The Wizengamot's voting results spread throughout the entire wizarding world that evening.
Blood for blood.
Total war. The Extermination Order officially passed with over two-thirds of the votes.
Jerry heard the news in front of the fireplace in the Slytherin common room.
Extra editions of the Daily Prophet were delivered by owls into the hands of every student. The front-page headline used blood-red magical ink, the font so large it took up half the page.
The Slytherin students in the common room had various reactions. Some excitedly slammed the tables, some silently folded the newspaper and stuffed it into their pockets, and others continued writing their homework expressionlessly.
Jerry sat on the rug in front of the fireplace, his grey eyes staring at the photograph of Dumbledore at the Wizengamot podium in the newspaper. The old man in the photo wore a purple robe adorned with stars and moons. The blue eyes behind his half-moon spectacles flickered with a light Jerry couldn't understand. His long white beard hung down to his waist. He held his wand up in his right hand, his mouth opening and closing as he repeated a segment of his speech.
Dumbledore.
Professor McGonagall knew the Order of the Phoenix was pushing things behind the scenes, but she hadn't expected Dumbledore to step onto the stage himself. The strongest wizard in the wizarding world, a living legend, stood at the Wizengamot podium. Using that voice no one could refuse, he pushed the emotions of the entire council toward war.
The newspaper excerpted a fragment of the speech: "We have lost too much. If we choose silence, the over ten thousand souls who lost their lives at the World Cup stadium will never find peace."
Jerry crumpled the newspaper into a ball and tossed it into the fireplace. The flames swallowed the paper; Dumbledore's photograph twisted, curled, and turned to ash in the fire.
There was no point dwelling on things that couldn't be changed. Cassiopeia and McGonagall had immediately united the representatives of over a dozen pure-blood families after the vote passed. They played politics with the execution details of the Extermination Order, securing a three-month buffer period. Three months of time to train legions capable of fighting in the environment of the Cultivation World.
Jerry sat cross-legged on the rug, his alchemical notebook spread open on his knees, beginning to calculate the mass-production plan for the Spiritual Fragment Purge Device. The firelight from the hearth danced on his face, casting his small shadow onto the stone wall behind him.
A foot stepped onto his back.
The skin of the sole was cold, the toes even colder. The five toes lightly spread and closed against the skin of his back. That foot moved slowly downward from his shoulder blades, the arch of the sole pressing against the muscles on either side of his spine, grinding down with a measured force.
Jerry did not turn his head.
He knew this foot.
The foot shape was somewhat narrow, the bone structure of the instep slender, the toes long, with the second toe about three millimeters longer than the big toe. The skin on the sole was extremely delicate, completely free of calluses. The toenails were trimmed into smooth arcs and coated with a layer of pale pink polish.
Isabella's foot.
That foot slid from the middle of Jerry's back down to his dimples of Venus; the toes pressed firmly against the indentations on either side. The muscles in Jerry's lower back ached slightly under the pressure, a comfortable sense of relaxation spreading outward from the pressure points.
"What's the matter? Our little Mr. Rozier."
The voice drifted down from above, carrying a languid, syrupy trailing note like someone who had just woken up.
Jerry looked up.
Isabella stood behind him, barefoot, wearing a Hogwarts school shirt. The hem of the shirt fell to mid-thigh. Only the middle three buttons were fastened; the collar was wide open, revealing her collarbones and a large expanse of fair skin above her chest. Her lower half was clad in a deep blue pleated miniskirt, the hem just barely covering the lower curve of her buttocks.
Jerry sat on the floor, and Isabella stood behind him. The top of his head reached exactly to her waist.
"Did you see the vote results?"
"I saw them." Isabella's foot moved from Jerry's dimples to the centerline of his spine. Her sole pushed slowly upward along the vertebrae, grinding the muscles outward. "The whole school is talking about it. A few seventh-years in Ravenclaw are already writing their enlistment applications."
Her foot pushed up between Jerry's shoulder blades and stopped, pressing her heel into that spot and drawing two small circles.
"What are your thoughts on this war?"
Isabella withdrew her foot from Jerry's back. She walked around to his side and then sat down next to him.
The way she sat was very casual, her two long legs stretching to one side. She braced her left hand on the rug, leaning her body slightly toward Jerry. The hem of the pleated skirt flipped up as she sat, exposing a small section of skin at the root of her thigh. That patch of skin was even whiter than the outside of her thigh, so white it bore a faint pinkish tint under the firelight.
