The instant the shadowy dimension dissolved, the gazes of tens of thousands of cultivators across the venue locked onto the two figures reappearing in the center of the dais.
Xuan Shuang sheathed her sword.
"A draw."
Her voice resonated across the plaza through the acoustic arrays, every word landing on the white flagstones with the full weight a Nascent Soul Great Perfection master commanded. Jerry stood beside her; the gashes slashed through his grey robe by ice daggers were still seeping blood, looking every bit like someone who had just fought a bitter battle.
The Pavilion Master of the Heavenly Secrets Pavilion opened his mouth to speak, but a single glare from Xuan Shuang nailed his words back down his throat.
"The bombs are real. I verified it during our duel," Xuan Shuang swept her gaze across the titans on the dais. "We have less than two quarters of an hour remaining. This wizard says it requires twenty-one people striking simultaneously from twenty-one coordinates to defuse the chain detonation. I propose we give him a chance."
The Taixu Sword Sect Master clutched his chest, his face ashen, but offered no rebuttal. The stout Abbot of the Great Thunder Sound Temple pressed his palms together and chanted a Buddhist verse, signaling his tacit consent. The representatives of the other sects exchanged glances, but none jumped out to object. The outcome of a "draw" declared by Xuan Shuang had stabilized the situation; fighting to a standstill with a Great Perfection master lent this wizard's words significant credibility.
Jerry crouched on the dais, aiming his wand at the floor to release a second diagnostic pulse. Twenty-one crimson dots rematerialized on the stone surface. Raising his left hand, he used wandless magic to stamp a glowing number over each dot.
"One person stands above each dot. When I count to three, channel your spiritual energy into the ground simultaneously to sever the trigger circuit on the wand's casing. The force must not be too strong, or you'll trigger the detonation directly. Nor can it be too weak, or it won't sever the circuit. You must apply exactly enough force to shatter the sesame-sized magic crystal without disturbing the detonator core beneath it."
"What do you mean 'exactly'?" The Taixu Sword Sect Master frowned.
"Roughly one-tenth of a full-power strike from an early Golden Core cultivator."
"One-tenth." The Sword Sect Master ran the conversion in his head. "Meaning the Nascent Soul monsters gathered here must calibrate their output precisely to a fraction of a Golden Core junior's strength."
"Correct. If you can't control your output, don't step up."
Twenty-one cultivators were selected and took their designated positions. Jerry stood in the center of the dais, wand raised, preparing to count down.
"Three."
"Two."
"One..."
At position number seven on the eastern side of the dais, the cultivator slammed his spiritual energy downward the exact moment Jerry called "One." The force vastly exceeded one-tenth of early Golden Core output. That spike of energy tore straight through the floorboards, pierced the peach-wood casing, shattered the magic crystal, and struck the detonator core beneath it.
The chain reaction initiated.
The instant the detonator core of wand number seven was activated, the energy threads connecting it to wands eight, nine, and ten flared brilliantly.
The cores of three wands were awakened in a chain reaction. Jerry's wand snapped toward the transmission lines in a microsecond; a Severing Charm lashed from the tip, precisely slashing the energy thread connecting number seven to the remaining twenty wands.
But eight, nine, and ten were already active.
Four peach-wood wands detonated simultaneously.
Explosions ripped through the eastern flank of the dais.
A massive chunk of white stone flooring was blown sky-high, sending shrapnel and dust billowing into the air.
The combined explosive yield of four wands was sufficient to reduce everything within a thirty-foot radius to fine powder.
Yet, a mere two-thousandths of a second after severing the chain transmission, Jerry threw up a wandless shield with his left hand facing the blast, confining the shockwave to a thirty-foot radius on the eastern side.
The remaining seventeen wands, their chain severed, did not detonate.
Two spirit-wood chairs within the blast radius were blown to splinters.
The cultivators seated in those chairs had been yanked away by their sect members half a second before the blast, escaping the crossfire.
However, the three nearest rogue disciples were hurled through the air by the shockwave, crashing into the stone walls at the plaza's perimeter.
