His possession of an immortal artifact fragment was no secret, drawing covetous gazes as he appeared. Yet Feng was unfazed. Exposure was inevitable, and these schemers could do little against him.
"I told you, call me Lian, not 'Lady,'" she teased.
Seeing Lian after days apart, her tall frame clad in red, her wheat-hued skin framing a stunning face, her ponytail swaying with valor and warmth, Feng softened. Her sharp eyes betrayed joy and unspoken affection.
"Lian," he said gently.
A silvery laugh brushed his ear, piercing his heart.
Feng spun, spotting a bewitching girl in the black mist, her smile playful, eyes half-closed. Her dark hair blended with the shadows, a demonic enchantress born of darkness. Her face was exquisite, like a sprite of clear springs or a witch of shadows, her gossamer veil swaying.
Xian, the Demon Sect saintess, met Feng's gaze. With a mischievous smile, she touched her lips, mouthing, "Sorry, I lied again…"
As the demonic saintess prepared to leave, she met a pair of blazing eyes, burning with dragon-like fury, Lian's.
Lian's Dragon Halberd unleashed a surge of dragon intent, its force making even Xian falter, stepping back. Yet she met Lian's gaze fearlessly.
Their eyes locked.
Xian, the Demon Sect saintess, and Lian, the Dragon Halberd heir, clashed in silence.
After a tense moment, Xian relented. Her presence had drawn righteous prodigies' attention, and lingering risked entrapment. With a flicker of her technique, she melted into the black mist, her form fading, her lips mouthing, "Don't think you've won."
The wind carried Xian's final words to Lian, sparking deep wariness.
Compared to the aloof Qing, the naive Li, or the gentle Suya, this woman, met for the first time, was the greatest threat.
Feng, however, was concerned. Beneath Xian's playful facade, he sensed her burdens and her rift with the Demon Sect. A saintess who dared not return to her sect was no ordinary figure. Her fragile, pitiable exterior hid a resolute spirit, too proud to lean on him or share her struggles.
"Worried about your little lover?" Lian's voice snapped him back.
Her smile was radiant, but Feng felt a chill. "No, nothing!" he stammered.
Yet his thoughts drifted to another, the sword-wielding Qing, sustaining the secret realm with her immortal artifact.
Qing must be here by now, he thought.
Meanwhile, the fairy Feng pondered was not like the bold prodigies of righteous and demonic paths. Without using even a levitation spell, she walked calmly through the perilous secret realm.
Qing, clad in snow-white robes, her skin like jade, her long hair cascading like a waterfall, exuded an icy detachment. Her flawless face, serene and ethereal, seemed crafted by the heavens, rivaling even celestial maidens. Her tall, graceful figure, with long legs and a swan-like neck, was a masterpiece. Her delicate collarbones, like carved jade, flowed into shoulders sharp as if sculpted. Below, her full, firm breasts strained against her robes, their perfect shape evident despite layers of cloth, swaying slightly with her steps yet retaining a youthful firmness. Her flat abdomen, smooth as ice, led to a slender waist, her movements graceful despite the ruined terrain.
Yet, behind this ethereal beauty trailed an ugly, hunched old man, Elder Mu, a wretched eunuch dwarfed by Qing's height. He followed subserviently, like a slave, but his murky eyes leered at her swaying hips.
Qing's hips, full and firm, moved with a youthful allure, their taut curves tempting like forbidden fruit. Elder Mu, torn between desire and fear, imagined seizing her, molding her flesh, burying his face in her fragrance, and exhaling hot breath against her sacred garden.
This mismatched pair bypassed the crowds, delving deeper into the secret realm.
Scattered cultivators, too weak to challenge prodigies, ogled Qing's beauty but recoiled at the sight of countless resentment-spawned wraiths surging toward her. Even seasoned cultivators paled, and Elder Mu, trembling, rushed forward, nearly clinging to Qing's back, causing her composed expression to falter.
These disaster-born monstrosities were otherworldly, a single one daunting, let alone a horde. Even sect elders would retreat.
Elder Mu, in panic, raised his hands, instinctively reaching for Qing's waist but hesitating, fearing her wrath. Yet the wraiths' terror overwhelmed him, and he pressed against her back, mere inches away. Onlookers burned with envy and rage, wishing to slay the useless servant and take his place.
Elder Mu's masculine scent enveloped Qing, his pent-up desire evident in the musky odor of his unspent seed, thick and pungent, invading her senses. Her cheeks flushed faintly.
