The morning of the Grand Wedding dawned with a sky painted in auspicious gold. The Feng Clan had spared no expense. Nine thousand Spirit Cranes circled the main peak, trailing ribbons of rainbow silk. The air vibrated with the sound of ancient bells, announcing the union of the two great powers.
Inside the Chamber of the Phoenix, however, the atmosphere was funereal.
Su Qingyue stood on a podium, surrounded by twelve handmaidens. She had been scrubbed raw, perfumed with rare oils, and her hair—hair that had been matted with dungeon filth only hours ago—was now woven with pearls and stardust.
She stared into the mirror. The woman staring back was breathtaking. Her skin, refined by the massive influx of Feng Wuya's Yang energy during the dungeon break, glowed with a supernatural luster. Her eyes were clear, but empty—like a doll's glass eyes.
Mei, Feng Wuya's head maid, knelt behind her, adjusting the train of the wedding robe.
"The Young Master is generous," Mei whispered, her voice laced with a strange mix of jealousy and pity. "He sent the Refining Soup this morning. It dissolved his seed within you and turned it into pure cultivation base. You look radiant, Mistress. Not a trace of last night's... ordeal."
Su Qingyue flinched. She could still feel the phantom sensation of him filling her. The soup had prevented conception, yes, but it had also fused his energy into her meridians. She could feel him buzzing under her skin. She was literally powered by him now.
"The robe," Su Qingyue whispered. "It's... heavy."
The wedding dress was a masterpiece of Heavenly Silk, embroidered with golden phoenixes. But it was heavy because of what was hidden underneath.
"The Young Master insisted on the traditional accessories," Mei said, holding up a tray.
On the tray lay a set of golden jewelry. But it wasn't for her neck or wrists.
It was a pair of Nipple Clamps connected by a heavy gold chain, and a Vaginal Plug carved from warm, vibrating Sun-Jade.
"No..." Su Qingyue shook her head, clutching the front of her white under-robe. "I have to walk down the aisle... in front of the Patriarchs... I can't wear those..."
"You must," Mei said firmly. "The Master has the key. If you don't wear them, he said he will walk down the aisle naked with you."
Su Qingyue closed her eyes. The threat was real.
"Put them on," she breathed, surrendering.
She dropped her robe. Her body was pristine, the bruises healed by high-grade pills, save for the brand on her mound which was covered by the dress.
Mei attached the clamps.
"Ah!" Su Qingyue gasped as the gold teeth bit into her sensitive nipples. The chain connecting them was heavy, pulling her breasts forward, keeping her nipples in a state of constant, painful arousal.
Then, the plug.
Mei slid the Sun-Jade cylinder into Su Qingyue's vagina. It was wide, designed to keep her "open" and ready for the wedding night. It hummed with a low-frequency vibration.
"Oh... god..." Su Qingyue grabbed the podium for support, her knees buckling. "It's buzzing..."
"To remind you to smile," Mei said, pulling the heavy red wedding robes over her.
Fully dressed, Su Qingyue looked like a goddess. But underneath the layers of silk, she was rigged like a torture victim, weighted down by gold clamps and filled with vibrating jade.
The Plaza of Ascension was packed with ten thousand guests. Elders, Sect Leaders, and rogue cultivators from across the continent had gathered.
Han Li and Zhao Fugui sat in the front row, drinking wine and snickering.
"Look at them," Zhao whispered, pointing at the altar. "They think she's a holy flower. If they only saw her on the table two nights ago."
"Or on the horse last night," Han Li grinned. "I heard she screamed so loud the dungeon rats fled."
Suddenly, the drums thundered.
Feng Wuya appeared at the altar. He wore robes of black and gold dragon-scale. He looked imperious, handsome, and terrifyingly powerful. His Golden Core aura rolled off him in waves.
On his finger, he wore a new ring—Ye Chen's Ring.
Inside the ring, Old Yan, the remnant soul, was screaming in silence. Feng Wuya had placed a silencing seal on the ring, but kept the viewing port open.
Watch, old ghost, Feng Wuya projected his thought into the ring. Watch your disciple's destiny walk to me.
The music shifted to a high, ethereal melody.
The doors of the pavilion opened.
Su Qingyue emerged.
A collective gasp went through the crowd. She was blindingly beautiful. The red veil covered her face, but her silhouette was divine. She walked slowly, her steps measured and small.
The crowd thought it was modesty.
Feng Wuya knew the truth. Every step caused the Sun-Jade plug to vibrate against her cervix. Every sway of her arms pulled the heavy gold chain on her nipples. She wasn't walking slowly out of grace; she was walking slowly to keep her knees from giving out under the pleasure-pain.
She reached the altar. She stood beside Feng Wuya.
The Sect Patriarch, an old man with a long white beard, stood before them to officiate.
"Today, the Feng Clan and the Su Clan become one," the Patriarch intoned. "Feng Wuya, do you take Su Qingyue as your Dao Companion, to cultivate together, to share life and death?"
"I do," Feng Wuya said, his voice deep and smooth.
"Su Qingyue," the Patriarch turned to her. "Do you take Feng Wuya as your Lord and Husband? To obey his will, to nurture his clan, and to serve him in all things?"
Su Qingyue trembled. The vibration of the plug spiked suddenly—Feng Wuya was controlling it with his Qi.