Casualties were minimal.
Three rogue disciples: one severely injured, two lightly injured.
Jerry stood on the dais surrounded by dust and shattered stone. His shield had absorbed the brunt of the shockwave, but the residual blast still whipped at his hair and grey robe.
He glanced back at position number seven.
The cultivator who had deliberately overloaded his spiritual energy had vanished in the chaos of the explosion.
"A traitor inside," Jerry murmured.
With the remaining seventeen wands neutralized by the severed chain, Jerry moved around, sending his wand's magic through the floor to systematically dismantle their circuits one by one. The titans on the dais recovered from the aftermath of the explosion, the scene descending into chaos.
Jerry moved amidst the confusion.
Apparition.
His figure vanished from the dais, appearing the very next instant right where Yin Luo stood on the cliff terrace.
Yin Luo was leaning against the railing, the hem of her robes fluttering faintly in the gorge winds.
Seeing Jerry pop into existence before her, she reached out and grabbed him by the collar.
"You're insane."
"Hold off on scolding me." Jerry let himself be dragged half a step forward. "The guy who intentionally triggered the bomb ran. The Heavenly Secrets Pavilion will definitely claim this was a setup I orchestrated. Next thing you know, the entire venue will be hunting me down. I need to hide first."
"Hide where?"
"In your dress."
Yin Luo's black-lacquered nails released his collar.
She looked down at her own robes.
The robes of the Myriad Demons Palace were dramatically voluminous; the fabric of the front and back hems combined was enough to wrap three Jerrys.
She then looked at Jerry's five-foot stature.
"...Can you fit?"
"Lift it up."
Yin Luo grabbed the back hem of her robe with her right hand. Jerry crouched and ducked inside. The top of his head barely reached her waistline; curled beneath her robes, he was completely concealed by the cascading fabric front and back.
From the outside, it looked like Yin Luo was standing alone on the terrace, nothing out of the ordinary visible beneath her robes.
Jerry's face pressed against the sheer nude stocking on Yin Luo's inner thigh. The matte texture of the nylon rubbed against his cheek with fine, dense friction. His breath puffed against her inner thigh, the heat seeping through the knit pores to sear her skin.
Yin Luo squeezed her thighs together.
Her two stocking-clad thighs clamped down on Jerry's head from both sides. Not with the force to strangle him, but with a firm "stay put and don't move" pressure. The inner thigh muscles pressed flush against both his cheeks, the matte texture of the nylon brushing against his ears and jawline.
"Don't move." Yin Luo's voice drifted down from above. "If you move, my skirt will bulge from the outside."
Jerry didn't move. But his nose rested exactly against the crotch of Yin Luo's silk panties. The silk fabric brushed his nasal bridge, and he could smell the lingering body heat and a faintly damp, intimate scent clinging to the cloth.
"Where is your nose?"
"On your crotch."
Yin Luo clamped her thighs a fraction tighter.
"Next time you hide, clarify which direction your face is pointing first."
"Too late for that. You lifted the skirt yourself."
The commotion in the venue below grew louder. The voice of the Heavenly Secrets Pavilion Master boomed over the acoustic arrays, predictably accusing Jerry of being the mastermind behind the deliberate detonation. Cultivators from various sects began scouring the perimeter of the venue for him. Several sweeps of divine sense washed over the cliff terrace. Leaning against the railing, Yin Luo's expression snapped back to her usual languid, aloof indifference.
"Elder Yin Luo of the Myriad Demons Palace." A transmission talisman drifted to her ear. "May I ask if you saw where that wizard went?"
"I saw nothing. I have been standing on the terrace this entire time. The explosion startled me, so I shrank back behind the railing." Yin Luo's voice carried a tremor of lingering fright; her acting was utterly flawless.
The transmission talisman drifted away.
Jerry's head remained clamped between Yin Luo's thighs. His nose rested against the silk crotch of her panties; every breath he took left a tiny damp patch of condensed heat on the fabric. Stimulated by the heat of his breath, the muscles of Yin Luo's thighs contracted subtly. The contraction pulled the stocking fabric tighter, shifting the sensation against his cheeks from "pressing" to "wrapping."
