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

Chapter 739: Chapter 739- Astral Heart

The words, the declaration, the identification, hit the crowd below. The citizens, the cultivators, the officials, the emperor, the sect disciples, all of them, heard. The purple-haired woman, the woman on the ship, the woman beside the emperor of the Long Dynasty, was claiming the Purple Astral Province as her home.

Their eyes widened. Their faces, already pale, went white.

"Ancestor," an elder, a Purple Astral Province official, whispered. His voice was trembling. "She’s here. Like... she’s the ancestor. The one who ascended three thousand years ago. She’s returned."

"The ancestor has arrived!" another official said. His voice cracked. "She has finally descended! Three thousand years! She has returned to us!"

The crowd, the citizens, the cultivators, erupted. The whispers, the murmurs, the shouts, the declarations, spread. The ancestor, the Purple Astral Ancestor, the woman who had ascended to the Upper World three thousand years ago, the woman who had been sealed, who had been lost, who had been mourned, was here. Alive. Returned.

"Our ancestor!" the crowd chanted. "The Purple Astral Ancestor has returned! Her grace! Her benevolence!"

The praise, the worship, the adoration, filled the air. The citizens, their faces, their voices, their tears, were directed upward. At the ship. At the woman. At the ancestor.

Tianlong, his gold-crimson eyes, on the crowd, heard the praise. He heard the worship. He heard the adoration directed at the woman beside him. His woman. His pet. His possession.

His arm, large and pale, wrapped around Liu Mei. He pulled her. Her voluptuous body, her enormous tits, pressed against his side. Her amethyst eyes, wide, wet, found his face. Her lips, full, parted.

In front of everyone. In front of the emperor. In front of the citizens. In front of the army. In front of the ancestors. In front of the world.

He kissed her. His mouth, his lips, found hers. The kiss, firm, possessive, was the kiss of a man claiming ownership. The gesture, the public, absolute, undeniable gesture, was the declaration. She was his. The ancestor of the Purple Astral Province was the possession of the Emperor of the Long Dynasty.

Liu Mei moaned. Her amethyst eyes, wide, wet, closed. Her body, pressed against his, melted. The kiss, the public claim, the ownership, was the thing she had wanted. The validation. The meaning. The proof that she was his.

The crowd, the citizens, the officials, the emperor, watched. Their faces, their eyes, their expressions, were the faces of beings who had just witnessed their ancestor, their revered, worshiped, divine ancestor, kissed by a man they did not know. A man whose power was unfathomable. A man whose fleet filled their sky.

The confusion, the shock, the disbelief, was palpable. How was the ancestor being treated so intimately by this man? Who was he? What was the relationship?

Tianlong, his mouth releasing Liu Mei’s, looked at the crowd. His gold-crimson eyes, the calm, the authority, the absolute, imperial authority, swept the scene.

"I am Emperor Tian Long," he said. His voice carried across the palace grounds. Across the province. Across the world. The name, the title, the declaration, was heard by everyone. "And I hope to stay here for a few days."

His gold-crimson eyes, on the crowd, narrowed. The smile, small, knowing, was the expression of a man who had just claimed a province.

The crowd, the emperor, the officials, the sect disciples, bowed. The motion, the prostration, was universal. The emperor, the Human Emperor Zihao, his peak Divine Integration cultivation, his throne, his authority, his pride, all of it, was surrendered. His forehead touched the purple crystal of his palace grounds. His body, his robes, his crown, was prostrate before the Emperor of the Long Dynasty.

"Indeed," Zihao said. His voice, the warm, genial voice of a ruler, was gone. Replaced by the thin, terrified whisper of a man before his sovereign. "Please. Your Majesty. Please."

Sweat, the beads visible on his temples, on his neck, on his hands, formed. The fear, the absolute, overwhelming, all-consuming fear, was the fear of a man who had just learned that the sky had a ceiling, and the ceiling had an owner, and the owner had arrived.

Tianlong’s gold-crimson eyes, on the prostrate crowd, were not on them. His gaze, the focus, the attention, was elsewhere. On the system window that had appeared in his divine consciousness.

|| [ SYSTEM NOTIFICATION ]||

|| Detection: Son of Heaven Favorability.||

|| Fated Presence Detected.||

|| A being bearing the mark of the Son of Heaven is present in the current location. The being’s fate is intertwined with the cosmic narrative. The being’s presence may trigger fated events, plot threads, and narrative consequences.||

|| Warning: The Son of Heaven is a protagonist-class entity. Interaction may result in conflict, alliance, or narrative deviation.||

The palace gates opened.

The Purple Astral Palace, the crystalline structure carved from a mountain of amethyst, received the Emperor of the Long Dynasty with the reverence of a temple receiving its god. The corridors, wide and tall, the purple crystal walls gleaming with formation light, were lined with servants. Hundreds of them, their heads bowed, their hands clasped, their bodies trembling in the presence of imperial blood.

Emperor Zihao walked beside Tianlong. His posture, the composed dignity of a ruler, was maintained. But his hands, at his sides, shook. The sweat, the beads visible on his temples, on his neck, glistened in the purple light. His peak Divine Integration cultivation, his centuries of rule, his authority over millions, all of it, was nothing. The man beside him, the golden-skinned, dark-haired, gold-crimson-eyed man, was above him. Above the mortal world. Above the upper realm’s middle tier. Above everything.

"Your Majesty," Zihao said. His voice, the warm, genial tone of a host, was strained. The words, carefully chosen, were the words of a man walking on ice. "We have prepared the finest quarters. The east wing. The chambers overlooking the Astral Garden. I hope they meet your standards."

Tianlong’s gold-crimson eyes, sweeping the corridor, the crystal walls, the formation light, held mild interest. The palace, the craftsmanship, the architecture, was impressive. For a mortal world structure. In the upper realm, in the Long Dynasty’s imperial palace, such construction would be a servant’s quarters.

"They’ll do," he said. His voice was casual. The tone of a man accepting adequate lodging.

They walked. The corridor opened into a grand hall. The ceiling, the purple crystal dome, the murals, the formation diagrams, the soft warm light, was beautiful. The floor, polished purple marble, reflected their footsteps. The servants, the officials, the guards, lined the walls.

Zihao, walking beside Tianlong, gestured. An attendant, a young woman in purple silk, stepped forward. In her hands, held with reverence, was a box. Dark wood, carved with astral formation diagrams, the surface polished to a mirror shine.

"A gift," Zihao said. His voice carried the formal tone of a vassal presenting tribute. "For the Emperor. A token of our loyalty."

The attendant opened the box. Inside, resting on purple velvet, was an artifact. A pendant. The stone, a deep amethyst, was carved with formation diagrams so dense they seemed alive. The qi, radiating from the stone, was pure. Concentrated. The spiritual energy, contained within, was immense.

"The Astral Heart," Zihao said. "A sacred level artifact. The pride of our province. It has been in the royal treasury for a thousand years. We offer it to the Emperor as a symbol of our devotion."