Harem Master: Seduction System

Chapter 408: Gu Ling’s Decision

The fiery, crimson hues of the perpetual sunset that painted the skies of the Yao Clan’s Secret Realm were slowly beginning to dim, giving way to the deep, smoldering purples of the approaching evening. Within the opulent, heavily warded mansion secured by the Ling Clan, a profound, heavy silence had settled over the inner pavilions.

For the entirety of the night, and stretching relentlessly through the bright hours of the morning and deep into the sweltering afternoon, Alaric had not stopped. He had subjected the pristine White Moonlight of the Gu Clan to a marathon of absolute, unyielding physical domination. He had relentlessly pounded her tight, virgin passage, aggressively fondled and bruised her incredibly large, heavy breasts, and marked every inch of her flawless, pale skin with his bites and slaps. He had fucked her into a state of senseless, babbling oblivion, completely shattering her aristocratic defenses until she was nothing more than a weeping, wildly climaxing vessel for his boundless Archmage stamina.

It was only when the afternoon sun had begun its descent that Alaric finally withdrew his massive, heavily veined erection for the last time. He had left her entirely utterly spent, a twitching, sweat-drenched masterpiece of ruination upon the ruined velvet cushions, before effortlessly casting a high-tier restorative spell. The magic had meticulously erased the superficial bite marks, the bright red slap marks on her curvy buttocks, and the physical bruising on her wrists, ensuring no outward evidence of his violent defilement remained to alert her paranoid guards. However, he had deliberately left his copious, thick seed swimming deep within her womb, and he had planted a profound, inescapable psychological seed within her spiritual sea.

Now, as the evening shadows lengthened across the bamboo gardens, Princess Gu Ling finally began to stir.

She let out a soft, involuntary groan, her ethereal eyes fluttering open to stare blindly at the intricately carved wooden ceiling of the pavilion. She tried to shift her weight, intending to push herself up into a seated position, but the moment her muscles contracted, a wave of profound, overwhelming soreness washed over her entire body.

“Ah…” Gu Ling gasped, her voice hoarse and incredibly dry.

She collapsed back onto the plush cushions, her breath hitching. The pain was not the sharp, agonizing sting of a blade, nor the burning, corrosive ache of an enemy’s Battle Aura. It was a deep, pervasive, bone-weary soreness that radiated outward from the very core of her being. Her long, flawless legs felt as though they had been filled with lead, her thighs trembling uncontrollably merely from the effort of pressing them together. Her lower back ached with a heavy, dull throb, and her wide, voluptuous hips felt strangely loose, almost over-extended.

Even her chest felt incredibly heavy and sensitive. As she took a ragged breath, the silk of her garments—which Ling Ying had gently redressed her in while she slept—brushed against her massive breasts, causing her dark pink nipples to painfully tingle and harden.

“What… what happened?” Gu Ling murmured, her mind a sluggish, hazy fog.

She squeezed her eyes shut, desperately trying to recall the events of the previous night. She remembered arriving at the mansion. She remembered the spectacular, mouth-watering feast, the laughter, and the copious, endless cups of the potent, incredibly strong spirit-wine Ling Ying had poured for her. She remembered feeling safe, dropping her rigid, aristocratic guard, and complaining about the suffocating pressure of the Imperial Women.

She remembered Ling Ying suggesting a massage. She remembered Alaric’s large, impossibly hot hands pressing against her back.

And then… her memory fractured into a kaleidoscope of blinding, overwhelming, absolute pleasure.

She remembered a heat so intense it felt as though her very meridians were melting. She remembered an agonizing, sharp pressure that rapidly transformed into a cascading, endless river of bodily euphoria. She remembered the sensation of being utterly filled, stretched, and pushed to the absolute, terrifying limits of her physical and spiritual endurance. She remembered screaming, not in terror, but in a desperate, mindless ecstasy that she had never, ever imagined could possibly exist in the mortal realm.

But the specifics were entirely, suspiciously absent. The visual memory of Alaric’s massive, rock-hard dick, the humiliating, doggy-style positions he had forced her into, the feeling of his hot cum flooding her womb, the degrading words he had spoken while treating her like a feral slut—all of it had been flawlessly, surgically excised from her conscious mind by Alaric’s masterful application of Archmage mind-altering magic.

Instead, a powerful, deeply embedded mental suggestion bloomed in her thoughts.

