Silver moonlight washed over the Cleansing Incense Ancient Sect, bathing the scarred battlements in a deceptive tranquility. The scent of blood and ozone from the day's slaughter had faded, replaced by the crisp, cool air of the night.
While the rest of the sect was likely trembling in a mixture of awe and terror, a private celebration was underway in the secluded courtyard of the Prime Disciple.
Ling Feng had shooed away the servants. He didn't want bowing heads or trembling hands pouring his drink; he wanted to relax.
A low table carved from Spirit Wood sat under the open sky, laden with flagons of thousand-year-old amber wine and plates of spirit fruits that glowed with a faint, inner luminescence.
Ling Feng sat—or rather, sprawled—with his legs stretched out beneath the table, leaning back on one hand. He looked utterly, almost disrespectfully, relaxed. In a world where posture defined dignity, Ling Feng looked like a man chilling on his couch on a Friday night.
"To the victors," Ling Feng raised his jade cup, his grin lazy and sharp.
"To the Young Noble!" Xu Pei chirped, raising her own cup with both hands.
The young maid's face was flushed a deep crimson, the potency of the cultivator's wine hitting her hard. She was practically glued to Ling Feng's right side, her body radiating a soft heat.
Li Shuangyan sat on his left. The descendant of the Nine Saint Demon Gate was the picture of elegance, her back straight, her snowy robes arranged perfectly around her. Yet, the legendary icy demeanor that usually froze suitors in their tracks had long since melted.
She sipped her wine, her beautiful eyes tracing Ling Feng's profile with a mixture of complexity, confusion, and undeniable attraction.
"You were reckless today," Li Shuangyan said softly, lowering her cup. Her voice carried a tremor of lingering adrenaline. "Killing a True God...you really fear nothing."
"Fear is just a mindset. It's a chemical reaction telling you to run," Ling Feng interrupted, swirling the amber liquid in his cup.
He reached out, his large hand enveloping Li Shuangyan's slender, jade-like fingers. She didn't pull away.
Immediately, a resonance hummed through the air. The Primal Chaos Genesis Physique inside Ling Feng stirred, calling out to the seed of Chaos Energy he had planted within her. It wasn't just physical contact; it was a spiritual bypass. The energy vibrated between their palms, an intimacy far deeper than skin-on-skin, bypassing her Pure Jade Sacred Heart Art's natural defenses.
Across the table, Su Yonghuang sat stiffly.
She was the Sect Master. She was supposed to be the supreme authority here. Yet, looking at the trio across from her, she felt like a third wheel in her own sect.
She watched how easily Ling Feng touched them, how openly he displayed his affection without a shred of the feudal reserve that defined this world.
"You are too loose," Su Yonghuang muttered, taking a heavy drink of the spirit wine to hide her discomfort. "A cultivator should have decorum. You treat the Dao like a playground."
"Decorum is boring. Traditions are just peer pressure from dead people," Ling Feng countered effortlessly. "We're alive. We're young. Well... I'm young. You're... experienced."
Su Yonghuang choked on her wine. She slammed the cup down, her eyes widening. "I am not old!"
"I didn't say old. I said experienced," Ling Feng laughed, leaning forward. The motion caused the air around him to ripple, the sheer weight of the Chaos Emeralds in his Inner Void warping the space slightly. "Relax, Yonghuang. You're stiff as a board. That Chaos Enhanced Solar Immortal Physique in you is running hot. You're like a radiator with no coolant. You need to chill out."
He wasn't wrong. The Complete Yang Saint Physique was naturally tyrannical, burning with the heat of a sun. But hearing him point it out, seeing the way his eyes raked over her—not with the reverence due a Sect Master, but with the appreciation of a man looking at a beautiful woman—made her blood boil for an entirely different reason.
She looked at Xu Pei, who was giggling as Ling Feng peeled a grape and fed it to her. She looked at Li Shuangyan, the peerless Ice Goddess who was now gazing at Ling Feng with undisguised adoration.