"Can you breathe a little lighter?" Yin Luo's voice came from above. "You're making me ticklish."
"If I hold my breath, I'll lack oxygen. If I lack oxygen, I'll faint. If I faint, I'll fall. If I fall, your skirt will bulge."
"Then breathe in a different direction."
"My face is clamped by your thighs; I can only breathe forward. Forward is your crotch."
Yin Luo relaxed her thighs by half a centimeter.
"Turn your head. Face sideways."
Jerry attempted to turn his head to the right. His left cheek slid against the sheer stocking of her right inner thigh, shifting his nose away from the crotch of her panties toward the root of her right leg. But his movement tugged the fabric of Yin Luo's robe, causing the front hem to bulge slightly at her lower abdomen.
"Stop." Yin Luo clamped her thighs tight again. "Too much movement. People are looking this way."
Jerry's face was squeezed back to the front. His nose returned to its spot against the crotch of her panties.
He stayed quiet for a few seconds.
Then he opened his mouth.
The tip of his tongue slipped past his lips, pressing flat against the silk fabric covering her crotch.
Yin Luo's abdominal muscles contracted sharply.
"What are you doing."
"I'm facing this way anyway. Might as well find something to do."
"You are currently fleeing for your life."
"Fleeing for my life is one thing; keeping my mouth occupied is another. Two different matters."
Yin Luo's thighs squeezed and released. She wanted to reach under her skirt and shove his head aside, but her hands were currently resting on the railing. If she suddenly thrust a hand under her dress, the cultivators sweeping the area from the opposite terrace would instantly spot the anomaly.
Jerry's tongue traced a slow circle over the crotch of her panties, right through the silk.
The fabric turned semi-transparent under the moisture of his tongue. The silk panties were whisper-thin to begin with; soaked in his saliva, they clung flush against her skin, revealing the distinct contours of her labia beneath the cloth. His tongue glided upward along that contour, reaching the position of her clitoris, grinding over the small nub through the thoroughly soaked silk.
Yin Luo's fingers locked tightly onto the railing. Her black-lacquered nails scraped the stone surface, producing a faint, scratching skrrt.
"...Your timing is impeccable." Her voice squeezed through gritted teeth. "Tens of thousands of people are hunting for you, and you're under my skirt licking me."
"It only works if it's thrilling." Jerry's voice was muffled beneath the fabric. "If you don't like it, I'll stop."
Yin Luo didn't tell him to stop.
Instead, her thighs relaxed to open a one-centimeter gap, giving Jerry's head more room to maneuver.
Jerry clamped his teeth on the edge of the panty crotch, tugging it to the right. The silk fabric was pulled aside from the center of her vulva, exposing the patch of skin glistening with saliva and intimate juices beneath. His tongue pressed directly against her bare labia.
Yin Luo's knees buckled slightly. The movement was imperceptible from the outside, but Jerry felt the instant contraction and release of her thigh muscles.
His tongue stroked from the bottom of her labia to the top, dragging over the edges of her inner lips, reaching the hood of her clitoris. He used the tip of his tongue to nudge the hood upward, coaxing the very tip of her clit out from its sheath. Then his tongue enveloped it entirely, wrapping around the pea-sized nub and sucking hard.
Yin Luo's body, leaning against the railing, pitched forward by two degrees. Her fingers gripped the stone white-knuckled. Her lips pressed shut, drawing short, sharp breaths through her nose at double her usual tempo.
"Elder Yin Luo."
A voice called out from the other side of the terrace. It was a Guardian Elder from the Myriad Demons Palace.
"The Palace Master has sent a message. Inquiring about the progress of the summit."
The languid mask instantly snapped back into place on Yin Luo's face. The corner of her mouth even curved into an impeccably poised smile.
"Tell the Palace Master there was a minor incident, but nothing serious. The summit will continue. I shall handle the voting."
"Understood."
The Guardian Elder turned and left.
