Dual Cultivation: Gathering SSS-Rank Wives in the Cultivation World

Chapter 676: Chapter 676 - The Foolish Decision of a Fool

"LIN FENG —" she cried out. The name tore from her throat — involuntary, desperate, the cry of a woman in distress calling for the man she loved.

Lin Feng — in the corridor, blood on his chin, his body broken — heard her. His dark eyes blazed. His Core Formation qi surged — the golden core spinning, the energy building. He tried to rise. His legs buckled. He fell.

"MASTER —" he screamed — not to the hall, not to the elders, not to anyone visible. To the ring. To the spirit inside the ring. "MASTER — GIVE ME THE POWER — GIVE ME — I NEED TO KILL HIM — MASTER —"

In the ring, the spirit’s voice — female, low, ancient — responded. Not with power. With words.

"Fool. Do not engage. His power is — it is beyond —"

"I DON’T CARE — GIVE ME —"

"I cannot. Not against this. This is not an opponent you can defeat. This is —"

"SHUT UP — GIVE ME —"

"I said I cannot —"

In the hall, Tianlong heard nothing. His gold-crimson eyes — looking down at the princess on his lap, at her tea-soaked robes, at her visible nipples, at her tear-streaked face — held amusement.

"Lin Feng?" he said. The name was casual. "He can’t help you."

His hand — the pale, large hand — found the neckline of her layered robes. His fingers gripped the wet silk. He pulled.

The fabric tore. The sound — sharp, ripping — echoed through the hall. The outer layer of her robes split, the jade-green silk parting, the inner layer — a thin white undergarment — exposed. Her chest was visible — the pale skin, the shape of her breasts through the thin fabric, the pink nipples stiff beneath the wet silk.

She shrieked. The sound — high, sharp, the shriek of a woman being exposed — tore through the hall.

"IMMORTAL — PLEASE —"

He pulled again. The undergarment tore. Her breasts were bare.

They were — in the terms of the cultivation world — perfect. Round, firm, the mounds sitting high on her chest, the shape full but moderate, proportioned to her slender frame. The skin was porcelain — pale, smooth, without a single blemish or mark. The nipples were pink — small, stiff, the areolae pale and perfectly circular. The tea — green, warm — ran down her chest, over her mounds, across her nipples, the liquid dripping from the stiff points.

The elders’ heads dropped. Every elder — Biyu, Hanlin, Suwen, Tianqing — lowered their eyes. Their faces were crimson. Their hands trembled.

Jin Wuchen — the sect leader — sat in his chair. His enormous frame was rigid. His dark eyes were focused on the floor. His hands — on the armrests — were clenched so tight the jade cracked beneath his fingers. His jaw was set. His peak Golden Core qi hummed in his dantian — restrained, suppressed, held back by the sheer force of his will.

’He is — he is exposing my daughter. In front of the entire sect. In front of the elders. In front of —’

’But I cannot — I cannot oppose him. His power — even Madam Fengyan — a peak Golden Core — he defeated her and — and used her — and I am — I am also peak Golden Core — if I oppose him —’

’My daughter — my Yuhan —’

His hands clenched tighter. The jade cracked further. But he did not move. He did not speak.

Tianlong’s hand — large, pale, golden-skinned — found Jin Yuhan’s bare breast. His fingers closed around the mound — the round, firm, pale flesh deforming under his grip. The pink nipple pressed against his palm. He squeezed. The flesh overflowed his fingers — not because the breast was enormous, but because his hand was large and the breast was perfectly proportioned and the grip was possessive.

He leaned forward. His mouth found her breast. His lips closed around the pink nipple. He took a mouthful — the stiff nub, the pale areola, the surrounding flesh — and sucked.

"AAANGH~!" Jin Yuhan’s back arched. Her slender body convulsed on his lap. Her dark eyes went wide — the pupils dilating, the irises shrinking. Her coral lips parted. "IMMORTAL — PLEASE — NO — DON’T —"

He sucked. Hard. His mouth worked her breast — his tongue swirling across the pink nipple, his teeth grazing the stiff nub, his lips pulling. The sensation — the warm, wet, divine qi-infused mouth on her most sensitive flesh — sent a jolt through her body. Her spine arched. Her legs kicked. Her free hand — the one not being held — gripped the arm of the chair, the nails digging into the wood.

The tea — the green, warm liquid that had been poured on her chest — mixed with his saliva. The fluid ran from her breast, from his mouth, dripping down her stomach, soaking into her robes.

He released her breast with a wet ’pop’. The pink nipple was raw — red, stiff, wet with saliva and tea. The pale areola was flushed. The mound heaved with her rapid breathing.

"This," Tianlong said, his gold-crimson eyes looking down at her bare, wet, heaving breast, at the raw pink nipple, at the tea dripping from the stiff point, "is something that I should drink."

Jin Yuhan’s porcelain face crumpled. The composure — the princess’s mask, the cultivator’s dignity, the jade pearl’s poise — shattered. The tears came. Hard, fast, the sobs tearing from her throat. Her dark eyes — wet, desperate, the eyes of a woman being violated in front of everyone she knew — found Lin Feng.

Lin Feng — in the shattered doorway, blood on his chin, his body broken — watched. His dark eyes — wide, wet, the predator’s mask gone, replaced by the raw, genuine despair of a man watching the woman he — the woman he needed — being used by a god — saw the tears. Saw the bare breast. Saw the ancestor’s mouth. Saw the tea.

"YOU —" His voice was barely human. The sound of a man whose sanity was cracking. "YOU BASTARD — I’LL — I’LL KILL YOU — I’LL —"

He tried to rise. His Core Formation qi surged — the golden core spinning, the energy building. His body lifted from the floor — one inch, two inches — before Tianlong’s divine qi, still suppressed, still controlled, pressed him back down. Lin Feng’s face hit the stone floor. His body was pinned. His cheek ground against the stone. His dark eyes — wet, furious, desperate — rolled toward the hall. Toward the princess. Toward the ancestor.

"MASTER —" Lin Feng screamed into the ring. His voice was raw. Broken. "MASTER — PLEASE — GIVE ME THE POWER — GIVE ME — I’LL DO ANYTHING — GIVE ME — I NEED TO —"

The ring’s spirit responded. Her voice — ancient, female, carrying the weight of three thousand years — was quiet. Careful.

"I cannot. His power is — it is beyond my ability to —"

"THEN WHAT GOOD ARE YOU —"

"I am good for keeping you alive. Which I am doing. Right now. If I gave you power and you attacked him, you would die. Instantly. Without appeal."

"THEN LET ME DIE —"

"Don’t be a fool. Dead, you cannot claim the Fate Value. Dead, you cannot ascend. Dead, you cannot have her."

Lin Feng’s body went still. His dark eyes — wet, furious, desperate — stared at the floor. His jaw clenched. His fists pounded the stone.

In the hall, Jin Yuhan — on Tianlong’s lap, her breast bare, her nipple raw, her tears falling — heard Lin Feng’s scream. Her dark eyes — desperate, searching — found him in the doorway. Their eyes met.

’Lin Feng — my Lin Feng — he’s — he’s on the ground — he’s bleeding — he can’t — he can’t help me —’

’He called the ancestor a bastard. He challenged him. He was defeated. Instantly. Without effort. The ancestor didn’t even stand. Didn’t even look at him properly. Just — flicked him away.’

’And now — now I’m — his breast is in the ancestor’s mouth — his hand is on my — and Lin Feng is — he’s on the ground — he’s screaming — he’s —’

’No one can help me. Not Lin Feng. Not Father. Not the elders. No one.’

’I am alone.’