"Guards, arrest this disrespectful boy at once. This is a direct order from your royal princess—Princess Lianhua Tianchen."
"But Big Sister—please!" Her younger brother stepped forward, voice trembling with urgency. "We may be royal, but he still has the right to speak his mind. Please, for me." His eyes widened with pleading sincerity, so full of desperation they could melt a glacier.
Lianhua hesitated. For a fleeting second, her gaze softened. But then her royal composure hardened once more. "No," she said, voice steady and cold. "I'm sorry, little brother. Do not show this boy any respect—he is dangerous, and I see what others do not."
Inside the courtyard of the royal palace.
"What is this commotion?" The Emperor's voice cut through the courtyard like a blade—calm, regal, impossible to ignore. His gaze fell upon Ren, who royal guards restrained.
The Empress stood beside him, serene and radiant. Her beauty was striking: luminous eyes, regal poise, and a body shaped by divinity and power.
The royal princess watched Ren like a predator, her gaze cold and unyielding.
"This man has disrespected me, Father. I am placing him under arrest," she declared. "He dared call me ugly, and worse—he questioned my claim that my beauty rivals that of Empress Lingxi of the Shattered Epoch, Mother. He's essentially saying that both she and I are unworthy of admiration."
The Emperor's expression darkened, his glare brimming with disdain.
"How dare you suggest that my daughter is not comparable to Empress Lingxi—or to my wife," he said, voice sharp as tempered steel. "Have you even seen her? The Empress is the most beautiful woman our mortal empire has ever known. Her grace is legendary. Her visage, revered. Guards—take him away. Now."
"I never said she was ugly," Ren said, voice calm but laced with scorn. "It's her temperament that's repulsive—spiteful, petty, devoid of grace. You both raised her wrong, or she's simply a lost cause. Credit where it's due, though... You did better with your son, Mingyu."
A voice like silk dipped in fire chimed in from the shadows.
"That's Prince Mingyu Tianchen to you."
She emerged, cloaked in flame and elegance.
The Empress.
The legend who fractured treaties with a smile.
Whispers called her the Imperial Lady of Flame.
Bolder tongues used other terms—sexy MILF Empress among them.
Those tongues rarely lasted the week.
Ren gazed at her—truly, deeply. What he saw went beyond flame-draped regality or the weaponised beauty she wore like skin.
Her blood shimmered with ancient clarity. Not just godly—primordial.
The purity in her veins spoke of first light, of the moment when cosmos took breath and divinity found shape. She wasn't merely of the ancient god species. She was near the root—descended closely from the First Ancestor, the origin point of celestial bloodlines.
And her husband... the same purity echoed in him. Twin flames forged of the same stellar ore.
Ren's posture shifted. Not in fear, but recognition.
These weren't rulers by accident or ambition.
They were inheritance made flesh
Ren didn't resist as they dragged him through the palace halls, past columns carved with divine ancestry and relics of old wars. The guards hesitated for a moment—then shoved him into the strongest holding cell in the royal complex. It pulsed with runes older than empires.
The royal princess didn't trust his background. A man like Ren—whose very bloodline might fracture treaties—was not to be handled lightly.
Yet Ren said nothing.
Character mode: engaged.
Emotion: unreadable.
He simply sat down, cross-legged on the cold stone, and closed his eyes.
All around him, the air shimmered. The palace itself was built on a nexus of Ancient God Qi, rich and undiluted. It flowed through the walls, the floor, the breath of the imperial flame.
Ren inhaled slowly, letting that Qi seep into his meridians. Let them think he was contained. In truth, he was feasting on power royalty couldn't begin to wield.
Then out of nowhere, his mother-in-law appeared.
Cecillia Morningstar, the devil herself.
She materialised in the strongest cell in the palace like gravity incarnate—unannounced, uninvited, and utterly in control.
She straddled Ren without hesitation, breasts pressing into his chest, her soft and dangerous curves aligned with deliberate provocation. He could feel her hips teasing his groin, a rhythm as ancient and seductive as the clan she joined. Her body whispered devilry; her intent roared it.
Darkness consumed the chamber, folding everything into a void—except for them.
Ren, illuminated by Ancient God Qi flowing like breath.
Cecillia, glowing with infernal allure, is an Earth-born devil elevated to myth.
And seated atop the Forefather of Ancients, she smiled.
"The creator seated," she murmured, "and the devil herself… right where she belongs."
"So," Ren said, his tone low, gaze sharp. "You joined the Ancient Devils Clan after all. Second strongest among the Ancients… interesting choice. And now you call me Forefather?"
Cecillia Morningstar smiled, devilry incarnate. Her hips ground gently against him, teasing his restraint with rhythmic precision. Her soft curves—her full breasts, her sculpted rear—pressed into him as if moulded by seduction itself. She could feel something stir beneath her. She giggled, delighted.
"Oh, my dear son-in-law," she whispered, voice dripping with velvet sin. "This devil mother missed your touch far more than she'd admit. That pent-up desire? Let it unravel. I do so wish to feel you again…"
"Should I call you Aizen, then?"