‘It was the meridian massage,’ Gu Ling thought, a sudden, inexplicable flush of intense heat rushing to her cheeks, causing her breathing to quicken. ‘It was the profound, ancient therapy. He pushed my stagnant Qi to its limits. It was… it was miraculous.’

Her body ached terribly, yet paradoxically, a deep, gnawing hunger coiled in her lower abdomen. The mental suggestion Alaric had planted was absolute: she would completely forget the sexual nature of the encounter, but she would constantly, desperately crave the intense, mind-boggling pleasure of the “massage.” And more importantly, she would firmly believe that only Alaric, with his unique, profound understanding of her energetic pathways, could provide this miraculous therapy. She would seek him out. She would need him.

Gritting her teeth against the profound soreness in her thighs and lower back, Gu Ling slowly pushed herself up. She adjusted her pale lavender silk dress, ensuring her massive, heavy breasts were properly secured, though the fabric felt incredibly constricting against her newly sensitized skin.

She needed answers. She needed to understand why her body felt as though it had been trampled by a stampede of spirit-beasts, despite the lingering, addictive phantom echoes of pleasure.

Moving with a stiff, careful gait, Gu Ling exited the open-air pavilion. The evening air was cool, offering a slight relief to her flushed skin. She walked slowly through the winding, stone-paved corridors of the estate, her steps lacking their usual, pristine elegance.

She found the heiress of the Ling Clan in the expansive, central courtyard.

Ling Ying was dressed in her emerald-green martial robes, her long dark hair tied back. She was currently going through the motions of her clan’s ancestral martial arts, her movements fluid, graceful, and deadly. A vibrant, swirling aura of Emerald Gale Battle Aura surrounded her voluptuous figure, the wind Qi gathering at the edge of her practice sword. She moved with an explosive, renewed vitality, her massive breasts shifting and bouncing rhythmically with her strikes.

“Sister Ying,” Gu Ling called out softly, her voice still raspy.

Ling Ying immediately halted her practice, the Emerald Gale Battle Aura dissipating instantly. She turned around, a bright, genuinely delighted smile spreading across her beautiful face as she sheathed her sword.

“Sister Gu! You are awake!” Ling Ying rushed forward, grabbing Gu Ling’s hands affectionately. “I was beginning to worry. You slept through the entire day. How are you feeling?”

“I feel…” Gu Ling hesitated, a grimace of discomfort crossing her flawless features as she shifted her weight. “I feel as though I have been beaten with a heavy iron rod. My entire body is in profound pain. My lower back, my legs… even my chest aches terribly. Sister Ying, what exactly happened last night? I remember the wine, and I remember Alaric beginning the massage… and then there was a wave of pleasure so intense I lost consciousness. Why am I in such agony?”

Ling Ying offered a reassuring, maternal smile, perfectly executing the narrative Alaric had implanted within her subjugated mind. She gently guided Gu Ling to sit on a nearby, carved stone bench, wincing in sympathy as the Princess sat down gingerly.

“The pain is entirely normal, Sister Gu,” Ling Ying explained, her voice calm and authoritative, speaking the terminology of their world flawlessly. “In fact, it is a sign of absolute, monumental success.”

“Success?” Gu Ling echoed, confusion evident in her ethereal eyes. “How can such profound physical soreness be a success? My muscles feel completely drained.”

“It is because the therapy Alaric performed was not a mere, superficial relaxation of the flesh,” Ling Ying detailed, her hands gesturing to emphasize her words. “He utilized an incredibly aggressive, highly advanced method of meridian stimulation. Your internal pathways, Sister Gu, were incredibly rigid. They had been compressed for years by the strict, demanding cultivation arts of your clan. Alaric had to forcefully, deeply penetrate those blockages. He utilized pure, concentrated Yang energy to violently flush out the stagnant Yin Qi and physically widen the walls of your major meridians.”

Ling Ying leaned closer, her emerald eyes shining with absolute conviction. “The soreness you feel right now is the physical aftermath of your energetic pathways being stretched and fundamentally transformed. It is the growing pains of a vastly expanded foundation. Do not focus on the aches in your muscles. Close your eyes, Sister Gu. Direct your focus inward. Check your Dantian. Check the flow of your Battle Aura.”

