The moon had reached its zenith, a silver eye staring unblinkingly through the latticework windows of the Orchid Palace, yet inside the private chambers of the Sect Leader, the concept of time had dissolved into a sticky, heated haze of unbridled lust. The air was thick, heavy enough to taste, saturated with the coppery tang of virgin blood, the sweet fermentation of spilled spirit wine, and the overwhelming, musky scent of sex.
Wang Jian sat back against the carved spirit-wood headboard of the expansive bed, his breathing steady and deep, a stark contrast to the ragged gasps filling the room. His naked body glowed faintly, the Stellar Demonic Meridian Scripture pulsing beneath his skin like a second circulatory system, eager and ravenous. On his lap sat Hua Ling, the Young Sect Mistress.
