The wind stopped howling. The space around the Flying Galleon cracked beneath the bloody light of dusk.
The twelve Saint Realm cultivators, hardened by decades on border patrols, lost all capacity to breathe. The Nascent Divinities in the soldiers' chests trembled not only from the absolute terror radiating off the man in the dark tunic, but from the abyssal, filthy, and profane lust leaking through the ebony doors.
The patrol captain let his hand slip from the hilt of his heavy greatsword. Drool ran down the corner of the veteran's mouth. His eyes were glazed over Yù Méi's wet skin exposed beneath the torn golden silk, over the scandalous flush staining Mò Yán's pale neck, and over Yù Qíng's red and swollen lips. The dense smell of sandalwood, sweat, and boiling Yin melted the squad's battle logic in a single second.
But the sight of that altar lasted only the span of a single breath.
Zhì Yuǎn took a single step forward. The dark leather of his boot touched the wooden planks of the deck.
The Inner Universe in the man's Dantian, throbbing and throbbing with the Hunger that had just been cut at the root, simply collapsed outward.
He recited no techniques. He formed no hand seals. The colossal gravity of his cosmos was ejected into the outside world.
BOOOM!
The air became denser than solid lead. Nine of the twelve guards plummeted from the sky instantly. They didn't even have the chance to scream or widen their eyes. The atmospheric pressure crushed their bodies from the outside in while they were still in free fall. The soldiers collided against the stone peaks of the valley below, turning into mist of blood and paste of bones before they could even understand what had struck them. The greatswords strapped to their backs shattered into rust and dust under the friction of the air.
Three survived the initial drop, smashed brutally against the Flying Galleon's deck, their bones cracking against the runic wood.
Yù Méi didn't wait for orders.
The youngest's canines tore her own lower lip. The tension of having her body soaked, her pores wide open, and her nerves frying with a torrent that could not be discharged demanded immediate friction. Demanded impact.
She leapt from the railing. The tattered golden silk fluttered, and Yù Méi's bare heel landed on the deck directly over the steel-scaled breastplate of the first fallen guard.
Crack!
The metal armor and the soldier's ribcage caved under the girl's hyper-dense weight, puncturing lungs and heart in a hollow impact. Yù Méi let out a hoarse, wild, and purely bloodthirsty laugh, seizing the other two guards who were uselessly trying to drag themselves across the floorboards.
"I was almost finishing, you pieces of trash!" Yù Méi howled, her guttural voice tearing through the cold evening wind, her almond eyes burning in living gold.
The warrior's immaculate fist came down. She used no blades. Bare knuckles collided against the second soldier's face. The lead helmet's steel, the skull's bones, and the man's Nascent Divinity yielded simultaneously. The guard's head exploded in a hot, thick jet of blood and gray matter that bathed the youngest's face, generous chest, and dress.
At the center of the carnage, pinned on his knees on the wooden floor, the patrol captain choked.
The swordsman's bulging eyes swept across the pulverized pieces of his subordinates as thick trickles of blood began to seep from his own ears, nose, and pores under the crushing atmospheric weight. The captain's teeth chattered uncontrollably, and the silver crest proudly embroidered on his chest now rested over the puddle of his own urine, unable to lift even a finger against the gravity.
Zhì Yuǎn walked slowly toward him.
The charcoal-gray tunic was loose, the broad chest gleaming with the thin layer of sweat from the frustrated possession. The lethargy of his gaze was now a rough, lethal, and non-negotiable darkness. The god stopped one step from the man trembling and bleeding from his pores on the wood.
"You chose the worst possible moment to bark," Zhì Yuǎn's deep, ice-cold voice echoed across the deck, striking the wood with the weight of an anvil.
The patrol captain choked, his cheek crushed against the ship's planks. His fingers scratched the hull, uselessly trying to reach the sword hilt on his back, but the weight of the gravity paralyzed him completely.
The air behind Zhì Yuǎn rippled. Yù Qíng glided across the deck. The woman in the navy-blue dress did not touch the blood-soaked wood; her pale bare feet floated millimeters above the filth through the Suspended Lotus Step. She crouched gracefully before the trembling soldier. That impeccable smile curved her ruby lips, which were still painfully swollen from her husband's bites.
Yù Qíng's icy hand extended, her index finger and thumb pinching the captain's chin.
In the exact millisecond her pale skin touched the man's sweat, the temperature plummeted. A thin layer of frost formed instantly beneath the woman in blue's fingers, the ice rising and cracking the prisoner's lips, who let out a strangled hiss of pain.
