Bibi Dong inclined her head graciously, her smile perfectly calibrated – warm enough to seem welcoming, yet retaining the regal distance appropriate for the Supreme Pontiff.
"An excellent decision, Dean Liu," she affirmed smoothly. "I trust you will find your stay both insightful and restorative."
She made a subtle gesture, and almost instantly, a spectral figure seemed to detach itself from the shadows near the wall. Ghost Douluo, Gui Mei, materialized silently, his presence chilling yet utterly deferential to the woman on the dais.
"Elder Ghost," Bibi Dong instructed, her voice regaining its formal cadence. "Please escort Dean Liu Erlong personally to the guest quarters prepared for her within the Elder precinct. Ensure all her needs are attended to, and grant her the utmost comfort and privacy during her stay."
"As you command, Your Holiness," Ghost Douluo rasped, his voice like dry leaves skittering across stone. He turned his unsettling, hidden gaze towards Liu Erlong and made a slight, silent gesture for her to follow.
Liu Erlong stood, offering another respectful nod to Bibi Dong. "Thank you again, Supreme Pontiff. For your hospitality and your candor." Her gaze flickered towards Song Qing, a quick, almost involuntary glance filled with complex emotions – gratitude, curiosity, and that burgeoning, unacknowledged fascination. She then turned and followed the spectral Elder out of the chamber, the heavy doors closing softly behind them.
The moment the latch clicked, the atmosphere in the room shifted palpably. The formal tension dissipated, replaced by something thicker, more intimate.
Bibi Dong turned her gaze fully onto Song Qing, who had remained standing silently throughout the dismissal. A soft, expectant light entered her eyes.
"Qing'er," she said, her voice losing its pontifical resonance, becoming softer, warmer. "Stay."
It was less a command, more an intimate request. She then addressed the few remaining figures in the room – high-level attendants, perhaps another Titled Douluo lingering discreetly.
"All of you," her voice regained a sliver of its authority, sharp and clear, "leave us now. We require absolute privacy. Ensure we are not disturbed under any circumstances."
The obedience was immediate and absolute. Figures melted away, exiting through side doors, leaving no trace. The heavy main doors remained firmly shut. Within moments, the vast, opulent chamber held only the two of them, sealed in a bubble of sudden, charged intimacy.
'Finally,' Bibi Dong thought, a thrill coursing through her. The lingering adrenaline from confronting Liu Erlong and executing Qing'er's plan mingled with the potent memory of the previous night. 'Alone. Now… surely… my reward…' She remained seated on her throne-like chair behind the desk, but her posture relaxed slightly, becoming less regal, more openly expectant. Her gaze fixed on him, full of anticipation.
Song Qing watched the room clear, his own demeanor undergoing a visible transformation. The polite, slightly distant facade he maintained even with his Teacher in semi-public settings dissolved completely. The cool calculation faded, replaced by the warmth, the possessiveness, the gentle dominance of a lover.
His emerald eyes softened as they met hers across the room, holding a depth of understanding and shared history. He wasn't looking at the Supreme Pontiff now; he was looking at his Bibi Dong. His Teacher, yes, but also the woman who surrendered so completely to him, the woman whose body he knew intimately.
He started walking towards her, his steps unhurried, deliberate. He ascended the low dais upon which her desk and chair rested, closing the distance between them.
Bibi Dong watched his approach, her heart beginning to beat faster. The way he looked at her now… it sent shivers down her spine. The memory of his hands on her skin, the sting of his 'punishments,' the overwhelming pleasure… it all came rushing back. Excitement coiled low in her belly.
As he stopped directly before her chair, close enough for her to feel the warmth radiating from him, she tilted her head back slightly, looking up at him, her eyes shining.
"Qing'er," she murmured, her voice husky, slightly breathless. "My dear disciple… Were you satisfied?" She needed his validation, his approval. "Did your Teacher perform the task adequately? My handling of Dean Liu… was it sufficient?"
He didn't answer with words immediately. He leaned down, invading her space. His hands came up, bypassing any preliminary caress, and closed directly, possessively, over the magnificent swell of her breasts through the rich fabric of her papal robes. He cupped their heavy weight firmly, feeling their familiar softness.
He gave a slow, deliberate nod. "Adequate, Teacher," he confirmed, his voice a low murmur close to her ear. "You planted the necessary seeds. The disillusionment is well established."