'He connects with them,' Su Yonghuang thought, a bitter pang striking her chest. 'His Chaos Energy... it completes them. It stabilizes them. But what about me? I am just the authority figure he tolerates.'
"Come here," Ling Feng said suddenly, patting the empty space on the cushion next to him. "Sit closer. The Chaos Force can suppress that Yang flare-up."
Su Yonghuang's heart skipped a beat. "I... I should go," she stood up abruptly, her chair scraping loudly against the stone. The atmosphere was too thick, too charged with a heavy, romantic tension she had no idea how to navigate. "I have duties. The Elders... the inventory of the spoils..."
"The Elders are probably swimming in gold coins right now like Scrooge McDuck," Ling Feng waved his hand dismissively.
Su Yonghuang paused, blinking. "Scrooge... who? Is that an Ancestor of the Duck Clan?"
"Something like that. A very rich, very greedy duck," Ling Feng chuckled, shaking his head. "Forget it. Just sit down, Yonghuang."
"No," Su Yonghuang turned, her face burning hot. "I... goodnight."
She fled. She literally flew out of the courtyard, channeling her movement technique. She disappeared into the night sky like she was escaping a high-level Heavenly Beast, leaving a trail of solar sparks in her wake.
Ling Feng watched her go, shrugging as he tossed another grape into his mouth. "She's playing hard to get. Or she's just socially awkward. Probably both."
"She carries a heavy burden," Li Shuangyan said quietly, her gaze lingering on the spot where the Sect Master had vanished. "Her identity... the secret lineage... it is not easy for her. She feels isolated."
"I'll break that shell eventually," Ling Feng said with absolute confidence. He wasn't worried. He was the anomaly; he would shatter her walls just like he shattered the Dao Laws of his enemies.
He turned his attention back to the present.
Xu Pei yawned loudly, a cute, cat-like sound. The excitement of the battle and the potency of the ancient wine had finally taken their toll. Her cultivation base was lower than the others, and her stamina was fading fast.
"Sleepy?" Ling Feng asked gently, his voice softening.
"Mmm..." Xu Pei rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand, swaying slightly. "Young Noble... everything is spinning. The moon looks like a giant dumpling..."
"Crash out, my dear," Ling Feng smiled warmly. He shifted, carefully arranging a silk cushion on his lap. He guided her down, letting her lay her head on his thighs. "Dream of dumplings."
Within seconds, her breathing evened out. She was asleep, safe in the presence of the most dangerous man in the Nine Worlds.
The courtyard went quiet. The crickets chirped in the rhythm of the night.
Ling Feng turned his head slowly to Li Shuangyan. The air shifted instantly. The playful, casual vibe dialed back, replaced by a raw, magnetic intensity that made the surrounding space heavy.
"So," Ling Feng said, his voice dropping an octave, resonating with a strange power. "Just us now."
Li Shuangyan's breath hitched. She felt the physical heat of his gaze. It was different from the way other men looked at her—filled with greed for her physique or lust for her status as the Nine Saint Demon Gate's successor.
Ling Feng looked at her. He looked at her like she was the only interesting thing in the universe, a puzzle he intended to solve.
"You really are a demon," Li Shuangyan whispered, her composure crumbling like a fragile ice sculpture.
"And you're an angel. Bad match?" Ling Feng moved his hand from Xu Pei's sleeping form to rest on Li Shuangyan's cheek. His thumb brushed her lower lip, callous against soft skin.
"A terrible match," she leaned into his hand involuntarily, her eyes fluttering shut. "You are arrogant, rude, and you speak in riddles no one understands."
"But?"
"But... you make my Dao heart tremble," she admitted, opening her eyes. The moonlight reflected in her pupils, which were dilated, swallowing the iris. "Since we've first met...I cannot look at anyone else. The geniuses of the Grand Middle Territory seem like children compared to you."
