The heavily warded interior of the opulent, golden flying carriage was an inescapable crucible of suffocating, humid debauchery. While the massive, four-winged Golden Rocs pulled the transport steadily through the clouds above the northern territories of the Celestial Dragon Empire, the Sound-Severing Void Ward completely isolated the cabin from the outside world. To the elite imperial guards flying in formation just beyond the crystal windows, their revered royal charges were engaged in deep, silent meditation to prepare for the coming war.
The reality was a masterpiece of absolute, dripping degradation.
Alaric sat deeply immersed in the plush velvet cushions, his broad, muscular chest slick with a heavy sheen of sweat. He was currently executing the Lotus Petal Piling position, a demanding, deeply penetrative stance that required absolute control. Princess Huang Hua was straddling his lap, her incredibly toned, athletic legs wrapped securely around his waist. Her crimson-and-gold battle skirt had been entirely discarded hours ago, leaving her flawless, youthful body completely naked and vulnerable to his whims.
“Mhmmm… yes, Master… ohhh… deeper,” Princess Huang Hua whimpered softly, her lush lips parted in a breathless, dazed smile. Her ethereal eyes were half-closed, entirely lost in the mind-boggling physical ecstasy as Alaric’s massive, rock-hard erection buried itself to the hilt within her soaking wet, dripping pink pussy.
“You take it so beautifully, little Princess,” Alaric murmured, his deep, magnetic voice vibrating against her skin. He aggressively grabbed her firm, perky breasts, squeezing the soft flesh ruthlessly while his thumbs pinched and rolled her stiff, dark pink nipples. He drove his hips upward with a brutal, relentless rhythm, his muscular thighs slapping loudly against her plump, curvaceous buttocks.
SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!
“Nnngh! Yesss! Fuck your royal slut! Ahhh!” Huang Hua sobbed in pleasure, her inner walls clamping down around his thick shaft in a series of desperate, milking convulsions. The insidious psychological conditioning Alaric had subjected her to had permanently rewired her brain. There were no magical commands forcing her to speak; her aristocratic pride had simply been completely burned away, leaving behind a woman who genuinely, desperately craved the degradation of his cock.
Just a few feet away, crawling on the thick velvet carpets, was her mother.
Imperial Consort Shu, known by her true name Su Xinyue, had completely abandoned her untouchable, imperial dignity. The mature, incredibly voluptuous mother of the Third Prince was entirely naked, her massive, heavy breasts swaying gently as she moved on her hands and knees. She watched her own daughter being brutally pounded by Alaric, her ethereal eyes glazed with a mixture of profound, unadulterated lust and fierce, feral jealousy.
“Master…” Su Xinyue whined, her voice a low, filthy plea. She crawled closer, pressing her wide, heart-shaped buttocks into the air, presenting her swollen, dripping entrance. “Mnnn… Hua’er has had enough… please, my womb is aching for your seed. The Emperor never filled me like this… ohhh… let Xinyue serve you.”
“Impatient, Xinyue?” Alaric smirked, pulling his slick, saliva-covered shaft out of Huang Hua with a loud, obscene pop. The athletic princess collapsed onto his chest, panting heavily, a thick trail of his pre-cum leaking from her stretched core.
Alaric didn’t hesitate. He grabbed Su Xinyue by her thick, dark hair and forcefully pulled her up onto the velvet seating beside him. He positioned her on her back, her massive, motherly breasts spilling outward across her chest. He lifted her long, fair legs, pushing her knees back toward her ears to completely expose her dripping, mature pussy.
“Take it, Xinyue,” Alaric commanded, driving his hips forward with bone-crushing force, completely impaling the Imperial Consort in a single, devastating thrust.
“OOHHH! Yesss! Ahhh! Finally!” Su Xinyue shrieked, her spine arching violently off the cushions. The sheer, overwhelming fullness of his size stretching her mature inner walls sent a blinding shockwave of physical ecstasy straight to her brain.