She wore nothing under the skirt.
Jerry's peripheral vision caught the blank area beneath the hem; his grey eyes blinked once, then returned to the alchemical notebook on his knees.
"I don't know either." Isabella's voice carried a floaty, casual tone, as if discussing what to eat tomorrow. "But I'm also going to join this war."
Jerry's hand, which was turning a page of the notebook, stopped.
He turned his head, looking up at Isabella's face.
"What?"
Isabella leaned in closer. Her right hand rested on Jerry's left arm, her fingers wrapping around his forearm, her palm pressing against the sleeve of his hoodie. Then she shifted her body a few centimeters closer to Jerry, raising her left leg slightly until her inner thigh pressed against the outside of Jerry's arm.
The hem of the pleated skirt completely flipped open with this movement.
Her pussy pressed directly against the skin of Jerry's left arm.
A warm, soft, and slightly moist sensation transmitted from the outside of Jerry's arm. Two plump labia clamped onto the thin fabric of his hoodie sleeve, slowly rubbing back and forth.
Squish.
An incredibly faint wet sound.
"I requested it myself." Isabella's voice maintained that floaty tone, completely disconnected from what her lower half was doing. "I've already submitted a volunteer combat application to the Ministry."
Jerry's grey eyes stared at Isabella's face.
"Why?"
Isabella adjusted the angle of her buttocks on the rug slightly, allowing her pussy to press even more tightly against Jerry's arm. Her waist began to sway back and forth in small motions, driving that wet area to grind slowly against his arm. The fabric of the hoodie gradually turned darker in a small patch as it soaked up her bodily fluids.
Squish... squish...
"After studying arrays for so many years, it's always been research from books and in laboratories." The amplitude of her swaying waist increased slightly, and the area where her labia slid over Jerry's arm expanded, from above his wrist all the way to below his elbow. "The array system of the Cultivation World is completely different from ours. They use spiritual energy to construct array bases, and primal energy of heaven and earth to drive the array cores. The entire logic is in a different direction from the runic arrays of the wizarding world."
Her pale purple eyes turned deep purple in the firelight of the hearth, the dancing flames reflecting in her pupils.
"I've heard the arrays of the Cultivation World are exquisitely ingenious. Killing arrays, trapping arrays, illusion arrays, teleportation arrays—each has an evolutionary history of hundreds or thousands of years. If I can see the actual operation of those arrays with my own eyes, perhaps I'll gain new insights."
Her waist paused, then pushed forward with a larger amplitude.
Squelch.
A louder wet sound. Jerry felt the area on his arm covered by her pussy was completely soaked through; the fabric of the hoodie clung to his skin, warm liquid seeping through the fibers.
"Perhaps I could even step into a higher realm."
After saying this, Isabella rested her chin on the top of Jerry's head. Her platinum blonde hair cascaded down both sides, forming a semi-closed curtain over the space between Jerry's face and her chest. The firelight from the hearth was filtered into fragmented spots of light by her hair, landing on Jerry's face.
Jerry sat on the rug, the alchemical notebook spread on his knees, his left arm clamped between Isabella's thigh and pussy, the top of his head pressed down by her chin. He was enveloped by her from three directions.
His grey eyes watched the dancing flames in the fireplace.
Catherine was at the Ministry, liable to be dispatched to the front lines at any moment. Isabella had volunteered for combat. Once the three-month buffer period passed, they would all leave.
Jerry's right hand closed the alchemical notebook and set it aside. He pulled his left arm out from between Isabella's thighs; the patch of hoodie fabric soaked with bodily fluids glistened in the air. He turned around, facing Isabella.
He looked up, she looked down. Grey eyes met pale purple eyes in the firelight.
"What is the survival rate for Array Masters on the front lines?"
Isabella's pale purple eyes blinked.
"Are you worrying about me?"
Jerry did not answer the question.
The corners of Isabella's mouth curved up; the arc was wide, revealing a row of neat white teeth. She reached out both hands, cupping Jerry's face, her palms pressing against his cheeks, her thumbs rubbing the skin below his cheekbones.
"Little Mr. Rozier is worrying about his fiancée."
She leaned down, her forehead pressing against Jerry's. Platinum blonde hair hung down on both sides, completely obscuring their faces.
