The morning sun of the Azure Dragon Continent did not bring warmth to the Feng Clan's estate; it only illuminated the excess.
Inside the bedchamber, the air was still thick with the scent of sex—a pungent cocktail of musk, seminal fluid, and the copper tang of blood from the virginity he had ruthlessly taken. Feng Wuya stood before a massive mirror carved from Obsidian Spirit Crystal, his arms spread wide.
Mei, naked and covered in drying sweat and his seed, knelt before him. She was trembling, her legs weak from the hour-long ravaging she had endured, but she dared not rest. With shaking hands, she fastened the jade belt around his waist.
"Tighter," Feng Wuya commanded, his voice devoid of the earlier lust, replaced by cold indifference.
Mei whimpered, pulling the sash until it cinched his waist, accentuating the broad V-taper of his torso. She picked up his outer robe—a magnificent garment of black void-silk, embroidered with a four-clawed python in silver thread. It was a symbol of status that placed him above the laws of common men.
Feng Wuya looked at his reflection. The face staring back was handsome in a cruel, sharp way. High cheekbones, thin lips that naturally rested in a sneer, and eyes that held the depth of an abyss.
He glanced down at the bed. Lan was still unconscious, her small, battered body curled into a fetal position amidst the ruined sheets. Her thighs were smeared with blood and white fluid that leaked slowly from her overstretched entrance.
"Send her to the Medicine Hall when she wakes," Feng Wuya said, adjusting his collar. "Give her a Foundation Establishment Pill. If she survives the integration, upgrade her to a Personal Chamber Concubine. If she dies... bury her in the garden."
"Yes... Yes, Master," Mei stammered, kissing the hem of his boot. She was terrified, yet wet. The sheer power he radiated was an aphrodisiac to her servile nature.
Feng Wuya turned and walked out. He didn't look back.
The journey to the Hall of Supreme Justice was a spectacle of tyranny.
Feng Wuya did not walk. He sat upon a palanquin carried by eight muscle-bound slave cultivators, each at the 9th layer of Qi Condensation—men who could be kings in the mortal world, reduced to beasts of burden here.
As the palanquin floated through the Sect's outer districts, disciples scattered like cockroaches exposed to light. They bowed so low their foreheads scraped the dirt, terrified of catching the "Young Master's" eye.
"Look, it's the Devil Feng..."
"Shh! Do you want your tongue cut out?"
"I heard he crippled a disciple yesterday just for breathing too loudly."
Feng Wuya heard them. His heightened senses picked up every whisper. He didn't care. In this world, fear was a currency more valuable than Spirit Stones.
He checked his System interface as the massive bronze doors of the Main Hall loomed ahead.
[Current Event: The annulment of the Engagement.]
[Target: Su Qingyue (Heroine).]
[Antagonist: Ye Chen (Son of Destiny).]
[Objective: Reject the Annulment. Humiliate the Protagonist. Assert Dominance.]
"Boring," Feng Wuya muttered. "Let's make it interesting."
The Hall of Supreme Justice was cavernous. Pillars of white marble rose hundreds of feet into the air, supporting a ceiling painted with moving murals of immortals slaying demons.
Hundreds of Inner Disciples and Elders were gathered, forming a sea of colorful robes. A hush fell over the crowd as Feng Wuya entered. The slaves lowered the palanquin, and he stepped out, his boots clicking echoing loudly on the stone floor.
He walked to his designated seat—a throne of black iron located on the raised dais, right next to the Sect Elders. He sat down, spreading his legs arrogantly, resting his chin on his fist.
In the center of the hall, standing alone in a circle of emptiness, were two figures.
The first was a man. Ye Chen.
He looked ordinary. Unremarkably handsome, wearing the coarse grey robes of an Outer Disciple. But his back was straight, his chin held high in defiant arrogance. He radiated that annoying "unyielding spirit" that protagonist types always had. On his finger, a rusted black ring pulsed with a faint, indiscernible light.