"Good," Ling Feng smirked, the expression possessive. "I don't share."
He stood up, moving with a fluid grace that defied his earlier laziness. He carefully moved Xu Pei's head to a soft pillow on the bench, ensuring she was comfortable. Then, he turned and offered his hand to Li Shuangyan.
"Let's go inside," he said, his voice low. "I want to show you some 'Dual Cultivation' techniques. And by that, I mean I want to appreciate the Pure Jade Physique up close. No interruptions, no ancient ghosts, just us."
Li Shuangyan blushed furiously, a stunning contrast to her usual frosty demeanor. But she took his hand. "You and your strange words... 'up close'..."
He led her toward the adjacent guest house. As they walked, Ling Feng felt the Red Chaos Emerald in his Inner Void pulsing. A strange energy swirled within him—not the destructive force of the Chaos Spear, but something vital, something alive. He wasn't just a cultivator seeking immortality. He was a man from Earth living his best life, completely unbound.
He kicked the door open with his foot and pulled Li Shuangyan inside.
"Welcome to the VIP lounge," he whispered, closing the door behind them.
"V-I-P?" Li Shuangyan echoed, confused by the acronym, but the question died on her lips as the door clicked shut.
Tonight, the Chaos Force would do more than just destroy enemies; it would cultivate love. And Ling Feng, the anomaly from Earth, was ready to teach the genius of the Nine Saint Demon Gate a few things that certainly weren't recorded in any ancient scroll.
The room plunged into deep shadow, pierced only by moonlight filtering through the silk-screened window. The air inside was cool and smelled of sandalwood incense, a stark, silent counterpoint to the wild energy crackling between them.
Li Shuangyan felt like she was standing on the edge of a cliff, the old, familiar world of rigid discipline and solitary cultivation far below.
In the space of a single breath, Ling Feng closed the distance. He didn't grab her; he simply moved, and she was ensnared by his gravity.
"You know," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through her bones, "for someone with an 'Ice Goddess' reputation, you run hot."
His hands weren't rough. They were sure. They framed her face, his thumbs tracing the sharp, elegant line of her jaw. He tilted her head up, and she met his gaze.
In the dark, his eyes held the same impossible light as the Green Chaos Emerald—a light that didn't just illuminate, it promised. It promised absolute control over space, it promised freedom, and it promised a world beyond the suffocating rules she had always known.
"Shut up," she whispered, but it was a plea, not a command. Her voice was thin, reedy. She was the Ice Beauty, the peerless genius who had rejected princes and young kings, but in this moment, she was just a woman, her heart a frantic drum against her ribs.
"No," Ling Feng grinned, a flash of white in the gloom. "I've been wanting to do this since I first saw you trying to act tough."
And then he kissed her.
It wasn't a gentle, chaste peck. It was a claiming. His lips were firm, demanding, and tasted of the strong spirit wine from the courtyard.
She stiffened, her body a wire wound too tight, but her hands, betraying her logic, came up to clutch the front of his robes. Her Pure Jade Physique, which she had spent a lifetime honing into a weapon of cold, sharp clarity, was now humming with a foreign, terrifying heat. It was the Chaos Energy he had seeded in her, singing in harmony with the vast ocean of the Chaos Force residing within him.
He deepened the kiss, one hand sliding from her jaw to the nape of her neck, fingers tangling in the silk of her hair. He tugged, just enough to make her gasp, and used the opening to explore, to dominate.
The logical part of her brain, the part that had memorized thousands of ancient cultivation techniques and Dao Laws, screamed that this was reckless, improper, a distraction from the path to the Heaven's Will.
But her inner desires, which had been frozen solid for years under the weight of expectation, were thawing at a terrifying speed.
A crack, then a fissure, then a flood.
He pulled back, just enough to speak, his lips brushing against hers. "Your ice is melting, Shuangyan."
