The midday sun beat down on the Feng Clan estate, but in Feng Wuya's private study, the air was cool, conditioned by arrays of Ice Spirit Stones.
Feng Wuya sat behind a desk of carved ironwood, swirling a goblet of blood-red wine. The liquid was Hundred-Year Snake Bile Wine, a potent aphrodisiac and cultivation tonic. He wasn't drinking it for pleasure; he was drinking it to fuel the fire in his veins.
His eyes were fixed on the translucent blue screen floating before him.
[Monitoring Target: Ye Chen] [Status: Recovering. Severe facial trauma.] [Current Action: Meditating in the Outer Disciple woods.] [System Alert: The Soul in the Ring (Grandpa) has awakened. Detected a Heavenly Opportunity.] [Opportunity: The Crimson Python Cave in the Cloud Mist Mountains. Contains the Nine-Yang Spirit Grass.] [Effect: Can heal Ye Chen's injuries instantly and push him to the peak of Qi Condensation.] [Time to Acquisition: Ye Chen will depart in 2 hours.]
Feng Wuya swirled the wine, watching the crimson vortex. "Nine-Yang Spirit Grass... A generic treasure for a generic hero. It boosts Yang energy, heals wounds, and strengthens the kidney meridian. Perfect for a virgin boy who needs to power up."
He downed the wine in one gulp. The heat flared in his stomach.
"But I have a use for it too. My Sovereign Yin-Yang Joyous Union Scripture requires immense Yang energy to balance the Yin I harvest from women. If I take it... Ye Chen stays a cripple, and I get stronger."
He set the goblet down with a sharp clack.
"Jiang Li."
He didn't shout. He spoke the name into the empty shadows of the corner of the room.
For a heartbeat, nothing happened. Then, the darkness seemed to peel away from the wall. A figure materialized from the gloom, dropping to one knee with silent, predatory grace.
"Master."
The voice was husky, devoid of emotion, like gravel grinding on silk.
Feng Wuya turned his chair to look at her.
Jiang Li. His personal shadow guard. An orphan raised by the Feng Clan's "Kennel," trained from birth in the arts of assassination, torture, and silence.
She was a stark contrast to the soft, pampered beauty of Su Qingyue or the ripe voluptuousness of Mei. Jiang Li was a weapon sheathed in black beast-hide leather.
The outfit was tactical and incredibly tight, clinging to her body like a second skin. It outlined a figure that was lean, hard, and dangerous. Her shoulders were toned, her arms defined by ropes of functional muscle. The leather vest compressed her chest, flattening what were deceptively large breasts into a tight, solid shelf. Her waist was narrow, leading to hips that were powerful and agile—the hips of a martial artist who generated power from the core.
She wore a mask of black cloth covering the lower half of her face, leaving only her eyes visible. They were sharp, feline eyes, currently fixed on the floorboards.
"Remove the mask," Feng Wuya ordered.
Jiang Li reached up with a gloved hand and pulled the fabric down.
Her face was striking. It wasn't the soft, jade-like beauty of a noblewoman. It was a sharp, fierce beauty. But traversing her left cheek, running from her ear down to her jawline, was a jagged, pale scar—a souvenir from a poisoned dagger meant for the previous Feng Wuya.
To most, it was a disfigurement. To Feng Wuya, it was a mark of ownership.
[Eye of Sin Activated]
[Target: Jiang Li]
Role: Loyal Minion / Hidden Harem Member.
Cultivation: Foundation Establishment - Early Stage.
Loyalty: 100% (Fanatical).
Fetish/Hidden Desire: Pain and Submission. She views herself as a tool. Being used, even sexually, validates her existence. She craves to be "useful" to the Master.
Current State: Aroused (Proximity to Master).
Feng Wuya smiled. A masochist. How convenient.
"Prepare the Wind Chasing Eagle," Feng Wuya said, standing up. "We are going hunting in the Cloud Mist Mountains. Just you and me."
Jiang Li's eyes widened slightly. "Just... us, Master? No other guards?"
"I don't need trash slowing me down. You are enough."
A faint flush crept up Jiang Li's neck. To be the sole protector of the Master was the highest honor. "This subordinate obeys."
