The emperor's death ignited fierce struggles across the empire.
In his mansion, Prince Zan, clad in battle armor, faced his tearful wife and daughters with bold confidence. "Don't worry. I've never lost."
Meanwhile, Prince Tao, hearing the nine tolls of the bell, stood slowly, fixing his crown. "Now, it's fight or die. Fight, and we might live."
"Li, I'll win a princess title for you and Qing!" Prince Ren, usually calm, donned armor and gently ruffled his puzzled daughter's hair.
This marked the start of a new dynasty, a cycle both certain and inescapable.
The founding emperor, Ming Jiang, a time-traveler, could never settle on an heir, cautious of the risks.
His thirst for power grew with age, tainting even family bonds with betrayal and bloodshed. Several princes were entangled in the conflict, with the crown prince replaced three times. Able lords were exiled or confined, losing their shot at the throne.
Even as a time-traveler, Ming couldn't escape time's toll or his rising greed for power. He wasn't as detached as he believed.
He knew his paranoia and tight hold on the throne would unleash chaos after his death. Yet, as a visionary and a moody emperor, he chose this path. After him, let the floods come.
Kai Sun slumped to the ground, tears streaming, silent for ages.
Qing stared into the distance, her slim, graceful figure still, saying nothing.
Guards knelt toward the emperor's palace, heads bowed for hours.
Only one old eunuch, spared from death, stirred. His wrinkled, blotchy face, wet with tears, showed cloudy eyes that flicked toward the girl who saved him.
Qing, slender and curvy, wore a tight white dress that hugged her form. Her full breasts strained against the fabric, creating a striking curve. Her hips swayed gently in the breeze, hinting at a perfect peach shape, the dress clinging to the subtle gap between her thighs, teasing her outline.
The old eunuch's hazy eyes drifted, caught in a memory. Long ago, he'd glimpsed something tender, half-ripe, crisp yet tempting, begging for a bite. His tattered pants twitched as his dick stirred, swelling into a thick, eighteen or nineteen centimeter beast, like a python waking, hot and pulsing.
Qing seemed to sense it. Her gaze flicked over, cold as moonlight on a ditch, sharp yet distant.
The old eunuch was a wreck, sparse hair on his head, skin caked with years of grime, wrinkles and dark spots everywhere. His yellowed teeth and foul stench made Qing's brow furrow, her pure body recoiling. His clothes, unwashed for years, were riddled with holes, revealing a skeletal frame, ribs jutting out, arms and legs like brittle twigs.
But between his legs, a monstrous dick, twenty centimeters long, five or six thick, rose like a spiked club, coiled and ready to strike.
A faint blush crept across Qing's moonlit face. She looked away, but the image burned in her mind, unshakable.
It was her first time seeing a man's private parts, so different from her own, rough with tangled hair. Nothing in her memory or dreams had prepared her.
A sudden spark of intuition had drawn her here, bypassing the palace gates. Her heart raced, a new chaos, leaving her rattled.
The old eunuch felt her glance like a plunge into an icy void, colder than a snowy night in a broken shack. His raging dick wilted under the chill, and he dared not look at her again.
"Who will win?" Kai Sun, steadying himself, stood, avoiding the blood-stained ground. He spoke first.
Qing hesitated, then answered simply. "I don't know."
* I hope Father wins… * But as a cultivator, she knew caring too much about worldly matters was unwise. Her senses already detected a small, bloody clash outside the city.
Kai brushed off dust, his stench somehow less sharp. "Princess, soon you'll be called that. This is my last task for the emperor. Don't stop me."
Time was short, his final chance to wield power and kill one last person. Once a new emperor took over, Kai, loyal to Ming, faced exile or death. * I won't see this year's snow. *
* Is this my fate? A whim? Or a mistake? * Qing glanced at the shivering old eunuch, shaking her head.
Palace gates clattered in the distance. Someone was approaching.