Gu Ling frowned, but the absolute certainty in Ling Ying’s voice compelled her to obey. She closed her eyes, crossing her hands in her lap, and entered a state of deep, internal meditation.

She sent a probe of her spiritual sense down into her Dantian, intending to assess the damage.

Instantly, her eyes snapped wide open, a gasp of pure, unadulterated shock escaping her lips.

Her Dantian was not damaged. It was roaring.

The vast, intricate network of meridians that spanned her body, which had always felt like rigid, narrow rivers of power, now felt like massive, boundless oceans. The pathways were noticeably, undeniably wider. The ambient Qi flowing through them moved with a speed, a fluidity, and a terrifying volume she had never before experienced. Her Battle Aura, which was normally calm and pristine, now pulsed with a dense, incredibly pure, and highly energetic vitality. She could feel that her overall cultivation base had significantly advanced, the lingering bottlenecks that had frustrated her for months completely obliterated.

The sheer, monumental leap in her martial potential was staggering. It was the kind of foundational enhancement that usually required consuming incredibly rare, legendary seventh-tier pills and undergoing years of agonizing, secluded meditation.

“This… this is impossible,” Gu Ling whispered, her hands trembling as she looked at her palms, feeling the raw, amplified power humming beneath her fair skin. “My Battle Aura is… it is so much stronger. The purity of my Qi has elevated an entire stage. The capacity of my meridians has nearly doubled!”

“I told you it was miraculous,” Ling Ying smiled proudly, puffing out her massive chest, entirely oblivious to the fact that Gu Ling’s meridians had been widened by absorbing the massive, potent loads of Archmage seed Alaric had pumped into her womb for fifteen hours straight. “The pain is a fleeting, minor price to pay for such a heaven-defying enhancement, is it not?”

“It is beyond miraculous,” Gu Ling admitted, her voice filled with profound awe. The physical soreness in her thighs and hips suddenly felt entirely justified, a badge of honor for the power she had gained.

A deep, overwhelming sense of gratitude and a powerful, addictive craving washed over her. The mental suggestion planted by Alaric flared brilliantly. She recalled the fleeting, phantom echoes of the mind-boggling, explosive pleasure that had accompanied the “massage.” To experience such absolute, transcendental physical ecstasy, and to awaken the next day with a doubled martial foundation… it was a divine gift.

She looked at Ling Ying, a sudden, sharp pang of intense envy piercing her heart.

“Sister Ying,” Gu Ling spoke, her voice laced with genuine admiration and a hint of desperation. “Alaric’s method… it is not only profoundly effective, but the sensation… the pleasure I felt before I lost consciousness was beyond anything I could ever describe. It was terrifyingly wonderful. You… you are incredibly, unbelievably lucky to be able to enjoy that massage regularly. To have your talent enhanced while experiencing such joy… I truly envy you.”

Ling Ying laughed softly, a melodic sound that carried no malice. She reached out and patted Gu Ling’s hand affectionately.

“You do not need to envy me, Sister Gu,” Ling Ying said casually, her words guided by the absolute, devoted generosity Alaric had commanded her to display. “We are good sisters now. We share the same burdens, the same restrictive clans, and the same desires for the future. As your good sister, I certainly would not mind sharing my blessings. I would be more than happy to let you experience Alaric’s massage more regularly, so that you may continue to grow stronger alongside me.”

Gu Ling’s eyes widened in profound, genuine surprise. In the cutthroat, deeply selfish world of the Ancient Clans, where cultivators would murder their own siblings for a single, low-grade spiritual herb, the idea of someone willingly sharing a resource of this magnitude—a man capable of effortlessly doubling a genius’s foundation—was unthinkable.

“You… you would truly allow that?” Gu Ling asked, her voice trembling slightly, her heart leaping at the prospect of feeling those large, hot hands upon her body again, of chasing that blinding white pleasure. “You would let him perform the therapy on me again?”

“Of course,” Ling Ying nodded, her emerald eyes completely devoid of jealousy. “It is just a massage, after all. A profound medical technique. Why should I hoard his healing hands when my dear sister requires them to achieve her destiny?”

Gu Ling felt a wave of profound emotion. She tightly gripped Ling Ying’s hands. “Sister Ying… I do not know how to repay this kindness. You have given me a path to absolute power.”

