The dimensional rift swallowed the residual light and collapsed behind Yù Méi with a dry snap, turning the Nightecho Gorge into a coffin sealed seven times over.
The cold wind stopped howling. The crumbled dust of the rocky passage was suddenly smothered by the thick aroma of ozone, sandalwood, and the dense scent of boiling Yin still perspiring from the girl's freshly opened pores.
A few meters away, Elder Guān did not retreat. The 6th Sub-realm warrior, whose scars bore witness to rivers of blood across centuries, had his muscles tensed to fight for his life — but his brain failed miserably to process the sight.
She did not float on gleaming flying swords or wear tunics covered in defensive arrays. The woman stepped on the sharp gravel with perfectly bare feet. The heavy golden-dark silk of her dress split in the breeze, exposing the monumental and scandalous voluptuousness of her thick thighs and skin that shone like the purest milky jade. The afternoon sunlight seemed to bend to reflect in her hair, which cascaded down her back like a waterfall of pure living gold.
An instinctive shock struck the old warrior. The tip of his heavy sword lowered imperceptibly. The terror of facing an aberration capable of tearing dimensions collided head-on with an immediate, filthy lust.
Yù Méi drew no weapons. The youngest stretched languidly, rolling her shoulders back and extending her long arms. The noisy sound of her heavy, forged joints cracking — similar to colliding stones — broke the gorge's lethargy.
"You can take that dirty eye off my leg, old man," Yù Méi's guttural, husky voice tore through the silence, drawled in a lazy humor. She waved her pale hand through the air. "And relax. Remember that part about ripping your heart out through your mouth? I was joking."
The warrior's smile bared her sharp canines.
"I promised my husband I wouldn't turn you to dust today," she continued, rubbing her own collarbone. "He said your clan's hide will be very useful for carrying our moving crates up there. Try not to die too fast, alright? My blood is still boiling from our bed and I want to have a little fun."
The provocation struck Guān like a whip soaked in acid.
The animalistic lust dominating the old man fused violently with orthodox fury, transforming into a desperate need for dominance. Being treated like a pack mule by a woman who did not exhale a single perceptible drop of Qi ruined the remnants of the veteran's sanity. The ego of someone who had spent millennia forging his own legend demanded blood.
"Your husband?" Guān snarled, the vein in his neck pulsing, his scarred face contorting in a sneer of pure hatred. The silver aura of the 6th Sub-realm erupted like a geyser, cracking the stones beneath his boots. "That false ancestor who thinks he can strangle our Court using cheap tricks with merchants and prostitutes?!"
He raised his heavy sword, his eyes fixed on the woman's generous chest and pale neck, the murderous intent distilling a sickly desire.
"I'll break that shadow coward's legs!" Guān's howl shook the dust from the gorge. "I'll skin your husband alive and force him to watch while his blood runs and I put you beneath my body to teach you your place, bitch!"
Yù Méi stopped smiling.
The air around the warrior snapped. The Sea of Gold in her lower belly roared, and the Law of Rupture throbbed at her fingertips, responding instinctively to the profane threat against her god's altar.
Ignoring the mortal danger of that atmospheric shift, Guān fired forward.
The weapon he wielded was no ordinary block of iron. Forged from pure Meteoric Silver Steel, the heavy broadsword had been tempered in the blood of primordial beasts over decades. When the veteran channeled absolutely every drop of his Sword Qi into the weapon's core, the metal hummed hysterically. The blade emitted a blinding gleam of condensed lethality, devouring the elder's Sword Intent until it multiplied its own weight to dozens of tons.
"Silver Moon Transversal Cut!" Guān howled, his voice tearing through his dry throat.
He bent his knees and the gorge floor exploded backward. The arc descended, focused with millimetric precision to slice the golden woman's shoulder and chest in a single perfect blow of orthodox annihilation.
Yù Méi did not retreat. The youngest kept the compressed barrier of the Suspended Lotus passive technique perfectly adhered to the golden silk threads of her dress — to avoid ruining the piece her heaven had given her — shielding only the garment. But on the exposed skin of her arms and shoulders? She deactivated the conceptual protection. She wanted to feel the friction.
Letting out a short yawn, Yù Méi simply raised her bare left forearm, placing her own jade skin directly in the path of the ancestral guillotine.
The frontal collision happened.
THUD!
