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

Chapter 684: Chapter 684- A Broken Woman choosing her Man

"You were going to make me your cauldron," she said. Her voice was — flat. Empty. The voice of a woman who had passed through grief and emerged on the other side into something cold. "Your sex cauldron. Your — your resource."

"YUHAN —"

"That’s all I was. All I ever was. To you."

Shen Wuji’s mouth opened. Closed. His dark eyes — the madness receding, the reality of what he had confessed settling in — found hers. Found the cold. Found the emptiness.

"Yuhan, I —"

"You never loved me."

The words were — final. The closing of a door. The ending of a story.

Tianlong watched. His gold-crimson eyes — observing, cataloging, the expression of a being who had orchestrated this confrontation with the precision of a master tactician — found Jin Yuhan’s kneeling form. Her slender body, trembling. Her dark eyes, empty. Her tears, falling.

He walked toward her. His naked body — golden, gleaming, the cock hanging between his thighs — moved through the dungeon’s dim light. He reached her. He stood above her.

He bent. His large hands found her shoulders. He pulled her up. Not roughly. Not gently. The motion of a man claiming what was his.

He pulled her against his chest. Her bare — no, her partially covered — breasts pressed against his golden skin. The silk of her inner robe — thin, damp — was the only barrier. Her right nipple — raw, bitten — pressed against his chest through the fabric. Her face buried in his neck. Her tears — hot, wet — ran down his golden skin.

"Did you see?" Tianlong said. His voice was low. Quiet. His gold-crimson eyes — over her head, through the bars — found Shen Wuji’s face. "What I told you?"

She trembled. Her slender body — pressed against his, her hands gripping his arms — shook. "Please — immortal — he is evil — please — kill him."

The words — spoken by the princess, the woman whose love for Lin Feng had been the center of her existence — fell through the bars and hit Shen Wuji like a physical blow. His dark eyes — already wide — went wider. His face — handsome, the face of the boy she had loved — contorted.

"YOU?" he screamed. "YOU BITCH — how DARE you — you were MINE — you were my —"

"Mine," Tianlong said.

The word — simple, absolute, carrying the weight of divine authority — silenced the dungeon.

Tianlong’s hands moved. One hand — large, pale — rested on Jin Yuhan’s back. The other moved lower. Over the curve of her waist. Over the swell of her hip. Over the round, firm shape of her ass. He squeezed. The flesh — firm, toned — deformed under his grip. His pale fingers sank into the silk, the fabric pulling taut.

He kneaded. The flesh of her ass — round, firm, the muscle beneath the softness toned by years of cultivation — moved under his hand. He squeezed, released, squeezed. The motion was possessive. Absent-minded. The hand of a man who was holding something that belonged to him and was enjoying the feel of it.

"Let me help you forget," Tianlong said. His voice was low. His lips — against her ear, the breath warm — formed the words. "The pain of losing your boyfriend."

Her slender body trembled. Her dark eyes — wet, empty — lifted. Found his gold-crimson ones. "Through — through this?"

"Through me," he said.

She trembled. Her coral lips parted. Her dark eyes — searching his, looking for — something. Cruelty? Desire? The calculating coldness that she had seen in Lin Feng’s — no, Shen Wuji’s — eyes when the mask slipped?

She didn’t find it. What she found was — amusement. Warmth. The genuine, unforced enjoyment of a being who found her attractive and was not pretending otherwise.

’He — he looks at me and — he said I was beautiful. He said it. Casually. Like it was a fact. Like the sky is blue. Lin Feng — Lin Feng never — Shen Wuji never — said —’

’He’s a god. He could take me by force. He could break me. He could — but he’s — he’s asking. He’s —’

’No. He’s not asking. He’s telling. But he’s — he’s not lying. He’s not pretending. He wants me. And he’s not hiding it.’

’Is that — is that better? Is that worse? I don’t — I don’t know anymore —’

"Please kill him," she whispered. "Please."

"Before killing him," Tianlong said, his gold-crimson eyes finding Shen Wuji through the bars, "shouldn’t you show whose woman you are?"

His hand — the one on her ass — moved to her hair. His fingers threaded through her obsidian strands. He gripped. Pulled. Her head came back. Her slender throat was exposed. Her coral lips parted. Her dark eyes — wet, wide — looked up at the ceiling.

Her tears ran down her temples. Into her hair. Onto his hand.

He kissed her. His mouth found hers. His lips — warm, firm — pressed against her coral ones. His tongue entered. The kiss was — not gentle. Not brutal. Possessive. The kiss of a being who was claiming territory. His divine qi — in his saliva, on his tongue — flowed into her mouth. Her body — the Azure Dragon Marrow, the Core Formation cultivation, the virgin flesh — responded.

Her nipples — both of them — hardened. Her pussy — virgin, untouched — gushed. The arousal soaked through her silk undergarment, the wetness running down her inner thigh.

She kissed back. Not willingly. Not unwillingly. The response of a body that had surrendered to a force it could not resist. Her small hands — pale, trembling — found his chest. Her fingers touched his golden skin. The divine qi — radiating from his body — flowed through the contact.

"LEAVE HER — YOU BASTARD — LEAVE HER —" Shen Wuji’s voice — raw, broken, the sound of a man watching his investment being consumed — tore through the dungeon. His fists pounded the cell bars. The formation diagrams activated — the spiritual suppression array sending bolts of energy through his body. He convulsed. He fell. He got up. He pounded again.

"LEAVE HER — SHE’S MINE — SHE’S MY CAULDRON — I WAS GOING TO FUCK HER — I WAS GOING TO —"

The words — the vulgar, possessive, desperate confession — poured from his mouth. Each word — a knife in Jin Yuhan’s chest. Each declaration — a confirmation of everything Tianlong had told her.

’He — he says I’m his — his cauldron — he was going to fuck me — he was going to —’

’That’s all I was. All I ever was. A cauldron. A vessel. A body for his use.’

’And he’s saying it — in front of me — in front of the immortal — he doesn’t even care — he doesn’t even —’

’The vulgarity — the way he talks about me — about my body — about my — he never loved me. He never saw me. He saw — he saw the Fate Value. The bloodline. The Azure Dragon Marrow. He saw a resource.’

’This — this thing — wearing Lin Feng’s face —’

Her dark eyes — wet, empty — found the cell. Found Shen Wuji’s face. The face she had loved. The face she had kissed. The face that had been a mask.

"I deserve better," she whispered. The words were — not for Shen Wuji. Not for Tianlong. For herself. The first words she had spoken that were not a protest, not a plea, not a cry for help. A statement. A declaration.

Her small hand — pale, trembling — moved. Down Tianlong’s chest. Over his abdominals. Over the ridges of muscle. Down. Down.

Her fingers found his cock. The shaft — twelve inches, hard, the pale skin warm against her cool fingers. She wrapped her hand around it.

Her fingers — the same fingers that had stroked Shen Wuji’s seven-inch shaft — couldn’t close around the girth.