Ranmaru blinked once, his expression flickering—not with temptation, but with sharp surprise. "...What would you gain from that kind of deal?" His voice was steady, but the weight behind it pressed like steel.
The onryō's grin widened. "A running meal," she purred, circling him as her form wavered like smoke. "A harvest of souls, reaped from this pathetic village. And more…" She leaned close, eyes gleaming with hunger. "To peel back your layers, boy. To see what really hides inside that tender flesh. And to test if your… gifts can be passed down."
His jaw tightened, eyes narrowing. "So that's it. Research. Breeding. Gluttony." His grip twitched on the hilt of his sword. Then, almost offhandedly, he muttered, "Tell me—are onryō always this loose with their legs?"
She froze for a beat, then burst into soft laughter—low, throaty, wicked. "Ohh, so prickly~ And here I thought humans were supposed to be pragmatic." Her hand ghosted along his shoulder, her touch chilling. "Why the prudish act? After all… I've 'seen' how low your standards fall once you've had enough sake."
His brow twitched, his lips curling into the faintest smirk. "Tch. You've somehow watched that too?" he asked. "Now I'm truly beginning to wonder if you not just live in my body, but in my spirit and mind."
Her teeth glinted, eyes narrowing with mock innocence. "Every stumble, every weakness, every time you reach for the bottle and celebrated deceiving the hunters you left behind instead of picking up your blade and ending their stories before the flames that covered your family's home turned it to ash."
"You think you can hide from me?" She leaned in, her breath cold against his mouth. "Such a shameful little contradiction you are. Isn't it easier just to indulge?"
For a moment, the silence stretched, heavy with her laughter echoing in the half-ruined house.
Ranmaru's grip on his sword loosened. His eyes burned with defiance, but his patience thinned. Finally, with a sharp exhale, he snapped forward and seized her by the nape, crushing his lips against hers.
Her laugh dissolved into a muffled sound of triumph, her body pressing closer, smoke curling around them both like a shroud.
"A damn yokai can't tell me what to do," he said, pushing her onto the wall. "If I want to indulge, I'll do so. If I'm a walking contradiction, then be it. I don't care what you saw, what you think, or what you're looking forward to."
His breath warmed her neck. "I'll find that little half-breed," he pulled back and tightened his grip on her neck. "But not to turn it over, or finish what I've started… but to spite you and feed my own curiosity."
She smiled, hands clutching his arm. "And what might that be~"
"To see how many contracts I can hold in this world," he leaned in and kissed her deeply, his lips capturing hers as cold yin passed into him. Her yokai energy flowed through his maridans, touching his whole being.
It met his warmth roaring from his abdomen, forging a temporary yin-yang balance. Ranmaru's fingers held firmly to her delicate throat as his tongue pressed deep, crossing the boundary between physical and nonphysical.
The onryō's nails dug deep cuts along his arm, drawing blood, as her fingertips tore at his skin. The wounds stung, purpled, and bled, as yin tainted his flesh in ghostly glory—
However painful her curse-slashing became, he didn't stop. His left hand grabbed her floating thighs, spreading open her kimono and legs in one motion. Thud—his hips slammed forward, making the onryō gasp. "Aren't you a confusing human to deal with," he murmured.
Her nether regions—or something close, as the mangled black flesh was anything but normal—pressed harder against him. "But you don't mind," he whispered.
She licked her lips, lowering her arms to his waistband.
Her undead heartbeat quickened after Ranmaru broke the kiss, slamming against him. He chuckled, eyes trailing down to her blackened flesh between her thighs. To some, this sight would have been repulsive—enough to make a dozen fear disease or turn another sick to the stomach.
But to him, all he saw was a pond of yin energy waiting to be plunged into, and the onryō noticed the hunger still inside him, her slit turning moist. "I can tell you don't mind how I look much either."
He answered with action. His arousal for power rose the moment her fingers pulled his pants off. They locked eyes in silent understanding as he positioned his hips and she guided his length straight…
"Ahh~!" The onryō moaned in pleasure—Ranmaru, sheathing himself deep into her forgotten passage, her mind fizzled as she tasted human pleasure for the first time in ages. "Ahh."