Yù Qíng released his chin with a casual gesture, wiping her fingertips on her own dress as if she had touched something filthy.
"Men who shout in the skies tend to keep valuable secrets in their own spines," Yù Qíng murmured, her velvety voice soft and crawling. "Tell me, little dog. Where is the front door of the Tomb of the Emperor of a Thousand Blades? And what kind of elders has your sect left sitting on the porch awaiting our arrival?"
The soldier trembled, his teeth chattering violently as the induced hypothermia wrestled against the gravitational asphyxiation. He clenched his cracked jaw, trying to hold his tongue.
Mò Yán crossed the deck, the hem of her dark skirt grazing the wood. The diplomat's Hanfu was disheveled. The collar of purest white silk hung loose, exposing the breathless fullness of her chest, and a feverish flush stained her pale neck. Her scarlet irises descended upon the captain, appraising the man on the floor the same way one appraises mud on a boot.
"The toll speech doesn't work on those who've already broken down the door," Mò Yán's melodious voice flowed, her chin raised a fraction. "Answer my sister. And we won't turn you into the same puddle of bones and viscera your patrol became."
A loud sound of heavy footsteps echoed to the left. Yù Méi stretched languidly, her knuckles cracking, and walked toward the prisoner with the impatience of someone who wants to crush something. The youngest stopped before the fallen man, her almond eyes burning in living gold. Without any ceremony, she planted her bare foot squarely on his chest, pressing him against the deck with enough force to make his ribs groan.
"Start talking, trash," Yù Méi growled, her guttural voice vibrating with pure rage. "My insides are still throbbing. One more second of silence and I'll rip your arms off and make you swallow them up to the elbow."
The captain choked, the hyper-dense weight of her foot crushing his lungs. Fresh blood ran from the corner of his mouth.
Zhì Yuǎn didn't say a single word. The man's dark gaze remained fixed on the clouded horizon, but the Inner Universe in his Dantian pressed subtly upon the atmosphere. The captain felt his own eyeballs threatening to burst from their sockets. Thick blood began running from the soldier's nostrils and ears, dripping onto the deck.
The captain's skull bones cracked under the invisible pressure. The thick blood clogging his throat made him gag, drowning in his own guts any oath of loyalty he had ever sworn to his mountain.
"T-The Valley of the Dead Blade..." the captain stammered, his voice broken, tears mixing with his own blood on the floor. "I-In the center of the mountain range... The array isn't guarded by trash like us! T-Three monsters from the inner leadership are there... A-All three are in the Immortal Establishment!"
Mò Yán narrowed her scarlet irises. "Detail their foundations," the diplomat demanded, implacable.
"T-Two Elders forged the Artificial Physique... they're in the 3rd Sub-realm!" the captain choked, spitting a red clot. "B-But the Chief Guardian of the excavation... his Crystal Soul has already melted! He fused his soul to his own blood! He's in the 4th Sub-realm of the Grinding! I-If our patrol's signal doesn't return within one hour... the frontier alert bell will ring! P-Plea—"
Yù Qíng's smile widened, her black eyes glinting upon hearing about the Grinding.
The information had been harvested. The insect had lost its usefulness.
Zhì Yuǎn raised his index finger.
He invoked no glowing techniques and called out no technique names. A millimeter-thin fragment of the Law of Destruction simmered in the air. The captain's skull and Nascent Divinity simply ceased to exist. Without screams and without blood, the man's head evaporated, turning into a fine gray dust that the cold altitude wind swept from the ship. The headless body collapsed on the deck with a hollow thud.
On the helm bench of the Galleon, old Mò Zhōng kept his hands rigidly locked on the tiller. His unseeing eyes remained fixed on the clouds ahead — statue-still and deaf, refusing to turn his face even a fraction toward the carnage behind him.
Zhì Yuǎn did not turn his back to return to the cabin's ebony doors. The thirst that had been cut short minutes earlier burned at the bottom of his Dantian, and his dark eyes dropped to the sweat gleaming on Yù Méi's skin.
The man in the charcoal-gray tunic took a single firm step toward the center of the wooden deck. His leather boot snapped, and his Inner Universe expanded in a radius of exactly ten meters.
An invisible dome of gravitational distortion enveloped the center of the ship. Inside that dimensional bubble, the deafening howl of the high-altitude winds silenced instantly. The cold frontier air was crushed, replaced by a dense, stagnant atmospheric vacuum that smelled of blood, sweat, and sandalwood. Any sound, sight, or vibration was irrevocably sealed inside.