While Alaric systematically wrecked the mother of the Third Prince, the other beauties in the carriage were far from idle. Imperial Consort Xian, Zhao Mengxue, was seated gracefully on the floor, her own voluptuous, mature body completely bare. She was diligently, worshipfully massaging Alaric’s calves and thighs, her hands tracing the tight muscles with absolute devotion. Her daughter, Princess Huang Mei, was kneeling beside her, using her own soft, perky breasts to gently rub against Alaric’s knee, her eyes fixed hungrily on his plunging hips.
“Mhmmm… look at how deep he goes into her, Mother,” Huang Mei whispered, her athletic thighs trembling with unfulfilled need, her hand unconsciously drifting down to rub her own slick clitoris. “Nnngh… I want him to stretch me like that again…”
“Patience, Mei’er… ohhh…” Zhao Mengxue murmured, her own breath catching as she watched the heavy, wet collisions of flesh. “Master will use us all. We just have to be good, obedient sluts.”
Nearby, Gu Ling and Ling Ying observed the scene with serene, corrupted contentment. The Heiress of the Gu Clan and the Heiress of the Ling Clan were curled together on a pile of furs, their bodies slick with sweat from their earlier rounds. They did not need telepathic commands; their minds had been completely broken and rebuilt in the crucible of his endless stamina. They simply existed to witness and participate in his grand, filthy conquest.
“Mnnn… Ahhh! Fill your whore, Master! Yesss!” Su Xinyue babbled, her hands blindly gripping the velvet upholstery as Alaric established a rapid, punishing rhythm.
For the entirety of the flight, Alaric utilized the isolated environment to keep his harem violently addicted and thoroughly compliant. He fucked them in dozens of different positions, moving from the Deep Plowing Lotus to the Prone Bone against the floorboards, leaving stark red handprints across their royal buttocks and dark purple bite marks on their elegant necks. He climaxed multiple times, pumping thick, scalding hot loads of his potent semen deep into their wombs, marking the highest women of the Celestial Dragon Empire eternally as his property.
Several hours later, the atmosphere shifted entirely.
The golden convoy had landed at a heavily fortified forward operating base near the edge of the Ash-Cloud Steppes. The Sound-Severing Void Ward dissipated.
In a terrifying display of their deeply ingrained duality, the five women flawlessly transitioned from babbling, desperate sluts into untouchable paragons of imperial authority. They utilized cleansing spells to evaporate the sweat and semen from their skin, donning their high-collared, immaculate martial silks. When they stepped out of the carriage, their expressions were masks of cold, stoic dignity, completely hiding the fact that their inner thighs were still trembling and their pussies were aching with residual pleasure.
Alaric trailed behind them, leaning casually on his wooden staff. He wore a simple, unassuming gray scholar’s cloak, keeping his formidable magical signature heavily suppressed, projecting only the faint, watery aura of a Level 43 Master Mage.
They walked toward the center of the encampment, where a massive, armored command tent had been erected. A few days prior, the Imperial Vanguard had merged their marching columns with the elite, iron-clad army of Earl Fenghai, a powerful provincial lord.
Inside the tactical pavilion, the air was tense. At the center of a large, glowing topographical map table stood Noble Consort Cui Yulan. The master of the Violet Thunder Pavilion was fully armored in her violet profound-steel plates, her silver eyes sharp and frustrated. Beside her stood Su Xinyue and Zhao Mengxue, their expressions severe and thoughtful.
Standing opposite the royal women was Commander Vane. The leader of the Earl’s forces was a towering, heavily scarred warrior of distinct foreign descent. His sharp, angular features, pale blue eyes, and thick, braided blonde hair marked him as an outsider, but his formidable Martial King aura proved he had earned his rank through sheer, undeniable bloodshed within the Celestial Dragon Empire.
“Noble Consort Cui,” Commander Vane began, his heavily accented voice respectful but firm. He offered a crisp, rigid bow that adhered strictly to imperial protocol. “If I may offer a humble solution to our current impasse. I have observed the Vanguard’s frustration over the past two weeks. The Blood Lotus Cult and the Nether-Soul Grudge Sect are utilizing highly sophisticated blood-warp arrays. Every hideout we breach is a decoy, rigged for soul-detonation.”
Cui Yulan frowned, her armored arms crossing over her chest. “They are cowards, hiding their true base by continuously shifting their spatial leylines. Our conventional tracking methods, even those utilizing high-tier elemental compasses, are failing against their demonic corruption.”