The very second he walked away, Jerry's tongue went to work again. This time, he slipped two fingers inside as well. His index and middle fingers slipped into her vaginal opening, the pads pressing slowly inward against her anterior wall. Yin Luo's canal clenched the instant his fingers entered, warm nectar surging from the walls to envelop his digits.
When Yin Luo exhaled through her nose, a short, sharp nasal hitch slipped out. So faint, only she and the boy beneath her skirt could hear it.
"You're going to have to wash my dress for me later," she whispered through gritted teeth.
Jerry didn't answer. His tongue traced circles around her clitoris while his two fingers curled upward to press against the anterior wall of her canal. Wet, squelching sounds emanated from inside the skirt, muffled largely by the heavy, overlapping layers of her robes; from the outside, it sounded like nothing more than the faintest rustle of fabric rubbing in the wind.
The search in the venue below continued. Reports from cultivators of various sects echoed constantly through the acoustic arrays. No one thought to look under the skirt of a Myriad Demons Palace Elder.
Yin Luo leaned against the railing, her face bearing the aloof indifference expected of an Elder, her fingers clutching the stone edge. The skin of her inner thighs erupted in fine goosebumps under the coordinated assault of Jerry's tongue and fingers; the sheer nude stocking fabric was soaked in several patches by the juices weeping from her core.
"Hurry up and finish," she murmured at a volume only the man beneath her skirt could hear. "The people below are coming up to report any minute now."
Jerry's fingers picked up the pace.
Curling his index and middle fingers into hooks inside her canal, his pads ground against the textured patch of her anterior wall, dragging outward.
With every scrape, Yin Luo's vaginal walls convulsed, the force of the contractions sucking his fingers deeper inside.
Nectar gushed from the depths to coat his fingers, running down between his knuckles to his palm, dripping from his palm onto his own chin.
The tip of his tongue remained pinned against her clit.
Pressing flat, he ground downward, reaching the base before flicking back to the tip, looping in continuous cycles.
Saliva and pussy juice mingled together, drenching Yin Luo's entire vulva until it was dripping wet.
The liquid streamed down her inner thighs, soaking into the knit fibers of her stockings, turning the matte nude nylon at her mid-thighs a shade darker.
"Elder Yin Luo."
Another transmission talisman drifted over.
Yin Luo's fingers squeezed the railing until her knuckles cracked.
"What is it." Her voice was tightly controlled, but the trailing syllable was clipped shorter than usual.
"The Heavenly Secrets Pavilion is sweeping the blast site for residual magic.
They request that all sect delegates remain within the terrace sector awaiting further instructions."
"Understood."
The transmission talisman drifted away.
Jerry let out a muffled chuckle beneath her skirt. His lips were pressed flush against Yin Luo's labia; as he laughed, the vibration transferred directly onto her mucous membranes like an ultra-low-frequency massage. The root of Yin Luo's thighs shuddered.
"What are you laughing at."
"They're not letting you leave. Perfect."
"You did that on purpose."
Jerry's response was to slip a third finger inside.
As three fingers wedged side-by-side into her entrance, the sphincter stretched to a width that made Yin Luo's lower back flinch half a centimeter. Jerry's fingers were slenderer than an average adult man's, but three packed together still boasted considerable girth. As his knuckles ground inward, the walls stretched, squeezing out an abundant gush of clear nectar from the depths. The fluid squeezed out of the gaps, trailing over the back of Jerry's hand, dripping steadily down.
The wet sounds grew louder.
The pumping motion of three fingers dragged fluid in and out; every thrust elicited a wet squelch, every withdrawal pulled a string of popping bubbles. Amplified within the confined space of the skirt, the sounds were deafening inside, yet completely muffled by the heavy robes outside, reduced to a faint, rustling shhh-shhh resembling crumpled fabric rubbing in the wind.
Yin Luo shifted her weight heavier against the railing.
Bracing her hands on the top edge of the stone balustrade, she tilted her upper body five degrees forward, shifting the weight of her lower body slightly backward. This posture caused her buttocks to arch upward slightly, pulling the back hem of her skirt taut over her curves. From the outside, she simply looked like an Elder casually leaning over the railing to observe the venue below.
