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

Chapter 723: Chapter 723- A Worried Childhood Friend

Hundreds of disciples. Core Formation. Foundation Establishment. The best of their sects. The future of their lineages. Dying. Being devoured. And the Immortal had said let them die.

Jin Wuchen’s enormous frame, his formal robes, his dark eyes, stood. His jaw was tight. His hands, behind his back, were clenched. The knuckles, white, were audible.

The sect leaders stood. Looking at the citadel. Looking at the body. Looking at the inevitability of destruction. The destruction of their disciples. Of their sects’ futures. Of everything they had built.

Then the sound came.

Soft. Muffled. The sound of footsteps. Of boots on stone. Of a walk that carried weight, purpose, and the absolute certainty of a being who owned the ground.

They turned.

Tianlong descended from the ship. His formal attire, the dark silk and crimson rope, was immaculate. His dark hair, loose, fell across his shoulders. His gold-crimson eyes, sweeping the plateau, were calm. His hands were behind his back.

Behind him, the women followed.

Liu Mei first. Her voluptuous body, the purple robes, the amethyst hair, moved with the grace of a three-thousand-year-old spirit. Her enormous tits, barely contained, pressed against the silk. Her thick hips, wide and curved, swayed.

Jin Yuhan second. The princess. Her slender body, the white and jade-green robes, her obsidian hair, moved with the cautious gait of a woman whose body was still adjusting. Her dark eyes, forward, were composed. Her small breasts, beneath the silk, were visible.

Madam Fengyan third. Her thick body, the dark red and gold robes, her beautiful face. Her enormous tits, straining, and her thick ass, swaying, moved with the composure of a Soul Formation cultivator.

And fourth.

Madam Yueying.

She walked behind the other three. Her thick body was naked except for the bra, the furry bra that Liu Mei had produced. The cups, lined with dark fur, were too small. Her enormous tits, heavy and full, overflowed. The flesh, pale, spilled above the cups, below the cups, at the sides. The dark nipples, large and stiff, were visible at the margins. The fur, brushing against the raw, sensitive skin of her areolas, sent constant stimulation through her body.

Her lower body was bare. No panty. No robe. Her thick ass, the cheeks round and full, was visible. The redness, the handprints, the marks of ten hours, were fading but present. Her pussy, hairy and swollen, was visible. The lips, puffy, did not close. The white fluid, the seed that had been pumped into her, the divine cum that she had begged for, leaked. The fluid, thin, ran down her inner thigh.

A tail. The butt plug, the furry plug, was inserted. The base, the puff of dark fur, protruded from her anal. The tail, the fur, swayed with each step. The motion, the swaying, was visible to everyone on the plateau.

A leash. The chain, silver, hung from her collar. The collar, leather, dark, was around her neck. The leash, the chain, was held by Tianlong. His hand, large and pale, held the links. The chain, taut, guided her.

She walked. Her thick body, the overflowing bra, the bare pussy, the leaking seed, the furry tail, the collar and leash, was on display. In front of the sect leaders. In front of the soldiers. In front of the body of the dead disciple.

Her dark eyes, wet, were down. Her beautiful face, mature, was flushed. Her coral lips, parted, trembled. Her dark hair, long and loose, fell across her shoulders.

Jin Wuchen’s dark eyes found her. At the headmistress. At the thick woman, the composed authority, now naked except for a furry bra and a tail. At the leash. At the collar. At the leaking pussy. At the seed running down her thighs.

He turned his head. Down. His face, the square jaw, was gray. His peak Golden Core qi, cycling, was unsteady.

The other sect leaders stared. Wang Deyu’s small eyes, wide, were fixed on her body. On the enormous tits, overflowing. On the bare pussy, leaking. On the tail, swaying. Han Tianxiao’s scarred face was twisted. Not with disgust. With something else. The scarred face, the thick neck, the crimson robes, the man who had talked about fucking the princess, was looking at the headmistress with eyes that were not entirely horrified.

Tianlong walked. His boots, on the stone, carried him past the sect leaders. Past the soldiers. Past the body.

"The matters within the outside premise," he said. His voice was calm. The tone of a man delegating. "Handle them."

He looked at Madam Fengyan. At Liu Mei. At Jin Yuhan. The three Soul Formation women nodded.

"I would deal with what is inside," he said.

He walked toward the citadel. The jade doors, open, received him. The women followed. Madam Yueying, on her leash, followed.

A voice. Young. Female. Furious.

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO AUNT?!"

Tianlong stopped. He turned.

A sword was plunging toward him. The blade, a spirit sword, the steel humming with Foundation Establishment qi, was aimed at his chest. The strike, the thrust, was fast. Desperate. The strike of a young woman who had seen something that had driven her past fear into fury.

The princess caught it. Jin Yuhan’s hand, small and pale, wrapped in Nascent Soul qi, caught the blade between her fingers. The steel, the spirit-forged edge, stopped. The point, inches from Tianlong’s chest, trembled.

"Who..." Jin Yuhan’s dark eyes, sharp, found the attacker.

The young woman stood fifteen feet away. Her green eyes, red, streamed with tears. Her black hair, long, was loose. Her academy uniform, the dark blue and silver of the Crimson Peak Academy, was torn from running. Her pretty face, delicate, was contorted with fury. With grief. With the absolute, consuming rage of a young woman who had seen someone she loved degraded.

Bai Lian.

The childhood friend. The girl who had clicked her tongue at Lau. The girl who had called him a brat. The girl who had brought him food. The girl who had treated the headmistress as her own mother.

Her green eyes, wet, were fixed on Madam Yueying. On the thick woman. On the furry bra. On the bare pussy. On the leaking seed. On the tail. On the collar. On the leash.

"Headmistress..." Bai Lian whispered. Her voice cracked. "What... what have they done to you?"

Jin Yuhan, the sword still caught between her fingers, moved. She stepped forward. Her hand, free, rose. The Nascent Soul qi, concentrated, was ready.

Tianlong severed. His hand, raised, the gesture minimal, stopped her. Jin Yuhan froze. Her dark eyes, on his face, waited.

Bai Lian rushed. Her feet, on the stone, carried her forward. Her hands, reaching, found the leash. She pulled. The chain, the silver links, pulled from Tianlong’s hand. He let it go.

She pulled the thing from the headmistress’s mouth. The mouth plug, the bit, that had been reinserted. She pulled it free. The leather, the metal, wet with saliva, fell.

"Headmistress!" Bai Lian’s voice, desperate, her hands on Madam Yueying’s face, cupping her cheeks. "What have they done to you? You monsters! You..."

Her green eyes, wet, searched the older woman’s face. The beautiful mature features, the flushed skin, the swollen lips, the vacant dark eyes.

Madam Yueying looked at her. At the young woman. At the girl she had watched grow up. At the girl who had called her Aunt. At the girl who was now seeing her like this.

"No," Madam Yueying said. Her raw voice was calm. Too calm. The calm of a woman whose mind had been rebuilt. "It’s fine. They did not do it to me."