“Indeed, Your Highness,” Vane nodded deferentially. “However, my master, Earl Fenghai, anticipated such difficulties. The demonic sects are clever, but they cannot completely mask the residual, putrid stench of the Abyssal Bone Marrow they utilize in their darkest rituals. The Earl’s resources extend into… unorthodox territories.”
Vane reached into a thick, lead-lined pouch at his belt. He pulled out a small, intricately carved obsidian box. He unlatched the lid with careful precision, revealing a dozen massive, pulsating insects. They resembled scarabs, but their carapaces were an iridescent, sickly green, and their mandibles dripped with a faint, acidic residue that hissed slightly against the obsidian.
“By the heavens, what foul creatures are those?” Su Xinyue asked, her aristocratic brow furrowing in genuine distaste.
“These are Spirit-Devouring Tracker Beetles, Imperial Consort Su,” Commander Vane explained, keeping his eyes respectfully lowered. “They are an incredibly rare, subterranean species bred specifically in the deep, lightless caverns of the Iron-Blood Province. They are entirely blind to standard Battle Aura or elemental Qi. They feed exclusively on concentrated, stagnant demonic energy.”
Cui Yulan’s silver eyes widened in genuine surprise. The Imperial Family possessed vast treasuries, but such highly specialized, living tracking artifacts bred from deep-earth mutations were exceedingly rare.
“You intend to use them to follow the resonance of the cult?” Zhao Mengxue surmised, her sharp political mind instantly grasping the utility.
“Precisely, Imperial Consort Zhao,” Vane confirmed. “Three days ago, during a skirmish on the border, my scouts managed to capture a high-ranking Blood Priest alive. Before the fanatic could detonate his soul, we fed him to these beetles. They consumed his flesh and his corrupted Qi. They are now permanently, biologically attuned to the specific, localized demonic frequency of his superiors.”
“If we release them,” Cui Yulan concluded, a spark of fierce, martial hope igniting in her eyes, “they will bypass the spatial decoys and fly directly toward the highest concentration of that specific demonic resonance. They will lead us to the main base.”
“That is my master’s hope, Noble Consort,” Vane bowed again. “Earl Fenghai wishes only to see the demonic scourge eradicated from the Empire.”
Alaric, standing quietly in the corner, watched the exchange with a calculating gaze. He knew nothing of Corbin, nor of the systemic manipulation behind the Earl’s sudden generosity. But he recognized a highly effective tool when he saw one.
“This changes our strategy entirely,” Cui Yulan stated, slamming her armored fist onto the map table. “We release the swarm at dawn. But we must be prepared. If they lead us to the primary stronghold, we will be facing the full, unadulterated might of their highest elders.”
The atmosphere in the tent grew somber. Su Xinyue and Zhao Mengxue exchanged a subtle, cautious glance.
“Yulan,” Zhao Mengxue spoke up, her voice dropping into a serious, guarded register. “We have been hunting these cults for weeks. You have driven the Violet Thunder Pavilion to exhaustion. The cults are dangerous, yes, but your pursuit borders on a personal vendetta. What is the true stake here? Why are they so active in the northern territories now?”
Cui Yulan hesitated, her silver eyes scanning the tent, ensuring only her trusted commanders and the Imperial Consorts were present. She took a deep, steadying breath.
“The demonic sects are not merely gathering blood for chaotic rituals,” Cui Yulan revealed, her voice heavy with the weight of ancient history. “They have located a terrifying relic. They possess the physical corpse of the Abyssal Bone Demon Emperor.”
A sharp, collective gasp echoed through the tent. Princess Huang Hua and Princess Huang Mei stepped closer, their faces paling in genuine shock. Even Alaric raised an eyebrow, his Archmage intellect instantly categorizing the threat.
“A Demon Emperor?” Su Xinyue whispered, her eyes wide. “But the imperial histories state that the Abyssal Bone entity was utterly annihilated five thousand years ago during the Heavenly Sundering War!”
