The Grand Arena of the Supreme Profound Sect was a coliseum of white marble, capable of seating fifty thousand disciples. Today, it was full. The roar of the crowd sounded like a crashing ocean, a cacophony of cheers, bets, and bloodlust.
Banners waved in the wind, representing the various peaks. The atmosphere was electric. This was the Outer Court Ranking Tournament—the only chance for trash to become dragons.
High above the common rabble, suspended on a floating platform of jade and gold, was the Patriarch's Box.
Feng Wuya sat on a throne draped in the fur of a Thunder Tiger. He wore robes of midnight blue, loose and unfastened at the chest, revealing the hard, defined muscles of his chest. He held a goblet of spirit wine, looking down at the ants below with bored eyes.
Inside the box, the air was cool and scented with rare incense, shielded from the noise outside by a sound-dampening array. But the array was one-way; they could hear the crowd, but the crowd couldn't hear them.
Standing beside him was Su Daji. The Nine-Tailed Empress was disguised. She wore the simple, conservative gray robes of an older servant matron, her silver hair tied back in a severe bun. But she couldn't hide her figure. The gray fabric strained dangerously against her massive, heavy breasts, threatening to burst the seams. Her hips swayed with a natural, hip-rolling gait that drew the eye of every Elder in the adjacent boxes.
And kneeling between Feng Wuya's legs, hidden from the waist down by the heavy tablecloth laden with fruits and wine, was Su Qingyue.
The Ice Goddess. The fiancée Ye Chen was fighting to "save."
She was dressed in her formal sect whites, pristine and holy. But beneath the table, her reality was filth.
"Open wider," Feng Wuya commanded quietly, not taking his eyes off the arena.
Su Qingyue trembled. Her face was flushed, her eyes watery. She was trapped. If she refused, Feng Wuya would dissolve the sound barrier and let the entire sect hear her.
She parted her lips and took him in.
"Mmph..."
He was already hard, thick and demanding. She bobbed her head, her tongue tentatively swirling around the head. She hated this. She hated him. But her body... her Nine-Yin Ice Phoenix Body... was betraying her. After days of his "training," her body had begun to associate his scent with pleasure.
"Ye Chen is entering the ring," Feng Wuya said, reaching down to tangle his hand in her silky black hair. "Look at him, Qingyue. Lift your head."
Su Qingyue pulled off, a string of saliva connecting her lips to his cock. She peered over the edge of the table, through the magical glass.
Down in the arena, a figure walked out.
Ye Chen.
He looked different. His face had healed, though a faint scar remained where Feng Wuya had slapped him. His aura was sharper, bloodthirsty. He had advanced to the Foundation Establishment Early Stage—a miracle for an Outer Disciple. He carried a heavy black sword on his back.
"I am Ye Chen!" he shouted, his voice amplified by Qi. "I challenge the top ten! I will take the number one spot! And then... I will challenge Feng Wuya!"
The crowd erupted. "He's crazy!" "He wants to fight the Young Master?" "But he's so cool!"
Su Qingyue's heart ached. Ye Chen... you idiot. Run away.
"He looks spirited," Feng Wuya chuckled. He pressed Su Qingyue's head back down. "Suck it while he fights. If you stop, I'll have Daji go down there and eat his heart."
Su Qingyue gave a muffled sob and resumed her task. She took him deeper this time, the head of his cock hitting the back of her throat.
Gawk. Gawk. Slurp.
Below, the fight began.
Ye Chen was fighting a hulking brute from the Earth Peak. The brute swung a massive hammer. Ye Chen dodged, his movement technique agile.
"Ha!" Ye Chen roared, drawing his black sword. "Thunder Flash!"
He struck. The brute went flying.
"YE CHEN WINS!" the referee shouted.
The crowd cheered. "Ye Chen! Ye Chen!"
In the box, Feng Wuya groaned, his hips snapping forward into Su Qingyue's mouth.
"Mmph! Gghhk!" She choked, tears streaming down her face. The contrast was breaking her mind. Her childhood friend was winning glory, shouting her name, fighting for their future... and she was here, on her knees, treating his enemy's cock like a lollipop.