Cecillia's voice was quiet, almost reverent. "That was the name you chose when you birthed the Three Ancestors—the ones who worshipped you, feared you, built temples from your silence. I wonder what they'd do if they knew their forefather had returned at last. It's been so long, hasn't it?"
"Oh, and dear son-in-law…" Cecillia's smile curled with mischief. "I may have told the Ancestor of the Ancient Devil Clan who you are. Don't be cross with me—I did it out of love. Consider it a little punishment for not visiting your mother sooner. I missed your company… and having you inside me."
Ren's grip tightened as he drew Cecillia closer, her breath catching against the heat of him. Her eyes shimmered—not just with desire, but with something ancient, aching, almost devotional. Love hearts? No. More like celestial sigils pulsing behind her gaze.
"You're cruel," she whispered, voice trembling with anticipation. "Teasing your mother-in-law like this… I should've done something unforgivable. Then maybe you'd really punish me."
She giggled, a sound like starlight cracking. Her tongue traced the edge of his jaw, then his ear, then the hollow of his neck. With a flick of her wrist, his robes tore like mist, and she pressed her lips to his chest, marking him with kisses that burned like divine seals.
"I truly desire your children, Ren,"
Cecillia whispered, her fingers tracing lazy constellations across his chest. "But we're still shackled by that ridiculous little rule you and your originals made—Bai, Talia, Mariko… and Venya." Her smile curled with mischief. "Three of them are my daughters. Venya isn't. And no, I wasn't left out—I refused to join. I wanted your child right away. No waiting. No vows. Just you and me, and the legacy we could've made."
She sighed, brushing her lips against his skin. "But now I have to wait, since I'm a bit older than you… not by much, mind you. At least, in my opinion."
Ren tilted his head, eyes narrowing with quiet thought. "What's wrong? Venya is me—but the female version. So why don't you show her as much affection as you show me?"
Cecillia's smile was slow, indulgent, and touched with mischief. "She isn't you," she said, voice like velvet laced with starlight. "Not in my opinion. There's only one Ren I need—and that's you, my beloved, desirable son-in-law."
Her fingers found his belt, undoing it with deliberate grace. She smiled at what was revealed, eyes gleaming with hunger and reverence. Lowering herself, she brought her face close, her breath warm against him. Then, with a playful flick of her tongue, she licked him—slow and deliberate—like a lollipop kissed by moonlight.
Cecillia's gaze shimmered with playful defiance. She didn't stop at mere reverence—her lips travelled lower, tracing the sacred terrain beneath with languid devotion. Her tongue flicked out again, teasing the twin orbs with a touch that was both mischievous and worshipful, as if she were tasting the essence of a legacy yet to be born.
She giggled softly, the sound like moonlight rippling across a forbidden river. "Still think Venya could match me?" she whispered, eyes gleaming with cosmic challenge.
Ren didn't speak. He simply smiled—a quiet, knowing curve of his lips.
Then he claimed her, fingers threading through her hair with the solemn grace of a high priest guiding his chosen devotee.
She followed without hesitation, her mouth opening in reverence, her body moving like a priestess performing a sacred rite.
Her head bowed and rose in rhythm, not just with lust, but with devotion—each motion deliberate, each breath a hymn.
She used her tongue with care and hunger, chasing not just pleasure, but reunion.
She wanted to taste him. To drink the essence of the man who had calmed her storms and rewritten her fate.
She didn't stop. She wouldn't.
Because with Ren, her hunger was not indulgence—it was worship.
And in that moment, she was not merely a lover.
She was the Earth-born Devil, kneeling like a nun before her god.
She swallowed with delight, eyes shimmering with mischief and longing.
"There was so much," she whispered, licking her lips. "I couldn't take it all."
Then she giggled—a sound like starlight breaking through stormclouds.
"You're clearly pent-up, son-in-law. Why don't you release it inside me instead? Raw. Unfiltered."
Her voice dropped to a reverent hush.
"If I can't bear your children now, I'll keep them inside me until I can.
Even if it takes a million years.
I'll birth them willingly—when the stars align, when fate allows."
She smiled, not with seduction, but with certainty.
Because for Cecillia, desire was never fleeting.
It was a legacy waiting to be born.
"That's it, son-in-law," she moaned, voice trembling with delight. "Only you can reach places no man ever has."
Her fingers gripped his shoulders, her breath hot against his skin.
"You drive me mad. You only grow more dangerous, more divine, as the years pass."
She laughed softly, a sound laced with memory and madness.
"I still remember when I took your innocence, when I claimed you for the first time.
I felt guilty—not just for the blood between us.
But for your mother.
We have been best friends since we were babies.
She trusted me. She never imagined I'd touch her son."
Her voice faltered, then deepened with longing.
"But you were wicked. You seduced me long before you touched my daughters."
Her eyes shimmered with heat and regret.
"You looked at me with hunger. With that storm in your gaze.
You wanted to taste me. To claim me. To do whatever you pleased with my body.
And I let you. Only you.
There are things I never did with my three ex-husbands—men I killed without regret.
But with you… I surrendered."
Cecillia lay on her back, legs spread wide, her body trembling beneath him.