“The histories were written to comfort the masses, Xinyue,” Cui Yulan corrected bitterly. “A Demon Emperor of that magnitude cannot be simply killed. Its primordial essence relies on Undying Blood-Marrow Regeneration, a horrifying, unnatural technique that defied even the greatest martial arts of the era. Five thousand years ago, the martial ancestors of my Cui Family—three True Martial Emperors—fought the Abyssal Bone entity for one hundred continuous days.”
Cui Yulan placed her hands on the table, leaning forward. “They could not destroy its flesh. The regeneration was absolute. Their only recourse was to brutally smash its body into nine separate pieces and seal them in the deepest, most heavily warded catacombs beneath the earth. However, to ensure it could never regenerate, an allied faction—the ancient Celestial Astral Sect—managed to sever and seal the Demon Emperor’s Primordial Spirit in a completely different, hidden spatial realm.”
“The body and the spirit were separated,” Zhao Mengxue breathed, grasping the terrifying implications.
“Precisely,” Cui Yulan nodded. “For millennia, the seals held. But the Celestial Astral Sect vanished from the annals of history, their secrets lost. Recently, the Blood Lotus Cult discovered the location of the dormant Primordial Spirit through forbidden divination. They have acquired the corpse, and they intend to breach the spirit’s seal. They plan to fuse them together, initiating a partial revival of the Demon Emperor.”
“If they succeed,” Commander Vane grunted, his scarred face grim, “they will siphon the raw, ancient demonic spells from its awakening spirit to grant their own elders terrifying, unnatural power. They will possess the strength to challenge the Imperial Vanguard directly.”
Su Xinyue frowned, voicing the dangerous political question that hung in the air. “If the threat is this severe, Yulan… why hasn’t Emperor Huang Long personally intervened? A single sweep of his power could incinerate the entire region and secure the spirit.”
Cui Yulan’s expression darkened considerably. A bitter, deeply frustrated silence filled the tent.
“The Emperor… has his own profound designs,” Cui Yulan finally answered, her voice strained with unspoken resentment, avoiding eye contact with her fellow consorts. “When I presented my findings to the Inner Court, he forbade the mobilization of the primary royal armies. He claims the natural flow of karma must not be excessively disrupted. But I know the truth.”
She gripped the edge of the table, the profound-steel groaning under her grip. “He wishes to let the Demon Emperor partially revive. He believes that studying its newly awakened, primordial demonic aura might provide him with the final insight necessary to break through his own mortal bottlenecks. He is willing to risk the lives of thousands of citizens, and the stability of the empire, for a sliver of martial enlightenment.”
The revelation was staggering. The True Martial Emperor was intentionally allowing a catastrophic demonic threat to fester for his own selfish cultivation goals.
Su Xinyue, Zhao Mengxue, Huang Hua, and Huang Mei remained entirely silent, masking their internal shock behind flawless imperial composure. They did not dare speak aloud against their husband and father.
But internally, their corrupted minds were racing.
‘Master,’ Su Xinyue’s voice echoed purely within Alaric’s mind through the residual magical connection of their debauchery. ‘The Emperor is playing a highly dangerous game of proxy war.’
‘I hear it, Xinyue,’ Alaric replied telepathically, his own mind working furiously. ‘Keep your reactions dignified. Do not let her suspect you harbor any disloyalty to the throne.’
“That is… highly troubling, Yulan,” Zhao Mengxue stated aloud, perfectly masking her indifference. “But we cannot allow this revival to occur.”
“I will not,” Cui Yulan vowed, her armored fist slamming onto the table. “That is why I am leading this vanguard. We will find their main base, and we will burn the Abyssal Bone corpse to ash before the ritual can begin.”
For the next three weeks, the combined forces engaged in a grueling, relentless pursuit across the northern territories.
The journey was arduous. They marched through the Crimson-Vein Canyons, a treacherous, jagged landscape where the rock formations seemed to bleed a rusty, toxic sap that burned through standard leather boots. They crossed the Ash-Cloud Steppes, a desolate, sprawling wasteland perpetually blanketed in thick, gray, choking soot that hampered visibility and drained spiritual energy.
The Spirit-Devouring Tracker Beetles proved their worth immediately. They led the vanguard away from the obvious, heavily trapped decoy bases that the cult had established to waste the Imperial forces’ time. Instead, the iridescent green swarm darted erratically through hidden mountain passes and subterranean river networks, tracking the putrid resonance of the Demon Emperor’s marrow.