The Cloud Mist Mountains were a treacherous range of jagged peaks shrouded in poisonous fog. Screams of beasts echoed from the valleys, warning weak cultivators to stay away.
A massive Wind Chasing Eagle, its wingspan over thirty feet, dove through the clouds. On its back sat Feng Wuya, looking bored, and Jiang Li, who was crouched at the edge of the saddle, scanning the terrain for threats.
The wind whipped against them. Feng Wuya watched Jiang Li from behind. The position she was in—crouched on all fours, balancing against the wind—stretched the black leather over her buttocks. They were round, firm, and incredibly tight. The seam of her trousers dug into her cleft, outlining the twin globes perfectly.
He reached out and slapped her ass. Hard.
SMACK.
The sound was lost to the wind, but the reaction was visceral. Jiang Li gasped, her body jerking, but she didn't lose her balance. She didn't turn around. She merely lowered her head further, her grip on the saddle tightening.
"Good bounce," Feng Wuya commented casually. "Focus, Jiang Li. We're descending."
He steered the eagle toward a hidden ravine choked with red vines. The Crimson Python Cave.
They landed in a clearing of crushed rock. The air here was hot and smelled of sulfur.
"Stay close," Feng Wuya commanded.
They entered the cave. It was dark, illuminated only by the faint red glow of volcanic moss on the walls. The heat was oppressive. Feng Wuya, with his cultivation, felt fine, but he saw sweat beading on Jiang Li's forehead. A drop rolled down her neck, disappearing into the cleavage revealed by her unzipped vest.
Hiss.
A sound like escaping steam echoed from the depths.
From the darkness, a massive shape uncoiled. A Magma Python, easily fifty feet long, its scales glowing like molten iron. It was a peak Qi Condensation beast, on the verge of breaking through to Foundation Establishment.
It lunged, jaws unhinging to reveal fangs dripping with burning venom.
"Trash," Feng Wuya scoffed. He didn't even draw a weapon.
"Master, permit this servant!" Jiang Li shouted, drawing two jagged daggers from her thighs.
She moved like a blur of black shadow. She slid under the python's strike, her leather-clad body skidding across the rock. With a savage cry, she drove the daggers into the soft white scales of the snake's underbelly.
SHHKT.
Hot blood sprayed over her, coating her black leather in glistening red. The snake thrashed, slamming its tail into the wall, collapsing the tunnel entrance.
Jiang Li didn't stop. She used the beast's momentum to vault onto its back. She was a frenzy of violence, stabbing, tearing, ripping. She wasn't fighting like a cultivator; she was fighting like a wild animal.
Finally, she drove both daggers into the snake's eyes. The beast convulsed one last time and slumped dead.
Jiang Li stood atop the carcass, chest heaving. She was drenched in monster blood. It matted her hair, dripped from her chin, and soaked her leather outfit, making it cling even tighter to her curves. She looked terrifying.
She looked magnificent.
She hopped down, landing in front of Feng Wuya, and immediately dropped to one knee.
"Target eliminated. The area is secure, Master."
Feng Wuya walked over to her. He ignored the dead snake and looked at the prize behind it—a small stone pedestal where a single flower bloomed. The Nine-Yang Spirit Grass. It had nine leaves, each glowing with the intensity of a small sun.
He plucked it. The heat burned his fingers, but his body, hungry for Yang, absorbed it greedily.
He stored the herb in his spatial ring. Mission accomplished. Ye Chen would arrive here in an hour to find nothing but a corpse.
Feng Wuya turned back to Jiang Li. She was still kneeling, head bowed, waiting for praise or dismissal. The blood on her face highlighted the scar. Her breathing was ragged, her adrenaline high.
"You are dirty," Feng Wuya said, stepping closer.
"This servant... apologizes. I will clean myself outside..."
"No."
Feng Wuya grabbed her by the throat. Not to choke, but to hold. He lifted her chin. His thumb wiped a smear of hot snake blood from her cheek.
"You look better this way," he murmured. "Violent. Obedient."
He felt the pulse in her neck hammering against his fingers. The Eye of Sin showed her status: [Arousal Level: Critical]. The violence had turned her on. The proximity to him was pushing her over the edge.
"Jiang Li."
"Yes... Master?" Her voice was a breathless whisper.