Ren was above her, pressing down with the full weight of his power—his hips relentless, his gaze locked onto hers.
He held her in the mating press, each thrust deliberate, each motion a vow.
She gasped, her fingers clawing at his back. "Don't you dare make yourself infertile in this moment."
Her voice cracked with desperation and devotion. "Impregnate your mother-in-law. Finally. I want your children."
Her body arched, writhing beneath him. "Gods, I'm cumming… I've lost count."
She laughed, breathless and wild, her eyes shimmering with heat.
"And you—Ren—you haven't even released once yet."
Her voice dropped to a whisper, reverent and raw.
"My daughters are going to be furious with me.
They won't blame you—they'll blame me. And I'm fine with that.
It's part of the game. Part of the fire."
She wrapped her legs tighter around him, pulling him deeper.
"I love them so much… but I'll make sure I'm the one who bears your children first."
Her eyes locked onto his, fierce and pleading.
"I was your first woman.
I deserve to be the first to carry your legacy.
Ren's body remained perfectly still—poised, powerful, divine.
Yet within, he was pouring into her, endlessly, unstoppably.
His seed surged deep, flooding her womb with a force that defied time.
Cecillia moaned, her voice thick with pleasure and triumph.
She tightened around him, her body clenching greedily, drawing him deeper, milking him for every drop.
Her tongue lolled out, her eyes half-lidded with bliss.
"So much… gods, you're still releasing…" she whispered, voice trembling with awe.
She could feel it leaking out, hot and heavy, even as he remained buried inside her.
And yet he didn't move. He didn't falter.
This was only the first round.
There would be a hundred more.
She arched her back, wrapping her legs tighter around his hips.
"Don't stop," she breathed. "Fill me until I overflow.
I want to carry you inside me until the stars forget their names."
Her nails dug into his back—desperate, trembling, hungry.
She wanted to scar him.
To leave proof that she'd had him, claimed him, drawn his godhood into her body.
But his skin was flawless—untouched by blade, flame, or time.
Except her.
Because he allowed it.
Because he wanted her to mark him.
And so, her nails sank deeper, and his flesh yielded—not in weakness, but in permission.
Thin red lines bloomed across his back, glowing faintly with celestial light.
She gasped, seeing them.
"Ren…"
He turned his head slightly, voice low.
"I let you scar me."
Then he kissed her—fiercely, hungrily, without restraint.
His lips crushed hers, his tongue claiming her mouth as deeply as his body had claimed her soul.
It wasn't gentle.
It wasn't careful.
It was Ren unleashed.
The Ren she remembered.
The one who had once shattered stars for her.
She opened her eyes, breathless, dazed.
And she saw it.
Not just Ren.
But the Emperor Shadow.
Merged. Whole.
His eyes burned with ancient fire, his aura vast and terrible.
He was no longer divided.
No longer torn between restraint and desire.
He had let go.
And he had chosen her.
They hadn't stopped.
Not yet.
This was the hundredth round.
Ren had her pinned against the Shadow Wall, her back arched, her legs wrapped around his waist like chains forged from longing.
His thrusts were deep, relentless, divine.
Seed still leaked from her greedy cunt, dripping down her thighs, yet she clenched around him again—tight, desperate, claiming.
Their mouths met in a kiss that devoured breath and memory.
She moaned into him, her body trembling, her core tightening so fiercely he could feel her entire being pulling him deeper.
Ren reached places no other man could.
Not because of technique.
But because he was hers.
And she was his.
She kept cumming—again, again, again—her body a storm of pleasure and possession.
Neither had run out of stamina.
They were immortals.
They were gods.
And Ren could feel it—how tight she was, how her body welcomed him like heaven and hell combined.
Because she was both.
A devil in flesh.
Her ass recoiled against his hips, firm yet soft, full and perfect.
Every impact echoed through the wall behind her, shadows rippling like silk.
She was moaning, clawing, tightening.
And Ren was pouring himself into her again, not just seed, but soul.
They had summoned a modern shower on Earth.
Steam curled around them, soft and familiar.
Ren held Cecillia close, her back against the shadowed wall, his hands resting on her hips as they kissed—slow, lingering, no longer urgent, just present.
The moment had quieted.
Now they simply embraced, letting the warmth settle between them.
Cecillia spoke softly, her breath brushing his skin:
"I have to keep our children from being born too soon."
She sighed, not because she was forced—but because she had chosen.
"I follow that stupid rule for you. Even though I'm reluctant."
Her fingers traced his chest, her voice low.
"They won't exist until we both reach a million years old. It's such a silly rule."
She looked up at him, eyes shimmering with longing.
"Still, I want to raise them with you. I want to see them grow, together."
Ren didn't speak. He just held her tighter.
Cecillia smiled, mischievous and warm.
"And after that? I want grandchildren. From three of my daughters."
She chuckled softly.
"They're your wives too, remember? They miss you as much as I have. Expect a visit from them soon… or maybe you should go to them. You have the ability."
She laid her head on his chest, listening to the rhythm of his immortal heart.
Outside, the world turned.
Inside, they stayed—wrapped in warmth, in memory, and in the quiet promise of futures yet to come.