The carriage thundered down the crimson road like a black comet, hell-stallions snorting fire, wheels spitting sparks.
Inside, the air was pure sin.
Ace had his succubus flat on her back in full missionary, knees pushed to her shoulders, cock buried to the hilt with every brutal thrust. His mouth latched onto one leaking nipple, sucking hard while his balls slapped her ass in wet, relentless rhythm (smack-smack-smack-smack). Her wings flapped uselessly against the velvet bench, tail wrapped around his thigh, begging in broken moans.
Kai had folded his succubus almost in half, ankles over his shoulders, pounding so deep her eyes rolled white. He kissed her sloppy and savage, tongue fucking her mouth in time with his hips, drool and pre-cum mixing on their chins.
Riven's succubus was pinned beneath his full weight, legs spread impossibly wide, frost and water swirling around them as he drove into her with slow, punishing strokes. Every time he bottomed out, her whole body jolted, breasts bouncing, pussy squirting in tiny arcs that froze mid-air and shattered like glass.
Loud, wet sounds (slaps, squelches, guttural moans, demonic growls) filled the carriage until the windows rattled.
The grizzled incubus driver, Thorne Varg, eight centuries old, scars like canyons across his face, didn't even twitch an eyebrow. He cracked the soul-whip again and kept the stallions galloping toward Obsidian Heartwood, twelve hours of road still ahead.
Far ahead, on a parallel route…
Lilith's convoy rolled through a narrow canyon of black glass and bone-white trees.
Then the sky fell.
Twenty-one human cultivators dropped from the ridges like silent meteors.
Twenty Foundation-realm grunts in ash-grey robes, faces hidden behind porcelain masks.
One Golden Core leader, white robes fluttering, long black hair tied with a single golden thread, eyes cold as winter steel. His sword hummed with neutral-path qi (neither righteous nor demonic, simply annihilating).
The leader raised a jade talisman to his lips.
"Target confirmed. Lilith and two thousand fresh converts. Execute."
The ambush was a massacre carved in slow motion.
- Foundation cultivators flung chained detonation seals (neutral qi met demonic essence and erupted in blinding white suns). Hundreds of newborn hell demons were blown apart mid-step, torsos vaporized, legs still running for two steps before collapsing.
- Succubi tried to seduce; porcelain-masked cultivators answered with soul-cutting wires that whipped out faster than thought (wings severed, throats opened, bodies collapsing in fountains of black blood).
- One hell brute charged roaring; a masked cultivator flicked a finger (a spear of neutral qi punched through his sternum, twisted, and ripped the still-beating heart out the back). He crushed it like overripe fruit.
- Another succubus leapt skyward; the leader himself moved (one casual sword arc). She was bisected from crown to cunt, both halves hitting the ground still twitching, pink pussy leaking a final spurt of arousal mixed with blood.
In seventy seconds, two thousand bodies became a carpet of meat and broken horns.
Lilith alone stood in the center, milk and blood streaming from wounds, claws dripping.
She killed six Foundation cultivators (ripped one's spine out through his stomach, crushed another's skull with her thighs) before the Golden Core leader descended.
He was a ghost.
First slash (left arm gone at the shoulder, arterial spray painting the canyon wall).
Second slash (both legs severed mid-thigh in a single diagonal cut, Lilith collapsing forward).
Third slash (collarbone to hip, ribs flayed open, intestines spilling onto the dirt like pale snakes).
She hit the ground hard, horn cracked, one crimson eye staring at the slaughter of everything she'd built.
The leader raised his sword for the killing blow, face calm, almost bored.
Lilith's blood-soaked lips moved.
"Tamamo… I'm sorry…"
The emergency artifact in her tongue (a single black pearl gifted by the Patriarch himself) detonated in crimson light.
She vanished inches from death.
She reappeared in the grand throne hall of House of Lust, slamming into blood-marble with a wet thud (armless, legless, torso carved open, milk and blood pooling beneath her ruined body).
Butler Valthorne Greysoul, ancient vampire, silver hair, perfect suit, dropped to his knees beside her.
Patriarch Asmodeus Kain Veyl stormed in barefoot, silk robe hanging open, nine majestic horns circling his head like a crown of sin, eyes twin collapsing stars.
The temperature in the hall dropped twenty degrees from his killing intent alone.
"What. Happened."
Voice like the end of worlds.
Lilith, choking on her own blood, rasped the entire story (ambush, neutral path, Golden Core leader, two thousand dead).
Every mirror in the palace cracked simultaneously.
Asmodeus seized the communication orb with shaking fingers.
Heaven's outer gate.
A bored archangel answered.
"What."
Asmodeus's voice was barely a whisper, yet the walls bled from it.
"We had a deal. Neutral-path humans just butchered two thousand of my daughter's retainers. Explain."
Flat reply: "Not us. Humans are complicated. That faction answers to no one. This wasn't sanctioned."
Click.
Asmodeus crushed the orb to diamond dust.
Miles away…
The same twenty-one cultivators reformed on a ridge, watching the dust cloud of Ace, Kai, and Riven's carriage.
The leader smiled, small and cold.
"Next."
Word reached House of Lust in heartbeats.
Asmodeus exhaled a sigh that tasted like extinction.
"Valthorne… message my firstborn."
Deep inside an active volcano that had served as his training ground for six centuries…
Azrath Kain Veyl, shirtless, skin glowing with living lava veins, horns black as midnight, punched the air.