Zhì Yuǎn turned. His dark gaze drove itself directly into the Brutal Blade.
Yù Méi still had her knuckles dirty with the bone dust of the guards, but the girl's breath hitched when her husband's massive shadow covered her. He didn't have the delicacy to pull her toward the sheets.
The god's large, burning hand seized the youngest's nape, his fingers threading through her golden hair, and he slammed her violently onto her back against the deck's thick wooden railing.
The dry impact cracked through the confined air.
"You were dripping and begging before those rats knocked on our door," Zhì Yuǎn growled against Yù Méi's trembling lips, his deep voice vibrating with a raw and naked possessiveness that sent an electric shock directly to her lower belly. "I'm going to devour you right here."
He didn't wait for words. His hands dropped to the scraps of golden silk covering the girl's hips and tore them completely away, letting the tattered fabric fall to the floor. Yù Méi gasped loudly as her long, thick legs were lifted and forced to spread open around his waist, her jade skin colliding against the cold wood of the railing.
The incandescent shaft, still throbbing from the bedroom's frustration, found the girl's wide-open and flooded cleft. He drove into her with a brutal thrust, sinking the full thickness to the hilt all at once.
Squish! Plap! — the wet sound of the drenched entrance being broken open echoed alongside.
"AAAAAH! HUSBAND!" Yù Méi screamed, her guttural voice tearing through her throat as her spine arched violently against the ship's wood.
The impact was not the only shock. A few steps away, Yù Qíng and Mò Yán's breathing was already heavy and uneven. The smell of thick Yin and the sound of the breaking-in dampened both their intimacies instantly. They didn't retreat to watch. Intoxicated by the heat of that bubble, the two goddesses walked to their husband's flanks.
Yù Qíng pressed her pale body against Zhì Yuǎn's left side, the navy-blue dress grazing his dark trousers. Mò Yán anchored herself to his right, her colossal chest crushed against the man's rigid ribs.
"Our altar burns together, my heaven..." Yù Qíng purred, her icy fingers threading through his black hair.
Pinning Yù Méi's weight against the railing using only the relentless force of his abdomen and hips to thrust, Zhì Yuǎn's hands were free. He didn't waste them. The god's left hand plunged mercilessly beneath the skirt of Yù Qíng's dress, while his right hand threaded under the heavy layers of Mò Yán's silver-gray Hanfu.
His warm, calloused fingers tore through the barrier of both women's inner silks and invaded the drenched caverns of the two women simultaneously.
"NNGH! M-My Lord... ahhh!" Mò Yán choked loudly. The air escaped her lungs in a strangled sob, her nails digging until they bled into his shoulders in the millisecond two rough fingers opened her entrance and a thermal current of Qi fried the most sensitive nerve in her flesh.
Plap! Plap! Plap! — the wet, heavy sound of pelvis against pelvis echoed across the deck.
Zhì Yuǎn hammered Yù Méi's depths with brutal, uninterrupted thrusts, the wood groaning in agony under the weight of the collision. At the same time, his fingers thrust and massaged the insides of Qíng and Yán, frying the biology of all three goddesses under the same relentless rhythm.
The rhythm on the deck exploded into a scaled sensory frenzy.
Accustomed and irrevocably sensitive to her husband's Qi, Yù Qíng was the first to yield. With only two minutes of internal friction and heat injection, the priestess in blue melted. "Mnnn... I'm coming... my love..." Yù Qíng whimpered, her black eyes rolling back. The firstborn's pale legs buckled, her knees losing all strength completely, and she came in a violent spasm, bracing herself against Zhì Yuǎn's left ribs as her cavern milked his fingers.
On the other side, the impact was voracious. Zhì Yuǎn turned his face to the right and took Mò Yán's parted mouth in a deep, wet kiss, his tongue invading the diplomat while the fingers of his right hand accelerated the friction against her cleft. Pinned against the railing, breathless and blinded by lust, Yù Méi stretched out her arm, seized Yù Qíng's nape on the opposite flank, and pulled the priestess's face against her own. The two sisters crashed lips together, the Brutal Blade kissing the woman in blue with scandalous avidity, trading the taste of sweat and saliva as she reached a muffled climax against her sister's mouth.
