"So with a heavy heart, I make a heavy request to all the women of the world," Chen Tao's voice boomed even louder. "This world is dying. The Heavenly Gate shall deplete its spirit energy, making crops, spirit trees, and fruits wither away, and cultivation nearly impossible… Become my women, my daughters, my disciples' friends and brothers' partners, and I will spare you from a fate of torment. Board my ships, and I will guide you all to the realms of immortality."
Those words signified the end.
Chen Tao, a legend once at the Core Formation stage, had not only reappeared after a hundred years of absence but also shocked the world by becoming an unshakable Peak Nascent Soul expert. He had allied with numerous powerful sects and hidden clans while declaring his intent to pierce through the heavens and seek the world of unparalleled immortal masters.
The world was thrown into chaos.
Mothers abandoned their husbands. Sisters fled, seeking opportunities in the arms of disciples. Men fought desperately to board the ships—or to curse their partners not to leave them behind. The Immortal Road Sage watched as blood spilled. Rogue cultivators banded together and demanded entry onto the ships, and when denied, they fought until their last breaths.
Husbands wept as they caught their wives packing their bags—and sometimes their daughters' as well. Some willingly sent their daughters off, while others cursed, sharpening their blades. Blood painted the streets. Lawlessness spread like wildfire—murder, theft, and atrocities committed left and right as the world descended into madness while the ships departed one by one.
Eventually, the world accepted its fate.
Time passed, and as the Sage had foretold, the Qi in the air grew drastically scarce. Spirit plants withered, crops failed, and soil dried. Mortals were the first to fall.
It did not happen overnight.
No, it took years. Those who had cultivated into the later stages of Qi Refinement—escaping mortal shackles and obtaining lifespans of four centuries or more—lingered on. Yet even they met their end, whether through sickness or the slow passage of years.
The mortal race went extinct, with none left to preserve their lineage. Cultivators endured, though their struggles deepened. Cultivation had always been difficult, but now, with the Heavenly Gate continually stripping the world of its essence, it became nearly impossible.
Cultivation was becoming more and more an unlikely dream.
Until… an unexpected discovery.
Two hundred years into the Female Extinction event.
A rogue cultivator who had once practiced multiple dual cultivation techniques wandered the land, a single quest burning in his heart: to find a woman's companionship once more. He trekked through deep forests in search of barbaric tribes.
But all he found were tribes stripped of their women, their men baring teeth and slaughtering any cultivators who approached, as though a blood feud existed between them and the animal-like breed of men.
Despair took root in his group.
They had hoped that some smaller tribes might have been spared the Sage's hand. Yet every settlement they crossed proved otherwise. Every hostility faced sapped their resolve. The nights grew colder.
Whispers spread among them. Stories circulated within their circles—desperate attempts to convince themselves of hope. They spoke of hidden clans, forgotten temple monks, and villages so far removed from the world that their women had never heard the Sage's words, waiting instead in warm beds with bountiful feasts.
Delusion. Yet none would refute it. For who could say whether such fantasies were false? The tales carried weight. Hadn't all cultivators heard stories of hidden clans and lost villages?
These stories kept morale alive.
But morale could not satisfy human needs.
The leader of this group—Yan Zhen, the dual cultivator who had led them across deserts, ruins, and abandoned abodes—had not tasted flesh in hundreds of years. At last, he snapped.
His thirsty dragon rod roared as he lunged at his soft-skinned Daoist brother.
Perhaps it was desperation. Yet as he committed the deed, comprehension dawned.
A Yang-on-Yang dual cultivation technique.
That night, the world changed once more. A new cultivation style flooded into existence.
—
Han Jie refused to let go of him, slurping as if he were a can of milk iced tea.
Shi Yang's eyes shifted away from hers, darting toward the walls, candles, and furniture. The inherited memories of over a hundred years had finally settled within him.
The sound of slurping carried through the walls of one of the White Lotus Pavilion's private exchange rooms; two practitioners were entwined in a heated embrace. One unsheathed his sword while the other polished it in exchange for a favor.
Han Jie turned her head aside, pulling back with a soft plop. His second release spurted onto her tongue and inner cheeks. Her abdomen grew hot as her lips glistened with moisture. "Haa… haa…"
She panted while fixing her hair, golden bangles chiming faintly around her wrists.
Her eyes narrowed, tongue dancing around his tip. "I must say, Brother Shi, your dual cultivation technique seems remarkably compatible with mine." Her voice purred as she ran her tongue down his shaft, licking and sucking away the remnants of spilled seed.
"…Is that so?" Shi Yang muttered, still struggling to adapt to his second life. The bitter realization that his very first encounter was with a man gnawed at him. His fragile heart ached like never before.
