The air was heavy, thick with the cloying sweetness of burning Ambergris and the metallic tang of dried blood.
Consciousness returned to Feng Wuya not as a gentle awakening, but as a violent collision. It felt as if a rusted spike were being driven through his temples, stirring the grey matter of his brain into a chaotic slurry.
He gasped, his eyes snapping open.
Above him was not the sterile white ceiling of his penthouse suite in Shanghai, nor the fluorescent hum of an ICU. Instead, he stared up at a canopy of crimson silk, embroidered with five-clawed golden dragons that seemed to writhe in the flickering candlelight. The fabric was translucent, shivering in the draft, casting long, predatory shadows against the pillars of dark Spirit Wood that held up the roof.
Feng Wuya tried to sit up, but his body felt heavy, distinct, and incredibly powerful. This was not the body of a overworked CEO dying of liver failure. This was a vessel of destruction.
He looked down at his hands. They were pale, the fingers long and slender, yet the skin possessed the hardness of polished jade. Beneath the surface, he could feel it—a torrential river of energy, hot and volatile, surging through invisible channels.
Qi.
The memories hit him then. A tidal wave of foreign data: The Azure Dragon Continent. The Supreme Profound Sect. The Feng Clan.
And his name.
Feng Wuya.
The Young Master of the Feng Clan. A tyrant. A debaucher. A man who had crippled servants for spilling tea and ruined the cultivation of outer disciples for daring to meet his gaze. A man destined to die in less than a year at the hands of the "Child of Destiny," Ye Chen.
"I've been Isekai'd," he murmured, his voice sounding deeper, huskier than he remembered. A cold, cynical smile touched his lips. "And I'm the mid-boss villain destined to be face-slapped? How cliché."
He shifted his weight, and the sensation of the bedding drew his attention. He was lying on a mattress stuffed with the down of Spirit Cranes, covered in sheets of cooling ice-silk. But he wasn't alone.
"Mngh... Young Master?"
A soft, fearful whimper came from the foot of the massive bed.
Feng Wuya narrowed his eyes, his vision piercing through the gloom with supernatural clarity. Two women were kneeling on the floor beside the bed, their foreheads pressed against the cold Spirit Stone tiles. They were trembling so violently that the ornaments in their hair jingled softly.
His personal maidservants. Mei and Lan.
"Rise," Feng Wuya commanded. The word came out naturally, imbued with an arrogant authority that had seeped into his bones.
The two women hesitated, terror radiating from them, before slowly lifting their upper bodies.
Feng Wuya's new eyes drank them in, analyzing them with the precision of an appraiser looking at rare jewels.
On the left was Mei. She was the older of the two, perhaps twenty-four. She wore a sheer, violet cheongsam-style robe made of gossamer silk that did absolutely nothing to hide the body beneath. The fabric was cut scandalously high up the thigh, exposing legs that were thick, soft, and creamy white. Her figure was voluptuous, the kind of ripe maturity that screamed of fertility. The violet silk strained tightly against her massive breasts, the dark areolas faintly visible through the thin material like bruised plums against snow. Her face was heart-shaped, flushed with fear, her full lips trembling.
On the right was Lan. She was barely eighteen, a stark contrast to Mei. Petite, slender, and fragile. She wore a robe of pale green gauze that hung loosely off her shoulders, exposing a delicate clavicle and a neck as elegant as a swan's. Her breasts were smaller, perky and defiant against the gravity of the heavy fabric, tipping upward. Her waist was impossibly thin, leading down to hips that were just beginning to widen. She looked like a frightened rabbit, her large, doe-like eyes swimming with unshed tears.
In the original Feng Wuya's memories, these two were merely punching bags. He used them to vent his frustration, beating them when his cultivation stalled.
But the new Feng Wuya saw potential. He saw resources.
"Young Master," Mei stammered, her voice thick with panic. "We... we didn't mean to sleep. Please, punish this servant, but spare Lan..."
Feng Wuya didn't answer. He simply stared.
Ding.
A mechanical chime rang out in his mind, sharp and clear, cutting through the atmosphere of the room. A translucent blue panel manifested in his retina.
[System Initialization Complete.] [Welcome, Host, to the Heavenly Plunder & Debauchery System.]
[Host: Feng Wuya] [Identity: Young Master of the Feng Clan (Villain)] [Cultivation: Foundation Establishment - Late Stage (Unstable due to pill abuse)] [Physique: Mortal Body (Corrupted by Yin poison)] [Destiny Points: 0 (Impending Doom)] [Current Status: The 'Three Year Pact' event begins in 6 hours.]
