The cutting wind of high altitudes lashed the spiritual-wood hull of the Flying Galleon, but the interior of the main cabin was an oasis of dense, suffocating warmth.
The heavy ebony doors were locked. The air smelled of burning sandalwood incense, of wine spilled from the former owner's cup, and of the damp iron that stained Yù Méi's skin. High-grade spirit stones crackled in the vessel's core, propelling them across the continent at a speed that tore through clouds.
At the center of the luxurious chamber, reclined over the thick quartz fur of the captain's chaise, Zhì Yuǎn breathed in a soft, silent rhythm. The man's large, calloused hand rested on the curve of Bái Wǎn's waist as she slept a sweet and peaceful sleep nestled in his lap, her chubby face buried against the warm chest of his charcoal-gray tunic.
Beside him, Yù Qíng remained kneeling on the polished wooden floor. The woman in the navy-blue dress rested her pale cheek against her husband's thigh. Curled at her feet, Qīng Yǔ sighed softly, accepting the slow, absent strokes Yù Qíng gave through her cyan hair.
The family's lethal peace contrasted brutally with the sound of the rug being scratched on the other side of the room.
Yù Méi was sprawled on her back, her long bare legs exposed through the slits of golden silk. The girl raised her own hands in the dim light, her almond-shaped irises blazing in living gold as she admired the dark blood of Young Master Jiǎng Wēi drying between her knuckles. She made no move to wash them, rubbing her dirty thumb against her index finger.
"The ribcage of that insect felt like it was made of rotten twigs," Yù Méi grumbled, her guttural voice vibrating as she bared her canines in an impatient grin. "I barely put my shoulder into it and he was already coughing up his own lungs. These eastern heirs have softer shells than the boars on our mountain."
Leaning upright and regal against one of the cabin's ebony pillars, Huáng Bìyù let out a low contralto laugh. The scarlet dress embraced the warrior's voluptuous curves with perfection.
"Arrogance makes the bones porous, little sister," Bìyù agreed, her liquid-amber eyes fixed solely on the man seated at the center of the room. "They spend so much time sitting on wooden thrones that they forget how hard the ground is when the ceiling collapses on top of them."
A few steps away from the group, Mò Yán's focused silence reigned.
Kneeling on the rug, the young woman was finishing breaking the animic seals on five storage rings. Mò Yán's Hanfu of purest white silk had a loose collar, her shoulders slightly forward, allowing the colossal weight of her breasts to pull at the golden threads of the fabric. The constant feverish flush stained the woman's pale neck, descending along her wide-open neckline. She sweated lightly, her full lips parted as she breathed the same saturated air as her husband.
Mò Yán turned her hand, and the contents of the former Grand Elder's pocket dimension poured onto the rug with a metallic crash. Crude stones, cheap vials, and dull weapons rolled across the floor.
Beside her, Lín Jié propped her chin on her pale hands, her green eyes glinting with contempt, the heavy jade-green velvet Hanfu straining under her mature breathing.
"Crude steel swords and Qi pills that reek of badly cured herbs?" Lín Jié scoffed, nudging the little pile of junk with her bare foot. "That sect's budget was a bad joke, Yán. This isn't even good enough to line the bottom of our coffers."
Mò Yán's scarlet irises swept across the pile, discarding the trash with trembling hands full of anticipation. Her eyes stopped abruptly.
In the middle of a heap of torn scrolls, a thick plate lay. The square was forged in Black Silver Jade, locked by three ancient blood seals. Mò Yán injected a fraction of her energy. The runes evaporated with an acrid hiss.
Upon reading the coordinates carved into the jade's core, Mò Yán's breath faltered. That colossal chest rose and fell in a breathless lurch, and the fever on her neck set her ears ablaze.
"What did the dust hide?" Yù Qíng's voice cut through the dimness. She raised her pale face from her husband's thigh, her black eyes locking onto her sister.