Then, his fingers found her nipples through the layers of cloth, pinching sharply, twisting slightly. It was a sensation she remembered vividly, a spark igniting deep within her.
"Ngh!" A soft gasp escaped her lips.
"But why," he continued, his voice dropping further, the pinch tightening just enough to punctuate his question, "did you invite her to stay, Teacher?" His eyes narrowed slightly, questioning her motives. "That was not part of the instruction. There seemed no immediate necessity. Explain yourself."
Bibi Dong squirmed slightly under his touch, the mixture of pain and pleasure making coherent thought difficult for a moment. "Ah… Qing'er… Master…" she breathed, trying to gather her wits. "I… I merely considered… it would be more convincing…" she gasped as he twisted again, "...more thorough… to allow Dean Liu to view the ancient texts herself. The actual scrolls and records that fool Yu Xiaogang plagiarized… Seeing the evidence firsthand… would utterly solidify her conviction… leave no room for doubt…" It sounded plausible, a reasonable strategic move.
Song Qing chuckled softly, a low sound devoid of real humor. He knew her too well. "A convenient excuse, Teacher," he murmured, pulling his hands back slightly. Bibi Dong felt a pang of disappointment. But then, his hands moved again, this time with startling swiftness, deftly navigating the complex fastenings of her robes, slipping inside the layers until his warm palms made direct contact with the bare skin of her breasts.
The shock of his skin against hers, unexpected and immediate, made her gasp loudly. He cupped her fully now, the contrast between the cool air of the room and the heat of his hands electrifying. His thumbs found her already hardened nipples instantly, rolling them, pulling them with a delightful, tormenting friction.
"Ah! Qing'er!" she moaned, arching slightly in her seat, pressing herself more firmly into his touch.
"But not the full truth," he insisted, his voice a low growl now, his face close to hers, emerald eyes boring into her dilated pink ones. "You know I dislike secrets between us, Teacher. Especially concerning your plans." His touch became more demanding, pinching and pulling rhythmically. "Tell me the real reason you want Liu Erlong lingering within these walls. Tell me everything."
Overwhelmed by the direct contact, the demanding touch, the intensity of his gaze, Bibi Dong's carefully constructed excuses crumbled. Moans spilled from her lips, punctuated by gasps as he varied the pressure on her sensitive flesh.
"Ah! Master! Yes… yes, forgive me… you are right…" Her body trembled under his ministrations. "It is… ah!… true… there is more…"
Between ragged breaths and uncontrolled moans, she confessed her true strategy. "I thought… if I could spend a few days… build a rapport… genuine connection… perhaps use her… mmmh!… her connection to the clan… however weak… to eventually… ah!… approach the Blue Tyrant Lightning Dragon Clan… Seek an alliance… or ensure their neutrality at least…"
She gasped again as he tugged sharply. "And… yes… also… ensuring that fool Yu Xiaogang learns she is here… safe, respected… entertained by me… It serves to… ah!… sever their connection completely… show him what he lost… twist the knife…"
Song Qing listened intently, his hands continuing their pleasurable torment for another long moment, watching the play of emotions on her face – desire, pain, strategic calculation, satisfaction at the thought of hurting Yu Xiaogang. Finally, satisfied he had the full picture, he slowly stopped the direct stimulation, though his hands remained possessively cupping her breasts through her robes.
Bibi Dong let out a soft sigh, a mixture of relief from the intensity and profound disappointment that it had ended. Her nipples throbbed, her skin tingled, her entire body yearned for more. 'Don't stop…' her mind screamed silently, pleadingly. 'Please, Qing'er… don't stop now…'
Song Qing straightened up slightly, his expression shifting from the demanding lover back to the thoughtful strategist, though his hands lingered for a moment longer before withdrawing completely. Bibi Dong unconsciously made a small sound of protest at the loss of contact.
"An alliance with the Blue Tyrant Lightning Dragon Clan?" he questioned, his tone skeptical as he smoothed his own robes. He began to pace slowly before her dais. "Teacher, with respect, their ingrained suspicion of Spirit Hall runs deep. Generations deep. And Liu Erlong…" He paused, turning to face her fully. "Her influence within that clan is, by all accounts, negligible. An illegitimate child of an Elder, raised outside the clan, possessing the surname of her mother… She holds no sway, no authority there. Relying on her as a bridge seems… exceptionally optimistic."