The sound that erupted in the stone passage was not that of bone shattering or flesh being torn open. It was a hollow, dense, and massive impact — identical to a forge hammer colliding against the flank of a mountain of pure lead.
Guān's formidable Sword Intent did not sink a single millimeter into Yù Méi's skin. The warrior's flesh simply refused to yield.
But the colossal energy of the 6th Sub-realm had to go somewhere.
The ocean of Sword Qi that failed to penetrate the girl's arm ricocheted violently to the sides in a silver scythe-shaped shockwave. The residual detonation swept through the Nightecho Gorge. The immense walls of solid granite to the left and right of Yù Méi ceased to exist. A horizontal, smooth, and perfect cut tore through the entire mountain range, opening a trench ten kilometers long in the solid rock, severing the peaks of the neighboring mountains as though they were made of wet paper.
Thousands of tons of stone collapsed in a deafening avalanche below, swallowing the sunlight beneath a storm of suffocating dust.
At the epicenter of the cataclysm, the vibration of the impact traveled up the Meteoric Silver blade, crossed the weapon's hilt, and exploded directly into Guān's arms. The old swordsman choked, his teeth slamming together with enough force to crack, while the bones of his own forearms throbbed in pure agony under the recoil of his own force returned.
The impact pushed him two steps backward, his boots dragging across the now-pulverized earth.
Behind the woman, the world had been sliced. But on her? The wind of the blow had not wrinkled a single thread of her silk, shielded by the Lotus layer. And the pale, bare forearm that had just deflected the weight of a sea of Qi capable of tearing continents showed not even a red line.
Yù Méi lowered her arm slowly, cracking her neck to the side. Her almond eyes descended to the panting swordsman, her brows furrowing in a bored grimace.
"What was it called? Silver Mule Transversal Cut?" Yù Méi's voice echoed amid the sound of rocks crumbling in the distance, drawled and deliberately wrong. She waved her hand through the air, scattering a bit of dust. "I thought shouting the name would make the iron hit harder, but I didn't notice any difference from your last arm swing. That blade of yours tickles, old man."
Guān's blood ran cold.
"The slaps my husband gives me when we're playing in bed sting a lot more than that rusty piece of iron of yours," the girl taunted, her smile spreading slowly as her sharp canines gleamed. "Come on, put some effort into it. If you can't scratch me, I swear I'll start ripping your limbs off one by one."
The dread of facing an indestructible biological anomaly was drowned by the intolerable shame of having his sect's apex of the Dao compared to lust-driven spanks.
"ABERRATION!" Guān howled, stone dust sticking to the cold sweat of his scarred face, his bloodshot eyes nearly bursting from their sockets.
Unable to process the defeat, Guān emptied the floodgates of his own Animic Ocean. The cultivator unleashed a frenzied, desperate, and deranged storm of cuts.
The steel hummed and collided in furious arcs against Yù Méi's bare shoulders and pale arms. THUD! CLANG! BAM!
With each hollow impact against the woman's jade body, colossal sparks of Sword Qi were deflected uncontrollably. The gorge transformed into a hell of silver light. Lethal rays ricocheted off Yù Méi and cut the earth, opening deep trenches beneath their feet. The sky was torn by sharp wind currents that pulverized the geography in a twenty-kilometer radius.
Forgotten at the edges of the crumbling gorge, the four Twin Shadows Syndicate assassins sweated cold. What should have been a devoted reverence upon their goddess's arrival had transformed into a pathetic survival dance. Every time a silver arc ricocheted harmlessly off Yù Méi's flesh, the lethal wave flew in their direction. The underworld dogs threw themselves to the ground, rolled through the dust, crawled, and leapt hysterically between the boulders to avoid being cut in half by the residual Qi their Mistress ignored with boredom.
At the eye of the hurricane, Yù Méi simply existed.
The old man tried to slice the woman's torso and waist, but the crushing force slid uselessly against the Lotus barrier coating the dress. The unprotected flesh of her arms received the destructive impacts with the same tranquility of someone standing in a light summer drizzle.
But the carnage extracted its price. In trying to scratch the woman, the old man drained his own vital essence at a suicidal rate.
The man's breathing became a ragged wheeze, and the Animic Ocean in his belly dried up, exhausted by the effort of remodeling the entire landscape with every blow. The sound of the steel striking began to lose force.