Mò Yán didn't answer from where she sat. She crawled across the black velvet rug. Moving on trembling legs, she dragged her knees until she stopped centimeters from Zhì Yuǎn's chaise. She leaned her torso forward boldly. The white silk fought violently against gravity, offering her full neckline to the man in the charcoal-gray tunic's gaze.
"The accounting of the dead hid a delicious banquet, husband," Mò Yán's melodious voice flowed, muffled, her lips trembling in a submissive smile heavy with filthy irony. Her scarlet irises held his gaze. "The Court of the Absolute Blade discovered an intact mausoleum from the Golden Age beneath their own mountain range. The Tomb of the Emperor of a Thousand Blades."
The unfathomable void in Zhì Yuǎn's eyes dissolved, giving way to a calm, heavy, and utterly captivated gleam.
"They summoned the lesser dogs you just crushed to help dismantle the outer arrays in secret," Mò Yán purred, her warm breath grazing his knee as she raised the jade plate with both hands. "Their steel doors are locked, my love. But we both know no lock holds when you decide to break the door down."
Yù Méi leapt from the rug, landing on her knees. The golden girl's wide grin revealed her teeth.
"A dead Emperor surrounded by the finest blades in this stretch of land?" Yù Méi's body tensed under the silk, her blood-stained palms spreading open in the air. "And we're flying right over the roof of their house. By our heaven, I take back what I said. That little brat was actually good for something!"
Zhì Yuǎn raised his right hand. The Black Silver Jade plate floated from Mò Yán's trembling fingers directly into the man's calloused palm. His dark, measured gaze dropped to the diplomat's breathless neckline, silently acknowledging the hunger being offered, before focusing on the stone.
He needed no technique. The tomb's geodesic location, the atmospheric pressure of the Court's valley, and the patterns of the underground locks were all dissected and carved into his mind.
The precious stone crumbled to gray dust between the man's fingers.
The silence that followed was brief and charged. All the women felt the exact moment their husband's interest awakened — a new weight in the air, a gravity that pulled their gazes toward him like iron to a magnet.
"The world tries to hide its banquets in the deepest drawers," Zhì Yuǎn's deep voice reverberated against the cabin's wood, overflowing with a predatory hunger that made every woman's veins burn. He adjusted the collar of his charcoal-gray tunic. "But they always let the smell leak out."
He turned his face toward the thick cabin walls, his voice projecting directly toward the helm.
"Mò Zhōng. The compass has changed," Zhì Yuǎn ordered. "Turn the helm fifteen degrees north. We're landing our carriage directly on the roof of their imperial tomb."
From outside, the butler's hoarse and loyal voice echoed against the howling wind.
"As the Master commands!"
The Flying Galleon gave a majestic lurch. Thud. The heavy spiritual-wood beams groaned beneath their feet, correcting course fifteen degrees to the true east. The kinetic force pushed the air inside the luxurious cabin — but what truly suffocated the atmosphere was not the altitude.
It was the smell of fresh blood, sandalwood, and the thick Yin that simmered to the edge of collapse.
On the black velvet rug, Yù Méi panted. Hah... hah... The warrior uncrossed her legs, rubbing her bare knees together as she dragged herself across the floor until she was directly in front of Zhì Yuǎn's quartz chaise. The adrenaline of the massacre moments before, compounded by the sight of Zhì Yuǎn rewriting the map of the world with a single command, had melted her defenses.
She made no move to hide her filth. Yù Méi raised her blood-darkened palms, crusted with dried red, directly toward her husband's face. The carnivorous grin split her lips, her warm breath begging for friction.
Yù Qíng, still leaning against the man's thigh, smiled languidly, her black eyes gleaming with hunger.
"The youngest is dripping just from watching you reroute the world…" she murmured, her voice velvety and cruel. "The journey is long, husband. Let her drool for you."