In the third minute of the possession, the merciless kiss and neural Qi massage shattered Mò Yán's control. "A-AHHH! My heaven!" The white-haired young woman broke the kiss only to sob. The feverish flush stained the woman's pale neck as the orgasm obliterated her, thick fluids running hot down her legs and soaking the god's hand that supported her.
The two at the flanks were already panting, undone on the floor and trembling against his legs, but the main punishment continued at the center.
"M-More... fuck, Zhì Yuǎn, don't stop... tear me open!" Yù Méi howled, sweat dripping from her chin, her pelvis desperately driving itself against each volcanic impact of his hips. "That's it… squeeze for me, my brute. You're mine." His deep voice vibrated, rough and dominating, grazing her cheek.
Five minutes of pure carnivorous chaos ground down the Brutal Blade's breath. Stimulated beyond sanity by the deep penetration and the saliva shared with her sister and her husband, Yù Méi reached ruin. The second climax erupted, making the girl shriek. Less than a minute later, her walls collapsed in a third orgasm. And before the sixth minute had passed, a fourth volcanic climax swept the warrior, her entire body convulsing in spasms that tried to crush her husband's shaft with the force of a vice.
The crushing overload of friction, combined with the heat of his three women exhaling the pure fragrance of collapsing Yin around his body, triggered the relief he needed.
Plap! Plap! — each thrust made her thick thighs tremble against his abdomen.
Zhì Yuǎn growled. A low, guttural sound — the noise of a sky coming down. He pulled Yù Méi's thighs firmly against his own waist and buried himself until not a single millimeter of space remained between them.
Spluuuurt! Splurt! Splurt! Spluuuurt! — The torrent was not quick. For one full, uninterrupted minute, the scalding, thick seed poured relentlessly into the youngest's depths, filling her womb to the brim and making the warm excess leak from the sides of the connection, dripping generously onto the ship's wooden floor. The absurd heat of that flood fried the girl's mind.
"AAAAAH! HUSBAND!" Yù Méi screamed, her voice going high and ragged. Her almond eyes rolled back completely. Saliva ran from the corner of her mouth, her jaw slack and her body limp, obliterated by the endless release.
When Zhì Yuǎn finally stopped the flow and withdrew with a hollow, wet sound, the silence dome was filled by Yù Méi's ragged panting. The girl slid down the wooden planks, her almond eyes completely unfocused, her thighs trembling uncontrollably as his scalding seed settled at the bottom of her womb.
The god's breath was heavy, thick, and brilliant with sweat, but the lethargy in his eyes had not fully returned. He adjusted the dark silk trousers and pulled the flaps of the charcoal-gray tunic over his chest, the dark and irritated abyss that had previously dominated his irises having receded, replaced by the warm, thick gleam of someone who had just poured their own weight into the depths of their women.
Before the husband lowered the dimensional dome, Yù Qíng moved.
The woman in blue, whose ruby lips and chin still gleamed with the saliva and nectar shared in the voracity of those kisses, floated gracefully across the deck. The firstborn would not allow the youngest to be exposed to the world's winds. With a subtle gleam from her spatial ring, a new and luxurious golden silk tunic materialized in the priestess's pale hands.
"Our altar does not go unprotected before the eyes of dust, little flower," Yù Qíng murmured, her voice velvety and drunk on satisfaction.
With the dexterity of someone tending to their own altar, Yù Qíng dressed her sister. Yù Méi could barely lift her arms, letting out a hoarse, lazy moan as the new, cool, and immaculate silk slid over her sweaty shoulders and covered the monumental fullness of her breasts, restoring the Brutal Blade's image to her untouchable majesty. A few steps away, Mò Yán had already straightened her own silver collar with trembling fingers, concealing the feverish flush still burning on her neck.
Zhì Yuǎn lowered his hand.
The distorted space rippled, and the invisible dome dissolved without the slightest sound. The icy wind and the cutting howl of the clouds returned violently to the deck. Mò Zhōng, still motionless at the helm and perfectly ignorant of the profanity that had occurred just behind him, awaited orders.
Zhì Yuǎn didn't look at the old butler immediately. The man in the dark tunic turned his face toward the vastness of gray clouds stretching beyond the ship's bow. The unfathomable void returned to his eyes, and the Inner Universe in his Dantian expanded conceptually.
The god's perception swallowed dozens of kilometers in a single millisecond. His Wisdom infiltrated the eastern mountain ranges, tearing through the mist barriers and the cheap spells of the Court of the Absolute Blade.
He found the Valley of the Dead Blade.