[Beginner Gift Pack Detected. Would you like to open it?]
Feng Wuya's grin widened. "Open it."
[Ding! Congratulations. You have received:]
Technique: Sovereign Yin-Yang Joyous Union Scripture (Heaven Grade). Allows the user to plunder cultivation base, vitality, and luck from women through sexual intercourse.
Item: The Eye of Sin (Passive). Allows you to see the stats and secrets of others.
Pill: Marrow Cleansing Yang Pill (Perfect Grade). Purifies the body of drug toxins and enhances virility to a supernatural level.
A surge of heat exploded in Feng Wuya's lower abdomen. It was violent and instantaneous. The Marrow Cleansing Yang Pill had automatically applied itself. He felt his blood boiling, the impurities in his pores vaporizing into gray smoke. His muscles tightened, the flab of his lazy lifestyle melting away to reveal corded, steel-like sinew.
But the most prominent change was between his legs. The rush of Yang energy engorged his member, making it throb with a painful, demanding hardness. It strained against his sleeping trousers, a prominent tent pole of desire and aggression.
He looked back at the two maids. The Eye of Sin activated.
[Target: Mei]
Role: Mob Character
Status: Virgin (Despite serving you for 3 years).
Yin Essence: High Quality (Mature Yin).
Hidden Trait: Natural Milk Body (Her fluids contain mild healing properties).
[Target: Lan]
Role: Mob Character
Status: Virgin.
Yin Essence: Pure Wood Spirit Yin.
Hidden Trait: Sensitive Constitution (Stimulation is amplified 10x).
Feng Wuya swung his legs off the bed. The air in the room seemed to drop in temperature, the pressure of his cultivation weighing down on the two women.
"Come here," he ordered, his voice dropping an octave.
Mei and Lan flinched. They expected a whip. They expected a kick. They crawled forward on their hands and knees, the friction of the floor pushing their robes open, giving him a view of the dark, unblemished gardens between their thighs. They wore no undergarments—a rule the previous Feng Wuya had enforced for easy access, though he had been too impotent from pill abuse to utilize it.
The current Feng Wuya had no such issue.
"Young Master..." Mei whispered, her head bowed low, her forehead touching his knee. "Your servant is here."
Feng Wuya reached out, his hand gripping Mei's chin. His fingers were strong, possessive. He forced her to look up. Her eyes were wide, wet with terror.
"You think I'm going to hit you?" he asked smoothly.
"I... I deserve it..." she sobbed.
"No," Feng Wuya said. He let his thumb brush over her bottom lip. It was soft, plump. "Hitting you is a waste of energy. Today, I have a fire in me. And you two are going to extinguish it."
He stood up, towering over them. He untied the sash of his sleeping trousers, letting them drop to his ankles.
The sight made both women gasp. The sheer size of him, enhanced by the Yang Pill, was monstrous. It stood erect, veined and angry, throbbing with a heartbeat of its own. It was a weapon of conquest, far larger than anything a mortal man should possess.
Lan covered her mouth, her face turning a deep crimson. Mei stared, her breath hitching, her pupils dilating not just in fear, but in a primal, biological mesmerization.
"The Sovereign Yin-Yang Joyous Union Scripture..." Feng Wuya thought, recalling the technique instantly. The first level requires the harvesting of Virgin Yin to stabilize my foundation.
He reached down and grabbed Lan by her hair. She yelped, a high-pitched, pathetic sound. He pulled her up, not roughly enough to injure, but firmly enough to show her she had no choice.
"Onto the bed," he commanded. "Face down. Ass up."
Lan scrambled to obey, her small body shaking like a leaf in a storm. She crawled onto the silk sheets, burying her face in the pillows. She raised her hips as instructed. The green gauze hiked up, exposing her small, round buttocks. They were pale, creamy, and clenched tight in anticipation. Between her legs, the pink slit was tightly shut, innocent and untouched.
Feng Wuya looked at Mei. "You. Watch. Learn. Your turn comes next."
Mei nodded frantically, her eyes glued to the scene, her breathing becoming ragged.
Feng Wuya climbed onto the bed behind Lan. The mattress dipped under his weight. He placed a hand on Lan's lower back. Her skin was cool, but he could feel the heat radiating from her core.
"Relax," he whispered into her ear, his voice carrying a trace of Spirit attacks to break her mental resistance. "If you clamp down, you will break."