The lethargy in Zhì Yuǎn's eyes was swallowed by a dense, non-negotiable fire. The man in the charcoal-gray tunic moved. Clack. His dark leather boot touched the polished wood. The gravity of the room sank instantly around him.
Zhì Yuǎn's large, calloused hand seized Yù Méi's nape, his fingers threading through her golden hair, and he crushed his mouth against hers in a deep, voracious kiss. "Mnnn!" Yù Méi whimpered at once, his scorching tongue invading the girl's warm cavity.
While he kissed her, an invisible thread of the Law of Water materialized in the air. Sploosh. Crystal-clear, ice-cold water crashed down over Yù Méi, washing her hands, her face, and her entire body in a fraction of a second. The dark blood evaporated, but the thermal shock plastered the golden silk against her generous flesh, leaving the girl perfectly drenched and breathless under his mouth. Riiiiip! Zhì Yuǎn tore the wet dress from neck to thigh in a single pull and shoved her onto her back against the rug. His incandescent shaft, throbbing with heat, buried itself in the youngest's slick entrance all at once.
Slap!
Zhì Yuǎn growled against her mouth, thrusting deep without mercy. "Look at me while I fill you, Méi. You're mine."
"AAAAAH! HUSBAND!" Yù Méi screamed at the top of her lungs, her spine arching violently against the velvet.
The warrior's walls had no time to resist. Zhì Yuǎn didn't deliver mere friction; he channeled a surgical current of Qi directly into her internal nerves. The overwhelming thermal massage fried Yù Méi's biological resistance in seconds. She threw her head back, drool trailing from the corner of her mouth as her nails raked across his broad arms. In less than a minute of crushing thrusts, the blonde howled, her eyes rolling back as the first climax obliterated her, gushing fluids profusely against her husband's skin.
Before Yù Méi's body had even stopped trembling, Mò Yán crawled forward urgently. The pure white silk of her Hanfu had already been discarded on the floor. Completely bare, her breasts swaying heavily and her neck painted in a feverish, near-sickly flush, Mò Yán shoved Yù Méi's numb leg aside with breathless, possessive impatience.
The white-haired woman rose on her knees on the rug, throwing her pale arms around his broad neck. "My earth thirsts too, husband..." Mò Yán panted, her voice thick with lust as she tilted her own generous hips toward him. Without hesitation, Zhì Yuǎn drove his hands into the diplomat's thick thighs, guiding his shaft — still soaked with Yù Méi's essence — directly against the young woman's cleft. He impaled her while both remained on their knees on the cabin floor. Slurp... Slap!
"That's it… take all of it, my snow." He growled against her mouth.
"NNGH! My heaven!" Mò Yán choked, her nails digging into the man's shoulders as she felt the scalding thickness invade her core all at once. She took his lips in a desperate kiss, the two bodies rocking in a dense, heavy rhythm in the same position, her colossal breasts crushing against his open tunic.
The sight of that chaotic possession swallowed the rest of the room. Devotion knew no waiting. Sliding silently across the rug, Bái Wǎn crawled to Zhì Yuǎn's back. The young former academic wrapped her arms around the man's broad shoulders from behind. Her full, soft lips began distributing hickeys and wet kisses across his sweaty neck, her warm tongue tracing the god's earlobe with an intoxicating adoration.
"Mnn... my God smells so good..." Bái Wǎn whispered, inhaling the ozone on his skin.
On the other side, Qīng Yǔ abandoned her stillness. The Celestial Feather wrapped herself around Mò Yán from behind. Yǔ pressed her own soft breasts against the diplomat's bare back, the healing fairy's tongue licking the sweet sweat from Mò Yán's nape and shoulders. Yǔ's right hand slid forward, grabbing and firmly kneading one of the young white-haired woman's colossal breasts, drawing a muffled whimper from her mouth. The fairy's left hand descended deeper, sliding over the curve of Mò Yán's rear and beginning to stimulate her back entrance in sync with the brutal thrusts Zhì Yuǎn was delivering at the front. "A-AAHHH! Yǔ... fuck... like th-that I'm going to... aahn!" Mò Yán wept against Zhì Yuǎn's mouth, her mind melting under the double assault.