"Daji," Feng Wuya said, glancing at the Empress. "Help her. She's too slow."
"As you command, Master," Daji purred.
The disguised Empress knelt down beside Su Qingyue. The space under the table was cramped and hot, smelling of sex and wine. Daji, despite her guise as a matron, radiated a terrifying heat.
"Move over, little girl," Daji whispered, her golden eyes flashing. "Let this Ancestor show you how to drain a man."
Daji didn't use her mouth. She used her hands. She grabbed Feng Wuya's sack, massaging the balls with a technique honed over thousands of years. With her other hand, she fondled Su Qingyue's breasts through the white silk robes.
"Ah!" Su Qingyue gasped, the sudden stimulation making her clamp down on Feng Wuya's cock.
"Don't bite," Feng Wuya warned, slapping the top of her head.
Below, Ye Chen was on a streak. He defeated the 9th rank. The 8th rank. The 5th rank.
He was covered in blood and sweat. He looked heroic. He pointed his sword at the Skybox.
"Su Qingyue!" Ye Chen screamed, his voice filled with passion. "I know you are watching! I know you were forced! Wait for me! I will defeat him and cancel the engagement today!"
The camera arrays zoomed in on Ye Chen's face, projecting it onto massive screens around the arena. He looked desperate and loving.
In the box, Feng Wuya pulled Su Qingyue up.
"He's calling you," Feng Wuya smirked. "You should answer."
He grabbed Su Qingyue by the waist and turned her around. He lifted her skirts. She was wearing nothing underneath—he had forbidden it.
"Bend over the railing," he ordered.
"No... No! Please!" Su Qingyue panicked. "Everyone will see!"
"The glass is one-way, you stupid bitch," Feng Wuya hissed. "They can only see your face. They can't see me behind you. Now bend over."
He forced her upper body over the velvet railing of the balcony. To the crowd below, it looked like the Holy Maiden Su Qingyue had appeared to watch the match, her face flushed with emotion.
"Look! It's Senior Sister Su!" "She's watching Ye Chen!" "She looks... flustered? Is she crying?"
Ye Chen saw her. His heart soared. "Qingyue! I'm doing this for you!"
Feng Wuya stood behind her, hidden by the shadows of the box and the angle of the balcony. He opened his robes.
He spat on her ass cheeks.
Splock.
He lined up.
"Smile for the hero," Feng Wuya whispered.
He thrust.
"AAAAAH!"
Su Qingyue screamed.
To the crowd, it sounded like a scream of worry or excitement. But to her, it was the sound of being skewered. Feng Wuya drove into her mercilessly, entering her dry and hard.
"Yes! Scream his name!" Feng Wuya commanded, grabbing her hair and pulling her head back so the crowd could see her face clearly.
"Ye... Ye Chen!" Su Qingyue wailed, her hands gripping the velvet railing so hard her knuckles turned white. Thrust. Thrust. Thrust.
Ye Chen, down in the arena, wiped blood from his mouth. "She called my name! She's worried about me! I must win!"
He charged his next opponent, a Sword Master. The fight was brutal. Sparks flew.
Above, the fight was carnal.
Feng Wuya was relentless. He hammered into the Ice Goddess. Her body, conditioned by the Nine-Yin physique, clamped around him tight as a vice. She was so wet now, her juices dripping onto the expensive carpet of the balcony.
Clap. Clap. Clap.
The sound of his hips hitting her ass was rhythmic, matching the beat of the war drums below.
"You like this?" Feng Wuya growled in her ear. "Watching your savior bleed while I breed you?"
"No... No... Ah! Ah! It feels... too deep!" Su Qingyue sobbed, her eyes rolling back. The public exposure, the risk, the degradation—it was overloading her senses. Her cultivation began to stir. Her Yin energy swirled, seeking his Yang.
"Master," Daji whispered from the shadows behind them. "She is close. Break her."
Feng Wuya reached around and cupped Su Qingyue's breast, squeezing it hard through the silk. He found her nipple and pinched it violently.
"Ye Chen is losing!" Feng Wuya lied.
"No... Ahhh! God! Feng Wuya! FUCK ME!"
