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

Chapter 677: Chapter 677- Lin Feng hitting a Walking Mountain

Her tears fell on Tianlong’s golden hand. The drops ran down his pale skin, mixing with the tea and the saliva. Her slender body trembled on his lap. Her bare breast heaved.

Tianlong looked at her. At her tear-streaked face. At her raw, wet nipple. At her trembling body. At her dark, desperate eyes.

He looked at Lin Feng. At the broken man in the doorway, his fist pounding the floor, his master’s voice in his ring, his despair absolute.

He looked at Jin Wuchen. At the sect leader’s clenched fists, his cracked armrests, his lowered head.

He smiled.

The smile was small. Knowing. The smile of a being who had seen this scene before — in another world, in another story, with another Lin Feng and another princess and another sect leader. The smile of a being who knew how the story ended.

And the system — the system he had thought had vanished when he descended to this world — pulsed. The notification hovered in his vision.

|| [ SYSTEM NOTIFICATION ]||

|| Fate Value update:||

|| Hostile entity "Lin Feng" (Shen Wuji) — Fate Value: 8,470,000 (parasitic)||

|| Host Fate Value: 1,000,000 (baseline) + 47,000 (from village women breakthroughs)||

|| Total Host Fate Value: 1,047,000||

|| Disparity: 7,423,000 (favor: hostile entity)||

|| Note: Hostile entity has not yet claimed heroine’s maidenhood. If host claims heroine first, 8,470,000 Fate Value will transfer to host. Hostile entity’s parasitic claim will be nullified.||

[ Suggestion: Make Lin Feng Loose Face and fall in despair. ]

His hand — the one on Jin Yuhan’s breast — squeezed. The pink nipple pressed against his palm. Her slender body trembled.

"Lin Feng," Tianlong said. His voice carried through the hall — through the shattered doors, through the corridor, to the broken man on the floor. "You want to kill me?"

Lin Feng’s dark eyes — wet, furious, desperate — lifted from the floor. Met the gold-crimson gaze.

"I WILL BASTARD—"

Tianlong looked at Lin Feng.

The broken disciple lay in the shattered doorway — blood on his chin, his blue robe torn, his Core Formation qi flickering like a dying flame. His dark eyes — wet, furious, desperate — stared at the ancestor with the raw, unfiltered hatred of a man who had just watched the woman he needed be groped on another man’s lap.

Tianlong looked at him. Then he looked at Jin Yuhan.

The princess lay across his thighs — her slender body trembling, her layered robes torn, her right breast bare, the pink nipple raw and wet with his saliva and tea. Bite marks — red, visible, the impression of his teeth on her pale areola — dotted the swollen flesh. The mound was flushed, the skin irritated from the roughness of his mouth. She was covering the nipple with her small, pale hand, her jade-lacquered fingers trembling against the raw flesh.

Her dark eyes were wet. Her coral lips were parted. Her porcelain face was flushed — shame, terror, the overwhelming helplessness of a woman being displayed and used before her entire sect.

"Then how about," Tianlong said, his gold-crimson eyes moving from Lin Feng to the princess, his voice calm and conversational, "we have our wedding night?"

The hall went silent.

Not the silence of shock — they had already been shocked. Not the silence of awe — they had already been awed. This was the silence of something breaking. The silence of a world reaching its limit and finding that the limit did not exist.

Jin Yuhan’s hand tightened over her bare breast. Her slender body convulsed on Tianlong’s lap. Her dark eyes — enormous, wet, the pupils dilated — found Lin Feng’s.

"YOU BASTARD!" Lin Feng’s scream tore through the silence. His body — broken, bleeding, his Core Formation qi barely cycling — lurched from the floor. His hands gripped the shattered doorframe. His dark eyes were wild. "MASTER — GIVE ME POWER — NOW —"

His right hand went to the bronze ring on his left finger. He twisted it — not gently, not carefully, but violently, the metal grinding against his skin, the motion desperate.

The ring blazed.

Purple light erupted from the bronze band — intense, blinding, the spiritual energy condensing around Lin Feng’s body like a cocoon. His Core Formation qi surged. The golden core in his dantian — mid-stage, recently advanced to peak — detonated. Not shattered — transcended. The core dissolved, the energy reforming, restructuring, the spiritual essence condensing into something new, something higher, something that the lower realms rarely saw.

Nascent Soul.

The breakthrough hit like a thunderclap. Lin Feng’s body lifted from the floor — not by his own legs, but by the spiritual energy erupting from his body. His blue robe disintegrated — the fabric burning away, the threads dissolving in the purple-gold qi. His lean body was revealed — the muscles, the defined chest, the pale skin. His dark eyes — previously brown — shifted. The irises turned gold. Not Tianlong’s gold-crimson, but a raw, unstable, golden glow that pulsed with the energy of a newly formed Nascent Soul.

The pressure was enormous. The hall shook. The formation diagrams on the floor cracked. The murals on the ceiling trembled. The elders — all four of them — staggered, their Golden Core cultivation bases recoiling from the Nascent Soul aura.

"He — he broke through," Elder Tianqing whispered. His young face was white. "Nascent Soul. He reached Nascent Soul. That’s — that’s beyond the sect leader —"

"Impossible," Elder Biyu breathed. Her sharp face was pale. "A Core Formation cultivator breaking through to Nascent Soul in an instant — without meditation, without preparation, without pills — that’s —"

"The ring," Elder Hanlin said, his white beard trembling. "The ring gave him the power. The ring’s spirit —"

Jin Wuchen — the sect leader — sat in his chair. His enormous frame was rigid. His dark eyes were wide. His peak Golden Core qi hummed in his dantian — steady, powerful, but now — for the first time in forty years — inferior to the energy radiating from a disciple of his own sect.

’Lin Feng — this boy — this inner disciple — he had — he had this power hidden — a Nascent Soul breakthrough, stored in a ring — and he never — he never told me — he never —’

’Who IS he?’

The disciples whispered. The elders stared. The hall was in chaos.

And Tianlong — sitting in the ancestor’s chair, the princess on his lap, his gold-crimson eyes observing the spectacle — smiled.

The smile was small. Knowing. The expression of a man watching a child light a firecracker.

Lin Feng hovered in the air. His body blazed with Nascent Soul energy — purple-gold, the aura visible, the spiritual pressure pressing outward in waves. His golden eyes — wild, unstable, the pupils dilated — locked onto Tianlong.

"I — I have the power now —" Lin Feng’s voice was different. Deeper. Resonant. The voice of a Nascent Soul cultivator, the spiritual energy amplifying his words. "I will KILL you — I will tear you APART — you BASTARD — you touched my woman — you —"

Tianlong raised his hand.

One finger.

He snapped.

The gesture was — nothing. A casual flick. The kind of motion one might use to brush a crumb from a tablecloth. No divine qi. No spiritual pressure. No visible energy. Just — a snap.

The impact was catastrophic.

Lin Feng’s Nascent Soul — the newly formed spiritual entity, barely minutes old, raw and unstable — shattered. Not cracked. Not damaged. Shattered. The purple-gold aura around his body blinked out. The golden glow in his eyes vanished. The spiritual pressure — the Nascent Soul level aura that had overwhelmed the elders — disappeared as though it had never existed.