Her voice was steady, without the slightest wavering.
Seeing this, Zhu Chen no longer hesitated. He appeared at her side in an instant.
"In that case," he said softly, "we'll begin now."
Yuan Yao's face flushed crimson.
"What… what does Senior want?"
"I want you to help me cultivate."
"W—mmph!"
Before she could finish, Zhu Chen sealed her lips with raw, unrestrained hunger. His tongue forced past her teeth, tangling with hers in a bruising, possessive kiss. She whimpered into his mouth, the sound swallowed by his ferocity. His large hands gripped her waist hard enough to leave faint red marks, yanking her flush against him until she felt every rigid inch of his arousal pressing insistently against her lower belly.
"Time is short," he growled against her lips, voice thick with need and barely-leashed power, "but I'm going to take every second I can from you."
Yuan Yao's breath hitched. Her fingers clawed at his robes, trembling not from fear now, but from the overwhelming yang heat rolling off him in waves. "Zhu Chen… please…"
He didn't let her finish.
With a sharp tug, he ripped her outer robe apart. Silk and linen tore like wet paper. Her inner garments followed—shredded, discarded. Cool air kissed her bare skin, making her nipples tighten into aching peaks. Zhu Chen's dark gaze devoured her: the gentle swell of her breasts, the dip of her narrow waist, the flare of her hips, the soft triangle of dark curls between her thighs already glistening with arousal.
He shoved his own robes off in one impatient motion. His body was a weapon forged by cultivation and bloodline—broad shoulders, carved chest, abdomen ridged with muscle. His cock stood proud and thick, flushed dark at the tip, veins throbbing, the head already slick with precum. The sheer size made Yuan Yao's eyes widen, a fresh rush of wetness coating her inner thighs.
He lifted her effortlessly, hands gripping the backs of her thighs and spreading her wide. Her back hit the scorched stone ledge—still warm from the earlier fire rain—and he followed, caging her beneath his larger frame. His mouth found her throat, teeth scraping over her racing pulse before biting down just hard enough to draw a cry.
"You swore on your Dao heart," he rasped, lips brushing the shell of her ear. "You belong to me now. Every inch. Every drop of qi. Every scream."
Yuan Yao arched beneath him, nodding frantically. "Yes—yes, I'm yours. Take it all. Take me."
He aligned himself at her entrance, the blunt head nudging apart her soaked folds. She was dripping, her body trying to draw him in, but he held back just long enough to make her whine.
Then he thrust.
Hard.
Deep.
One brutal stroke buried him to the hilt inside her tight, fluttering heat. Yuan Yao's scream tore through the desolate air—half pain, half blinding pleasure—as her walls stretched painfully around his girth. Her nails raked bloody furrows down his back; the wounds closed almost instantly under Vermilion Bird regeneration.
"Fuck," Zhu Chen hissed. "So tight… so perfect."
He didn't wait for her to adjust.
He pulled out almost completely, then slammed back in, setting a punishing rhythm. Each thrust drove the air from her lungs in sharp, broken cries. The wet slap of flesh echoed across the ruined mountain. Her breasts bounced wildly; he captured one nipple between his teeth, biting and tugging until she sobbed, then soothed it with rough swipes of his tongue.
Yuan Yao's legs locked around his waist, heels digging into his back, urging him deeper. "Harder—please—deeper—!"
He obliged.
His hips snapped forward with brutal force, cockhead battering her cervix on every downstroke. The angle let him grind against that sensitive spot inside her until her eyes rolled back, mouth falling open in continuous broken moans.
"Feel that?" he snarled. "Feel how deep I am? That's where your cultivation is going—right into me while I fuck you senseless."
He hooked one leg over his shoulder, opening her wider. The new angle plunged him even deeper, dragging relentlessly against her g-spot. Yuan Yao's body jerked like she'd been struck by lightning. Her pussy clamped down, gushing slick around his shaft, coating his balls and dripping onto the stone.
"Zhu Chen—ahh—I can't—I'm going to—"
"Not yet," he commanded.
He slowed deliberately, dragging out each stroke until she was shaking, tears of frustrated pleasure leaking from her eyes. Only when she was babbling—begging, pleading, promising anything—did he unleash himself fully.
He fucked her like he was trying to imprint himself into her soul.
Fast. Deep. Merciless.
Her screams turned hoarse. Her body convulsed as the first orgasm ripped through her. Clear fluid squirted around his pistoning cock, soaking his groin and the ground. Still he didn't stop.
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