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

Chapter 725: Chapter 725 - The Offering of a Mommy-to-Be Stuffed

His gold-crimson eyes narrowed.

’Just follow me," he said.

He walked. Not toward the bridge. Past it. His feet, on the rough stone, found a path that was not visible. A path that existed in the spiritual energy, in the divine qi, in the perception of a being who could see what others could not. A path of solid ground, hidden by the illusion, that led directly across the fissure. Past the pool. Past the traps.

The women followed. One by one. Their feet, on the path he had revealed, crossed the fissure. The pool, below, churned. The energy, the devoured life force, flowed.

They reached the other side. A corridor, dark, narrow, led deeper. The walls, the stone, were carved with formation diagrams. The diagrams, ancient, were active. The spiritual energy, flowing through the carvings, fed the pool. Fed the mechanism. Fed the core.

They walked. The corridor descended. The air grew colder. The scent of decay intensified. The phosphorescent moss, on the walls, dimmed. The light, green and sickly, faded.

They arrived at a chamber.

The chamber was large. Circular. The walls, the ceiling, the floor, were stone. The formation diagrams, on every surface, were dense. Complex. The spiritual energy, flowing through them, was concentrated. Intense. The air, the qi, was thick. Liquid.

In the center of the chamber, a jar. A glass cylinder, ten feet tall, five feet in diameter. The surface, transparent, was covered in formation diagrams. The interior was filled with liquid. Orange. Viscous. The fluid, glowing, bubbled. The spiritual energy, condensed in the liquid, was immense.

Within the fluid, a boy.

Lau.

His body, thin and plain, was suspended. His arms, his legs, were limp. His head, tilted back, was submerged. His brown hair, longer than before, floated in the orange fluid. The strands, dark, waved in the current.

His wounds were healed. The bruises, the blood, the damage from Madam Fengyan’s punch, were gone. His body, the thin frame, was different. The proportions had shifted. The shoulders, narrow before, were slightly wider. The arms, thin before, had a hint of definition. The chest, flat before, had a suggestion of muscle. The body, the plain, unremarkable body, was developing. Growing. Maturing.

His eyes, beneath closed lids, glowed. The purple-black light, the void energy, emanated from behind his eyelids. The glow, faint, pulsed. The rhythm of a heartbeat. His heartbeat.

Madam Yueying’s dark eyes found him. Her body, the thick frame, the overflowing bra, the bare pussy, went rigid. Her breath caught. Her dark eyes, wide, wet, streamed.

"My son," she whispered. Her raw voice broke. "Lau. My son."

She moved. Her thick body, the leash trailing, ran toward the jar. Her hands, pale, found the glass. Her fingers, spread, pressed against the surface. Her face, beautiful and mature, pressed against the cylinder. Her dark eyes, wet, looked at her son. At the floating body. At the glowing eyes. At the developing frame.

The spiritual energy, the formation diagrams on the jar, pushed her back. The force, the concentrated qi, repelled her peak Golden Core cultivation. Her hands, on the glass, were pushed. Her body, shoved, stumbled back.

"Please help me," she cried. Her raw voice, the broken whisper, was the voice of a mother watching her child through a barrier she couldn’t cross. "Sir Immortal. Lord Immortal. I need... I need to save my son. Please."

Tianlong’s gold-crimson eyes, looking at the jar, at the boy, at the orange fluid, at the formation diagrams, held the expression of a man examining a specimen.

"Your son has used the demonic matter of regenerating body," he said. His voice was calm. Clinical. "Restructuring the life force. That is a forbidden technique. A very advanced one."

He paused. His gold-crimson eyes, on the floating body, narrowed.

"I must say," he said. "Your son is very capable."

Madam Yueying’s dark eyes, wet, found his face. "Yes," she whispered. "He is. He’s... I just... I need to save him. Please."

Bai Lian, the leash still in her hand, stood. Her green eyes, wet, were on Lau. On the boy in the jar. On the floating body. On the glowing eyes.

"Please," she said. Her musical voice, the voice of a young woman who had watched her childhood friend be carried into a medic room, who had watched him be punched unconscious, who had watched his body be absorbed into a citadel, trembled. "I would do anything. Save him."

Tianlong’s gold-crimson eyes moved. From the jar. To Bai Lian. At the young woman. At the green eyes. At the tears. At the desperate, willing face.

"Anything?" he said.

The word, the echo of the same word he had used with Madam Yueying, fell into the chamber.

Bai Lian’s green eyes, wide, found his face. The gold-crimson eyes, looking at her, held the calculation. The assessment. The terms.

"Then how about you prove it," he said.

He snapped his fingers.

The ground moved. The stone, the rough rock of the chamber floor, pushed upward. The motion was smooth. Controlled. The rock, reshaping, formed a platform. A bed. The surface, flat, smooth, was at waist height. The size, large enough for a body.

He looked at the jar. At the boy. At the floating body. At the glowing eyes behind closed lids.

His mouth curved. The smile, small, knowing, held a private thought.

’I know you can see. The void entity, the fragment, the thing inside the boy. It can see through his eyes. Even closed. Even submerged. Even in the orange fluid. It can perceive what happens in this chamber.’

’Let’s see what happens when you watch your mother and your girlfriend get fucked like bitches.’

’Shen Wuji.’

The name, the private thought, the internal realization, was not spoken. But the knowing, the recognition, was complete.

’The fragment of energy within the boy. The void entity. The "hand that shapes." It belongs to Shen Wuji. The idiot who ran from the prison cell. Who broke the pendant. Who activated his higher form. The time variant.’

’This boy, Lau, is not just a vessel. He is a reincarnation. A fast-birth. A premature maturation of the time variant that Shen Wuji triggered before he fled. A desperate move. A last resort. A fragment of the parasite, planted in a mortal body, growing, developing, waiting to mature.’

’And I am going to destroy it. In my own way.’

He looked at the platform. At the bed of stone. Then at Madam Yueying.

She saw the bed. Her dark eyes, wet, the corrupted mind, the rebuilt composure, understood. She walked. Her thick body, the overflowing bra, the bare pussy, the leaking seed, the tail, moved. She reached the platform. She climbed. Her thick body, on the stone, settled.

She lay on her back. Her enormous tits, in the furry bra, overflowed. Her thick thighs, bare, spread. Her hand, pale, found her pussy. Her fingers, the slender digits, spread her lips. The hairy mound, the swollen flesh, the leaking seed, was displayed. Her anal, the tail protruding, was visible.

She pulled the tail. The butt plug, the furry plug, slid out. The sphincter, trained, yielded. The plug, freed, fell to the stone. Her anal, gaping, was exposed. The gap, the swollen ring, the raw interior, was visible.

Her dark eyes, wet, found Tianlong’s face. Her coral lips, swollen, curved into the corrupted smile.

"Please enjoy, my Lord Immortal," she said. Her raw voice, the aristocratic diction, the corrupted content, was the voice of a woman who had been remade. "Save my son."

Bai Lian’s green eyes, wide, streamed. She stared. At the headmistress. At the thick woman. At the position. At the spread legs. At the displayed pussy. At the corrupted smile.

"What..." Bai Lian whispered. "Stop. What are you doing?"