"Ah..." she gasped, a small sound that the crowd interpreted as emotion.
She looked through the red veil at Feng Wuya. He was smiling. It was the smile of the devil in the dungeon.
"I..." she choked out. "I... do."
"Then bow to the Heavens and Earth!"
They bowed.
"Bow to the Ancestors!"
They bowed.
"Bow to each other!"
They turned to face each other.
Feng Wuya reached out and lifted her red veil.
Her face was exposed to the world. She was flushed a deep, unnatural pink. Her eyes were shimmering with unshed tears. Her lips were swollen.
"You look beautiful, wife," Feng Wuya whispered.
He leaned in to kiss her. But he didn't kiss her lips. He leaned past her face to her ear.
"The plug," he whispered. "I set it to maximum."
Su Qingyue's eyes went wide.
BZZZZZZT.
The jade inside her went wild.
"Nngh!" Her knees knocked together. She grabbed his arms to stop herself from falling.
To the crowd, it looked like a passionate embrace. The bride, overwhelmed with love, swooning into her husband's arms.
"Kiss her! Kiss her!" the crowd chanted.
Feng Wuya grabbed her waist, holding her upright as her legs turned to jelly. He crushed his mouth against hers, kissing her deeply, his tongue invading her mouth just as he had invaded her body.
He tasted the panic. He tasted the surrender.
[Ding! Event Complete: The Grand Wedding.] [Target: Su Qingyue. Status: Officially Bound.] [Social Status Updated: Young Madam of the Feng Clan.] [All escape routes closed.]
"Let the feast begin!" Feng Wuya announced, turning to the crowd, keeping a tight grip on his vibrating bride.
The banquet was a blur for Su Qingyue. She sat at the head table, smiling when told to smile, drinking when told to drink. The plug buzzed relentlessly. She was edging on the brink of orgasm for three hours straight, denied release, forced to maintain the image of the perfect hostess.
Finally, the sun set.
"To the Bridal Chamber!" the guests roared. "Time for the consummation!"
Han Li and Zhao Fugui winked at Feng Wuya as he led Su Qingyue away.
They entered the Bridal Pavilion. It was a separate villa, isolated by arrays. The bed was massive, covered in peanut and lotus seeds (symbols of fertility), and draped in red silk.
Feng Wuya kicked the door shut.
The silence crashed down.
"Please..." Su Qingyue whimpered, collapsing onto the rug. "Turn it off... please, Master... it's too much..."
Feng Wuya didn't turn it off. He walked over to the table and poured two cups of wine.
"Stand up, Qingyue."
"I can't..."
"I said stand up. We haven't drunk the Cross-Cupped Wine yet."
Sobbing, Su Qingyue dragged herself up. She wobbled on her heels.
Feng Wuya handed her a cup. He looped his arm through hers. They drank.
"Now," Feng Wuya said, taking her empty cup. "Take it out."
"W-What?"
"The plug. Take it out. I want to see."
Su Qingyue flushed scarlet. She reached under her heavy wedding robes. She hiked up the layers of silk, revealing her bare legs and the golden chain hanging from her nipples.
She reached between her legs. Her fingers found the base of the vibrating jade.
"Pull."
She pulled.
SCHLOOP.
The jade slid out, coated in slick, clear fluid. Her vaginal opening pulsed, empty and yearning.
"Present it to me."
She held the buzzing, wet toy out to him with shaking hands.
Feng Wuya took it and deactivated it. He tossed it aside.
"Get on the bed."
Su Qingyue crawled onto the red sheets. She swept the peanuts and seeds aside frantically. She lay on her back, looking up at him.
"Are you going to... again?" she whispered fearfully.
"No," Feng Wuya said, unbuckling his belt. "Tonight isn't about breaking you. That's done."
He loomed over her, removing his outer robe.
"Tonight is about training."
He pulled the Ring from his finger—Ye Chen's ring—and placed it on the bedside table, facing the bed.
"Old Yan," Feng Wuya addressed the ring. "I know you're watching. Pay attention. This is how you cultivate the Dao of Joy."
He climbed onto the bed, straddling Su Qingyue's waist. He didn't penetrate her immediately. He reached out and grabbed the golden chain connecting her nipple clamps.
He pulled gently.
"Ah..." Su Qingyue arched her back, her breasts lifting.
"You are my wife now, Qingyue," Feng Wuya said, his voice hypnotic. "There is no Ye Chen. There is no Ice Palace. There is only this bed. There is only my weight on top of you."
He leaned down and kissed her neck, right over her pulse.
"Open your legs."
She obeyed instantly, her muscle memory from the dungeon kicking in.
"Wider."
She stretched them as wide as they could go.
Feng Wuya positioned himself. He looked into her eyes. The defiance was gone. The fear was fading into a dull acceptance.
"Say it," he commanded.
"I..." She took a shaky breath. "I am your wife. I am your property."
"And?"
"And I love... serving you."
It was a lie, a broken lie forced from her lips, but as Feng Wuya sank into her—slowly, filling the void the jade plug had left—Su Qingyue found her arms wrapping around his neck.
Not out of love. But out of the terrifying realization that he was the only thing holding her together.
Outside, the fireworks exploded, celebrating the union. Inside, the only sounds were the creaking of the bed and the soft, rhythmic moans of the fallen goddess accepting her new reality.