When the Meteoric Silver blade collided against Yù Méi's exposed collarbone for the thirtieth time, the ancestral sword groaned. Caught between Guān's sea of Qi and Yù Méi's monumental density, the metal's physics reached its limit. A small fragment of the ore cracked and flew through the air. The orthodox elite's weapon crumbled.
Guān stopped.
The old man's arms hung loose, his musculature trembling with extreme fatigue. The heavy sword dragged against the pulverized ground, ruined. Guān's chest heaved in sickly spasms, his tunic soaked with sweat.
He looked around. The gorge's trade route had disappeared; the place was now a flat field of dust and stones cut in half, with four panting assassins hiding behind distant rocks. And at the center of all that geographical annihilation... stood her.
Yù Méi remained in the same spot. The immaculate golden dress embraced her monumental curves, and the bare skin of her arms bore not a single red mark.
She yawned, dusting a bit of powder from her own bare collarbone.
"My turn," the youngest whispered, her almond irises fusing into pure gold.
The space curved minimally under the dominion of the Lotus of the Void, and Yù Méi vanished from the center of the dust cloud.
Pop.
The youngest materialized zero-point-one seconds later, a half-step from the veteran's bloodied face. Guān's eyes went wide.
Yù Méi's left heel drove into the ground of crushed stone, becoming an immovable pillar. With the precision of an ancestral whip, the warrior rotated her base foot, twisting her waist and launching her hip forward. The aggressive slit of the golden silk dress spread completely open, revealing the pale, thick leg being raised in a devastating lateral arc.
Her right knee pointed toward the center of the man's chest. Then the leg whipped.
The movement broke the sound barrier with a deafening crack. Her leg set the air on fire with pure friction. Yù Méi's bare foot did not connect with the cultivator's flesh.
Calculated to a hair's breadth, the leg froze its motion a single thread from Guān's sternum.
But the kinetic force of the blow did not stop.
The shockwave ejected from the ball of the warrior's foot collided against the 6th Sub-realm Elder like a gravitational cannon.
BOOOM!
Guān was swept from local existence. The old swordsman's body did not fall backward; it was catapulted into the atmosphere like an uncontrolled meteor. The veteran tore through the limits of the gorge, opening a sonic trench in the sky. The body flew at a dizzying velocity, crossing through forests like a projectile that severed treetops, crossed the vastness of three consecutive valleys, split the waters of a frontier river into two foaming walls, and finally found resistance.
He buried himself brutally against the face of a limestone mountain, thousands of kilometers from where the combat had begun. The rock gave way, forming a deep crater where Guān's twisted body became embedded, coughing an uninterrupted fountain of dark blood.
---
Back in the ruined gorge, the four assassins swallowed hard, trembling, silently worshipping the blonde divinity who had just thrown a millennial monster to the other side of the province with nothing but the displaced air of a kick.
Yù Méi granted them not a single glance. The dimensional rift opened around her, folding the fabric of the world.
Pop.
The Brutal Blade vanished again, abandoning the underworld dogs in the dust, and materialized in the air, dropping gracefully onto the edge of the limestone crater where her toy rested.
The kinetic shock had shredded the armor, but the man's 6th Stage Animic Ocean fought frantically to keep him alive. Cellular regeneration was forcing the shattered ribs to heal at a visible rate.
Yù Méi smiled. She crouched at the edge of the crater, propping her elbows on her knees, her hair spilling over her shoulders.
"Our little sister Wǎn'er usually spends her days buried in dusty scrolls," Yù Méi's guttural voice floated above Guān's moans. "But you know what, old man? She said anatomy isn't only useful for medicine. Learning how bone locks into muscle is beautiful for both cultivation and combat. I never understood that... until now."
Yù Méi descended into the crater. Her pale hands seized Guān's left shoulder.
"For example," Yù Méi continued, her smile widening. "Wǎn'er taught me that the Rotator Cuff holds the arm in place. If I pull this here... and force the collarbone down..."
SNAP. CRUNCH.
The sound of thick tendons snapping echoed against the mountain's face. Yù Méi separated the old man's shoulder joint by force, disconnecting the collarbone with the pressure of her thumb.
"AAAAAARRRGGGHHH!" Guān screamed at the top of his lungs, his scarred face contorting in blind agony as the arm dropped dead, completely devoid of motor function.
"Shhh, your Qi will try to heal that in a few minutes," Yù Méi murmured, her eyes sparking in living gold as she watched the tendons pulse beneath his damaged skin. "Fascinating. The arm turned to jelly. Let's see what else is in the book."