Bibi Dong watched him pace, regaining her own composure, smoothing the front of her disturbed robes, though the flush on her face and the lingering sensitivity of her breasts betrayed her recent state. A confident, almost knowing smile touched her lips.
"Optimistic, perhaps, my dear disciple," she conceded gracefully. "But not entirely without merit." She acknowledged the validity of his points regarding the clan itself. "I am fully aware of her limited standing within the Blue Tyrant Lightning Dragon Clan hierarchy. Using her to forge a full, formal alliance is indeed a long shot, fraught with difficulty."
She leaned forward slightly, her pink eyes gleaming with strategic light. "But, Qing'er, consider the alternative gains. Securing Liu Erlong's personal allegiance? Making the esteemed Dean of the Blue Tyrant Academy – a respected figure in the broader Spirit Master world, even if not within her clan – a firm ally, perhaps even a future asset, of our Spirit Hall? That," she emphasized, "is entirely achievable. And strategically valuable in its own right."
Her smile widened with satisfaction. "And the secondary objective, as I mentioned," she added, her voice laced with undeniable pleasure at the thought, "remains potent. Broadcasting Liu Erlong's presence here, under my hospitality, serves as the final nail in the coffin for any lingering hopes Yu Xiaogang might entertain. He will know she has definitively chosen a side – and it is not his. The gates of Spirit Hall," her voice turned momentarily cold again, "will remain forever barred to that piece of trash."
Song Qing stopped pacing, considering her words. The cold, calculated revenge against Yu Xiaogang appealed strongly. Isolating him, stripping him of his last significant emotional support using the very woman he'd discarded years ago… there was a certain poetic justice to it. And securing Liu Erlong's personal loyalty, leveraging her position as Dean, did hold strategic merit, even without the clan alliance.
He nodded slowly, satisfied. "I see the merit in that approach, Teacher. Isolating enemies and consolidating potential allies, however minor, is always wise. The message sent to Yu Xiaogang will be… unmistakable."
He met her gaze. "Very well. To ensure the success of your plan," he stated, his tone now collaborative, "I will also dedicate some time to interacting with Dean Liu over the coming days. Engage her in conversation, subtly guide her perspective, reinforce the points you make. Ensure she feels welcomed and valued here."
Hearing his approval, his offer of active support, ignited a different kind of fire within Bibi Dong. The strategist momentarily vanished again, replaced instantly by the yearning lover. Hope surged anew. If he approved, if he was helping… surely now…
She reached out impulsively, her hand closing pleadingly around his wrist, her eyes wide with desperate, undisguised desire.
"Qing'er!" Her voice dropped to a husky, urgent whisper. "Master! Thank you! You approve!" She tugged gently at his hand, trying to pull him closer again. "Now… please? Now will you reward your Teacher?"
Her gaze was intense, pleading. "Take me? Take me to the inner chamber? To the bed?" Her voice trembled with need. "Like… like the other night… Please, Master… Bully me… Use this body… Fondle me everywhere… Do all those wonderfully depraved things you whispered about…" Tears welled in her eyes, tears of desperate longing. "Punish me again… please… I need it… Reward your obedient Teacher now…"
Song Qing looked down at her pleading expression, at the raw need shining in her eyes. He felt a flicker of his own desire stir in response – the memory of her complete surrender was potent. But his resolve held firm. The dynamic they were establishing required control, required him setting the terms.
He gently but firmly extracted his hand from her desperate grip. His expression was resolute, unmoved by her impassioned plea.
"No, Teacher," he stated clearly, the rejection sharp and unequivocal. "Not now."
He saw the hope drain from her eyes, replaced by confusion, then crestfallen disappointment. Her lower lip trembled slightly.
He continued calmly, explaining the terms. "Your reward," he emphasized the word, "will come after your task is successfully completed." He held her gaze, ensuring she understood. "Solidify Liu Erlong's allegiance to Spirit Hall. Ensure her break from Yu Xiaogang is absolute and irreversible. When you have achieved this," his eyes held a dark promise, a glimpse of the pleasure she craved, "then, and only then, will I visit you again. In private. And I," he leaned closer, whispering the final words, "will give you the 'reward' you so clearly desire."
He paused, letting the implication hang – her pleasure was conditional, earned through service. "Consider it," he added softly, a subtle smirk playing on his lips, "motivation."