"Three months. We'll talk about what happens in three months when three months have passed."
Her lips pressed against Jerry's.
The fire in the hearth crackled, casting their intertwined shadows onto the stone wall of the Slytherin common room. One shadow was tall and long, the other only half its size.
"Now."
Isabella's lips parted from Jerry's, her voice coming from point-blank range, her breath brushing his face.
"Accompany me in practicing a new array formation, won't you? The kind that requires two people to activate."
Jerry was awoken by a finger.
That finger slid downward along his lower abdomen. The nail was trimmed into a smooth curve, the pad of the finger cool, carrying the slick, residual touch of some expensive hand cream. The finger crossed his navel, crossed the faint trail of hair below his abdomen, and slipped inside the waistband of his sweatpants.
Jerry did not open his eyes.
Someone was pressing down on him. Isabella lay on his chest, her platinum blonde hair spread across the entire bed, her face buried between his neck and shoulder. Her breathing was long and even, occasionally leaking a muffled murmur from her nose. Her weight pressed down on Jerry, her two long legs scissoring his right leg, her bare toes occasionally curling in her sleep.
The hand was not Isabella's.
Isabella's fingers were slender and slightly short, her knuckles rounded, her nails painted with pale pink polish. The hand roaming inside his waistband had longer fingers, more pronounced knuckles, no polish on the nails, and the calluses on the finger pads were thicker than Isabella's.
Jerry slightly opened his eyes.
The silhouette of a woman stood by the bed. The Slytherin underground dormitories had no windows; the only light source came from the residual dark red embers in the fireplace, outlining that silhouette into a blurry shadow. A tall figure, an immaculate French twist, a sharp jawline.
Cassiopeia.
She wore a black silk nightgown, the sash tied loosely, the collar open down to her sternum. She stood by the bed, her right hand reaching inside Jerry's waistband, her left hand resting on the edge of the bed. Her body leaned forward slightly, her deep purple eyes gleaming with a cold light in the dark red glow of the embers.
Jerry's right hand slipped his wand from beneath the covers, aiming the tip at Isabella lying on his chest, and his lips moved soundlessly.
A Silencing Charm.
A transparent film of magical energy covered Isabella's ears, isolating all external sounds. She nuzzled against Jerry's neck in her sleep, rolled over—her platinum blonde hair sweeping across Jerry's face—and continued to sleep soundly.
"A late-night visit from my mother-in-law; is there a matter of importance?"
Jerry's voice was kept very low, carrying the hoarseness of just waking up.
Cassiopeia's fingers found their target inside the waistband. Her hand wrapped around the cock that was in a semi-flaccid state during sleep. Her five fingers closed along the contour of the shaft, her palm pressing against the front, and began to slowly stroke up and down.
"I came to perform an inspection." Her voice was also very low, bearing a compressed, hoarse texture unique to the dead of night. "To see if there is any probability of getting Isabella pregnant."
Her fingers slid back and forth along the shaft twice, the pad of her thumb rolling over the very tip of the glans, drawing a small circle around the meatus. The cock began to engorge and swell in her palm, going from semi-flaccid to seventy percent hard, the thickness of the shaft spreading her fingers slightly.
Jerry rolled his eyes. The eye roll wasn't very clear in the darkness, but Cassiopeia evidently felt it.
"If I'm not mistaken." Jerry's voice remained very low, his grey eyes watching Cassiopeia's face in the dark red glow of the embers. "It was you who made Isabella interested in going to the front lines."
Cassiopeia's hand did not stop, continuing to stroke Jerry's cock with a steady rhythm. Her deep purple eyes rolled slightly.
"Would I push my own daughter into a fire pit?"
The corner of Jerry's mouth twitched, and he said nothing.
Cassiopeia's fingers tightened slightly, the force of her palm increasing, and the speed of her stroking picking up by half a beat. The cock was now completely erect in her palm, the thick shaft stretching the waistband of the sweatpants out of shape, the outline of the head faintly visible at the edge of the waistband. Pre-cum began to seep from the meatus, dampening the pad of Cassiopeia's thumb.
Squish.
An incredibly faint wet sound echoed beneath the covers.
The silence lasted for about ten seconds.
"Aren't you quite uninterested in this war?"
Cassiopeia's hand paused for a beat, then continued.
"Are you interested in this war?"
Jerry shook his head, the motion very small to avoid disturbing Isabella sleeping beside him.
