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

Chapter 745: Chapter 745- A Caught Woman on Bed

He stopped. The explanation, the confession, was unnecessary. The situation, the twins, the exchange, was clear. He had been tricked. He had approached the wrong sister. He had been caught.

Tianlong’s gold-crimson eyes, on the elder, narrowed. The gaze, the cold, imperial, absolute gaze, held the judgment.

"I will talk to your father," he said. His voice was flat. The declaration, the threat, the promise, was delivered. "Now. The Purple Kingdom will have to bear the load."

Eldest Prince, his face gray, bowed. His body, the scholarly frame, trembled. The words, the threat, the imperial summons, were the worst thing he could hear. His father, the Human Emperor Zihao, would be informed. The consequences, the political fallout, the diplomatic crisis, would be severe.

But before the situation could escalate further, the portal opened. Emperor Zihao, the Human Emperor, arrived. Beside him, Liu Mei, the Purple Astral Ancestor, the woman who had returned, descended.

"Your Majesty," Zihao said. His warm voice, the genial tone, was strained. The sweat, the visible beads, was on his temples. "It seems there is a misunderstanding."

The emperor, the peak Divine Integration cultivator, the ruler of the Purple Astral Province, was pleading. For his son. For his political heir. The words, the request, the supplication, were the words of a vassal before his sovereign.

Liu Mei, the Purple Astral Ancestor, the woman whose province this was, whose descendants these were, stepped forward. Her amethyst eyes, on the scene, on the twins, on the elder, on Tianlong, held the assessment. She understood. She saw the situation. The twins, the exchange, the deception. And she saw her master’s play.

"Please," she said. Her husky voice was calm. The tone of a woman mediating. "For using my name, forgive them. On my name."

The words, the request, the invocation of her authority as the ancestor of the Purple Astral Province, was significant. She was offering her reputation, her status, her standing, as collateral for the prince’s behavior.

Tianlong’s gold-crimson eyes, on Liu Mei, held the warmth. The acknowledgment. The approval. His woman, his pet, his possession, was serving him. Mediating. Smoothing the political waters. Using her ancestral authority to protect his interests.

"Fine," he said. His voice was casual. The tone of a man granting a minor concession. "Just this once. Since you served me well. Tell your descendant to perform better. Do not do this."

The order, the command, the imperial directive, was delivered. Zihao bowed. Eldest Prince, bowed. The matter, the incident, the confrontation, was closed.

They moved. The corridor, the scene of the confrontation, emptied. Eldest Prince, walked away. His face, the frustration, the anger, the humiliation, was visible. His hands, at his sides, were clenched. His dark eyes, on Tianlong’s back, held the glare. The hatred. The resentment. The desire for revenge.

But he could do nothing. The power, the cultivation, the imperial blood, the army, the fleet, all of it, was above him. He was an insect before a god. He knew it. He hated it. He swallowed it.

He glared. Then looked down. And walked away.

~ The Chambers — Punishment

The fake princess, the junior sister, the woman in the borrowed robes, stood before Tianlong. The corridor, now empty, was quiet. The moonlight, through the purple crystal, cast long shadows.

She looked at him. Her dark eyes, wet, trembling, held the gratitude. The relief. The performance.

"Thank you for saving," she said. Her musical voice, the princess’s voice, was soft. "However, the rules..."

Her words died. Her body, the slender frame, trembled. Not from fear. From the sensation. His hand, large and pale, had found her hips. His fingers, gripping the silk, the flesh beneath, pulled. Her body, yanked forward, pressed against his chest. Her hips, her slender hips, against his pelvis. The contact, the divine qi flowing through his touch, through her skin, through her meridians, hit her system.

"What are you..." she whispered. Her dark eyes, wide, looked up at him.

His gold-crimson eyes, looking down at her, held the knowing. The amusement. The predatory anticipation.

"What were you doing at this night?" he said. His voice was low. The tone of a man who already knew the answer.

Her body trembled. The divine qi, flowing through his hand, through her hips, through her meridians, was overwhelming. The sensation, the heat, the stimulation, the Horny God Physique’s passive effect, was hitting her. Her skin flushed. Her nipples hardened. Her pussy, the virgin slit, the tight, untouched cunt, moistened.

"No," she whispered. Her musical voice cracked. "I was just..."

"You need punishment," he said.

The word, the declaration, the sentence, hit her. Her dark eyes, wide, streamed. The fear, the confusion, the arousal, the divine qi, all of it, mixed.

"What?" she said. Her voice was high. Panicked. "What punishment?"

Her internal thoughts, the chaos, the calculations, were screaming.

’Wait. Why did sister not tell me that... she didn’t tell me about this. She didn’t tell me he would... punishment? What punishment? What does he...’

She turned. To look for her sister. The real princess. The woman who had proposed the exchange, who had told her it would be easy, who had said "just act beside him."

The corridor was empty. Her sister was gone. Vanished. Absent.

’She left me. She left me here. With him. Alone. She knew. She knew he would... she set me up. She used me. She...’

"No," she whispered. Her dark eyes, wet, wide, found Tianlong’s face. "Wait. Emperor. I need to tell you the truth. I am not..."

Before she could finish, before she could confess, before the deception could be revealed, Tianlong vanished. The spatial portal, the golden rift, opened. His hand, on her wrist, pulled. Her body, the slender frame, was yanked through the void.

The bedroom. The purple crystal chamber. The bed, the purple jade, the silk sheets. The window, the moonlit garden. The door, closed. The guards, outside.

He threw her. The fake princess, the junior sister, the woman in the borrowed robes, hit the bed. Her body, the slender frame, bounced on the silk. The impact, the soft landing, was jarring. Her dark eyes, wide, streaming, found the ceiling.

She moaned. The sound, the involuntary vocalization, the response of a body that had been thrown, was not pain. It was surprise. The divine qi, in the room, in the air, in the silk sheets, in the bed, was dense. The Horny God Physique’s passive field, filling the chamber, hit her system. Her body, the virgin body, the untouched frame, responded. Her skin flushed. Her nipples hardened. Her pussy, the tight slit, gushed.

"Wait," she said. Her musical voice was desperate. "I..."

He grabbed her dress. His hand, large and pale, found the neckline of the dark blue and silver robes. The silk, the fabric, was in his grip. He pulled. The motion, the force, the divine strength, was absolute.

The fabric tore. The silk, the dark blue and silver, ripped. The sound, the tearing, the shredding, was loud in the quiet room. The robes, the borrowed clothes, the princess’s attire, came apart. Her chest, her small breasts, the pink nipples, stiff, were exposed. Her stomach, flat, smooth, was bare. Her hips, her slender hips, the dark pubic hair, were visible.

He pulled. Swinging. The torn fabric, the silk, flew. Her bra, the undergarment, was next. His hand found it. He pulled. The fabric, the lace, the binding, tore. Her small breasts, the pink nipples, the stiff nubs, were bare. Free. The mounds, small and firm, the pink tips, pointed at him.

She tried to speak. Her mouth, her coral lips, opened. The words, the confession, the truth, were forming.

"Emperor, I’m not..."