With that, he straightened up, gave her one last, lingering look – a look that promised future intensity but offered nothing immediate – and turned decisively. He walked away from the dais, across the now-empty chamber, towards the grand doors. He opened them himself, stepped through without a backward glance, and closed them firmly behind him.
Bibi Dong watched him go, stunned into silence. The echo of the closing doors seemed to reverberate through the vast room, amplifying her solitude. Denied. He had actually denied her. The initial shock gave way to a wave of intense disappointment, a sharp ache of unfulfilled need deep within her. Her body still thrummed with residual arousal, her breasts aching for his touch.
She slumped back against her throne, biting her lip hard, frustration warring with the memory of his promise. 'A reward… after…' The words echoed. 'Motivation…'
A new kind of fire began to burn within her, replacing the immediate heat of desire with the cold flame of determination. He wanted results? He wanted her to earn her pleasure? Fine. She would do it. She would secure Liu Erlong faster, more thoroughly than he could imagine. She would prove her worth, her loyalty, her ability to execute his will. And then… then she would claim the reward he had promised. The thought sent a shiver of anticipation down her spine, almost as potent as his touch.
She stood abruptly, her earlier languor replaced by sharp, focused energy. "Attendants!" she called out, her voice ringing with renewed authority. Figures materialized instantly from unseen doorways.
"Gather the specific archive scrolls pertaining to early martial soul mutation theories – volumes seven through twelve. And bring me the internal reports on spirit compatibility indexes from fifty years ago." Her mind was already racing, planning her next conversation with Liu Erlong, selecting the most damning evidence. "And prepare refreshments. I will be receiving Dean Liu again this afternoon."
The next few days settled into a new rhythm within the Spirit Hall. Bibi Dong, fueled by her private motivations, dedicated significant time to Liu Erlong. Their meetings were carefully orchestrated – seemingly casual conversations over tea, tours of selected library wings (where specific, damning scrolls were "coincidentally" available for viewing), shared meals where Bibi Dong would subtly drop anecdotes highlighting Yu Xiaogang's past incompetence or arrogance, all framed within a narrative of shared female experience and overcoming betrayal. Liu Erlong, already primed, absorbed it all, her disillusionment solidifying into a cold certainty, replaced by a growing respect and tentative camaraderie with the Supreme Pontiff.
True to his word, Song Qing also played his part. He made himself available to Liu Erlong for roughly two hours each day. Sometimes they would stroll through the less restricted, public gardens of Spirit Hall (never his private Herbal Garden), discussing cultivation principles where he could effortlessly display his profound understanding, subtly reinforcing the superiority of Spirit Hall's methods over Yu Xiaogang's derivative theories. Other times, he would answer her questions about Spirit Hall's structure or history, always polite, charming, insightful, yet maintaining a subtle professional distance.
Liu Erlong found herself increasingly looking forward to these interactions. She actively sought them out, finding excuses to encounter him. His intelligence captivated her, his quiet confidence was magnetic, and his handsome features were a constant, pleasant distraction. She told herself she was merely appreciating the genius Bibi Dong nurtured, learning from the future leader of Spirit Hall. She remained blissfully unaware of the deeper currents swirling around her, or the true nature of the relationship between the disciple and his Teacher.
However, these two hours were merely a fraction of Song Qing's day. The remainder, the vast majority of his free time, was dedicated to the women who held his genuine affection.
He spent hours sparring with Zhu Zhuqing in the training grounds, pushing her agility to new limits, their movements a silent dance of lethal grace, followed by quiet moments where he'd simply hold her hand, appreciating her silent strength.
He indulged Ning Rongrong's whims, accompanying her on shopping excursions into the city for rare silks or interesting gadgets, laughing at her witty remarks, patiently listening to her clan gossip, enjoying her vibrant energy that lit up any room.
He engaged in flirtatious banter and charm duels with Hu Liena, sometimes attending Spirit Hall functions with her on his arm, navigating the social intricacies, enjoying the envious glances directed his way, always aware of the potent allure simmering just beneath her playful facade.
And with Qian Renxue, the moments were often stolen, private. Training sessions hidden away where their power intertwined, quiet conversations late at night discussing strategy and secrets, lingering touches that spoke volumes, and deep kisses that reaffirmed the unique, intense bond they shared, a bond built on shared ambition and hidden passion.
These interactions were filled with genuine warmth, laughter, shared goals, burgeoning love, and a depth of connection.