On the cabin floor, Huáng Bìyù didn't stay out. The Valkyrie lay on her back across the plush rug and slid her own soft, formidable body beneath the hips of the two women kneeling above. Looking up, Bìyù found the noisy connection where the man's incandescent shaft entered and left the diplomat's body. The scarlet warrior parted her lips and put her warm tongue to work. She began licking the base of his member with each withdrawal, and grazing her tongue directly against Mò Yán's swollen folds with each advance, savoring the fluids of both simultaneously.
The cabin became an epicenter of pure carnal chaos — overlapping moans, the crack of sweaty skin, and an ocean of thick nectar.
For nearly forty minutes, the rhythm did not cease. The titanic friction and the neural Qi massage ground down each woman's breath. They collapsed against the rugs and began again, weeping in uncontrollable spasms, mortal flesh failing before the continuous overload of that possession.
Lín Jié was on all fours over the velvet sheets. The ink woman's voluptuous, mature body arched violently. Positioned directly behind her, Zhì Yuǎn drove into her with brutal thrusts. The god held both of the bureaucrat's wrists, pulling her arms back with unyielding force, stretching her joints and forcing Lín Jié's full torso to pitch completely forward and down.
Directly beneath Lín Jié's curved body, Yù Qíng lay on her back. The priestess in blue took full advantage of the new sister's helpless submission. With her icy pale hands, Yù Qíng grasped the ink woman's colossal breasts as they hung heavily over her face. The firstborn massaged the mature flesh with possessiveness, her warm tongue licking the sweat from the valley between them, her teeth grazing and nibbling Lín Jié's swollen nipples in absolute sync with every dense impact her husband delivered from behind.
"Hold on for me, Jié," he grunted, pulling her wrists back harder. "I want to feel you come apart."
Slap! Slap! Slap!"AAAAAH! Sister... husband... fuck!" Lín Jié howled at the top of her lungs, her mature voice tearing through her throat as the double friction obliterated her.
The Primordial Mill in the bureaucrat's core spun far beyond her physically bearable limit. With a low growl, Zhì Yuǎn drove his hips in an abyssal thrust and began to release. The torrent of volcanic seed flooded Lín Jié's womb with the force of a cataclysm. The massive injection of Primordial Qi, combined with the hyperstimulation of her breasts from below, was too much. Lín Jié's green eyes rolled back, the former secretary's consciousness simply switching off mid-orgasm — the most violent of her life. Her full body went limp.
She collapsed heavily, dropping like a dead, sweaty weight directly onto Yù Qíng's body. Zhì Yuǎn did not interrupt the release. With his incandescent shaft still buried to the hilt inside the unconscious woman, he continued to pour. For a full minute, the thick, scalding seed flooded Lín Jié's inert depths, filling her cavern to the brim. Crushed beneath the weight of the knocked-out woman, Yù Qíng showed not the slightest discomfort. Completely intoxicated by the smell of semen and ozone that poisoned the air, the priestess held Lín Jié's face in her icy hands. For that entire minute, Yù Qíng kept kissing the parted lips and licking the unconscious woman's face, savoring the residual lust and sweet sweat that seeped from her skin.
With a long, wet sound, Zhì Yuǎn finally withdrew. The excess of nectar and seed spilled down Lín Jié's thick thighs, dripping and sliding warm directly onto Yù Qíng's abdomen and pale legs — and the priestess smiled beneath the unconscious woman.
Without breaking the stride of his own Hunger, the god repositioned. The priestess's legs were already splayed beneath Lín Jié's inert body. Zhì Yuǎn advanced over the tangle, seized Yù Qíng's hips between Lín Jié's thighs, and buried himself in the firstborn all at once.
"NNGH! My heaven... mnnn!" Yù Qíng howled, her spine arching violently against the velvet bed.