“There is no need for repayment,” Ling Ying smiled, before her expression turned incredibly serious, her voice dropping to a hushed, conspiratorial whisper. “However, there is one absolute, uncompromising condition, Gu Ling. You must swear upon your Dao.”

“Anything,” Gu Ling agreed instantly.

“You must absolutely never, under any circumstances, mention this massage, or Alaric’s unique abilities, to anyone else in your family. Not your elders, not your guards, no one,” Ling Ying warned her sternly. “You know how greedy and ruthless the Ancient Clans are. If the elders of the Gu Clan, or the spies of the Hun Clan, discover that a man without a background possesses a technique capable of effortlessly broadening meridians… they would not hesitate to abduct him. They would imprison Alaric, torture him for his secrets, and turn him into a mere cultivation tool for their elite disciples. He would encounter endless, fatal trouble.”

Gu Ling’s expression hardened into a mask of solemn, martial resolve. “I understand completely, Sister Ying. The greed of our elders is boundless. I swear upon my martial foundation and my Dao; Alaric’s secret shall die with me. I will protect him from the scrutiny of the Gu Clan.”

“Good,” Ling Ying relaxed, leaning back against the stone bench. “I knew I could trust you.”

Gu Ling nodded, her mind already calculating how she would hide her rapid advancement from her overbearing tutors. But a sudden, confusing thought crossed her mind.

“Sister Ying,” Gu Ling asked curiously. “If this technique is so universally profound, why has Alaric not utilized it to build his own, massive sect? Why does he not perform this massage upon elite male martialists to gather an army of fiercely loyal, exceptionally powerful subordinates?”

Ling Ying chuckled softly, having a perfectly prepared, deeply logical response planted in her mind by Alaric.

“It is not a matter of choice, Sister Gu, but a fundamental restriction of the technique itself,” Ling Ying explained, adopting a scholarly tone. “Alaric shared the profound secrets of the massage with me. The technique’s incredible efficacy relies entirely upon the absolute, purest laws of Yin and Yang energies.”

Ling Ying leaned forward, detailing the fictional, yet perfectly plausible wuxia mechanics. “Alaric possesses an incredibly dense, overwhelmingly powerful Yang physique. The massage requires him to actively push his concentrated Yang energy into the subject’s meridians to forcibly widen them. If he were to perform this technique upon another man, their conflicting Yang energies would violently reject each other. It would cause a catastrophic meridian implosion. There would be absolutely no benefit, only mutual destruction.”

“I see,” Gu Ling murmured, nodding slowly as she absorbed the martial theory.

“Therefore,” Ling Ying concluded, a knowing, slightly proud smile on her lips, “Alaric, being a man of extreme Yang, can only perform this profound massage upon subjects possessing vast, exceptionally pure reservoirs of Yin energy. To put it simply, he can only help beautiful, highly talented women whose bodies naturally harbor great Yin. The purer the woman’s Yin constitution, the greater the expansion he can achieve.”

Gu Ling nodded enthusiastically, completely and utterly agreeing to all of this logic. In the world of martial cultivation, the strict, uncompromising laws of Yin and Yang balance were foundational truths. It made absolute, undeniable sense that such a profound, heaven-defying massage must have strict, elemental limitations. It was naturally right for it to be restricted in this manner.

“It is a burden he bears well,” Gu Ling noted, completely accepting the narrative.

However, as the excitement of her newfound power settled, a harsh, logistical reality crashed down upon her. The euphoria faded, replaced by a sudden, anxious dread.

“Sister Ying…” Gu Ling began, her voice tinged with genuine panic, her hands nervously twisting the lavender silk of her dress. “We… we are going to leave the Yao Clan’s Secret Realm very soon. The tournament has concluded. The clan elders will expect my immediate return to the Gu Clan’s isolated domain. I could, at the absolute most, invent excuses to extend my stay in this city by a single week. But after this… we reside in different prefectures. Our clans rarely interact outside of grand summits. How… how should we possibly meet up? How can I receive the massage if we are separated by thousands of miles?”

The thought of being permanently separated from Alaric, of losing access to the miraculous, mind-blowing pleasure and the rapid power expansion he provided, sent a wave of suffocating despair through her newly widened meridians.

Naturally, Ling Ying had a flawlessly prepared response for this exact dilemma, meticulously scripted by Alaric hours ago.