The demonic sects, realizing they were being actively hunted, fought back with suicidal, cornered desperation.
During an ambush in the Screaming Willow Thicket, the vanguard was assaulted by dozens of Blood Martialists.
“Blood-Marrow Refining Art: Boiling Blood Spears!” a high-ranking Blood Priest screamed, slicing his own palms. His blood defied gravity, forming into dozens of razor-sharp, superheated crimson spears that shot toward the charging guards.
“Shield Wall!” Commander Jin roared, stepping to the front. “Golden Dragon Sweeping Halberd!”
The Half-Step Martial Emperor swung his massive weapon, unleashing a roaring dragon of golden energy that crashed into the blood spears, vaporizing them in a cloud of toxic red steam.
From the shadows of the twisted willows, disciples of the Nether-Soul Grudge Sect utilized horrifying ghost arrays. Spectral assassins materialized, wielding ethereal blades that bypassed physical armor, aiming directly for the souls of the Imperial Guards.
The Imperial Women fought with breathtaking, elegant lethality, their aristocratic appearances contrasting sharply with the brutal slaughter.
“Azure Torrent Strike: Oceanic Annihilation!” Su Xinyue commanded, her Late-Stage Martial King aura flaring. A massive tidal wave of highly compressed, razor-sharp Water Qi crashed down upon a contingent of charging blood-cultists, pulverizing their bones.
As she fought, Su Xinyue’s mind was entirely disconnected from the violence. ‘Ohhh… my thighs are chafing… Mnnn… I wish Master was fucking me right now instead of standing in the back…’ she thought, her inner walls clenching involuntarily as she elegantly decapitated a demonic elder.
Princess Huang Mei and Princess Huang Hua fought back-to-back, a whirlwind of wind and sword arts, while Ling Ying and Gu Ling protected the flanks with ruthless efficiency.
Alaric remained safely behind the defensive lines, utilizing weak, unremarkable elemental magic to assist the guards. He cast simple Wind Barriers and Earth Spikes, maintaining his facade as a Level 43 Master Mage. He watched Cui Yulan fight at the absolute vanguard, her Nine-Heavens Violet-Gold Suanni lightning obliterating the demonic forces with terrifying, overwhelming power, and he patiently bided his time.
Finally, after weeks of relentless tracking and slaughter, the glowing swarm of beetles abruptly halted their flight path. They began to circle frantically in the air, emitting a high-pitched, clicking hum before dropping dead to the ground, entirely overwhelmed by the sheer density of the localized demonic aura.
The combined vanguard broke through a dense treeline, and the commanders stared in absolute, paralyzing disbelief at their destination.
They had not arrived at a dark, terrifying cavern or a jagged, blood-soaked ravine.
They stood on a ridge overlooking the Iron-Cloud Administration Fortress—a massive, sprawling, officially sanctioned military outpost belonging to the Celestial Dragon Empire itself. The high, white-stone walls were lined with standard imperial ballistae, and the banners of the local governor flapped lazily in the wind.
“This is impossible,” Commander Jin breathed, his eyes wide. “The beetles must be malfunctioning. This is a primary imperial stronghold. The Governor here is a decorated veteran.”
“The beetles do not lie,” Commander Vane growled, resting his hand on the hilt of his broadsword. “The rot goes deeper than any of us have realized. The demonic sects haven’t just hidden in the shadows; they have completely infiltrated our government infrastructure. The entire fortress is a front.”
Cui Yulan’s silver eyes blazed with blinding, righteous fury. She activated her spiritual sense, probing the walls of the fortress.
“He is right,” Cui Yulan hissed, her Suanni aura beginning to crackle around her shoulders. “Beneath the standard imperial defensive arrays, there is a massive, incredibly dense secondary formation. It is the Nine-Nether Annihilation Array. The entire outpost has been hollowed out from within. The main base of the cult, and the Primordial Spirit’s location, is directly beneath it.”
“They have hundreds of demonic martialists inside,” Zhao Mengxue observed, her fiery aura flaring. “And the array is designed to instantly vaporize anyone who breaches the outer walls without the proper blood-seal.”