This place isn't meant for someone like me, he thought, teeth clenched. Why couldn't the heavens have sent me onto the Immortal Road Sage's boat with his disciples? Why cast me down into this broken lower realm?
He bit his tongue, the sting sharp as needles. I like women too! he cursed inwardly. But his little brother betrayed him once again, stiffening under Han Jie's gentle caress.
"I truly think there could be no more compatible partner," she whispered, resting her face against his thighs. Her voice was soothing, her body rubbing lightly against his hairy legs.
His abdomen still glowed faintly gold. The Sweat-Drinking Dragon Scripture, a unique dual cultivation practice he had discovered in a tomb before the age of the Sage, was in motion.
His predecessor had placed great hopes in this scripture, though after countless barren encounters he had lost faith that it could ever reach its true peak. For though the method could be practiced by either sex, its greatest potential lay in being shared with a female Daoist.
Still, his predecessor had found use in it. At its core, it devoured a partner's sweat, strengthening his own Yang, before returning what could not be absorbed through White Nectar—with interest.
This peculiarity made him sought after, and his predecessor had enjoyed many return customers. Shi Yang shuddered as the man's lingering memories passed through him: tastes for dominating "acquaintances." Han Jie, thankfully, was not one of them.
Let's forget about those customers… If I must live like this, then perhaps men like Han Jie wouldn't be so bad, he mused for a fleeting moment. ' His soft skin and warmth—it was a life he could endure.
But almost as quickly, he crushed the thought. No. He would not cheapen himself with half-measures. His path would not be spent clinging to whatever scraps fate tossed his way. Only jade-like beauties, true hidden pearls of the world, were worthy of him. Anything less, and he would no longer dare to call himself Shi Yang.
Rumors filled his mind, whispers from the west: the ruins of a Golden Core clan were soon to resurface in the Western Sea. Some even believed female descendants of that clan remained trapped within its formations.
That'll be my goal in this life. I'll traverse land, sea, and sky in search of jade beauties. If not, I'll cultivate to the extreme, plunge into the heavenly gate's gaping maw, and chase after the Immortal Road Sage and his convoy of women!
"Oh? Aren't you getting excited?" Han Jie teased as her gaze fell upon his hardened golden rod. "Well then, Brother Shi, why don't I take care of this little brother of yours—for both of us~"
She rose to her feet, her petite frame coming fully into view, towering slightly over him.
No! Push him away, damn it! he thought, steeling his resolve to resist this brother's tricks. Yet his arms weakened as she leaned close, her left foot pressing onto the bed.
She whispered into his ear, "I know it's still hard for most to adjust to this way of life. I wouldn't want you turning into a hermit right after I've found you."
Her breath tickled him, words dripping with seduction. "So I'll be a bit generous…"
Her fingers wrapped around his rod, caressing gently as she pulled away from his ear, lowering herself slowly. "I have a special technique, one that will let you recall long-lost feelings. No oils, no tricks—just good old techniques."
Shi Yang's eyes widened. Warmth enveloped him—not the dark, narrow tunnel he dreaded, but two thick lips surrounding his member.
"This—" He tried to speak, but she pressed a finger to his lips.
Her eyes gleamed, twinkling as a long-missed sensation rubbed against her womanhood.
Han Jie's finger traced down from his lips to his chin. "If you yell, who knows what hungry beasts might come running for a taste?" Mischief sparkled in her gaze as she caressed his cheek with one hand and his manhood with the other.
Its purple tip brushed repeatedly against her moist slit.
The air thickened. Their breaths entangled, rising and falling together. Han Jie's hand left his chin to rest on his shoulder for support as she climbed onto his lap. Without him noticing, her other hand shifted his length into place.
"Speaking of taste…" She released his shaft. "That's all you get~"
And then she dropped herself onto him, impaling her body on his mighty dragon. Her delicate moan filled the room.
Shi Yang grunted.
The velvet kiss of lips vanished, the cherry-pit sensation replaced by a darker descent. His rod no longer felt her soft entrance but plunged into shadow. Only the wetness guiding him made it bearable.
Han Jie thought this illusion would trick him into believing he was lost in her womanhood, when in truth she had taken him into her forbidden hole. But as his thoughts swirled, he felt her insides tighten around him, betraying the deception.
Her legs arched deliberately, keeping her true womanhood from brushing against him, sealing the illusion. Yet fate betrayed her.
Sweat trickled down her folds, dripping onto his stomach.
Shi Yang's eyes widened. His scripture stirred—he could feel the origin of every droplet of sweat. Arms, back, neck… But this sweat was different. It flowed from her nether regions.
That meant Han Jie was a woman!
His hands shot to her hips, pulling her down to feel her lips against him—
"Ah—no touching!" She gasped, rising quickly, her face flushed as her illusion nearly shattered.