“Do not despair, Sister Gu,” Ling Ying smiled warmly, her eyes sparkling with a cunning, political light. “I have already formulated a perfect, unassailable plan.”

Ling Ying stood up, pacing the courtyard with an air of aristocratic confidence. “We will not return to our respective, isolated Ancient Clan realms immediately. Instead, we shall prepare to leave the Yao Clan territory alongside the Imperial Consorts and the Imperial Princesses.”

Gu Ling blinked, surprised by the boldness of the proposition. “Accompany the Imperial convoy? But…”

“Think about it, Gu Ling,” Ling Ying urged, turning to face her. “We established a highly visible, exclusive rapport with Noble Consort Shu, Imperial Consort Xian, and the Princesses during the betting games. They explicitly invited us to maintain contact. This is an unprecedented political opportunity.”

Ling Ying laid out the flawless political justification. “Whether it is my Ling Clan or your mighty Gu Clan, the ancient elders are deeply, inherently paranoid. But they are also political creatures. They will absolutely not forbid their precious heiresses from making cordial, highly visible contacts with the upper echelons of the Imperial Family. In fact, they will encourage it. Traveling together with the Imperial Women allows our clans to maintain a presence near the throne, gathering intelligence and building goodwill, so long as we do not openly, foolishly express a definitive stance or submit to any particular Imperial Prince’s faction.”

Gu Ling’s brilliant mind raced. The logic was utterly unassailable. Her elders would praise her initiative for infiltrating the Imperial Women’s inner circle. It was the perfect, unimpeachable excuse.

“So,” Ling Ying concluded, walking back to the bench. “You, along with myself, Alaric, and our servants, could officially join up with the Imperial Women’s grand convoy. We can travel with them directly to the capital of the Celestial Dragon Empire. It is a journey that will take weeks, and we can reside in the capital for months under the guise of diplomacy. We will have endless, uninterrupted time together. And Alaric will have plenty of time to ensure your meridians reach their absolute peak.”

Gu Ling’s heart soared. The crushing anxiety vanished, replaced by a radiant, overwhelming relief. She would not lose her new sister. She would not lose the miraculous therapy. And she would gain the immense political leverage she desperately needed.

“It is a brilliant plan, Sister Ying,” Gu Ling agreed fervently, her ethereal face glowing with renewed vitality. “I will inform my guards immediately. We shall travel to the Imperial Capital.”

Later that evening, after returning to her own heavily guarded pavilion, Gu Ling sat at her polished jade desk. She retrieved a specialized, highly secure communication artifact—a pair of linked resonance stones that allowed for instantaneous, encrypted messaging over short distances.

She infused a gentle pulse of her newly strengthened Battle Aura into the stone, directing her message to the guest quarters of Pill Valley.

“Xiao,” Gu Ling transmitted, her mental voice carrying her deep, abiding affection, completely unaware that her body was currently brimming with another man’s seed. “The tournament is over, and your brilliance has illuminated the world. I am incredibly, overwhelmingly proud of you. I know the Imperial factions are fiercely courting you.”

She paused, ensuring her thoughts were clear. “I wish to inform you of my own movements. I will not be returning directly to the Gu Clan. Sister Ling Ying and I have secured an invitation to join the grand convoy of the Imperial Consorts and Princesses. We are traveling with them directly to the Imperial Capital to foster diplomatic ties.”

“Xiao, the pressure from my elders is immense, but the Imperial Court offers a path. Use this time. Consolidate your gains. I shall be in the capital, waiting for the day you stand tall enough to silence all doubts.”

Across the sprawling city, in his quiet meditation room, Feng Xiao opened his eyes as the linked resonance stone upon his desk vibrated with her gentle voice.

He listened to her message, his scarred hands resting on his knees. His brow furrowed in deep, strategic contemplation.

He had spent the entire day fending off the aggressive, demanding recruitment pitches of the lesser factions, while simultaneously turning over the massive, overwhelming offers from Noble Consort Shu, Imperial Consort Xian, and the Princesses. He knew that officially aligning with the First Prince or the Third Prince would plunge him directly into a brutal, lethal succession war. It was a dangerous, bloody path that could easily see him assassinated in his sleep by rival Half-Step Martial Emperors.

He had considered politely declining them all, taking his Five-Colored Pill, and retreating back to the safety of Pill Valley to quietly absorb his gains and search for the remaining herbs needed to revive his master.