"Fuck," he growled, slamming in and out with a burning rhythm. "For something so dead, how can you be so tightly knit?" He grabbed her face and kissed it, thrusting into the forbidden without caution, feeling her cold slit slowly tightening.
His balls churned, his member throbbing against constricting walls, bringing him to an early climax. He groaned, trying to pull out and regain control, but the vixen of a yokai wouldn't let him. "Hahaha," she laughed, pulling him into her embrace, tasting each other's saliva as his shaft swelled and found release.
His warmth spilled into her cold belly, warming it from the inside. "Why do you look so pale already~" she asked. "We still have a few more rounds till I'm satisfied," her crimson eyes glowing brightly as her body began moving.
—
The mountain's veins of stone cut deep, and within one such wound, firelight pulsed against rock. The cave stank of smoke, sweat, and unwashed men; its walls sweated with damp, and the floor was littered with bones gnawed bare. A rough circle of bandits hunched around a fire, gambling with dice carved from knucklebones. Rusted armor and pilfered blades leaned against the walls, alongside bags of coin and gear stripped from the unlucky.
At first, they only noticed the cold draft. Then, the faint scrape of bare feet on stone.
A boy stood in the mouth of the cave. Thin, pale, his hair clung damp to his forehead, streaks of strange sheen glinting whenever the fire popped. His chest heaved, though not from exhaustion—the rhythm of his breaths was steady, almost too steady for someone so young who had clearly run far.
"Oi," one of the men barked, jolting up. His hand went to the hilt of his short sword. "Brat, you lost? This isn't a place for children."
The others laughed, a harsh, broken chorus bouncing off the cavern walls.
A man with a crooked nose leaned forward, squinting. "Not lost. Look at him—he's got the arachnid look. Spider bitch's spawn, ain't you? Your mother send you down here? Where's our share?"
The boy did not answer immediately. His crimson eyes flickered in the firelight, studying each of them in turn. Shadows clung to him strangely, refusing to break even as he stepped into the glow.
"Quiet, all of you," a scarred man snapped, his voice sharp with authority. "If she sent him, he should have something for us. Coin, blades, trinkets. We don't feed her hunters for free."
The boy's lips parted, but no sound came. His fingers curled tight against his sides, nails biting into his palms. A drop of blood pattered to the stone, unnoticed by him but not by the fire—it hissed as faint smoke curled upward.
The laughter died down. Men exchanged uneasy glances.
"Where's the payment, boy?" the leader pressed, standing now. His voice was steady, though his hand hovered near his sword. "Your mother doesn't break deals."
Finally, the boy spoke, small but sharp enough to cut through the cave."She can't keep them anymore."
A silence heavier than the mountain itself followed.
"What—?" one bandit began, only to be cut off as the boy lifted his gaze, the eerie glow in his eyes flaring.
"She's gone," he said flatly. "A hunter killed her. One of your men sent a powerful hunter to our territory, leading her and my sibling to be struck down." His throat tightened, but his words landed like stone dropped into water. "And I watched it all before I ran…"
The cave stirred—men jolting to their feet, blades rasping free, dice scattering into the dirt.
"You lie," one spat, his face twisted. "She can't be killed. Not her. Not the spider that's been filling our purses."
Another shook his head, beads of sweat trickling down his temple. "No… if powerful hunters are near, we're all dead men if we stay here."
"Shut your mouth!" the leader roared, eyes never leaving the boy. His voice cracked with fear. "If what he says is true… then she had just grown old. Take up your weapons. The talismans, swords, axes, and spears we've collected will finally be worth using."
"Come on, men," the leader grinned. "Let's light up our torches and see how much silver this bigshot has in his pockets!" He roared, and the bandits cheered. Smiling at the boy, he added, "Lead us back to this hunter."
He kicked the boy to the ground. "And don't think about leading us into a trap—or it's your head that flies."
The boy winced, rising from the floor, biting their lips as multiple eyes popped out of her forehead.
****
Author's Note
I wasn't planning on writing a chapter today, but I felt I owed it to those who sent me their power stones within the past hour. This chapter is dedicated to:
@Zei_9643@Ist_378984@Asagrim_9And last, but certainly not least, @Ung_5513
Thank you all for your support! I hope to see you as well over at my other novel:
Legacy of the Demon King's Heir: Chronicles of Malrik Thorneveil...