“Then we will not breach it blindly,” Cui Yulan commanded, turning to her generals. “Deploy the Heaven and Earth Binding Net. Surround the entire fortress. I want overlapping suppression arrays covering every possible exit, subterranean and aerial. Not a single cultist escapes this valley. We will lock them inside their own stronghold and systematically dismantle the barrier.”
The Imperial Vanguard and the Earl’s forces moved with breathtaking efficiency. For the next twelve hours, they painstakingly laid down massive, glowing pillars of profound-steel around the perimeter of the fortress, erecting a shimmering, golden dome of trapping energy that sealed the entire region.
As the vanguard prepared to initiate the siege, a scout rushed up the ridge, dropping to one knee before Cui Yulan.
“Noble Consort!” the scout reported breathlessly. “A massive force is approaching rapidly from the western flank! It bears the primary standard of the Iron-Blood Province. Earl Fenghai himself has arrived, accompanied by his chosen elite experts!”
Commander Vane offered a sharp, brutal smile. “My master is here. The true siege begins.”
A heavy, oppressive silence fell over the ridge as the approaching army crested the horizon.
Earl Fenghai rode at the front, a portly man clad in rich velvets, completely lacking any true martial presence. But he was merely a figurehead.
Riding slightly behind him, mounted on a terrifying, pitch-black scaled destrier, was the true commander of the force.
It was Corbin.
The moment Alaric laid eyes on the man, a sudden, sharp shockwave rippled through his supreme, Archmage senses.
Corbin was not conventionally handsome. His features were somewhat unremarkable, perhaps even a bit rough, but his physical presence was an absolute anomaly. He wore practical, dark leather armor, a massive, unadorned greatsword strapped across his broad back.
But it was his energy that was truly staggering.
Through his passive mana perception, Alaric sensed the man’s aura. Corbin was a Martial King, easily pushing past the mid-stages, hovering around level 63 in equivalent terms. However, the quality of his Battle Aura was entirely distinct. It wasn’t the refined, elemental Qi of the Imperial Family, nor was it the primordial beast essence of Cui Yulan.
It was incredibly dense, lethally sharp, and vibrating with an overwhelming, oppressive Intent. It was a self-forged Weapon Essence—a pure, unadulterated manifestation of slaughter and conquest. The sheer density and purity of this man’s Qi was shockingly superior to the aura Alaric had sensed from Feng Xiao, or any of the other supposed ‘protagonists’ he had encountered in this world.
‘This man is extremely dangerous,’ Alaric analyzed instantly, his ruby eyes narrowing. ‘He isn’t relying on ancient legacies or inherited flames. He has carved his own path as a Martialist.’
Suddenly, without any physical warning, Alaric’s vision flashed with a brilliant, blinding golden light.
[WARNING: UNAUTHORIZED SCAN DETECTED.]
[Source: Anomalous God Tablet Entity.]
[Attempting to read Host’s Status, Level, and Core Attributes.]
Alaric’s heart skipped a beat. A system. The man possessed a system, and it was currently attempting to peel back Alaric’s reality.
‘Conceal!’ Alaric commanded his Divine Harem God System with violent, immediate mental urgency. ‘Block the scan entirely. Mask my presence. Present me as a Level 43 Master Mage.’
[Compliance. Initiating Absolute Concealment Protocol. Warning: Sustaining this level of active camouflage against a peer-entity requires significant Mana expenditure.]
Alaric felt a massive, sudden drain on his internal magical reserves, as if a localized black hole had opened in his chest. But he held his composure flawlessly, maintaining his posture as he leaned on his wooden staff. Fortunately, Corbin was only a Martial King and not a True Martial Emperor. If the man had been a higher tier, Alaric’s system might not have been able to construct the firewall in time to hide his Archmage status.
A hundred yards away, atop his black destrier, Corbin frowned slightly, a translucent, golden screen hovering exclusively in his field of vision.
[Target Scan Complete.]
[Name: Alaric]
[Rank: Master Mage (Level 43)]
[Appearance: 85/100]
[Threat Level: Minimal. Status: Mage.]