Soon, armored soldiers marched into Yong Row. Their leader spotted Qing and knelt. "Greetings, Princess."
"So soon?" Kai gave a bitter smile. "Looks like Ren won."
The emperor's death meant a careful wait. Those too quick to act ended up in the cold palace, the frozen north, or the toxic south, their fates uncertain. Only patient players could reach the final struggle.
But after Ming's death, speed was key, fast action to secure the realm. Kai hadn't expected Ren's victory so soon, before nightfall. He thought it would take until dawn.
The leader saluted Qing, then approached Kai. His men seized the nearby guards. Kai's face twisted. "Emperor Ren can't wait to be rid of me?"
The commander replied flatly, "Just following orders."
Kai glanced at the spared old eunuch with regret. "This servant failed His Majesty." He was led away.
Qing's home, Pity Moon Residence, sat on a quiet mountainside overlooking Shengjing. The small, secluded spot suited her love for peace, far from palace clamor. Ren, knowing her quiet nature, kept disturbances minimal.
"Plink!"
Qing sat alone in a pavilion, playing her zither. Her slender fingers glided over the strings, weaving a melody to calm her troubled heart. Without magic, the sweet notes were hers alone to hear.
Two weeks in her new home, she'd requested only a few maids to tend the grounds and halls. The place felt desolate, like a haunted mountain retreat, but her immortal maiden aura turned it into a peach-blossom paradise from a storybook.
Half a month ago, she'd saved that old eunuch in Yong Row and left without looking back. Yet her cultivation, nearing a breakthrough, remained stalled, as if blocked by an invisible wall.
A voice in her heart whispered that her destiny lay in Yong Row, or with that old eunuch.
* Mortal trials shake my heart. * Qing murmured, stepping into the air.
Yong Row.
The bloodshed half a month ago was cleaned up. Bloodstains were scrubbed from the ground and walls, save for a few dark, dry patches hinting at the violence. The palace, the realm's heart, was a cold, shifting sea. The fallen were replaced quickly. Who cared for aged eunuchs and maids?
Within half a month, new servants filled Yong Row. Ren, distrustful of old staff, brought in fresh faces. Initially shaken by the blood, they soon settled into routine. Yong Row seemed unchanged.
So did the foul, isolated shack deep inside. Beyond its stench, it housed a half-dead old eunuch. Many thought him gone, but at night, he'd sneak to the pig slop, gorging on scraps.
He was so filthy that the new head eunuch, Jian Qian, ignored him, hoping he'd die to end the smell.
Today, the old eunuch sat still, lost in thought.
For days, a mad voice had tormented his mind, but it was silent now. His frail, near-dead body felt stronger, no longer wracked by pain or limp on his cot, groaning senselessly.
But a new issue arose. His lower belly swelled with a dick thicker than a fire stick, too big for his tattered pants. Wearing them caused pain, even tearing the fabric. On his bed, the massive dick rested between his withered legs, making him look like a three-legged freak.
He scratched his castrated sac, now swollen like water bags, itchy and warm. At night, he heard gurgling, like hot water rolling inside. When the itching faded, his claw-like fingers gripped his thirty centimeter, seven or eight centimeter thick dick, its veins bulging like an angry dragon.
His bony hands couldn't fully encircle it, clutching a scalding iron rod. He began to stroke, up and down, a trick he'd learned on his own. It eased the aching hardness, bringing a pleasure he hadn't felt in years.
But dry stroking wasn't enough. Halfway through, he recalled the "princess" from half a month ago, beautiful, pure as moonlight.
Her full breasts, bound tightly by her dress, seemed to beg for freedom. Her round, peach-like hips, half-ripe under her skirt, cast a mesmerizing shadow between her thighs.
His heart raced, breaths quickening. His hands moved faster, harder. His dick grew hotter, veins throbbing, the purple-red head swelling like a mushroom, its slit opening and closing.