"Not interested in the slightest. I will not get involved in this war."
His grey eyes looked at the carved stone snakes on the ceiling, faintly visible in the dark red glow of the embers.
"However, there is a high probability of selling some things that might be useful. The mass-production blueprint for the Spiritual Fragment Purge Device has already been given to St. Mungo's; a three-month buffer period is enough for them to build production lines. The profit per device is about fifty gold Galleons, and a conservative estimate for front-line demand is over two thousand units. Add to that the order for the Crystal Golems, and Su Chan still owes me the mining rights to three resource worlds. The suspension of the Quidditch World Cup Championship caused me considerable losses; I have to make it up elsewhere."
Cassiopeia's finger traced a circle on the head, her pad rolling over the edge of the coronal sulcus. The pre-cum stretched a thin, viscous thread of saliva-like fluid between her fingertip and the head.
Squish.
"When did you become a pure wizard merchant?"
Jerry extended his left hand.
His hand emerged from beneath the covers, crossed over Isabella's back, and landed accurately at the open collar of Cassiopeia's nightgown. His fingers slipped through the gap in the silk fabric, his palm pressing against Cassiopeia's left breast.
Full, heavy, bearing the softness and elasticity unique to mature women, the orb filled his palm. His fingers sank into the surface of the breast, his fingertips finding the location of the nipple; that small nub grew slightly hard under his pad.
His right hand simultaneously reached down, touching Isabella's chest. Isabella's breasts were a size smaller than Cassiopeia's, perkier in shape, firmer to the touch. The color of her nipples couldn't be seen in the dark, but the texture was tenderer and softer than Cassiopeia's.
Left hand kneading Cassiopeia's, right hand caressing Isabella's.
"I have always been this way."
Jerry's tone was flat.
"Furthermore, there is no need for me to get involved in this war. Unless this war falls entirely into a state of defeat."
Cassiopeia's deep purple eyes stared at Jerry in the darkness for two seconds. Then her hand pulled out from Jerry's waistband; her fingers, bearing the sticky traces of pre-cum, gleamed wetly in the dark red light of the embers.
She grabbed the section of Jerry's cock exposed outside the waistband and gave a forceful yank.
"Hiss."
Jerry's body was dragged, sliding off the bed. The moment he left, Isabella rolled over, her hands grabbing at the air twice; finding nothing, she mumbled, hugged a pillow, and continued to sleep.
Cassiopeia dragged Jerry's cock and walked toward the door. Her pace was unhurried, the hem of her black silk nightgown trailing a silent arc across the flagstone floor. Jerry was pulled forward, his sweatpants yanked down to his thighs, his fully erect shaft gripped firmly in Cassiopeia's hand as if she were leading him by a leash.
He did not resist. Cassiopeia's left hand raised slightly at her side, and an invisible magical force supported Jerry's body, making his steps light so he made almost no sound as he walked.
The two passed through the Slytherin underground corridors, turned two corners, and stopped in front of an oak door carved with snake motifs. Cassiopeia pushed the door open with her free hand.
Her room was three times larger than Jerry's dormitory. Hogwarts Castle had prepared a VIP suite for this Rozier family in-law and new leader of the Death Eaters. The walls were draped with deep green velvet curtains, the floor was covered with a thick Persian rug, and the fire in the hearth was still burning, brightly illuminating the entire room.
Cassiopeia released Jerry's cock and turned to face him.
Her hands reached to her waist and untied the sash of her nightgown.
The black silk nightgown slipped from her shoulders, pooling at her feet like a puddle of ink.
Beneath the nightgown, she was wearing a set of erotic lingerie.
The black lace fabric was almost semi-transparent, using double layers only at the critical areas to provide the bare minimum of coverage. The bra was a demi-cup style, lifting her two full breasts from below. The upper halves of her breasts were completely exposed to the air, her nipples covered by a layer of lace so thin it was practically non-existent, the deep pink color clearly visible through the fabric. At her waist was a thin lace cincher, squeezing her waistline into an exaggerated curve. Her lower half was clad in an equally semi-transparent lace G-string; the triangular area in the front was only the size of a palm, and the thin side straps sank deep into the hollows of her hip bones.
Garter straps extended from the lower edge of the waist cincher, connecting to a pair of black thigh-high stockings. The fabric of the stockings was matte, clinging tightly to her long legs, presenting a deep, light-absorbing black in the firelight of the hearth.