Corbin dismissed the screen with a mental thought, his rough features twisting into a dismissive sneer. ‘A weak, pathetic healer. Barely worth the dirt on my boots. The Imperial Family surrounds themselves with useless garbage.’
He shifted his gaze, his system effortlessly scanning the magnificent, powerful women standing at the vanguard.
[Target Scan Complete.]
[Name: Cui Yulan (Noble Consort)]
[Rank: Martial King (Peak Stage)]
[Bloodline: Nine-Heavens Violet-Gold Suanni]
[Appearance: 98/100 – Heroic Goddess]
[Threat Level: High.]
[Target Scan Complete.]
[Name: Su Xinyue (Imperial Consort)]
[Rank: Martial King (Late Stage)]
[Appearance: 99/100 – Peerless Mature Beauty]
[Threat Level: Moderate.]
[Target Scan Complete.]
[Name: Zhao Mengxue (Imperial Consort)]
[Rank: Martial King (Late Stage)]
[Appearance: 98/100 – Peerless Mature Beauty]
[Threat Level: Moderate.]
Corbin’s eyes gleamed with a cold, predatory ambition as he took in the spectacular, voluptuous beauty of the three Imperial women. Their high-collared silks did nothing to hide the majestic, heavy curves of their breasts and the wide, aristocratic flare of their hips.
‘The wives of Emperor Huang Long,’ Corbin thought, his mind racing with strategic, conquering possibilities. ‘They are magnificent. Powerful, arrogant, and ripe for the taking. If I can form a connection with them during this hunt… if I can somehow isolate them and break their pride… I could use them as highly placed pawns to conquer more noble families from within. They will become the foundation of my network in the capital.’
His system flashed with his primary directive.
[Current Quest: The Grandmaster’s Trial – Assist in slaying the Abyssal Bone Demon Emperor (Partial Revival State) to advance to Grandmaster Martialist (Martial Emperor equivalent).]
‘First, the demon,’ Corbin resolved, his hand resting on the hilt of his greatsword. ‘Then, the women.’
Earl Fenghai rode forward, offering a trembling, overly effusive bow to the Imperial Consorts. “Your Highnesses! The full might of the Iron-Blood Province is at your disposal!”
Cui Yulan offered a stiff, respectful nod to the Earl, but her silver eyes locked onto Corbin. She could sense the terrifying, oppressive weight of his sword intent. “You are the true commander of this force.”
Corbin didn’t bow. He offered a slight, rigid nod. “I am Corbin. I lead the vanguard. I hear you have a fortress to break, Noble Consort.”
“The Nine-Nether Annihilation Array protects the walls,” Zhao Mengxue warned, stepping forward, playing the role of the haughty royal flawlessly. “It requires a coordinated, sustained elemental bombardment to shatter without triggering a lethal backlash.”
“I don’t do coordinated bombardments,” Corbin stated bluntly, spurring his horse forward toward the edge of the ridge. He dismounted, drawing the massive, unadorned greatsword from his back. “I just break things.”
Corbin didn’t wait for permission. He charged down the rocky incline toward the glowing, black-stone walls of the fortress.
“Stop him! The array will vaporize him!” Commander Jin shouted, stepping forward in alarm.
But Corbin was already in motion. His Level 63 Martial King aura exploded outward, but it didn’t manifest as an elemental beast or a swirling vortex. It manifested as a pure, terrifyingly dense field of absolute pressure.
“Tyrant Emperor Domain,” Corbin growled, his voice carrying an unnatural, echoing weight.
A heavy, gray, oppressive domain expanded rapidly from his body, instantly suppressing the ambient elemental Qi in the air. He raised his greatsword high above his head, the blade glowing with a blinding, jagged white light.
“Desolate Heaven-Cleaving Sword Intent!”
Corbin brought the greatsword crashing down directly against the shimmering, defensive barrier of the Nine-Nether Annihilation Array.
The collision was utterly cataclysmic. The pure, unadulterated sword intent did not attempt to unravel the complex magical runes; it simply severed the spatial leylines feeding the array. With a sound like shattering glass magnified a thousand times, the massive, supposedly impenetrable demonic barrier violently exploded into a shower of harmless, black sparks.
The main gates of the fortress were blown completely off their hinges by the concussive shockwave.