Inferno Demon Fist (Final Form).
The entire mountain range detonated.
His emergency jade lit up.
One line:
"Little brothers under attack. Neutral-path cultivators. Same ones that hit Lilith."
The volcano itself screamed.
Azrath's voice was the sound of galaxies dying.
"Who… dares… touch my brothers?"
The mountain range cracked in half.
Every demon within a thousand miles felt their blood freeze.
Cliffhanger.
Big brother is coming… and the world is not ready
The ridge was a jagged blade of black stone jutting above the crimson road, wind howling through the bone-white trees like mourning ghosts. Twenty-one cultivators crouched in perfect formation, grey and white robes blending with the ash-dust, breathing synchronized, killing intent locked down tight.
At the very front, on a solitary boulder slick with dried demon blood, sat their captain.
Lian Wuxin.
Peak Golden Core. Twenty-eight years old. Face carved from winter steel, long black hair bound by a single thread of molten gold that never cooled. His white outer robe fluttered like a funeral flag. In his pale, calloused hands he held a palm-sized jade phone (ancient model, cracked screen, still glowing with the soft light of one saved photograph).
The picture: a wedding scene twenty years past.
A breathtaking human woman in her early thirties, cheeks flushed, crimson silk wedding gown clinging to every obscene curve, silver fox ears peeking shyly through her bridal veil, nine luxurious tails curled possessively around the waist of the groom (an impossibly handsome demon with nine spiralling horns and a smirk that promised apocalypse between the sheets).
The groom was unmistakably a younger Asmodeus Kain Veyl.
One of Lian's lieutenants, a scarred, one-eyed Foundation expert named Huo Ba, crept closer, voice barely above the wind.
"Captain… that woman in the photo. That's… your mother?"
Lian Wuxin did not look up. His thumb traced the curve of his mother's smile on the cracked screen.
"Yes."
Huo Ba hesitated, then pushed.
"Then why in the nine hells are we taking a contract that is guaranteed to make the entire House of Lust want our balls on a silver platter?"
Lian finally lifted his gaze. Eyes flat. Voice flatter. The kind of dead calm that comes after you've already murdered your own soul.
"Because," he began, tone never rising, never falling, "when I was twelve, I fell in love with my mother. Not the childish kind. The real kind. The kind where I lived for the way her pink, dripping-wet pussy clenched around me when she came screaming my name. We fucked every single day for six years. Sometimes three, four times before breakfast. She said I was the only man who ever made her squirt so hard she saw stars. She promised me forever."
The wind itself seemed to choke.
Twenty hardened killers turned to statues.
Lian continued, clinical, merciless.
"Then one night I came home early. Found her bent over the kitchen table, moaning like a bitch in heat, nine tails wrapped around that demon's waist while his cock (bigger, thicker, veins like rivers of sin) rearranged her insides. She didn't even notice me standing there. She just kept screaming his name. Kept begging for more. Kept choosing him. A week later she completed the succubus transformation and left with him. Never looked back."
He closed the phone. Slid it into his sleeve.
"So every time I cut down one of House of Lust's dogs, I close my eyes and pretend it's him I'm gutting. Or her. Doesn't matter anymore."
Absolute, suffocating silence.
Twenty-one grown men (men who had disemboweled dragons, men who bathed in blood for breakfast) stood frozen, mouths half-open, blinking like innocent kindergarteners who just overheard the dirtiest secret in the universe and had no idea what to do with it.
Blink.
Blink blink.
Someone's sword slipped from numb fingers and clattered on stone.
Nobody moved to pick it up.
Miles away, inside the thundering black carriage…
Ace had his succubus pinned face-down on the velvet bench, hips slamming so hard the entire cabin shook, balls slapping her ass with wet, rhythmic cracks while she clawed the cushions and screamed his name like a prayer.
Kai was on his back, one succubus riding him reverse-cowgirl, fat ass bouncing, another sitting on his face, grinding her dripping cunt against his tongue while he growled into her folds.
Riven had both succubi stacked (one riding his cock, the other riding his fingers), frost and water swirling in a chaotic storm of ice mist and squirting juices, the windows completely fogged.
The driver never slowed.
Deep in House of Lust's shattered throne room…
Asmodeus Kain Veyl, nine horns dimmed to funeral black, sat alone on a throne built from the fossilized spines of fallen angels. The mirrors were still bleeding from his earlier rage. He looked… small.
He pulled out a private orb (one that only connected to a single contact).
It lit instantly.
A voice like liquid sin poured through.
"Asmodeus, my sweet, broken little boy… what's wrong?"
He actually whimpered (the Lord of Lust himself, whimpering).
"Mommy… I don't want to do this anymore. I'm tired."
A low, hungry laugh.
"Your father left for the Eternal Abyss Auction. He'll be gone seven days. Come home, darling. Mommy's bed is cold… and so very, very wet for you."
The orb hadn't even dimmed before Asmodeus Kain Veyl, Patriarch of the House of Lust, vanished in a pillar of crimson flame that scorched the ceiling black, silk robe already sliding off his shoulders, cock straining against his pants like it had a mind of its own.
And in a volcano a thousand miles away…
Azrath Kain Veyl sprinted across rivers of molten stone, each footstep exploding mountainsides into lava fountains, eyes twin dying suns, killing intent so thick it crystallised the air into blood-red snow.