He bit his tongue to prevent himself from uttering a delighted exclamation, and subconsciously opened his eyes to look into Arabella's bright eyes in the darkness.
He swallowed a mouthful of saliva and saw Arabella smiling at him, pulling down his pants and slowly opening his mouth, inserting the entire penis deep inside.
He clutched the edges of his pants tightly with both hands, with his veins standing out, showing how hard he was trying to control himself.
He felt that both sides of his ears were filled with decadent and depraved sounds, and the intimacy noise was too loud. Arabella swallowed his sexual organ fully, as if pulling a bow to its fullest stretch, determined to shoot him into the boundless sea of desire.
The sharp screech of the brakes echoed, like a sound from another world.
Julius suddenly snapped his eyes open.
It was pitch black outside, and there was no one in his arms. Nothing had happened.
A cold sensation brushed against his neck—someone had pressed a sharp knife against it. It was one of the brutish men from earlier.
The driver was already pinned in a corner, sitting idly as if nothing concerned him. Robberies on this route were too common for him to be bothered; he knew that, in the end, they wouldn't take his life.
Julius's heart skipped a beat as he quickly checked on Arabella sitting beside him.
She was leaning lazily against the window frame, half-closed eyes curved in a smile, seemingly unfazed by the danger around them.
Seeing that Arabella was fine, Julius let out a sigh of relief, but it only earned him mocking laughter from the men.
"I never thought I'd see the day when even a missionary couldn't keep his hands to himself. Seems like you've got a woman with you."
Julius then realized that several men had surrounded their seats, grinning maliciously.
He was yanked from his seat, and a burly man clamped a hand on his shoulder, pointing at Arabella inside with ill intentions. "Hey, don't be stingy. If you're enjoying yourself, shouldn't everyone join in the fun?"
Julius's voice cracked with anger as he shouted, "What do you want? Don't touch her!"
His resistance naturally led to a beating, but they had no intention of killing him.
As a religious figure, Julius was afforded some protection in this lawless world. In a time plagued by natural disasters, war, and death, there were unwritten rules in every country that granted religious personnel certain privileges. Even the most vicious criminals, when faced with someone like him, would refrain from taking their life.
After all, a criminal who kills today might be killed tomorrow, and there would come a time when they'd need someone like him to perform rites for the souls of the departed.
Julius, the bookish type, despite his strength, was completely helpless in the face of the beating. Unable to fight back, he could only brace himself for the blows.
Arabella watched coldly, her eyes following as Julius took blow after blow, his face swelling with bruises, and yet he didn't show a hint of resistance. She couldn't help but admire him inwardly.
Either he was truly useless, or he was hiding something. If it was the latter, he certainly had the skills of an undercover agent.
Meanwhile, Arabella was being held down by another man, who reached out to tear open her blouse.
"Take it slow. Don't be in such a hurry." Arabella's hand slid up to the man's nape, her fingers pressing hard against the large vertebra at the base of his neck, and with a sudden twist, she snapped it.
The man's limbs jerked violently, and from behind, it almost seemed as if he were on top of Arabella, thrusting as if in a violent embrace.
A few men waiting behind him burst out laughing, "I say, you haven't even taken off your pants yet. That's premature ejaculation, haha -!"
Arabella pushed away the man who was lying on top of him and didn't move, brushed her hair, and grinned, asking, "Is it just you, or are there a few of you? If there are a few of you, maybe we should go outside the car."
A few men were taken aback, not expecting the woman to be so forward, and let out bold and lewd laughter, saying, "I didn't expect you to be such a slut. No wonder you could hold onto the missionary- you want to have an outdoor affair."
But then, he immediately noticed something off about the man, who lay motionless on the ground. One of the men, closer to him, bent down to check his breath—and there was a pulse!
"He's breathing—probably just asleep."
A few of the men looked at him with a sneer, and two of them even kicked him on the ground and laughed, "You were bragging about how great you were. But as soon as you jumped on top of the woman, you couldn't finish and you're too tired to move now."
A few of them followed Arabella as she headed for the door. Julius, bloodied and battered, had taken a heavy punch to the eye, his vision blurred from the impact—
He couldn't stand up and had to crawl to keep up with them. Gasping for breath, he let out a heart-wrenching roar, "Don't go—Arabella—Arabella!"
The last person, irritated by his constant crawling at his heels, simply kicked him over and happily loosened his belt, getting out of the car to enjoy a bit of rough outdoor play.
In the darkness of the grass, Arabella pressed her knuckles together, her fingers cracking sharply, flexing with uncanny agility. In her palm, a gleaming dagger spun, blood slowly trickling from its blade.
The four men who had surrounded her for a rough encounter now lay sprawled on the ground, eyes wide open in a hateful, deathly stare. Two had their throats slit with a single stroke, and the other two had been stabbed through the heart.
In this chaotic world, women were little more than a dish on a man's lips, and beautiful women were merely considered fine delicacies.
But Arabella was the cannibal dish, the one who bit back and devoured those who sought to consume her.
