The carriage rocked like a ship in a storm.
Inside, the air was thick with sex and sulfur.
Ace had one succubus pinned missionary, hips slamming deep, balls slapping her ass with wet, rhythmic smacks while he sucked greedily at her leaking nipple.
Kai had another folded beneath him, legs over his shoulders, tongue down her throat as he pounded in brutal, perfect strokes.
Riven's succubus was on her back, ankles locked behind his neck, frost and water swirling around them as he fucked her so hard the bench creaked.
Moans, wet flesh, demonic growls (loud enough to rattle the windows).
The grizzled incubus driver didn't even glance back. Eight hundred years of service had made him immune. He just cracked the whip and kept the hell-stallions galloping toward Obsidian Heartwood.
Far ahead on a parallel road…
Lilith's convoy (two thousand freshly converted demons in perfect marching order) rolled through a narrow canyon pass.
Then the world exploded.
Twenty-one human cultivators dropped from the cliffs like vultures.
Twenty Foundation-level grunts in grey robes.
One Golden Core leader in pristine white, sword already glowing with neutral-path qi.
The leader raised a jade talisman to his lips.
"Confirmed. Lilith's route. Proceed."
The ambush was surgical and merciless.
- The first wave of Foundation cultivators hurled chained explosive talismans (hellfire met neutral qi and detonated in sun-white blasts). Hundreds of newborn hell demons were shredded instantly, limbs flying, molten blood painting the canyon walls.
- Succubi tried to seduce; the humans answered with soul-severing wires that sliced wings clean off, then decapitated the screaming bodies mid-orgasm.
- One hell demon charged; a cultivator drove a spear of pure neutral qi through his chest, twisted, and ripped out a still-beating heart, crushing it like a tomato.
- Another succubus attempted to flee on bat wings; a golden sword arc bisected her from crown to cunt. Both halves hit the ground still twitching, pussy leaking cum and life.
In less than sixty seconds, two thousand servants became two thousand corpses (dismembered, burned, pulped, turned to red mist).
Lilith fought like a cornered goddess.
She killed six Foundation cultivators herself (claws through throats, milk and blood spraying together) before the Golden Core leader descended.
He moved like a ghost.
One slash took her left arm at the shoulder.
Second slash severed both legs mid-thigh.
Third carved a diagonal line from collarbone to hip, exposing ribs and spilling intestines onto the dirt.
She hit the ground hard, horn cracked, milk and blood pooling beneath her.
The leader raised his sword for the killing blow.
A desperate pulse of demonic essence triggered the emergency artifact hidden in her tongue.
Crimson light swallowed her; she vanished inches from death.
She reappeared in the grand hall of House of Lust, collapsing in a wet, limbless heap on blood-marble floor.
Butler Name: Valthorne Greysoul (ancient vampire, silver hair, perfect suit) rushed forward, face pale even for the undead.
Patriarch Name: Asmodeus Kain Veyl, Lord of the House of Lust, nine horns circling his head like a crown of sin, eyes burning with restrained apocalypse, stormed in barefoot, robe half-open, cock still half-hard from whatever he'd been doing.
"What. Happened."
Voice like continental plates grinding.
Lilith, choking on her own blood, rasped the story.
Asmodeus's killing intent detonated.
Every mirror in the hall cracked. Servants dropped to their knees, noses bleeding.
He seized a communication orb.
The line connected to Heaven's outer gate.
A bored archangel picked up.
"What."
Asmodeus's voice was barely human.
"We had a deal. Neutral-path humans just slaughtered two thousand of my daughter's retainers. Explain."
The angel's tone stayed flat.
"Not us. Neutral humans are… complicated. Some lean Heaven, some lean Hell, most lean whoever pays. This wasn't sanctioned."
Click. Line dead.
Asmodeus crushed the orb to powder.
Meanwhile, miles away…
The same twenty-one cultivators reformed on a ridge overlooking the second road.
Their leader smiled at the distant dust cloud of Ace, Kai, and Riven's carriage.
"Next target acquired."
Word reached House of Lust in seconds.
Asmodeus exhaled a slow, tired sigh that tasted like brimstone.
"Valthorne. Emergency message to my firstborn."
Far, far away (inside an active volcano that had been his training ground for centuries), the firstborn son, Azrath Kain Veyl, shirtless, skin lava-cracked, fists glowing with Inferno Demon Fist, shattered an entire mountain with one punch.
BOOM.
The peak collapsed into molten rubble.
His communication jade lit up.
He read the single line.
Killing intent erupted (so thick the volcano itself trembled, lava surging a hundred meters into the sky).
Azrath's voice was the sound of continental plates breaking.
"Who dares touch my little brothers?"
The mountain range shook.
Cliffhanger.
To be continued when the firstborn arrives… and the world burns.
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.
Big brother was coming.