The icy wind of the Serene Wind Plateau howled around the black stone terrace, but Yù Méi did not feel cold.
Zhì Yuǎn's imposing arms wrapped around the young woman's waist, pulling her firmly. The embrace was not hesitant; it was dense, heavy, and laden with an unshakable possessiveness that anchored her to reality. Yù Méi's face sank directly against the god's bare, pale, sculpted chest, since he still wore only his dark silk trousers. His skin was hot, febrile, covered in a thin sheen of sweat from the hours of cultivation with her sister.
Yù Méi closed her eyes, breathing deeply the intoxicating scent of male sweat, sandalwood, and ozone emanating from his naked flesh. Zhì Yuǎn's slow breathing and steady heartbeat echoed against her cheek, sounding like the foundation of an impenetrable fortress. For the first time in her life, the Brutal Blade did not feel like a weapon forged only to break the world. In his bare arms, crushed against that heat, she felt that she finally belonged somewhere. The raw, absolute satisfaction of being embraced made her let out a long, trembling, surrendered sigh against the skin of his chest.
The moment was one of rare, silent sweetness. Until a low, deliberate sound cut through the calm.
Ahem.
Yù Qíng cleared her throat softly a few steps away. The priestess stood on the terrace, her exhausted body wrapped only in her thin, dark silk robe. She crossed her arms beneath her full breasts, but the look she cast at her sister was not cold or utilitarian. Yù Qíng's black eyes sparkled with dark pride and fanatical complicity.
"If your goal is merely to rub cheeks and hug all night, I can have the servants bring blankets," Yù Qíng murmured, a smile blooming with intimate provocation. "Kiss already, for heaven's sake. The wind is freezing my feet, and my husband is still hungry."
Yù Méi felt her face burn with shame. She tried to instinctively retreat, pride screaming under her sister's provocation, but Zhì Yuǎn's arms did not yield a single millimeter. Her waist remained locked against his rigid abdomen.
He did not care about his wife's teasing. Zhì Yuǎn looked down at Yù Méi's flushed, panting face. With reverent, terrifying slowness, he raised his right hand and caressed the girl's cheek. His long, calloused thumb brushed her full lower lip, pulling it gently. His black, unfathomable gaze descended upon her with the hunger of an abyss that had finally found a new star to devour.
He leaned in, and his lips touched hers.
The first contact was incredibly delicate. A warm, gentle, exploratory peck. He was marking territory with a sweetness that made the Untouchable Petal's heart leap against her ribs. She squeezed her eyes shut, her hands instinctively clutching the bare skin of his shoulders.
But the gentleness lasted only a fraction of a second.
Zhì Yuǎn's insatiable hunger took control. The kiss deepened viscerally. He tilted his head, forcing her lips to open completely. His fervent, experienced tongue invaded Yù Méi's mouth with absolute possession, exploring every millimeter, savoring her sweet, untouched taste.
Yù Méi choked on the kiss, a muffled, obscene sound escaping her throat. She tried to pull her face back, stunned by the overwhelming voracity, but his right hand slid to her nape, tangling in her dark‑blonde hair and holding her firmly in place.
His physical intensity fried the girl's nerves. Yù Méi's hyper‑dense body, forged in violence and capable of breaking stones, melted completely under the force of that embrace. Weeks of maddening sexual tension, added to years of repressed adoration, exploded in her veins like a dam breached by the friction and heat of his skin. She opened her mouth eagerly, her arms rising to wrap around his broad, sweat‑damp neck, and her tongue responded awkwardly but deliciously hungrily.
Feeling her surrender, Zhì Yuǎn growled low.
His left hand, already resting on her back, slid down and gripped Yù Méi's slender waist, pulling her violently against his body, locking her against him like an iron band. His hard pelvis pressed against her lower belly, making clear the rock‑hard, throbbing volume of his erection. Yù Méi gasped in the middle of the kiss. A wave of hot, involuntary moisture soaked her intimacy instantly, pure instinct responding to the weight of his body.
With the girl firmly anchored by his left arm and her arms around his neck, Zhì Yuǎn loosened the grip of his right hand on her nape. The god's warm palm slid with possessive slowness down the side of the young woman's neck, descending along the pale curve of her collarbone. His long fingers slid gently down the valley between her breasts, brushing against the golden silk of her dress—which still bore the shadows of bloodstains from her brutality—until they finally wrapped around the full flesh of her left breast.