Cui Yulan’s silver eyes widened in absolute shock. “His intent… it cut through the very concept of the array. All forces! Charge the breach!”
The valley erupted into absolute, deafening chaos.
The Imperial Vanguard and the Earl’s forces flooded through the shattered gates, clashing immediately with the hundreds of demonic martialists swarming the courtyards.
Inside the fortress, it was a bloodbath. The demonic cultists, knowing they were trapped by the Heaven and Earth Binding Net, fought with suicidal, cornered desperation.
“Nether-Soul Devouring Mists!” a high-ranking Grudge Priest screamed, shattering a massive black urn. A thick, inky fog poured outward, filled with wailing, spectral claws that bypassed physical armor, seeking to freeze the souls of the attackers.
“Shield Wall!” Commander Jin roared, his men locking their profound-steel shields together, the golden aura desperately trying to repel the spectral chill.
Alaric calmly followed the rear of the charge, staying close to Ling Ying and her personal guards. He played his role perfectly. When a stray burst of demonic energy arced toward them, Alaric raised his wooden staff, casting a Level 43 Stone Bulwark, creating a thick wall of earth that safely absorbed the impact before crumbling, making him appear completely exhausted by the effort.
Up ahead, Corbin was a machine of absolute slaughter. He didn’t use flashy elemental spells. He waded directly into the thickest concentration of demonic fighters, his greatsword moving with brutal, mechanical efficiency. Every swing of his Desolate Heaven-Cleaving Sword Intent cleaved cultists in half, his heavy domain preventing them from utilizing their blood-warp escape arts.
As the cannon fodder was systematically butchered in the courtyards, the true targets revealed themselves.
From the central keep of the fortress, a massive, heavy stone slab was pushed aside, revealing a dark, spiraling staircase leading deep into the subterranean depths.
“The catacombs!” Cui Yulan shouted, her armor slick with demonic blood. “The Primordial Spirit is down there! The ritual is nearing its apex!”
She didn’t wait for reinforcements. Cui Yulan charged down the stairs, her Nine-Heavens Violet-Gold Suanni lightning illuminating the dark, claustrophobic tunnels. Corbin was right on her heels, his greatsword drawn, eager to secure his target.
“Secure the upper levels! We follow the Noble Consort!” Zhao Mengxue commanded, leading the Imperial Women and the Half-Step Martial Emperor guards down into the abyss.
Alaric deliberately slowed his pace, staying near the top of the stairs.
The subterranean cavern was massive, illuminated by sickly, pulsing green braziers. In the center of the room lay a colossal, glowing altar radiating an ancient, mind-numbing aura of pure, abyssal malice. Dozens of demonic elders were chanting frantically around it, their hands glowing with dark fire as the spatial fabric above the altar began to tear open, revealing a swirling, black vortex.
“Stop them!” Cui Yulan roared, launching a massive bolt of violet lightning directly at the ritual circle.
Three demonic elders intercepted the blast, their bodies wreathed in Corpse-Blood Grasp armor, absorbing the lightning with agonizing shrieks.
The battle in the catacombs was a clash of titans. The Half-Step Martial Emperor guards engaged the demonic elders in a flurry of blinding fast, incredibly destructive exchanges. The air pressure in the cavern fluctuated wildly, the walls shaking as Golden Dragon strikes met waves of corrosive darkness.
Alaric watched the chaos unfold from the safety of the upper stairs, his analytical mind processing every variable.
Corbin was aggressively pushing toward the altar, his sword intent clashing heavily with the combined demonic barriers of the cult leaders. Cui Yulan was fighting like a woman possessed, her lightning tearing through the defensive lines, but she was slowly being surrounded by the sheer volume of high-level elders prioritizing her destruction.
Alaric smirked, tapping his wooden staff rhythmically against the stone.
The perfect, chaotic distraction had arrived. He didn’t need to force a separation; the chaos of Corbin’s reckless charge and the desperate defense of the demonic cult was naturally fracturing the imperial formation. He merely needed to wait for the exact, perfect moment when Cui Yulan’s paranoid guards were entirely occupied with saving their own lives, to execute his ultimate, paralyzing capture.
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