Climaxes weren't endpoints; the technique chained them, locking them in forcefully, like a dam building up tension from quivers to gushing floods, making bodies convulse as essence sprayed in jetstreams, making voices break into screams of surrender.
The use of precise, practised strokes to 'massage' the sacred interior of proud pussies, to reach untouched depths with nothing but the length of one's shaft.
How did that even count as a massage!
Another detailed section explained a method to use mana, to channel Yang energy and improve endurance, the intensity of his own release, sensitivity, and even boost the size of his libido!
If some great mages knew that mana could be used in such a way to please a partner, it could only be said that it would cause an uproar in the whole world, even in the wider universe!
Who wouldn't want to become such a god when it came to bedding women! It could only be said that every man would kill to have something like this at their fingertips!
Roy felt his soul tremble, and his dick twitched hard under his thin robe at the possibilities!
"…This man was a menace."
But the information was far from over. The instructional images hit next. Roy's imagination and pornographic experiences tried to fill in the gaps.
It failed badly. He choked.
"HEY—WHOA—OKAY—"
They were detailed. Far too detailed. Movements, angles, timing, intent. Every step was explained with merciless clarity, like the creator assumed the user had no shame and even less restraint.
Roy's face burned when a particular diagram flashed in his mind, "…Even I didn't think of that."
The final note settled into his mind. This technique could not be blocked by strength alone. Only experience in the ways of the bedroom.
'Whoever you are, Demon God,' he thought, awe swelling in his chest like a devotee's prayer, 'you get it. You truly understand the divine pursuit of fleshly perfection.'
Tears pricked his eyes, not from sorrow, but reverence.
This was no mere power-up; it was paradise tailored for a man like him, a degenerate blessed by cursed stars.
He pressed his palms together, bowing his head to the starry sky above the alley, whispering thanks to that imaginary deity.
A single tear traced down his cheek, mixing with the night's chill. "Thank you, Great Sage."
He bowed deeply.
Passersby stared oddly as Roy dropped to his knees right there on the grimy pavement, nearly kowtowing in full view.
His robe gaped open because of his kneeling position, revealing the skimpy pants straining against his erection, the city's indifferent glow casting awkward shadows on his form.
Roy straightened, realising he was bowing in the street at nothing, and coughed. "Ehem…Religious reasons," he muttered, quickly walking away from the scene.
Inside, though, he was smiling like a madman. "If this works even half as well as it claims," he whispered, "my luck might finally turn around."
...
Meanwhile, in the opulent master chamber of the Taur Clan estate...
Adam lay in bed with his beautiful wife after a steamy session. He held her in his arms, massaging her belly and feeling the warmth of his essence spreading inside her.
A melancholic shadow crossed her stunning features, silver hair fanned out like a halo, but her eyes held a spark of relief. "We did the right thing, my love," she murmured, tracing circles on his skin. "Roy was a curse on this house. But... you don't have an heir anymore. We must hurry now—give me another son, a strong and handsome son, before it's too late."
Yes, her feigned resignation and sorrow from losing her son were all masterfully planned. It was none other than her who had managed to convince Adam to disown his only son.
Adam nodded, his hand covering hers on her belly, squeezing possessively. "Aye, no outsider will taint our bloodline. That bastard Troy Orion's son is nothing but bait to reel in the bigger fish who have been biding their time. And even if that doesn't work, an alliance with Orion isn't so bad. We will give him Ariana, but we need to milk all the resources we can to get our clan back on its feet. And once you birth me a son, Orion's son will have no right to be my heir."
Elara nodded, as if this Ariana they spoke of giving to someone was not their own daughter.
While Roy Taur had been blamed for drowning the Taur clan in debt and being the one responsible for their current situation, anyone who was well informed about the Lumen kingdom's clans would immediately call bullshit.
What kind of clan could be brought to its knees by the spending of a single arrogant young lord?
Every clan might as well be in the same situation as them! So, who was to blame, you might wonder. Only Adam and Elara knew who was truly to blame for the fall of their esteemed clan.
It was only because of convenience that they managed to get rid of Roy and save up on resources they were already strapped for.
"I'll breed you every night if I must, fill you until you swell with our heir. The Taur legacy stays pure—our son will rise where that failure fell." He kissed her forehead before they both slowly dozed off.
...
The next morning, in the Taur Clan territory, the heavy gates creaked open as an elaborate carriage rolled inside.
The beasts pulling it were massive, cat-like creatures with sleek black fur and glowing slit pupils. Each step they took felt deliberate, almost arrogant, as if the ground itself should be honored to be stepped on.
At the front sat the driver.
A Gold-rank mage.
He held the reins calmly, his expression neutral and posture perfect. Anyone with half a brain would understand what that meant.
If a Gold mage is driving, the person inside is someone you do not wish to offend.
Whispers immediately spread among the nearby clansmen and guards.
"Did you see the driver?"
"That aura… he's powerful. No doubt."
"Then who's inside…?"
Because the carriage had no insignia, they could only speculate.
Inside the carriage, two people sat opposite each other.
A father and son pair. But that was about as far as their similarities went. Their appearances told a very different story.