"Princess!"
The slit twitched but released nothing.
A wave of bliss and exhaustion hit, like touching a forbidden peak. Yet it wasn't enough. His new, dark sacs churned with hot, sticky fluid, but it stayed trapped, denying him true release.
Unsated, he kept stroking the still-iron-hard dick.
A fragrant breeze swept in, like blooming flowers mixed with a virgin's scent, dulling the shack's stench. It blended into a strange, musky aroma.
"What are you doing?!" A cold voice cut through, sharp with a hint of panic.
The old eunuch jolted, looking up. There stood his dream fairy, Qing, in his shack.
Her moonlit gaze locked on him, and his massive, stroking dick, monstrous and unsettling.
A tingling thrill shot from his soles to his spine, like needles of ecstasy. His brain sparked with itchy delight.
"Ahhh! Ahhhh!" He couldn't stop, shouting in pleasure, hands pumping like a frantic farmer at a dry well.
His new sacs surged, hot liquid roaring like a bursting dam. "Splurt! Splurt! Splurt!"
Foul, white cum sprayed from the slit, so forceful it felt like his tubes might burst. Thick, fresh semen, teeming with life, arced through the air, reeking and potent.
Its target: Qing, standing before his towering dick.
"You…" Cum hit her face, sticky and rank. She clamped her mouth shut, holding her breath.
One shot, two, three, globs struck her face, hair, and chest. It coated her swan-like neck, her braided hair, seeping into her dress, invading her skin, filling her nose with a man's raw scent.
Qing trembled but stood frozen, a jade statue marred by filthy cum.
Time seemed to stop. The barrage slowed, leaving her face stinging.
"You! Seek! Death!" Her eyes snapped open, fury blazing. A killing intent froze the shack, icing her cum-soaked face and clothes. Frost coated the walls, and the broken window crusted with ice.
Even drenched, Qing's rage marked her as the fearsome "Exiled Fairy."
The old eunuch, fresh from his peak, felt her icy wrath douse his fire. His steel-hard dick drooped like a frostbitten vegetable. Terror surged, overriding lust. He scrambled off the cot, falling into his own cum, and kowtowed, sobbing, "Mercy! Don't kill me! Please!"
He banged his nearly bald head, sparse hairs shaking, until he grew dizzy, nearly fainting. When he dared look up, Qing was gone.
Steam swirled, heat filling the air. Qing lay naked in a large bath, her first urgent soak since achieving her flawless body at ten. Usually, she bathed on a whim or out of a woman's need for cleanliness, but now she scrubbed relentlessly.
Her slender fingers lifted, water droplets gliding over her crystal-jade skin, rippling like molten glass. She touched her firm, high breasts, half-submerged, their tight peaks rising above the water, unlike sagging breasts of older women. Her long hair floated, veiling her stunning form.
She washed repeatedly, as if chasing an unseen taint.
Leaning back, she closed her eyes, seeking calm.
But her mind replayed the forceful spray, the stinging, rank cum sliding from her brow to her breast tips, down her sides, into her navel, and through her dress seams, wetting her silk panties. A stubborn glob had pushed toward her secret place.
* Was that wetness just his cum? *
Her gaze fell on her neatly folded clothes, her panties atop. The white silk, fragrant like spring honey, glistened as if blooming with sweet dew.
She didn't know, didn't want to know.
* The immortal path is vast, love is poison. Desire clouds the mind, sinking one into suffering. *
She wasn't yet a fairy.
Her jade fingers slid down, past her firm breasts, over her smooth belly, then hesitated. They brushed her untouched pussy, free of coarse hair, a mystery even to her.
"Mmm…" Her hand jerked back as if shocked, her body tensing. She dared not explore further, fearing she'd become someone else, someone unthinkable.
A butterfly flitted through the window, drawn to the steamy bathhouse, lured by the floral scent. The room, misty and fragrant, felt like a fairyland.