Three days. That's all we had before plunging into what might as well be hell itself. Feng had been tight-lipped about the details, but her "research station" turned out to be a heavily warded outpost near the Screaming Mountains—a jagged range that howled with eternal winds, masking the realm's unstable entrances.
We'd traveled by airship under the guise of a routine inspection, with Mei Ling and Lin Yue posing as my "attendants" while Feng played the role of stern overseer.
The disciples on board had kept their distance after the tea ceremony debacle, but I could feel their eyes on us, especially Jian Wei's crew, whispering about the "perverted emperor" and his women.
Those three days weren't wasted. In the privacy of the pleasure palace—each night expanding it in our quarters like a hidden sanctuary—I'd pushed our dual cultivation to its limits.