The reading was surgical. The reinforced steel doors, the containment runes drawn into the earth, and, seated in meditation directly above the main entrance, the three vital flames the dead captain had mentioned.
"Two foundations stabilized in the Artificial Physique, and a melted soul that has already reached the Grinding," Zhì Yuǎn murmured, his deep voice mapping the prey with the apathy of someone reading a menu. He confirmed the thickness of the 3rd and 4th Sub-realm foundations of the Immortal Establishment without the slightest trace of apprehension. "The rat sang the truth before turning to dust. Their array breathes exactly at the center of the valley."
The god lowered his eyes and turned his face toward the helm.
"Mò Zhōng. Bring the ship down," Zhì Yuǎn's unshakable voice echoed across the deck, cutting through the howling wind. "There is a cut in the mountain range ahead. Land the ship directly at the valley's entrance."
The old butler pulled the tiller immediately. The Flying Galleon gave a muffled lurch. The core furnaces burned through the spirit stones, and the immense ship plunged through the ceiling of clouds, pointing its ebony hull in a steep descent toward the dark mountains.
Zhì Yuǎn turned his back to the wind. His dark gaze descended upon Yù Méi, who was still sprawled on the deck floor, her shoulders propped against the wooden railing, breathing heavily beneath the golden silk.
The man walked toward her. Without asking permission, Zhì Yuǎn bent down. He slid his right arm behind the girl's bare knees and his left around her back. With a single fluid and possessive movement, he lifted her from the floor.
Yù Méi let out a wet gasp, her arms instinctively wrapping around her husband's broad neck. Her face buried itself in the chest of the charcoal-gray tunic, inhaling the ozone scent that numbed her.
"Still hungry..." the youngest grumbled against his skin, her guttural voice melted into a shameless pout as she nestled into the god's embrace.
A corner smile, mild and lethal, drew itself on Zhì Yuǎn's lips. He adjusted the hyper-dense weight of Yù Méi's body in his arms as though she were made of paper. His gaze crossed with Yù Qíng's abyssal irises, and then with Mò Yán's breathless reverence.
"The dust has been swept from the door," the man's deep voice dripped a dark and non-negotiable Hunger, echoing over the cold wind as he walked toward the cabin's thick ebony doors. "But the banquet table is still set inside. Come in."
Yù Qíng glided through the air, a wicked smile curving her saliva-glossed lips, following her husband's steps closely. Mò Yán followed at his side.
The heavy ebony door shut with a dense click, locking the world's gale outside and sealing the altar back in its greenhouse of sandalwood and lust. The outside air grew more glacial. The galleon plunged toward the Valley of the Dead Blade, carrying in its own belly the absolute end of that steel empire.
---
Zhì Yuǎn crossed the threshold carrying Yù Méi in his arms. The youngest was nestled against his chest, her face buried in the curve of the man's neck, exhaling the lethargy of someone whose own fire had been sated on the deck. Just behind her husband, Yù Qíng and Mò Yán entered silently.
The air inside the room was still a dense greenhouse. The atmosphere was saturated with the intoxicating smell of sandalwood, sweat, and the mark of Yin and Yang that had collided to their limit hours before.
They expected to find the silence of an altar at rest. Instead, a wet, noisy, and obscene sound echoed through the dimness.
Slurp... slop... slurp...
Anchored in her own folds of space near the door, Yù Qíng blinked her black eyes. The priestess in blue tilted her pale face and let out a low, velvety little laugh, heavy with sadistic and deliciously perverse amusement.
Bái Wǎn and Huáng Bìyù were in the corner of the sheets, still catching their breath, watching the spectacle unfolding before them.
At the center of the immense monumental bed, the scene was a spectacle of pure devoted gluttony.
Lín Jié remained exactly where her husband had left her: completely unconscious, her mature and voluptuous body sprawled face-down over the scarlet velvet, the former secretary's mind still knocked out by the massive injection of Primordial Qi that had flooded her womb and nerves.
But the bureaucrat was not resting in peace.
Qīng Yǔ was kneeling at the foot of the unconscious woman. The Celestial Feather had lifted Lín Jié's generous hips into the air, holding the new sister's mature thighs with surprising firmness. The healing fairy had her immaculate face buried directly in Jié's wide-open and swollen intimacy. Since Zhì Yuǎn's scalding seed had filled the bureaucrat's womb to the brim, the muscular relaxation of Lín Jié's unconscious body made the excess of thick, gleaming liquid continuously leak out.