Her bloodied hands descended to the warrior's right leg. She turned the man's calf upward and pinched the heel.
"The Calcaneal Tendon," Yù Méi recited, stretching the biological fiber. "Our flower said this is the steel cable that anchors you to the ground. Without it, none of you can generate a base to swing a sword."
She did not cut. She pulled the tendon with her bare hands until the cord of flesh stretched to its limit and tore.
TWANG. CRACK.
Guān's knee inverted slightly under the shock. The old man vomited blood, his eyes rolling in their sockets. He tried to conjure Qi, but the incapacitating pain locked his meridians.
"Marvelous!" the warrior cackled.
Yù Méi crushed the joints of his left knee, bursting the cruciate ligaments. Then her slender fingers sank near Guān's right armpit. She didn't break bone; she violently pinched the Brachial Plexus, an exposed nerve bundle. A charge of electrifying pain whipped the swordsman's spine, locking his diaphragm and drowning the elder's brain in a lake of despair.
For long minutes, the limestone face became a macabre lesson in controlled dismemberment.
Yù Méi avoided the heart, skull, and lungs. She carved away the man's resistance by grinding only joints, tendons, and nerves, clicking her tongue against the roof of her mouth each time the 6th Sub-realm's healing factor tried to knit a bone back together and she crushed it again.
When she sighed with weariness and stepped back, Guān was nothing but a bag of skin containing pulsing organs and fragmented bones, kept alive by pure biological stubbornness.
"Good," Yù Méi wiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand, looking at the meat pudding panting on the rocky floor. "You won't be swinging iron for a few hours. But you still breathe enough to be useful to my husband."
The Brutal Blade extended both hands, activating the Law of Space that Zhì Yuǎn had fused to their Will. Invisible threads bound the puddle of flesh, lifting the ruined body from the ground. She kept the body floating at her side, like someone carrying a bag of turnips from the market.
Bored with the barren landscape, Yù Méi closed her eyes. The girl did not attempt to draw complex arrays or calculate coordinates. She was hundreds of thousands of kilometers from the Flying Galleon docked at the frontiers of the Valley of the Dead Blade. Folding space with such finesse was not the strong suit of her crude Rupture. She brought her right hand to her own chest, over the golden mark of the Karma.
The umbilical thread ignored the vastness of the continent. She sent a blunt pulse, loaded with a coaxing demand, directly into the darkness of her god.
"Husband, open the door. I got a heavy package, but it's way too far for me to carry it walking."
The fabric of reality folded in the same instant.
RIIIP.
The black and silver dimensional rift split wide open over the pulverized rocks. The dead smell of the mountain was swallowed by a gust of ozone, sandalwood, and the aroma of spiritual tea brewing on the other side. Yù Méi opened a wide grin, pulled her invisible "bag" of flesh, and crossed the threshold.
---
The portal spat the youngest into the center of the Flying Galleon's luxurious main cabin.
Her bare feet sank into the plush black velvet rug. With a careless flick of her wrist, she undid the spatial binding. The mass of ground flesh and bones collapsed at the center of the room with a wet, disgusting thud, spattering drops of dark blood across the noble wood planks of the ship.
Settled in the immense quartz and fur chaise a few steps away, Zhì Yuǎn rested. The unfathomable void in the man's dark eyes rested upon the steam rising from his porcelain cup. The ship's isolation kept the cabin submerged in a greenhouse of lethal calm. The god did not move a single muscle while appraising the "delivery" or the torn slit in the wife's golden silk.
"You ruined him fast, Méi," the deep, velvety voice reverberated in the air, scraping with mild irony.
Floating in her invisible aerial seiza just behind her husband's shoulder, Yù Qíng rested her chin on her own hand. The priestess in blue looked at the pile of ground bones, the sweet smile drawing a promise of pain at the fragility of the orthodox steel her sister had crumpled.
"His spine didn't last even ten proper minutes, elder sister," Yù Méi grumbled, crossing her arms and forming a sulky pout as she dusted some limestone powder from her own generous lap. She pointed her bare big toe at the gurgling puddle of flesh. "But he still breathes! I left the core intact."
Zhì Yuǎn's dark gaze descended to the old man struggling to draw air.
The man did not rise from the chaise. Only the index finger of his free hand lifted.