There it is, Feng Wuya thought, his eyes narrowing. The Grandpa Ring.
But Feng Wuya's gaze didn't linger on the trash. It slid to the woman beside him.
Su Qingyue.
The rumors did not do her justice. She was a masterpiece of cold, unapproachable beauty. She wore the snow-white robes of a Direct Disciple, the fabric clinging to a body that was sculpted to perfection.
Her figure was tall and willowy, yet possessing dangerous curves. Her waist was impossibly narrow, emphasizing the flare of her hips. Her breasts were full and high, pushing against the white silk with a majestic pride, their shape perfect teardrops that defied gravity.
But it was her face that captivated. Skin as pale and flawless as glacial ice. Lips the color of a pale rose. Eyes that were clear, cold, and utterly devoid of warmth. She stood there like a statue carved from frozen moonlight, radiating an aura of absolute purity that made men want to defile her just to see if she would break.
[Eye of Sin Activated]
[Target: Su Qingyue]
Identity: Holy Maiden of the Ice Palace / Protagonist's Future Wife.
Physique: Nine-Yin Ice Phoenix Body (Supreme Grade Furnace).
Status: Virgin.
Current State: Disgust (Directed at you), Resolve.
Sexual Potential: Cataclysmic. Taking her virginity will boost the user's cultivation by one entire Major Realm. Her Yin energy is so potent it can freeze a man's soul if not tamed.
Feng Wuya licked his lips. A walking cultivation pill.
"Feng Wuya," Su Qingyue's voice rang out. It was melodious, like ice clinking in a crystal glass, but sharp.
She took a step forward, her cold eyes locking onto his bored expression.
"I have spoken to the Elders," she declared, her voice echoing through the silent hall. "The engagement between the Su Clan and the Feng Clan was made when we were children. It is a relic of the past."
She took a deep breath, her chest heaving slightly, drawing the eyes of every man in the room to the movement of her breasts.
"I, Su Qingyue, seek the Dao. My heart has no room for mortal entanglements. Furthermore..." She paused, her gaze filling with undisguised loathing. "Your reputation, Young Master Feng, is... incompatible with my path. I am here to formally annul the engagement."
The crowd erupted into whispers.
"She actually said it!"
"Slapping the Feng Clan's face in public!"
"She's brave... or stupid."
Ye Chen, standing beside her, stepped forward. He clenched his fists, playing the role of the protective knight. "Feng Wuya! You are a tyrant who bullies the weak and indulges in debauchery! Sister Qingyue is a phoenix soaring in the heavens. She is not someone a scum like you deserves! Sign the papers!"
The silence that followed was deafening.
Feng Wuya didn't move. He didn't rage. He didn't scream.
He simply... laughed.
"Heh."
It was a low, dry chuckle. He stood up slowly, the black python robe rippling around him like smoke. He descended the stairs of the dais, one step at a time. Thud. Thud. Thud.
The pressure in the room spiked. The temperature dropped. Feng Wuya released his cultivation—Foundation Establishment Late Stage—but bolstered by the Eye of Sin, it felt heavier, darker, suffocating.
He walked right past the Elders, past the trembling disciples, until he stood directly in front of Su Qingyue and Ye Chen.
He ignored Ye Chen completely. He treated the "Child of Destiny" like air.
He stopped inches from Su Qingyue. He was a head taller than her. He invaded her personal space, violating the social distance of the cultivation world. He could smell her—a scent of winter plums and clean snow.
"Incompatible?" Feng Wuya repeated softly.
He leaned in, his face close enough to hers that she could feel the heat of his breath. Su Qingyue flinched, her instinct to retreat warring with her pride. She held her ground, glaring at him, but he saw the flicker of fear in her pupils.
"You think this is a negotiation, Su Qingyue?"
"It is a request based on reason," she replied, her voice wavering slightly. "I will return the betrothal gifts tenfold. The Su Clan will compensate you."