And Yǔ had no intention of letting a single drop of her god's addictive essence dry or stain the silk sheets.
The fairy sucked and licked Lín Jié's wet cleft avidly. The former heroine's tongue collected the overflowing mixture of nectar and seed with desperate urgency. Qīng Yǔ's celestial face was smeared, the juice running down her chin, her cosmic-blue eyes half-lidded in a blind torpor of adoration and hunger as the sound of her sucking filled the room.
Still in Zhì Yuǎn's arms, Yù Méi raised her face and let out a hoarse laugh.
"And you people call me starving!" the youngest grumbled, pointing at the healer with a mix of indignation and pure carnivorous humor. "That feather over there is literally scraping the bottom of everyone else's plates!"
Zhì Yuǎn set Yù Méi gently on her own feet on the rug. The god's dark gaze swept across the scene on the bed, the lethargy in his irises darkening suddenly. The man's massive shadow projected itself over the sheets with lethal weight, the corner of his lips curving into a smile that made the very oxygen in the room recoil.
Qīng Yǔ froze when she felt the crushing gravity of his presence. She released Lín Jié's hips, which dropped back onto the mattress with a dull thud, and turned. The fairy's lips and cheeks were gleaming, dripping with the Yin and Yang she had stolen.
"Licking the drops spilled on the floor when the main jug is right here, Yǔ?" Zhì Yuǎn's deep voice reverberated through the room, laden with an ironic baritone that made the fairy's spine shudder.
"H-Husband..." Qīng Yǔ flushed scandalously, her eyes overflowing with an adorable guilt and the purest lust. "Your essence... it would be sacrilege to let it dry in the wi—"
He didn't wait for her to finish the justification.
The man's large, calloused hand advanced, threading itself roughly through the fairy's long black and cyan hair. With a firm and unquestionable pull, he dragged her across the silk sheets.
"Aah!" Yǔ let out a submissive gasp, offering not the slightest biological resistance as she slid on her back to the edge of the bed.
Zhì Yuǎn positioned the woman. He pulled her until Qīng Yǔ's head hung completely off the edge of the mattress, her pale neck bent back, her hair streaming toward the wooden floor, and her inverted face looking directly upward.
Without haste, he opened the charcoal-gray tunic and unfastened the dark trousers. The colossal, rigid shaft freed itself, throbbing with the weight of the Universe's Hunger and gleaming with the thick heat of its own anticipation.
Zhì Yuǎn hovered over the Celestial Feather's inverted face. His right hand guided his own shaft to the fairy's mouth. His left hand at her chin to part her lips as he inserted himself slowly inside her.
"Drink straight from the source," the god ordered.
His two warm, calloused hands wrapped around the fairy healer's slender neck, his thumbs resting in a lethal yet controlled manner over her trachea.
With a heavy thrust, Zhì Yuǎn buried his throbbing length directly inside her. Due to the inhuman length and density of his Dao-forged anatomy, he inserted only half the shaft — enough to fill the woman's throat to the absolute limit her elastic biology could endure without breaking.
GHLK!
Qīng Yǔ choked, her pale hands flying instinctively to grip his firm wrists caging her neck. Her celestial eyes went wide, immediately welling beneath her brow as oxygen vanished.
The rhythm began heavy, dense, and brutally dominating. He hammered the fairy's throat with rhythmic thrusts.
GLUCK! GLUCK! GLUCK! — the wet, obscene sound of a throat being broken open echoed together with the viscous noise of saliva bubbling. Locked by his hands at her neck, the woman could not retreat a single millimeter, forced to keep her trachea wide open and swallow every scalding impact.
Leaning against the doorframe, Yù Qíng let out an intoxicated, delighted sigh. The priestess in blue glided through the room, her black eyes glinting with sadistic pride as she watched her little mascot being punished and fed at the same time.
"Swallow with want, our sweet little feather," Yù Qíng whispered, crouching beside Yǔ's hanging head and caressing the fairy's sweaty, flushed cheeks with her icy fingertips. "Our heaven has fire enough to quench your thirst today."
At the center of the room, Mò Yán adjusted the loose collar of her white Hanfu, her breath faltering as she watched her husband's raw domination. Yù Méi rolled across the plush rug and propped her face in her hands, her almond eyes fixed on Qīng Yǔ's stretched throat, the Brutal Blade smiling widely as that altar returned to burning at full force.
The room became a greenhouse of moans and lust once more. The banquet, at last, had begun again.