Jerry felt the shift in her posture. With her lower back arched, the angle of her canal shifted, aligning the curve of his three fingers perfectly against the contour of her anterior wall. His pads ground against the wall, scraping all the way from the entrance to the absolute depths; the moment his fingertips struck the deepest recesses, her walls spasmed violently, unleashing a second tidal wave of nectar. This gush was far more voluminous, drenching his fingers completely, spilling through the gaps to soak his entire palm.
Yin Luo's breathing rhythm derailed.
It wasn't visible from the outside. But with Jerry's face pressed against her inner thigh, he could hear the frequency of her diaphragm heaving within her abdomen. What was once a steady breath every three seconds had escalated to one every second and a half, and the tail end of every exhalation carried a microscopic, trembling whimper that she forcefully bit back with her lips.
His tongue lifted from her clitoris.
Thinking he was going to stop, Yin Luo squeezed her thighs inward.
Jerry didn't stop. Moving his tongue from her clit down to the opening of her canal, he licked a full circle around the rim stretched wide by his three fingers. His tongue lapped up the nectar overflowing the entrance, swallowing a mouthful before pressing the flat of his tongue right into the seam between his fingers and her vaginal walls.
"What are you doing..." Yin Luo's voice squeezed through her teeth.
"Eating."
"Eating what."
"Eating what you're leaking. Tastes good. Better than the blood tea you brew."
Yin Luo bit her lower lip hard. She wanted to clamp his head between her thighs to shut him up, but her thigh muscles had lost all strength. Her entire leg from the knee up was weak; the muscle fibers, overwhelmed by sustained waves of pleasure, had lost the ability to actively contract, twitching passively in time with the rhythm of Jerry's fingers.
Pulling his tongue back from the entrance, Jerry pressed it back against her clitoris. Simultaneously, the pumping tempo of his three fingers shifted from medium to rapid. The force of his knuckles grinding against her anterior wall intensified; with every scrape, he could feel the walls spasm two or three times around his fingers. The nectar was whipped into a white froth by the high-frequency pumping, squeezing out of the entrance to coat his lips and chin.
The wet sounds could no longer be hidden.
Squelch-squelch-squelch.
Yin Luo's toes curled tight inside her stilettos. Her heels knocked twice against the flagstones, producing two sharp clicks. She immediately shifted her center of gravity, stabilizing the heels with the balls of her feet. But her calves trembled, her knees shook, her entire leg from thigh to ankle quivering uncontrollably.
Two rogue cultivators walked past on the opposite side of the terrace. They cast a glance in Yin Luo's direction. Yin Luo wore her eternally languid expression, the corners of her mouth even curved into a polite smile. The rogue cultivators suspected nothing, bowed respectfully, and walked on.
During the three seconds it took them to bow, Jerry's three fingers ruthlessly scraped the deepest recesses of her canal three times.
Yin Luo nodded slightly to acknowledge the cultivators. As she nodded, the polite smile on her lips twitched by 0.5 millimeters.
The cultivators walked away.
Yin Luo lifted one hand from the railing, pressing it against her lower abdomen. Through the fabric of her robes, her fingertips felt the rhythmic thrusting of Jerry's fingers inside her. She didn't know why she pressed there. Perhaps to suppress the heavy, aching pressure sinking into her pelvis. Or perhaps simply to confirm exactly where the thing churning inside her was located.
"Are you close." Her voice had changed entirely, shifting from "squeezed through clenched teeth" to a "breathy whisper bubbling up from the bottom of her throat."
"Are you saying you're close, or asking if I'm close."
"I'm asking you. How much longer."
"I get there after you do."
"...What logic is that."
"When you climax, your canal clamps down. Once it clamps down and sucks my fingers so tight I can't pull them out, I'll know you're finished."
Yin Luo's black nails carved a white scratch across the railing.