Cassiopeia stood in front of the fireplace, the firelight shining from behind her, outlining the contours of her body into a starkly contrasting silhouette.
Her mouth opened.
A tongue extended from between her lips.
The front end of that tongue was split into two sharp forks, quivering lightly in the air like a snake's tongue. The color of the tongue was darker than a normal person's, presenting a dark red hue with a wet, glistening surface.
A Parselmouth's tongue. The ancient talent of Parseltongue flowed in Cassiopeia's bloodline. This forked tongue was the outward manifestation of her using the language; it normally hid beneath a regular tongue shape and would only reveal itself when she actively released it.
She walked up to Jerry, bent down, and cupped his face with both hands.
Her lips pressed against his.
That forked tongue slipped into Jerry's oral cavity. The two tips roamed inside his mouth like two agile little snakes; one tip coiled around Jerry's tongue, while the other licked across his palate and gums. Saliva exchanged between their mouths, emitting faint slurp-slurp sounds.
Cassiopeia's throat vibrated as they kissed.
Ventriloquism.
Her lips were pressed against Jerry's, her tongue entangled with his, but her voice emerged from deep within her throat, bypassing the oral cavity to transmit directly into Jerry's jawbone and cochlea via vibration.
"Do you know about the Sub-Space?"
Jerry's body stiffened for a second.
His hands braced against Cassiopeia's shoulders, and he pushed her away forcefully.
Their lips parted; a viscous thread of mixed saliva stretched between them, snapped, and hung from Cassiopeia's chin.
Cassiopeia stood up straight and used her thumb to wipe away the saliva thread on her chin. Her forked tongue retracted into her mouth, and her lips closed, returning to their normal shape.
She looked at Jerry's expression and smiled.
"It seems you know."
Jerry's grey eyes narrowed. The firelight danced in his pupils, dyeing his grey irises dark gold.
"The Sub-Space," he repeated the word, his voice very soft.
"A plane filled with negative energy. The flip side of all world clusters." Cassiopeia walked to the armchair beside the fireplace and sat down, crossing her legs. Her stocking-clad calves swayed twice in the firelight. "Every world has a front and a back. The front is the material world we live in, and the back is the Sub-Space. Normally, a tremendously sturdy planar barrier separates the two, keeping them from interfering with one another."
Her forked tongue darted out from between her lips again, licked her upper lip, and retracted.
"In Dumbledore's Wizengamot speech, what truly moved those council members wasn't that sentimental 'avenging the dead' garbage."
Her deep purple eyes looked at Jerry.
"He presented evidence proving that the planar barrier between the Cultivation World cluster and the Wizarding World is thinning. The negative energy of the Sub-Space has already begun to seep in. If we don't take the initiative to strike, it will only take a few years before the Sub-Space completely merges with the Wizarding World."
Jerry stood in the center of the room, his sweatpants still pooled at his thighs, his fully erect cock standing tall between his legs, casting a long shadow in the firelight.
"So that is the reason you couldn't refuse."
"Before the meeting, we were indeed uninterested in this war. The residual interests of the Olympian Pantheon world cluster were enough for us to carve up for a very long time." Cassiopeia tapped her fingers twice on the armrest. "But the matter of the Sub-Space changed everything. Negative energy seepage is no joke; that stuff will corrupt all magical structures, including the protective wards of Hogwarts."
She stood up and walked over to Jerry.
The black lace lingerie wrapped around her body, and the metal clasps of her garters made faint clinking sounds as she walked. She squatted down in front of Jerry, her deep purple eyes meeting his grey eyes at eye level.
"Therefore, the true goal of this war is not to exterminate the Cultivation World."
Her right hand gripped Jerry's cock once more, her palm pressing against the side of the shaft, her thumb tracing circles at the very tip of the glans. The pre-cum was smeared under her finger pad, emitting a wet squish.
"It is to punch through the core region of the Cultivation World cluster before the Sub-Space fully merges, and establish an outpost there to monitor and seal the leakage channels of negative energy."
Her hand began to stroke, the rhythm slow and steady, the pressure of her palm perfectly measured.
Squish... squish... squish...
"Dumbledore gave this intelligence to everyone?"
"Only to the patriarchs of the pure-blood families. What the regular council members saw was just the vague rhetoric of 'the Cultivation World poses a threat to the Wizarding World.' Currently, no more than twenty people know about the Sub-Space."