She couldn't answer. She was breathing hard, her chest rising and falling against his. She saw him not as the shameless, arrogant genius who spoke in nonsense words about "ducks" and "VIPs," but as something else.
A force of nature. An anomaly. A source of power so profound it could either shatter her or remake her.
And looking into those eyes that held the power to shatter the Nine Worlds, she found she didn't care which it was.
Ling Feng deftly undid the sash of her outer robe. The fine silk whispered as it pooled around her feet. Her inner garments were simpler, a practical tunic and pants, but as his hands skimmed over them, they felt flimsy as cobwebs. He wasn't just undressing her; he was unwrapping a gift.
"Perfect," he breathed, looking at her. There was no artifice in his gaze. He wasn't admiring her beauty as a spectator, but as a conqueror who had just claimed the highest peak. "Just as I imagined. Better."
He guided her backward, and her legs hit the edge of the bed. She sank down onto the soft covers, her movements stiff with a mixture of anticipation and terror. She, who had faced down elders and monstrous beasts without flinching, was trembling.
Ling Feng knelt in front of her, forcing her to look at him. "Hey. None of that. You're Li Shuangyan. You don't get to be scared."
"Of you? I'm not scared of you," she retorted, a spark of her old fire returning. "I'm scared of... this. What you're doing to me. To my cultivation."
"This *is* your cultivation," Ling Feng corrected, his voice serious. "You think power is just about meditating and absorbing energies? That's for the sheeps. Real power, true ascension, comes from passion. From desire. From breaking your own damn rules."
He stood up and removed his own robes in a single, fluid motion. His body was lean and corded with muscle, a map of battles and honed power. There was a strange, swirling tattoo on his chest, barely visible in the moonlight, that seemed to shift and writhe with a life of its own. The Green Chaos Emerald.
He joined her on the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight. He didn't immediately touch her. He just lay there, propped on an elbow, watching her. The silence stretched, taut with electricity.
"My Art preaches detachment," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "They say emotion is a chain that binds the soul."
"They're wrong," Ling Feng said simply. "Emotion is the fuel."
He finally reached out, tracing the collarbone he had exposed. His touch was like a brand. Wherever his skin met hers, a jolt of Chaos Energy surged, not just from him, but from her as well. The dormant seed he had planted inside her was blossoming under his touch. Her meridians, which had always been channels of cold, pure energy, were now flowing with a molten river of silver and gold.
"I'm going to teach you a new technique," he murmured, leaning in to kiss the pulse point on her neck. "It's called... synergy."
He kissed her again, and this time, she met him with equal fervor. The ice was gone, replaced by a wildfire. Her hands, once hesitant, roamed over the contours of his back, feeling the raw strength there. The logical part of her brain finally shut up, drowned out by the roaring in her blood. This wasn't just sex. This was a battle, a negotiation, a fusion. Every touch was an exchange of energy, every kiss a merging of wills.
He moved over her, his body a cage of warmth and muscle. He pressed two fingers inside in one smooth thrust, crooking them just so. Her back arched violently. The slide of his fingers, slick with her, dragged a ragged moan from her as he withdrew—only to push back deeper. His tongue flicked over her clit in a merciless rhythm, working her higher with every stroke.
"Ling Feng—" His name tore from her throat, half threat, half plea.
"Say it again," he demanded against her thigh, nipping the tender flesh with his blunt teeth. "Louder."
She bucked against his mouth, fingers twisting in his hair—not pulling him away, but holding him exactly where she needed him.
"Ling Feng!" The second cry was louder, unfiltered, and he groaned in response, fingers curling inside her as his tongue circled her clit.
Her release hit like a collapsing star—violent, radiant, consuming. Ling Feng rode it out with her, drinking down every shudder until she collapsed back onto the divan, chest heaving. He crawled up her body with deliberate slowness, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.
"That's one." He braced an arm by her head, his cock nudging her entrance—a question and a promise both. "But we're just getting started."