Jerry's tongue suddenly changed its motion against her clitoris. From tracing circles, it shifted to rapid side-to-side flicking. His tongue moved so fast that Yin Luo felt as though that spot was being crushed by something vibrating. Simultaneously, his three fingers curled upward deep inside her canal and locked against the anterior wall without moving, replacing the pumping motion with relentless, sustained pressure.
The dual stimulation hit her at once.
Yin Luo's lower back collapsed abruptly. Her entire upper body sprawled over the railing, her hands gripping the edges, all ten black nails digging into the crevices of the stone. Hidden beneath her skirt, the muscles along her inner thighs locked tight from knee to groin, pulling taut as twin iron rods.
The climax detonated from the absolute depths of her lower abdomen.
Her vaginal walls contracted violently from top to bottom in the same instant. Her three fingers were wrung in a death grip, his knuckles squeezed so tightly by the contracting force they nearly overlapped. Nectar erupted from the depths of her walls in such volume it instantly flooded every microscopic gap between his fingers and her flesh, the excess fluid gushing out to splash directly across Jerry's face.
His entire face caught the blast dead-on.
From forehead to chin, from nasal bridge to the corners of his mouth—drenched in warm, transparent fluid carrying a faintly sweet, musky tang. The liquid dripped down his face onto his neck, soaking the collar of his grey robe.
The sustaining phase of the climax sapped the last ounces of strength from Yin Luo's thighs. Her knees buckled inward, her center of gravity nearly slipping right off the railing. Jamming her elbows onto the edge, she anchored herself in a half-sprawled posture, her belly pressed against the top of the balustrade, her breathing so ragged every gasp carried a faint, trembling whimper.
The inner layers of her skirt, from waistline to knees, were completely soaked.
Nectar and intimate juices drenched the inner lining of her robes, seeping into the fibers of the outer fabric. On the inner side of the back hem, the sheer nude stockings encasing her inner thighs turned dark and semi-transparent. The fluid even ran down her stockings to her calves, pooling in a small puddle in the hollows behind her knees.
Jerry pulled his fingers from her canal.
His three fingers were coated in a slurry of white froth and clear nectar, dripping wet from tip to base. He flicked the crotch of her panties back from the right side, covering her still-twitching vulva. The silk fabric was instantly soaked the moment it touched her skin, turning into a semi-transparent wet cloth clinging to her flesh.
"Finished," he whispered from beneath the skirt.
Sprawled over the railing, it took Yin Luo several seconds to find her voice.
"...My skirt."
"Soaked."
"My stockings."
"Also soaked."
"How am I supposed to walk from the terrace to my seat like this later."
"Let it air dry inside?"
Yin Luo lifted a hand from the railing, smacking Jerry on the crown of his head right through the fabric of her skirt.
"Cast a Cleaning Charm first, you idiot."
Jerry's wand flared within the skirt. The magic of the Cleaning Charm washed outward from the tip, vaporizing the liquid saturating the inner lining into an ultra-fine mist. The mist drifted out from the hem of the robe, forming a small patch of white fog on the flagstones by Yin Luo's feet, looking as though someone had lit a stick of incense at her ankles.
The liquid on the stockings evaporated as well. The nude fabric regained its matte texture. Only the skin on Yin Luo's inner thighs still bore a faint, lingering flush—the aftermath of sustained friction and engorgement, which would take time to fade.
Curled up beneath the skirt, Jerry waited for Yin Luo's signal to emerge.
"Don't come out yet." Yin Luo's voice recovered its languid drawl, though it carried a slight rasp. "The search isn't over. Stay inside, walk down with me to the seats. Once we sit down, crawl out from under my chair, Apparate back to the terrace, and walk down openly from another direction."
"Walking that far under your skirt, won't your hem bulge out?"
"It won't. The robes of the Myriad Demons Palace are excessively voluminous. I usually hide three flying swords under my skirt and no one notices. Besides, you're not much taller than a blade."
"You're comparing me to a flying sword."
"You did perform like a flying sword just now." Yin Luo flicked him on the head through the skirt again. "Fast and lethal."