Su Qingyue lost it. The pressure broke her mind. She started pushing back against him, grinding her ass onto his cock. She forgot the crowd. She forgot the hero. She only knew the dick inside her.
"That's it," Feng Wuya grinned.
He felt the pressure building.
Below, Ye Chen unleashed his trump card. A massive explosion of sword qi. He defeated the Rank 1 disciple.
"I HAVE WON!" Ye Chen roared, raising his arms. "FENG WUYA! GET DOWN HERE!"
At that exact moment, Feng Wuya bottomed out inside Su Qingyue.
"Take it, fiancée."
He erupted.
A massive load of hot, thick semen flooded Su Qingyue's womb.
"NNNNGGGGHHHHH!"
Su Qingyue's back arched. Her mouth opened in a silent scream of ecstasy. Her eyes went white. She convulsed violently on the balcony railing, her body shuddering as she climaxed hard, milking every drop from him.
To the crowd, it looked like she was overwhelmed with shock at Ye Chen's victory. She slumped forward, draping over the railing, panting, looking down at Ye Chen with glazed, unfocused eyes.
Ye Chen panted, looking up at her. "Qingyue... are you okay?"
Su Qingyue couldn't speak. She was twitching, her belly full of the Villain's seed, her legs trembling uncontrollably.
Feng Wuya buttoned his pants calmly. He fixed his robes. He stepped out from the shadows, standing beside the slumped Su Qingyue. He put a possessive hand on her shoulder.
The crowd went silent. The Young Master had appeared.
"Ye Chen," Feng Wuya's voice boomed, magically amplified. "You made a lot of noise."
"I defeated everyone!" Ye Chen shouted, pointing his sword. "I challenge you! If I win, the engagement is off!"
Feng Wuya looked down at him. He looked at the blood, the sweat, the desperate hope.
"Challenge me?" Feng Wuya laughed. "You are covered in filth. You aren't worthy of dirtying my boots."
He raised his right hand.
He didn't draw a weapon. He simply activated the Golden Core Pressure.
BOOM.
An invisible hand of gravity slammed down on the arena.
The disciples in the front rows fainted. The stone floor cracked.
Ye Chen, who was standing proud, suddenly felt like a mountain had been dropped on his shoulders.
"Guh!"
His knees buckled. He tried to stand, channeling all his Qi. "I... will not... kneel!"
"Kneel," Feng Wuya said softly.
He intensified the pressure, adding the Fox God's Aura (obtained from Daji).
CRACK.
Ye Chen's leg bones fractured. He slammed face-first into the dirt. He tried to push himself up, coughing blood, but he was pinned like a bug.
"You... cheated..." Ye Chen wheezed. "Golden... Core..."
"It's not cheating," Feng Wuya said, looking bored. "It's evolution. While you were playing with swords in the mud, I was attaining the Dao."
He looked at the crowd.
"The tournament is over. The winner is... irrelevant."
He grabbed Su Qingyue by the back of her neck. She was still limp, recovering from the orgasm. He pulled her up.
"Say goodbye to your hero, Qingyue."
Su Qingyue looked down. She saw Ye Chen broken in the dirt, humiliated, powerless. She felt the warm fluid leaking down her thighs. The reality of the power gap was absolute.
"I..." Her voice was a croak. "Go home... Ye Chen. You can't win."
Ye Chen's eyes widened in horror. "Qingyue...?"
Feng Wuya didn't let him finish. He turned around, dragging Su Qingyue back into the shadows of the box.
"Show's over," he declared. "I have a fiancée to clean up."
He waved his hand, and the heavy velvet curtains of the box slammed shut, cutting off the view.
Inside the box, Feng Wuya sat back on his throne. Su Qingyue collapsed at his feet, sobbing quietly. Daji poured him a fresh glass of wine.
[Ding! Villainous Act Complete.] [Target: Ye Chen. Publicly Humiliated. Spirit Broken.] [Target: Su Qingyue. Corrupted (Public Play).] [Destiny Points +2000.] [New Feature Unlocked: The Dungeon of Despair.]
Feng Wuya took a sip of wine.
"That was a good warm-up," he said. "Daji, take them both back to the estate. Prepare the Wedding Chamber. It's time to make this official."