"The beast's blood is hot. It contains Yang poison. If you don't expel it, it will damage your meridians." This was a half-truth, a cultivator's excuse.
Jiang Li looked up, her eyes hazy. "How... how shall this servant expel it?"
Feng Wuya smiled, a cruel, wolfish grin. He released her throat and pointed to his crotch. The black python robes were loose, and the bulge beneath was unmistakable.
"Suck it out."
Jiang Li froze for a second. Then, a shudder went through her body—not of disgust, but of intense, submissive relief. She didn't need to be forced. She wanted this.
She crawled forward on her knees, the blood-soaked leather squelching softly. Her hands, still gloved and stained with gore, reached out to undo his belt. She was clumsy with eagerness.
As the heavy layers of silk parted, Feng Wuya's member sprang free. It was already semi-hard from the thrill of the theft and the violence. The scent of the snake blood and Jiang Li's feminine musk filled his nose.
Jiang Li stared at it. It was thick, veined, and imposing. She had killed men with smaller weapons than this.
She didn't wait. She leaned forward and took him into her mouth.
"Oh..." Feng Wuya exhaled, his head tilting back.
Her mouth was hot, wet, and incredibly tight. She didn't have the practiced skill of a courtesan like Mei; she was rougher, more enthusiastic. She sucked with the desperation of a starving woman. Her tongue swirled around the head, while her throat worked to accommodate his length.
Feng Wuya placed his hand on the back of her head, tangling his fingers in her blood-matted hair. He began to set the pace, thrusting his hips forward.
Gag. Slurp. Gag.
The sounds echoed in the damp cave. Jiang Li took every inch he gave her, her eyes watering, her nose pressed against his pubic hair. She made muffled noises of worship, her hands gripping his thighs, leaving bloody handprints on his expensive robes.
Feng Wuya looked down. The sight was primitive. The deadly assassin, covered in the gore of her kill, reduced to a kneeling whore serving her master in a dark cave.
"Deeper," he commanded. "Swallow it all."
He fucked her face with increasing intensity. The Sovereign Yin-Yang Joyous Union Scripture began to cycle passively. Even though this wasn't full intercourse, the exchange of fluids and the submission of her will fed him energy. He felt her Chi—sharp, metallic, deadly—flowing into him, adding a razor-edge to his own power.
Jiang Li was moaning around his cock now, her body trembling. The vibration of his thrusts was stimulating her sensitive palate. She was getting off just by serving him.
"I'm going to fill you," Feng Wuya warned, his voice guttural.
He grabbed her hair tighter, pulling her off for a second to look at her face. Her lips were swollen, coated in saliva and his pre-cum. Her eyes were glazed.
"Open your mouth. Tongue out."
She obeyed instantly, sticking out her tongue like a panting dog.
Feng Wuya stroked himself twice and erupted.
Ropes of thick, white transmigrator semen shot across her face, coating her tongue, her chin, and splashing onto the scar on her cheek. It was a humiliating mess, and yet, Jiang Li looked like she had received a blessing from the heavens.
She swallowed what was on her tongue and licked her lips, trying to catch every drop.
[Ding! Interaction Complete.] [Target: Jiang Li. Loyalty solidified.] [Yang Energy vented successfully.]
Feng Wuya adjusted his robes, covering himself. He looked down at her.
"Clean your face," he said, tossing her a clean cloth from his spatial ring. "We're leaving."
"Yes, Master." Jiang Li bowed, clutching the cloth like a treasure.
As they walked out of the cave, the wind howled. Feng Wuya stopped at the entrance and looked down the mountain path.
Far below, a small figure in grey robes was climbing up, struggling against the steep rocks.
Ye Chen.
He looked pathetic. His face was swollen from the slap yesterday. He was sweating, panting, eyes filled with desperate hope.
"Hold on, Grandpa," Feng Wuya heard Ye Chen mutter to his ring, his voice carried by the wind. "I'll get the herb. I'll heal myself and crush that bastard Feng Wuya!"
Feng Wuya chuckled. He patted the pocket where the Nine-Yang Spirit Grass sat.
"Come, Jiang Li," he said, turning away. "Let's go home. I have a wedding to prepare for."
He left the cave empty, waiting for the hero to arrive and find nothing but despair.