The dynamic became absurdly dense. Yù Qíng was being massacred by her husband's merciless thrusts from below while bearing the full, warm weight of Lín Jié's unconscious body crushing her chest and abdomen. The friction of three sweaty bodies, and the scalding seed still leaking from Lín Jié's intimacy rubbing directly against Yù Qíng's core and belly with each crashing thrust of the penetration, catapulted the priestess into a sickening state of hyperstimulation.
The sadistic and devout mind of the woman in blue melted. She closed her arms around the unconscious woman's neck with desperate strength. As Zhì Yuǎn's hips collided against her pelvis, lifting the bed from the floor, Yù Qíng buried her face in Lín Jié's neck, sucking the bureaucrat's skin, licking her cheek and biting her sister's lips to muffle her own screams of profane pleasure.
"Ahhh! Break me, husband... crush me under her weight... ahnnn!" Yù Qíng's velvety voice shredded into pure orgasmic delirium.
Minutes later, the sensory overload obliterated the priestess. Yù Qíng came violently, her legs wrapping around Zhì Yuǎn's waist as she squeezed Lín Jié's heavy body against her own breasts, whimpering and shaking in crushing spasms. Zhì Yuǎn clenched his jaw, his heavy breath dominating the air. He drove his throbbing length into the firstborn's depths and came. The torrent filled the bottom of Yù Qíng's womb, and the god held his possession unyielding. He remained pouring into his wife for a full minute and a half, ensuring she overflowed with his cosmic foundation.
"Overflow for me, Qíng," he ordered, his voice low and deep, still buried to the hilt. "I want it running out of you all day."
When he finally withdrew, the man's breath was heavy, lethal, and brilliant with sweat. He looked down at the firstborn, who lay panting and undone beneath Lín Jié's body, her black eyes completely unfocused, drooling into the velvet.
But the Universe in his Dantian still spun, demanding more friction. Zhì Yuǎn's dark gaze turned slowly toward the rug. Yù Méi was there. The golden warrior panted, her canines gleaming as she offered her open thighs. She rubbed her fluid-stained fingers against her own folds, silently begging with her almond eyes for the storm's return, ready to continue the debauchery.
The man in the charcoal-gray tunic lowered his feet to the floor and took a step toward the youngest.
CRAAAACK! THUD!
A violent, massive, deafening impact slammed against the Flying Galleon's hull. The entire ship stopped mid-air with a bone-crushing lurch. The eastern wall's planks screamed, and Lín Jié's unconscious body slid heavily over Yù Qíng, who let out a startled shriek at the impact. The kinetic force dissipated, but the warm air in the cabin cooled instantly. The oxygen lost its humid weight of lust, brutally pierced by a Sword Intent so glacial and sharp that the runic glass window screamed. They had crossed the border. And smashed headlong into a barricade.
Zhì Yuǎn stopped halfway to Yù Méi. The Hunger that had been in full stride was cut at the root and forced back into the depths of his Dantian like poison swallowed dry. The man's rigid member shuddered with frustration, throbbing in absolute dissatisfaction.
The silence in the cabin was frightening. The women scattered across the rug panted in confusion, their nerves screaming for the relief that had been ripped from them. Outside, a rough voice amplified by Qi swept through the howling wind: "Scum of the Scarlet Firmament! Lower your helm and kneel on the deck! You are flying beneath the clouds of the Court of the Absolute Blade. Surrender the Galleon and the rings as toll, or we will shred that rustic wood to splinters and feed your flesh to the frontier hounds!"
Yù Méi, who had already been arching on the floor waiting for penetration, drove her nails into the rug. The warrior's face twisted in a carnivorous, murderous frustration, her canines grinding with hatred at the brutal interruption of the feast.
Propped on the bed, gently pushing Lín Jié's body aside, Yù Qíng swallowed the mixture of saliva she had been exchanging with her sister. The woman's black eyes dropped from the door to her husband's face.