He pushed in with a sharp, deep thrust that made her cry out again. The raw stretch burned, but the discomfort was buried under a fresh surge of pleasure, a sudden, shocking fullness.
"Look at me," he commanded, his hips rolling in a slow, deep rhythm that threatened to shatter her composure. He adjusted his angle, hitting that one spot inside that made her vision blur. A choked gasp escaped her.
Li Shuangyan's nails raked down his back, drawing blood—not to wound, but to anchor herself against the overwhelming tide of sensation.
"You're still—ah!—too arrogant," she managed, her breath hot against his neck. The taunt was undercut by the way her legs locked around his waist, pulling him deeper.
Ling Feng chuckled, low and dark, as he caught her wrists and pinned them above her head again.
"And you're still lying," he murmured against her lips before stealing her breath with another kiss. His hips moved relentlessly, each thrust calculated to unravel her further. "Tell me," he breathed against her mouth, "who else could make the Ice Goddess of the Nine Saint Demon Gate scream like this?"
Li Shuangyan arched beneath him, her legs tightening around his waist as pleasure coiled tighter with every movement.
"No one," she gasped, the admission raw and honest—a rarity for her. Her defiance flickered in the way she bit his shoulder, the sharp sting only driving him deeper. "Only you—ah!—would dare."
Ling Feng laughed, breathless, his lips tracing the shell of her ear. "Damn right," he growled, punctuating each word with a thrust that made her shudder.
His grip on her wrists loosened just enough for her to tangle her fingers in his hair, pulling him closer until their foreheads pressed together.
The intimacy of it—eyes locked, breath mingling—felt more exposing than any physical surrender.
Li Shuangyan's usual icy composure was molten now, her cheeks flushed, lips parted. "Slow down," she gasped, but her hips arched against him, betraying her demand.
Ling Feng smirked, deliberately slowing his pace to an agonizing drag, watching her eyelids flutter. "You're terrible at lying," he murmured, nipping her lower lip. "Tell me what you really want."
She dug her fingers into his shoulders, her nails leaving crescent moons in his skin.
"Faster," she admitted in a breathless rush, her pride dissolving under his relentless touch.
Ling Feng rewarded her honesty with a deep, sharp thrust that drew a ragged cry from her throat. "Good girl," he growled, his voice rough with approval.
The praise sent a shiver through her—not just from the words, but from the way his Chaos Energy pulsed in sync with hers, intertwining them beyond the physical.
Li Shuangyan's usual icy control was gone, replaced by something wild and untamed. She arched beneath him, her body fitting against his like two halves of a broken seal finally reunited.
"You feel that?" Ling Feng murmured against her collarbone, his lips brushing her heated skin. "That's your meridians singing. Chaos and Jade, fire and ice—perfect fucking balance."
His hips snapped forward again, driving the point home. She gasped, her nails raking down his back as her cultivation base flared in response, the energy between them spiraling higher.
"You talk," she panted, "too much—" but the rest of her words dissolved into a moan as he caught her wrists again, pinning them above her head.
"And you," he countered, his voice rough with amusement and desire, "think too much."
He kissed her deeply, swallowing her retort, his tongue mapping the roof of her mouth like he was memorizing her.
When he pulled back, her lips were swollen, her eyes dark with need. "Just feel," he commanded, and her body obeyed, her legs wrapping tighter around his waist.
The rhythm between them shifted—less frantic, more deliberate. Ling Feng moved with the precision of a cultivator honing a technique, each thrust calculated to draw out her pleasure.
Li Shuangyan arched beneath him, her back leaving the divan as she chased the sensation.
"Look at you," he murmured, his thumb brushing her lower lip. "My ice goddess melting just for me."
She bit his thumb, hard enough to draw blood again, and he laughed—a dark, delighted sound that vibrated through her chest.
"Still defiant," he noted, his hips rolling in a slow, deep circle that made her gasp. "Good. I'd hate to break you completely."
Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him down until their foreheads touched. "You won't," she breathed, her voice raw. "I'm not so fragile."
Ling Feng's smirk softened into something genuine, almost tender. "No," he agreed, his lips brushing hers. "You're fucking perfect."
The words were simple, stripped of his usual arrogance, and they hit her harder than any technique. Li Shuangyan's grip tightened, her nails scraping his scalp as she kissed him fiercely, pouring everything she couldn't say into the contact.
Ling Feng broke the kiss just long enough to flip their positions, landing her atop him with a thud that shook the divan. The shift sent him deeper inside her, and Li Shuangyan cried out, her hands braced against his chest to steady herself.
"Your turn," he challenged, his hands settling on her hips, guiding her into a slow, grinding rhythm.
She hesitated for only a second before taking control, her movements growing bolder as she found her rhythm. The sight of her—head thrown back, hair cascading down her back, her body moving with increasing confidence—made him groan.
Li Shuangyan leaned forward, her breasts brushing against his chest as she kissed him, slow and deep.
"You're not the only one," she murmured against his lips, her fingers tracing the swirling tattoo on his chest. The Chaos Energy flared under her touch, and Ling Feng's hips bucked involuntarily.
"Wow, Shuangyan," he muttered, his grip tightening on her hips. "Keep doing that, and this'll be over too soon."
She laughed, a rare, genuine sound that made him smile. "Then keep up," she challenged, her movements growing faster, more deliberate.
Her cultivation base surged again, and this time, Ling Feng met her halfway, their energies mingling and intensifying until the room hummed with power. The bed creaked in protest, the scent of sandalwood and sex filling the air as they moved together, lost in the rhythm.
Ling Feng sat up, wrapping his arms around her waist and burying his face in her neck. "I'm close," he warned, his voice strained.
Li Shuangyan wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him close. "Me too," she breathed, her body tightening around his.
"Look me in the eyes," Ling Feng demanded, pulling back just enough to meet her gaze. His usual smirk was gone, replaced by raw, unfiltered intensity. "I want to see it shatter you."
Li Shuangyan, who had spent years perfecting emotional detachment, found herself powerless to look away. Now, with his cock buried deep inside her, that same hand trembled.
"You—ah—ruined me first," she gasped, her hips stuttering as pleasure coiled tighter.
Ling Feng caught her wrist, pressing her palm flat against his racing heart. "And you let me." His thrusts grew frantic, the divan creaking beneath them.
When her orgasm hit, it wasn't the silent, controlled release of a frost cultivator—it was a raw, shuddering cry that echoed through the chamber.
Ling Feng drank the sound from her lips, his own release following as her inner walls clenched around him.
They collapsed together in a tangle of limbs, sweat-slicked skin sticking where their cultivation robes had long since been discarded.
For a long moment, they stayed like that, their bodies entwined, their breathing slowly returning to normal. Li Shuangyan rested her head against his shoulder, her hair tickling his chest.
"That," she said finally, her voice soft, "was not in any ancient scroll I've ever read."
Ling Feng chuckled, stroking her hair. "That's because they're written by old men who've probably forgotten what it's like to actually live."
He kissed the top of her head then looked straight into her eyes. "But that was only the beginning. The night is still long."
Li Shuangyan arched a delicate brow, but the slight curve of her lips betrayed her amusement. "You're insatiable."
"And you love it," he countered, rolling her beneath him again in one smooth motion, pinning her wrists above her head. She didn't resist—only smirked up at him, legs wrapping around his waist.
"You're still too arrogant," she murmured, but her eyes burned with unspoken challenge. "Prove me wrong."
Ling Feng laughed, a dark, promising sound. "With pleasure," he murmured, capturing her lips in another searing kiss.
The night stretched before them, a canvas of shadow and moonlight, and Ling Feng was determined to paint it with every shade of chaos and desire.