With a flick of her hand, frost spread from her feet, a chilling wind freezing the wraiths into ice sculptures, their twisted forms preserved. A breeze scattered them into silvery dust, shocking onlookers and quelling their greed. Such power rivaled the mightiest prodigies.
As Qing ventured deeper, the dangers grew, and prying eyes faded. The secret realm was thick with malevolent qi, resentment, and death qi forming gales and black mists. The shattered souls of fallen cultivators, denied reincarnation, roamed as sinister fogs. None knew what lay within, great fortune or certain death.
Onlookers watched Qing and Elder Mu vanish into the mist. No beauty was worth their lives.
"Heavenly Sun Six Armors, Lunar Mystical Radiance, Earthly Harmony Prime…"
Qing chanted softly, navigating the secret realm's depths, a path even prodigies like Feng couldn't tread. The black mist thinned, revealing a secret known only to the Xian Sect: ten thousand years ago, after the failed ascension plot, a Xian Sect-aligned immortal, the Nine Heavens Mysterious Lady, under the new Immortal Emperor's command, quelled the rebellion, severing Jianmu and slaying the traitorous immortal, leaving a hidden sanctuary known only to Xian Sect heirs.
But before reaching it, Qing sensed Elder Mu's heavy breathing, his hot breath grazing her neck, making her tremble. She glanced back at the lecherous old man.
The monstrous wraiths were gone, yet Elder Mu remained close, his eyes intoxicated by her scent, her virgin fragrance and the aroma of her hair acting like an aphrodisiac. His body reacted, his massive member straining against his trousers, forming a twenty-centimeter tent, its tip pressing against Qing's untouched hips.
The scorching, iron-hard rod pressed into her soft, elastic flesh, sinking inches into her taut curves despite layers of cloth, like a branding iron. Qing's body quivered.
The sensation of her firm, youthful flesh resisting his intrusion was overwhelming. Elder Mu gasped, his member throbbing, nearly tearing through his trousers, its tip leaking sticky fluid, staining his pants.
"Step back…" Qing's voice remained cold, but its usual firmness wavered, a subtle softness betraying her tone.
"Princess… I'm scared…" Elder Mu whined.
Months of companionship had taught him Qing's nature: cold yet kind, strong yet gentle, naive in matters of intimacy. Initially, he feared her wrath, but her silent tolerance, even during his releases, emboldened him. Her faint blushes fueled his audacity.
Feigning fear, he trembled, his member grinding against her hips, its tip drilling into her tender flesh. Qing's body shook, her voice caught between anger and resignation.
"You…" She sighed, as she had before, pretending not to notice, her eyes searching the path ahead to banish her thoughts.
A celestial fairy, serene as the moon, walked ahead, a vision of grace. Yet behind her, an ugly old man clung close, his leering grin betraying his intent. He thrust his massive rod forward, breaking Qing's composure, her breathing quickening, her cheeks flushing. She hastened her steps, as if fleeing, but Elder Mu followed, his rod pressing relentlessly into her hips, savoring her untouchable beauty.
Each time the scorching rod touched her, Qing quickened her pace, only for Elder Mu to catch up, his tip finding her hips again. Their chase, playful yet perverse, resembled lovers' banter.
But Qing was a lofty fairy, while Elder Mu was a lowly, grotesque servant. Her fear contrasted with his brazen advances, her breaths uneven, her cheeks red. Unseen, her eyes flickered with a faint crimson.
Elder Mu's cloudy eyes gleamed with the same hue.
Lost in their perverse pursuit, they forgot time and distance until immortal qi wafted into view, mists swirling. Qing snapped awake, her crimson gaze fading.
Elder Mu, driven by lust, didn't notice her pause. With a forceful thrust, he rammed his rod into her hips.
Qing gasped as the steel-hard, molten-hot rod struck her taut flesh. The impact deformed her soft curves, her elastic hips rebounding, guiding his rod into the groove between her cheeks. His bony pelvis slammed into her, their bodies pressed tightly, her round hips slightly flattened, his rod trapped in her groove, pressing against his belly.
The intimate contact, his pelvis against her hips, her cheeks clamping his rod, made Qing gasp in panic and Elder Mu thrill in ecstasy. Her hips tightened instinctively, squeezing his rod, heightening his pleasure.
The sensation of her youthful flesh was unlike anything Elder Mu had known. His rod pulsed, its tip oozing more fluid, soaking his trousers.
"Step back!" Qing's voice, unsteady, carried authority as she summoned her power.
An irresistible force pushed Elder Mu back, nearly toppling him. Before he could look up, he realized they'd reached a realm unlike the outer secret realm.