Zhì Yuǎn was adjusting the open charcoal-gray tunic over his sweaty chest, covering the lethal weapon that was still erect. The god's breath was not lethargic; it was heavy, slow, and absurdly dense. The unfathomable void of his eyes had been completely swallowed by a dark, furious, and devastatingly lethal abyss at the pathetic interruption of his table.
---
The heavy double ebony doors slid open. At the galleon's helm, old Mò Zhōng stood motionless as a statue. The 1st Transcendent Stage butler fixed his eyes blindly on the clouds ahead, refusing in absolute terms to turn his face even a single millimeter toward the deck. The smell of boiling Yin and the aura of brutal, unsatisfied lust leaking from the open door would melt the old man's sanity if he dared look.
Outside, twelve Saint Realm cultivators hovered in the air. The will of their Nascent Divinities bent the wind naturally, and strapped across the back of each one rested broad, dark steel greatswords. They did not guard the weapons; the contact with the blade nurtured the Sword Intent within their bodies. The patrol captain sustained a sneer, about to repeat his threat, when the figure of Zhì Yuǎn stepped onto the deck, flanked by the shadows of the cabin.
Yù Méi crossed the threshold right behind him. The golden silk her husband had torn moments ago hung loose, exposing her pale thighs and the sweaty valley of her breasts to the cold wind. Her almond eyes burned, and the girl cracked her knuckles loudly. Mò Yán leaned against the doorframe. The white tunic was thrown carelessly over her shoulders, the neckline wide open and her skin marked by a nearly feverish flush. Yù Qíng did not touch the wood. The woman in blue hovered through the Suspended Lotus, propping her pale chin languidly on her husband's shoulder, her red and swollen lips curving into a somber smile.
The Court of the Absolute Blade's patrol froze. The sanity of the twelve soldiers shattered in the exact millisecond that the sight of those goddesses struck their retinas. The profane beauty and the intoxicating smell of brutal possession that evaporated from the women's skin melted the logic of their minds. Their Nascent Divinities trembled with terror and lust inside their chests. The captain let his hand slip from the hilt of the sword on his back, his jaw dropping as drool pooled at the corner of his mouth. They became statues in the middle of the sky, incapable of averting their gaze from the exposed flesh.
Ignoring the fools' catatonia, Yù Méi scoffed. "Steel flies," the warrior's guttural voice growled. The frustration of being pulled out from beneath her husband had converted into pure bloodlust. "Husband, can I rip their arms off? These bastards made you stop to listen to barking."
Mò Yán adjusted the fabric on her shoulders, her breath still heavy. "Demanding toll from a sky they can't even comprehend…" her scarlet irises overflowed with revulsion at the enemies' imbecile paralysis. "The ignorance of this east is a terminal illness."
Yù Qíng let out a crystalline laugh against Zhì Yuǎn's neck. "The wind they use is so coarse, my love," the priestess whispered. "They strap steel to their backs, but they don't even know how to close their own mouths."
Zhì Yuǎn lowered his hand from his tunic collar. He looked at the twelve idiots drooling in the air, then at the broad swords they bore so proudly strapped to their spines. A crooked, dry, and deeply scornful smile drew itself at the corner of the god's lips.
"Such noise at my door from men who carry such dull blades on their backs," his deep, unshakable voice echoed across the clouds. It was not a shout, but the baritone filled the vast open sky, pressing down upon their souls. "And you waste all that useless breath just to disturb my afternoon."
Zhì Yuǎn took a single step forward. The distortion in the space around him caused gravity to plummet, crushing the patrol's ability to float.
"Learning to walk on the wind does not excuse you from having manners," the man in the dark tunic murmured, raising his right hand slightly. "I was in the middle of a banquet. And you interrupt my table carrying toothpicks. What terrible manners."
The wind stopped howling. The space around the Flying Galleon cracked beneath the bloody light of dusk.