Lin Feng stepped out of Lady Mei Lin's pavilion and let the silk screens fall shut behind him with a soft rustle. The late afternoon sun hit his face like a slap — too bright, too ordinary after all that dim red lantern glow and tangled sheets inside. His skin still felt warm where her nails had raked him, and that mix of her perfume, sweat, and sex clung to his robe like it didn't want to let go. He rolled his shoulders once, tugged the collar straight, and started walking the lotus path like nothing had happened.
Power is everything in this world, he thought, boots crunching on the stone. Not the bloodline, not the fancy title, not how many times someone calls you mongrel. Just raw, ugly power. The kind that makes the proudest woman in the clan spread her legs and beg even while she's cursing your name.
Halfway back to his quarters, the path curved around the old willow grove.
The Family Head appeared around the bend — tall, silver hair tied back, golden dragon robes flowing like they were woven from actual sunlight. Two retainers trailed a step behind, hands resting on sword hilts, eyes forward.
Lin Feng stopped dead.
He bowed deeply — low, formal, forehead almost kissing his knees, the kind of bow a branch family nobody had to give to survive.
"Family Head," he said quietly, voice even and respectful.
The Head didn't stop.
He didn't speak.
His cold eyes flicked over Lin Feng for maybe half a second — like he was looking at a bug on the path that wasn't worth stepping on — then kept walking. The retainers followed without a glance.
Lin Feng stayed bowed until their footsteps faded completely.
Only then did he straighten up.
Through the half-open silk screens of the pavilion he caught a quick glimpse: the Head stepping inside. Mei Lin was still sitting there — robe pulled closed in a hurry, cheeks flushed deep red, eyes bloodshot and glassy. She looked like a woman who'd just been fucked senseless and was trying to pretend she was only angry.
The Head paused at the threshold.
His gaze swept over her messy state.
He probably thought she was furious.
Lin Feng's mouth twitched into the tiniest smile.
He has no idea she's still leaking my seed.
He turned and kept walking toward his small room.
The moment the wooden door clicked shut behind him, Lin Feng sat down right on the bare floor — legs crossed, back straight, palms resting on his knees. No fancy cushion. No spirit-gathering array. Just him, the cold stone, and the fading light coming through the single window.
Time to cultivate.
In this world, mana wasn't just energy — it was the breath of the Azure Continent itself. Pulled from the sky, the earth, the emotions of living things. Every cultivator drew it in differently. Most spent years forcing it through their meridians, refining it drop by drop, praying their cards would grow.
But cards were special.
When you touched the Mana Stone at eighteen, the number that appeared wasn't random. The elders called it a "heavenly prediction." Ten cards? You had the potential to reach Card Dominion Realm at best. Fifteen cards? You were supposed to be a legend. The more cards, the higher the ceiling the heavens thought you could touch.
Of course, the heavens only showed potential. Real strength came later — from comprehension. From dao insight. From enlightenment. Someone with five cards who truly understood the law of fire could burn stronger than a lazy ten-card genius who never bothered to meditate.
Lin Feng was currently at the very peak of Card Awakening Realm — the first stage after the ritual. Most people his age were still stuck here, barely able to manifest one or two cards without exhausting their soul energy. He had fifteen. And thanks to Lust, he could already push past what normal people called the "wall" to Card Resonance Realm.
He closed his eyes and breathed in slow and deep.
Mana rushed into his body — through his skin, his pores, every tiny opening. It felt like cool river water at first, then warmer, heavier, alive. It gathered in his dantian like a swirling river.
Then his fifteen cards woke up.
They didn't just sit there.
They hunted.
Fifteen faint lights shimmered inside his core — Fire, Water, Wood, Lightning, Metal, Earth, Light, Space, Time… and the five primal emotions he kept hidden. Each card drank the incoming mana like it was starving. They pulled it faster, refined it cleaner, turned raw power into something sharp and personal.
And right in the middle, the Lust card glowed hottest of all.
It didn't just absorb.
It devoured.
Crimson threads stretched out from it like living veins, wrapping around every other card. Wherever it touched, the mana absorption doubled — tripled. The energy didn't trickle in anymore. It got yanked. Devoured. Turned into pure strength laced with that same warm, hungry feeling.
Lin Feng felt his muscles tighten, then relax. His bones hummed. His blood ran hotter. Every breath pulled in more mana; every exhale pushed it deeper, stronger.
He could feel the barrier to Card Resonance Realm cracking — thin, fragile, ready to shatter with one more good session. Normal people needed months of meditation and battle to reach it. With Lust devouring mana and strengthening every card, he was days away — maybe hours.
A low chuckle slipped out of him — quiet, dark, almost surprised.
Yesterday I was the clan joke.
Today I fucked the woman who spent eighteen years trying to erase me… and she begged for more.
Tomorrow?
He opened his eyes.
The room was almost dark now. Night had crept in while he cultivated.
But inside him, everything felt brighter. Sharper. Alive.
The Lust card gave one final, satisfied throb.
Lin Feng looked out the small window toward the Head's residence, where lanterns still burned bright.
His eyes darkened.
Let them keep thinking that.
Right up until the day I take everything they love… and make them watch.