The Law of Karma materialized in a golden and absolute thread. Like an incandescent nail sinking into butter, Zhì Yuǎn's intent fired and drove itself into what remained of the warrior's Crystal Soul. The Slave Seal took root in the man's 6th Stage, locking Guān's soul and delivering it to that man's unquestionable dominion before the old man even recovered consciousness.
"The collar is set," Zhì Yuǎn noted, taking a sip of tea as the weight of his existence anchored the ship. "Stitch the flesh, Yǔ. We need pack mules tomorrow."
Seated silently on a divan in the corner of the hall, Qīng Yǔ rose.
The pearlescent dress slid across the wood. The former healing fairy no longer wore a look of pity. Her cosmic blue irises gleamed with the blind obedience of someone who served only the utility of her own altar.
Qīng Yǔ extended her pale hands over the shattered body.
FWOOSH.
Blue Fire erupted from her palms, incandescent. The Luan flames engulfed Guān's body. The fire was not comforting; it was a cellular blowtorch. The Law of Rebirth fused with the man's natural regeneration, forcing cells to multiply and bones to weld together at an absurdly brutal speed.
The shattered shoulder blades were forced together, the torn tendons stretched like rubber bands being stitched with incandescent needles, and the ribs returned to their place with noisy snaps.
The agony of having his body rebuilt in seconds was unbearable.
"AAAAAARRRGGGHHH!"
The veteran's shrill howl tore through his own throat, muffled by the ship's armored walls. The old man thrashed in the Blue Fire, his eyes bulging from their sockets as his flesh healed under pure torment. The shock restored the mobility of his limbs. He instinctively tried to seize the sword that was no longer there, but the Slave Seal in his soul throbbed, crushing his will and forcing his face directly against the polished wood.
Fully rebuilt, breathless, and weeping tears of pure submission, the 6th Stage monster crawled to the edge of Zhì Yuǎn's chaise.
"T-This slave... lives to serve our heaven..." Guān babbled, his crushed mind accepting its new role.
Yù Méi stretched widely, the slit of her dress pulling across her thick thighs. The youngest smiled, her eyes gleaming in satisfaction as she looked at the woman organizing trade reports at the side table.
"See, Jié?" Yù Méi snapped her fingers. "Our box carrier for tomorrow's looting is brand new. How are the rats outside? Have the routes dried up enough for us to leave the ship?"
Lín Jié straightened the collar of her heavy jade-green velvet Hanfu. The Ink Goddess parted her painted lips, ready to detail the imminent collapse of the enemy sect's rats — but a low, velvety laugh cut through the cabin's closed air.
Yù Qíng had no interest in hearing about bureaucracy.
The priestess in blue dissolved her invisible seiza. Her bare feet touched the black rug. With feline fluidity, the firstborn slid to the side of the quartz chaise, settling herself lazily sideways against her husband's thigh.
Without taking her black eyes off the youngest and the healing fairy, Yù Qíng raised her icy hand, accessing the Law of Space tethered to her Sea of Devotion.
Riiip.
The fabric of reality beneath Elder Guān distorted. A small rift swallowed him whole and spat him rudely onto the Flying Galleon's frozen outer deck, sealing the passage immediately after.
"Tools dirty with mud do not rest near our altar," Yù Qíng murmured, her voice descending to a poisoned whisper as she leaned her face against her husband's rigid abdomen. "My sisters worked with wonderful efficiency today. The little flower harvested the fertilizer, and our feather stitched the broken vase with precision. The garden would not be as clean without you."
Yù Méi blinked her almond eyes. The girl's breath faltered, her generous chest rising and falling erratically as a rough heat began to prickle in her belly. Beside her, Qīng Yǔ lowered her face, the feverish flush staining her immaculate neck.
Still lying sideways, Yù Qíng's pale fingers slid deliberately along the waistband of Zhì Yuǎn's dark silk trousers.
The god's unfathomable gaze descended to his wife, the abyssal void of his irises warming instantly at her devoted audacity. Yù Qíng loosened the tie. With a gentle pull, she lowered the dark fabric just enough to free the oppressive heat imprisoned there.
The majestic, thick, and incandescent shaft leapt into the cabin's cool air, throbbing with the weight of the Furnace. The intoxicating smell of pure Yang boiled through the room, transforming the cabin into a greenhouse.
"The sun must always reward the soil that strives to keep the roots strong," Yù Qíng purred, the slow and predatory smile curving her ruby lips as she kept the edge of the opened trousers held back, laying the household treasure bare to view. "Come. Drink of our heaven's addictive fire. He burns with pride for you."