"Compensate me?" Feng Wuya smirked. His eyes dropped from her face to her neck, then lower, lingering deliberately on the swell of her breasts beneath the white silk. He looked at them with a gaze so tangible, so filthy, it felt like physical touch. He was mentally undressing her, imagining those white mounds pressed against his chest, imagining her cold expression shattering as he forced her legs apart.
Su Qingyue felt his gaze like slime. She crossed her arms instinctively, her face flushing with anger and shame. "Stop looking at me with those disgusting eyes!"
"You are my fiancée," Feng Wuya whispered, his voice silky and dangerous. "Your body, your soul, your cultivation... they already belong to me. You don't get to sell what isn't yours."
"You...!" Ye Chen interjected, stepping between them. "Don't you dare insult her! Do you think the Feng Clan owns the sky? Thirty years east, thirty years west! Don't bully the young for being poor! Today, I, Ye Chen, challenge you! If I win within three years, you will tear up the contract!"
Feng Wuya finally looked at Ye Chen. He looked at him like one looks at a bug on the sole of a boot.
He raised his hand.
Slap.
It wasn't a technique. It was a simple, backhanded slap. But it was powered by the brute force of his refined body.
CRACK.
Ye Chen didn't even see it coming. The slap connected with his cheek with the sound of a thunderclap. Ye Chen's body spun in the air like a ragdoll, blood and broken teeth spraying in an arc. He crashed into a marble pillar twenty feet away, sliding down in a heap, groaning.
"Ye Chen!" Su Qingyue screamed, horror dawning on her face.
"Too noisy," Feng Wuya said, wiping his hand on a silk handkerchief he pulled from his sleeve, as if he had touched filth.
He turned back to Su Qingyue, who was now trembling—not with anger, but with genuine shock. Ye Chen was the strongest disciple in the Outer Court, yet he was swatted like a fly.
Feng Wuya took another step forward, forcing her to step back. He cornered her against the emptiness of the hall.
"Listen well, Ice Goddess," he murmured, reaching out. His fingers, bold and presumptuous, brushed a stray lock of hair from her cheek. She froze, too terrified to move, sensing the killing intent he was suppressing.
"I accept no annulment. You are mine. You will enter my estate. You will warm my bed. And you will bear my children."
He leaned down to her ear, his voice dropping to a whisper only she could hear—a whisper filled with the explicit, raw truth of his desires.
"I know about your Nine-Yin Ice Phoenix Body, Qingyue. I know that your cold demeanor is just a dam holding back a flood of Yin energy. You think you want to cultivate the Dao? No. Your body was made to be fucked. It was made to be drained."
Su Qingyue's eyes widened to the size of saucers. Her face went completely pale. How... how does he know? That was her deepest secret, one even her Master didn't fully understand.
"I will rip that white dress off you," Feng Wuya continued, his words acting like a verbal assault. "I will spread those long, arrogant legs of yours, and I will cultivate inside you until you forget how to speak, until you can only scream my name. That is your Dao, Su Qingyue. Serving me."
He pulled back, smiling at her terrified, frozen expression.
He raised his voice for the hall to hear.
"The engagement stands! The wedding will be held in three months. If the Su Clan objects..." Feng Wuya's eyes flashed with a red light, sweeping over the crowd. "I will annihilate them. Root and stem. I will turn the Su men into slaves and sell the Su women to the brothels of the Mortal Realm."
He turned on his heel, his robes flaring.
"Let's go. The air here stinks of hypocrisy."
As he walked away, leaving a stunned silence in his wake, Feng Wuya heard the System chime.
[Ding! Villainous Act Complete.]
[Humiliated the Protagonist (Ye Chen): +200 Destiny Points.]
[Psychologically Dominated the Heroine (Su Qingyue): +500 Destiny Points.]
[Su Qingyue's Mental Defense: Cracking.]
[New Shop Item Unlocked: Aphrodisiac of the Fallen Immortal.]
Feng Wuya grinned. The hunt had begun.