Her hand stopped.
Her deep purple eyes stared fixedly at Jerry.
"Now it's twenty-one."
Jerry let out a laugh—a very soft sound that escaped from his nose.
"I am also the patriarch of a pure-blood family. The Rozier family has now officially returned to the Wizarding World."
Cassiopeia looked at him and gave a slight nod. Her fingers still gripped Jerry's cock, her thumb rubbing back and forth over the thickest vein on the side of the glans. Her pad rolled over the bulging vessel, and pre-cum continuously seeped from the meatus, making the contact area between her thumb and the glans increasingly slick.
Squish.
"That is why I told you this news."
Jerry tilted his head, his grey eyes narrowing into two slits in the firelight.
"Actually, there's no need to be overly tense. A wizard's power comes from knowledge, from the understanding and application of the essence of magic. No matter how much the negative energy of the Sub-Space seeps in, it cannot change this fundamental fact. Even if they fully merge, so what?"
Cassiopeia shook her head.
She released her grip on Jerry's cock, stood up, and walked to the low cabinet beside the fireplace. She picked up a crystal glass, poured half a glass of amber Firewhiskey, and took a sip. As the liquor burned down her throat, the lines of her neck undulated slightly with the swallow, the skin above her collarbones gleaming with a sheen of fine sweat in the firelight.
"If it were merely a full contact with the Sub-Space, it wouldn't really matter."
She set the glass back on the cabinet and turned around. The metal clasps of her garters made a soft clink as she turned.
"The annoying part is that there are things inside the Sub-Space."
She walked back to Jerry, this time not squatting down. Instead, she spread her legs, stepping one foot to Jerry's left and the other to his right, clamping him between her black stocking-clad thighs. She leaned over, bracing her hands on his shoulders, her deep purple eyes looking down at him from above.
"Very powerful things. Dumbledore's detection magic picked up at least seventeen independent energy signals at the border of the Sub-Space, and the intensity of each signal is no weaker than an adult Hungarian Horntail queen."
Her lips pressed down onto his.
The forked tongue slipped into Jerry's mouth again, the two tips tangling with his tongue, stirring up the saliva. She sucked on Jerry's tongue, their lips producing wet smacking sounds. The viscous mixture of their saliva overflowed from the corners of their mouths, trailing down Jerry's chin.
Squelch... smack... slurp...
Her right hand slid down from Jerry's shoulder and gripped his cock once more. This time her grip changed; her five fingers supported it from underneath, her palm pressing against the underside of the shaft, making the thick member point straight up. The very tip of the glans pressed against the palm-sized patch of lace on the front of her G-string.
Her waist sank down slowly, pressing the lace fabric even tighter against the tip. The curve of the glans stretched a dent into the lace, and the wet, warm area beneath the fabric met the tip of his cock through the thin layer of lace.
Squish.
Jerry's throat vibrated in the intervals between their kisses.
Ventriloquism.
His lips were pressed against Cassiopeia's, his tongue entangled with her forked one, but his voice came from deep in his throat, transmitting via vibration into Cassiopeia's mouth and jawbone.
"Wanting to defeat the Cultivation World in just a few years—are you dreaming?"
Cassiopeia's forked tongue paused in Jerry's mouth for a beat, then continued churning.
Jerry's ventriloquism continued to vibrate across to her.
"From what I understand, the power of the Cultivation World is not one bit weaker than the Wizarding World at its absolute peak. Over four thousand worlds, three hundred million combat cultivators, ranging from Qi Condensation to the Tribulation Stage—the span of their combat system is far vaster than ours. We still haven't even touched their borders; we don't even know just how massive their world cluster truly is."
Cassiopeia's waist sank a bit further. The tip pushed a deeper dent into the lace of her G-string, the curve of the glans forcing the two labia beneath the fabric slightly apart. Warm liquid seeped through the mesh of the lace, wetting the surface of his glans.
Squish...
Her lips finally parted from Jerry's, drawing a viscous string of mixed saliva between their mouths that shimmered wetly in the firelight.
"As for this war, we have long been prepared to fight."
She straightened her waist, her deep purple eyes looking down at Jerry, the corners of her mouth glistening with saliva.
"Everything you said is correct. The Cultivation World is powerful, perhaps even more powerful than we imagine. Completely defeat them in a few years? It's a dream."