There was not a single second of hesitation.
Yù Méi crawled across the rug with a predator's speed, the golden silk pulling scandalously against her thighs. Hunger blazed in living gold in the warrior's eyes. Beside her, the Celestial Feather slid with urgency, the pearlescent dress sweeping the wood as compassion drowned in the blind need to serve.
The two goddesses kneeled flanking the chaise.
"Thank you for your generosity, elder sister..." Qīng Yǔ whispered, her voice thick, her pale hands bracing on Zhì Yuǎn's muscular thigh before opening her mouth.
"To hell with the world outside... I was dying of thirst," Yù Méi growled, her warm breath striking directly against his burning skin.
But from behind the center table, the Goddess of Serenity could not bear to be left out. Accustomed to her heaven's indulgences, Bái Wǎn pressed her small thighs together. Her large oceanic eyes overflowed with an absurd, coaxing hunger at the sight of the reward being served. She crawled hurriedly across the black rug, her sky-blue dress slipping from her shoulders, wedging herself into exactly the empty space at the center of his hips, squeezed between the Brutal Blade's and the Celestial Feather's legs.
"I want some too... don't keep it all for yourselves..." Bái Wǎn whimpered, an adorable and needy pout shaping her soft lips.
In perfect and obscene synchrony, the trio devoured the offering.
Yù Méi's mouth sucked the middle of the length with brute force, her tongue whipping the hot flesh with impatience. Above her, Qīng Yǔ took the thick head between her lips, her immaculate mouth sliding in a slow, wet massage, savoring every drop of the musky heat.
And at the base, Bái Wǎn settled the weight of the two heavy spheres against her own tongue. The ocean-blue-haired girl began licking and sucking the warm base with a delicious slowness, gathering and drinking the threads of saliva and essence running from Qīng Yǔ's lips. Bái Wǎn's chubby face grazed Yù Méi's cheeks, the girl sharing the taste of Yang in teasing kisses while holding the god's thighs.
The continuous, wet sound of suction echoed off the ship's armored walls.
Behind the center table, the atmosphere extracted its price.
Huáng Bìyù swallowed hard. The Valkyrie tried to maintain the rigid posture of her scarlet Qipao, but her amber irises melted in pure submission. The former legend's strong chest rose and fell in heavy pants, the Yin boiling painfully in her belly. Beside her, Mò Yán locked her jaw. The feverish flush stained the diplomat's neck aggressively, descending along the wide-open neckline of the Hanfu. She crossed her long legs with force, her wet center throbbing at the sight of those three mouths working on her husband.
On the chaise, Zhì Yuǎn let out a low, guttural growl that made the floor planks tremble.
The abyssal calm in the god's eyes evaporated. The dense heat rose into his dark irises, and the void in his Dantian vibrated before the friction of his devotees.
The husband's large, calloused hand descended. Zhì Yuǎn's rough fingers threaded first through the living-gold strands of Yù Méi's hair, and then his palm rested heavily over the top of Bái Wǎn's head. He stroked and pressed the spoiled youngest's face against his own hip with heavy possessiveness, dictating a deeper rhythm that made the girl murmur in pure delight against his skin.
Yù Qíng smiled. The icy hand that held the edge of the opened trousers rose gracefully and sank into Qīng Yǔ's black and cyan hair. With maternal sweetness, Yù Qíng began massaging the fairy's scalp, guiding Yǔ's head downward with force, compelling the healer to swallow an even greater length of the incandescent shaft.
Simultaneously, Zhì Yuǎn's left arm rose like lightning.
His firm fingers seized Yù Qíng's pale nape. With unquestionable dominance, he pulled the High Priestess's face against his own.
The kiss collided, voracious. Zhì Yuǎn's tongue invaded Yù Qíng's warm cavity, devouring his wife's saliva and sighs with a force that made her melt and arch her back. The goddess's cold nails drove into his sweaty chest, meeting the possession with desperation.
And while they devoured each other's mouths at the top of the chaise, trading breath and heat, the god's and the firstborn's hands moved below in a terrifying and perfect synchrony. Together, they controlled the rhythm of the Trinity of devotees at the base of the throne, driving Yù Méi, Qīng Yǔ, and Bái Wǎn into a resonant sucking motion that made the cabin's temperature boil over completely, transforming the Flying Galleon into the absolute epicenter of the Universe.