He didn't wait for her to prepare. He was a villain, not a lover. He spat into his hand, rubbed the saliva over the head of his cock, and positioned himself at her entrance.
"P-please... Young Master... it's too big..." Lan whimpered into the pillow, her voice muffled.
"Take it," he growled.
With a single, fluid thrust, he breached her.
"AAAAHH!" Lan screamed, her back arching violently.
The tightness was exquisite. It felt like dragging his soul through wet, hot velvet. The resistance of her hymen shattered instantly under his assault. She was incredibly tight, her internal walls clamping down on him in a spasm of shock and pain.
Feng Wuya gritted his teeth, the pleasure nearly blinding him. The Joyous Union Scripture activated automatically. He could feel it—cool, refreshing streams of Yin energy being sucked out of her body and into his cock, traveling up his meridians and settling in his dantian.
It was intoxicating. Better than any pill. Better than any drug.
He began to move. Slowly at first, letting her adjust to the invasion, then with increasing brutality. Slap. Slap. Slap. The sound of his pelvis colliding with her small buttocks echoed through the quiet room.
Lan's screams turned into broken sobs, then into confused, breathless moans. Her Sensitive Constitution was activating. The pain was being overwritten by a blinding, electric pleasure she had never known. Her fingers clawed at the silk sheets, tearing them.
"Good," Feng Wuya praised, grabbing her hips to pull her deeper onto him. "You are useful after all."
He pounded into her, merciless and rhythmic. Every thrust stole a little more of her Essence, refining his own chaotic Qi. He felt his cultivation base stabilizing. The cracks in his Foundation were being filled with her Yin.
Mei watched from the floor, her legs unconsciously rubbing together. The scent of sex—musk, sweat, and female juices—filled the air. She saw the Young Master's back muscles ripple, the sweat glistening on his skin, the sheer dominance he exuded. It was terrifying, yet it ignited a dark, shameful heat in her belly.
Feng Wuya felt the climax approaching. The Yang energy in his body was roaring, demanding release.
"Mei!" he barked, not stopping his rhythm.
"Y-yes, Master!"
"Get up here. My mouth is dry."
Mei scrambled onto the bed, crawling towards him. She positioned herself in front of him as he continued to ravage Lan from behind. Mei's heavy breasts swung in front of his face, the nipples hard and inviting.
Feng Wuya leaned forward, capturing one of her nipples in his mouth. He bit down, hard.
Mei cried out, pleasure and pain mixing. She grabbed the back of his head, pressing him closer.
He sucked greedily, his tongue teasing the sensitive nub while his hips continued to hammer into Lan. He was surrounded by soft flesh, by the sounds of their submission. This was power. This was what it meant to be a Master in this world.
Minutes later, with a final, guttural roar, Feng Wuya bottomed out inside Lan. He held her hips in a vice grip, pouring his Yang essence deep into her womb. The release was cataclysmic, a white-hot explosion that seemed to last for eternity.
Lan's body went limp, her eyes rolling back in her head as she twitched in the aftershocks of a forced, overwhelming orgasm.
[Ding! Copulation Successful.] [Target: Lan. Yin Essence Absorbed.] [Cultivation Stabilized. Experience +500.] [Trait Acquired: Minor Wood Resistance.]
Feng Wuya pulled out, his member making a wet pop sound. He left Lan lying in a mess of fluids and turned his attention to Mei, who was panting, her face flushed, looking at him with a mix of hunger and awe.
"Clean me," he ordered, leaning back against the headboard.
Mei didn't hesitate. She lowered her head, her tongue darting out to clean the evidence of his conquest.
Feng Wuya closed his eyes, circulating his Qi. The energy he had stolen was pure. His Foundation was solidifying.
But his mind was already moving to the next target.
Outside this room, the sun was rising over the peaks of the Supreme Profound Sect. In a few hours, the Outer Court examination would begin. Ye Chen, the protagonist, would be there, wearing his dusty robes, clutching his grandfather's ring, ready to shout about justice and hard work.
Ye Chen had a fiancée. Su Qingyue. The Ice Goddess. A woman of peerless beauty and talent, who was currently engaged to Feng Wuya but planned to break it off publicly today to humiliate him.
Feng Wuya opened his eyes. They glowed with a predatory, violet light.
"Enjoy your morning, Ye Chen," he whispered into the silence of the room, his hand tangling in Mei's hair as she serviced him. "Because by sunset, I will have taken everything you own. Your pride. Your future."
"And your woman."