The first light of dawn, a weak, grey thing, filtered through the invisible ventilation shafts of the sanctuary. But inside the special, soundproof chamber, the only light came from the soft, eternal glow of the spirit-flowers, casting a dreamlike, intimate ambiance over the scene of utter debauchery.
Wang Jian awoke, not with a start, but with the slow, deep satisfaction of a predator that has feasted well. He was lying on a massive divan of soft, plush beast furs, and his bed was not empty. It was a tangled, magnificent landscape of naked, female flesh. The beautiful women he had conquered, the proud wives and the innocent juniors, were all around him, their bodies entwined with his and with each other's in the exhausted aftermath of their long, brutal night of pleasure.
The air was thick with the scent of sex, a heavy, musky aroma of sweat and spent seed that he found more intoxicating than the rarest of perfumes.