Her right hand hooked the thin side-strap of her G-string and pulled it aside. She adjusted the angle of her hips, aligning her wet entrance directly with the tip of Jerry's cock.
"But the people of both world clusters clearly understand one thing."
Her hips sank slowly downward.
The tip pushed past the tender flesh of the entrance, embedding a shallow one centimeter inside.
"Mmh..."
A low hum escaped from Cassiopeia's nose. Her deep purple eyes half-closed, her eyelashes casting small, fan-shaped shadows in the firelight.
"When a war truly cannot be won..."
Squish... squelch... slurp...
"That is the time to sit down and negotiate."
Her buttocks finally settled onto Jerry's thighs, the long shaft completely buried within her body.
Her waist slumped slightly, her back arching, causing the two full breasts supported by the demi-cup lace bra to bounce twice right in front of Jerry.
"For them to completely exterminate us is impossible. For us to completely exterminate them is also impossible. So all that is left to do is..."
Jerry's grey eyes flashed in the firelight.
"Secure the maximum amount of bargaining chips."
Cassiopeia's lips curved into a smile, the arc carrying a satisfied 'you catch on quick' approval.
Squish... squelch...
"The harder we fight, the more chips we have at the negotiating table. The more worlds we occupy, the larger the share we can claim when territories are eventually drawn." The amplitude of her swaying waist grew slightly. With both hands braced on Jerry's shoulders, the black lace erotic lingerie emitted faint rustling sounds with her movements. "This war was never about extermination from the very beginning. The Extermination Order is merely a political slogan meant for the bottom-tier wizards; what the true decision-makers want is a seat at the negotiating table."
Jerry placed his hands on Cassiopeia's waist, his fingers hooking the edge of the lace cincher. Her waist heaved beneath his palms, the skin under the cincher growing slightly hot from the exertion.
"The threat of the Sub-Space is real. The Cultivation World cluster happens to be blocking the path between the Wizarding World and the Sub-Space. Punching through their core region to establish outposts there not only monitors the movements of the Sub-Space, but also secures a geographical advantage during negotiations. Two birds with one stone."
Cassiopeia's swaying stopped.
She sat on Jerry's lap, the cock buried deep inside her, her deep purple eyes looking down at him. The firelight danced in her pupils, dyeing the deep purple a dark red.
"So you also agreed to Isabella going to the front lines."
Jerry's grey eyes narrowed.
"The value of an Array Master on the front lines is ten times higher than a combat wizard. The array system of the Cultivation World is currently our largest intelligence blind spot. What Isabella can bring back from the front lines will be worth far more than the territory conquered by a hundred combat wizards."
Cassiopeia's forked tongue darted from her lips, licking her upper lip.
"You are far more suited to sit at the negotiating table than I imagined."
Her hips began to sway again, the amplitude much larger this time, her buttocks sliding back and forth against Jerry's thighs.
Jerry's fingers slid from the edge of the waist cincher down to Cassiopeia's buttocks. He gripped her cheeks, which bore faint indentations from the garter straps, and thrust upward in rhythm with her swaying.
"There's one more thing."
Cassiopeia's voice squeezed out through her gasps, broken and intermittent, every word shattered into pieces by Jerry's upward thrusts.
"Catherine's... situation... I will arrange it... she won't be sent to the absolute front lines..."
Jerry increased the force of his upward thrusts by a fraction.
"Ah..."
"She'll be placed in logistics... or the intelligence department... in short... I won't let her go directly onto the battlefield..."
Jerry's fingers tightened hard into Cassiopeia's buttocks, leaving ten deep fingermarks sunk into her skin. His hips delivered a few final, violent upward thrusts, and then his entire body tensed.
"Ssss..."
The two maintained this posture, sitting on the Persian rug. The fire in the hearth burned quietly beside their overlapping shadows.
After about a minute, Cassiopeia pushed up from Jerry's shoulders. Her waist lifted slowly, drawing out a stream of mixed fluids that dripped onto the rug.
She stood up, picked up the glass of Firewhiskey from the low cabinet, and took a sip.
"A three-month buffer period," Cassiopeia's voice returned to its usual calm, precise texture. "Use it well."
Cassiopeia set the glass down, bent over to pick up the black silk nightgown from the floor, and draped it over her shoulders.
"Go back to sleep. Isabella will throw a fit if she wakes up and can't find you."