He squeezed the softness firmly, kneading the weight with delicious force, his thumb brushing and pinching the nipple that hardened painfully beneath the stained fabric.
"Nngh… Z‑Zhì Yuǎn…" Yù Méi sobbed against his lips, her long legs buckling, losing strength. If his left arm were not a stone anchor supporting the weight of her waist, the lethal warrior would have collapsed to the terrace floor right there.
The obscene sound of saliva and wet kisses filled the night air, mingled with the submissive moans of the Brutal Blade, who openly offered herself to be taken.
"Enough," Yù Qíng's voice cut through the air like a whip.
Zhì Yuǎn parted his lips from Yù Méi's, his bare chest rising and falling heavily, his gaze darkened by lethal lust. But he obeyed, resting his forehead against Yù Méi's, who panted desperately, her almond eyes glazed with pure, blind lust.
Yù Qíng stepped closer and lightly touched her husband's bare shoulder.
"Save your hunger, my heaven," the priestess murmured, smiling with the dangerous indulgence of a cult leader evaluating her newest devotee. "She is already dripping, but raw clay shatters if thrown directly into the center of the furnace. We need to mold her to the heat before fusing her."
Yù Méi blinked, shaking her head to try to clear her lust‑drowned brain. "Damn, I… I can take it…" Yù Méi stammered, her trembling hands still clutching his bare shoulders. "My body is hard. I break stones."
Yù Qíng let out a short, merciless laugh. "Your outer flesh is a fortress, little flower," Yù Qíng agreed, her black eyes gleaming. "But your insides still carry mortal filth. His fire will fry your meridians from within. If he simply pours what he has inside you without preparation, you will pass out from pain and shock before the fifth climax."
Yù Qíng's practical warning threw a bucket of cold water on Yù Méi's lust‑stunned stupor. The warrior clenched her teeth, frustration fighting against physical need.
"Hell. So what do I have to do?" Yù Méi demanded, her full chest rising and falling, martial determination overshadowing shame.
Zhì Yuǎn stepped back half a step, though he did not release her waist. "Forging requires a center, Méi," Zhì Yuǎn instructed, his deep voice taking on an unshakable commanding tone. "But your space is still invisible and formless. You do not have a dantian to anchor the energy."
He lightly touched her lower belly with his fingertips, making her shudder. "I will deposit my Yang directly into that void. I will guide you from within, step by step, as I did with your sister on our first time. Your job will be to grasp my fire with your core and spin it like a mill."
Yù Qíng added, whispering with intimate malice near her sister's ear: "Grind his energy with your own moisture, little flower. That raw friction will invert the flow inside you. The clash between cold and fire will temper your flesh to the limit and expel all biological filth from your body through pain and pleasure. Your beauty will finally bloom when the Refined Body is complete."
Yù Méi swallowed hard. The idea of crushing his fire inside her own belly, guided blindly, sounded terrifying and insane.
"And after the filth is out?" the blonde asked, her voice trembling.
Zhì Yuǎn did not hesitate. His dark eyes fixed on her soul with the weight of a cosmic promise. "When your flesh is purified and strong enough, I will use my own power to force open the space in your belly. I will break your dantian open to the world. And then… we will invert the energy."
He tightened his grip on her waist, pulling her close again. "Nine consecutive times. Yang to Yin. Yin to Yang, within our intimacy. With each inversion, the energy will lose density, but it will sacrifice that weight to achieve absolute purity. If you endure to the ninth inversion, the energy will transcend to the Primordial Qi that feeds my universe. Your limit will be tested to the last drop."
Yù Méi looked at Yù Qíng's wonderfully sadistic face, then at Zhì Yuǎn's bare chest and unfathomable profile. His Hunger called to her. The raw lust of her own body dripped with need. The physical pact was laid out: to be guided blindly, to grind the energy, to purify the flesh in pain, to have her dantian forced open by his power, and to endure the nine absolute inversions to forge the Primordial.
"Alright. Mill, purify, open the dantian, nine inversions," Yù Méi nodded furiously, her almond eyes gleaming with predatory, eager fervor. She grabbed the god's large, warm hand, pulling him toward the heavy double doors of the quarters. "To the bedroom. Both of you. Now. I will endure everything you throw at me."
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