But Gu Ling’s message changed his calculus entirely.

‘She is going to the Imperial Capital,’ Feng Xiao thought, his eyes lighting up with a fierce, unwavering determination. ‘The Gu Clan elders are keeping us apart, but if she is traveling with the Imperial convoy, she will be outside their direct, suffocating control. If I go to the capital, I will have far more opportunities to see her, to speak with her, and to prove my devotion.’

Furthermore, Feng Xiao realized the strategic necessity of the Imperial Court.

‘I cannot afford to arrogantly reject the invitation of the Imperial Family entirely. That would paint a massive, unnecessary target on my back,’ Feng Xiao reasoned, his pragmatic mind plotting his course. ‘It would be best to maintain a facade of careful consideration. I will accept their invitation to travel to the capital. I will attend their banquets. I will at least meet the Imperial Princes one by one, evaluate their character, their resources, and their true power.’

‘Only then, after meeting them and assessing the political battlefield with the entire group, can I safely decide which faction to join, or if I can leverage them against each other to maintain my independence. Besides, with Gu Ling there… the capital is the only place I want to be.’

He picked up his resonance stone and sent a brief, confident reply. “I understand, Ling’er. I shall not run and hide. I, too, will be traveling to the Imperial Capital to meet with the Princes. I look forward to the day we can stand under the same sky without fear.”

The pieces were moving precisely, flawlessly across the board. The heroes, the heiresses, and the Imperial Court were all marching toward the center of the empire, entirely driven by their own profound ambitions and romantic desires.

Meanwhile, miles away, back in the highly secured, heavily warded mansion of the Ling Clan…

Alaric was entirely, utterly unconcerned with the grand political machinations or the earnest, heroic vows of the Flame King. He was currently occupying himself with a far more pressing, intensely satisfying endeavor.

The grand master suite of the mansion had once again been transformed into a den of unimaginable, chaotic eroticism.

Alaric sat upon the edge of the massive circular bed, his muscular physique glistening with sweat. He was currently engaged in a spectacular, mind-bending orgy with his devoted, heavily disguised ‘maids’.

Queen Cai Wei was kneeling before him, her massive, heavy breasts resting on his thighs as she greedily, desperately serviced his thick, rock-hard cock with her mouth, her golden eyes rolling back in pure worship. Guildmaster Lin Ruoli was pressed flush against his back, her long arms wrapped around his chest, her large, pale breasts squishing against his shoulder blades as she kissed his neck, her wide hips swaying as she ground her dripping pussy against his hip.

Grand Elder Yun Lan and Saintess Ceanna were intertwined on the fur rug nearby, the icy beauty and the corrupted holy woman eagerly exploring each other’s voluptuous bodies, their moans filling the air as they waited their turn to be claimed by their god. Professor Lilliana was bent over a mahogany desk, her massive ass raised high, begging for his attention, while Ya Su, Hai Lan, and Mu Qing watched with glazed, hungry eyes.

The heavy, soundproofed doors of the suite clicked open.

Ling Ying stepped into the room. She had discarded her formal emerald-green martial robes, wearing only a sheer, incredibly short white silk nightgown that barely contained the massive, heaving volume of her breasts. Her fair face was flushed, her emerald eyes shining with deep, magical devotion and intense arousal at the sight of the writhing, naked bodies.

She did not hesitate. The heiress of the Ling Clan crawled onto the massive bed, her curvy, voluptuous hips swaying invitingly. She draped her tall frame over Alaric’s legs, pressing her massive breasts directly against Cai Wei’s cheek, eager to join the fray.

“Master,” Ling Ying purred, her voice a sultry, filthy whisper that completely betrayed her noble upbringing. She looked up at Alaric, her eyes filled with adoration. “I have delivered the message. Gu Ling has accepted the plan completely. She will travel with us and the Imperial Women to the capital. And she believes the massage is a miraculous, purely medical technique.”

Alaric chuckled, a dark, incredibly villainous, and deeply satisfied sound that vibrated through the bodies of the women clinging to him. He reached down, his large hand aggressively grabbing Ling Ying’s heavy, soft breast, his thumb ruthlessly pinching her nipple through the sheer silk.

“Excellent work, my beautiful, deceitful heiress,” Alaric praised her, his ruby eyes glowing with triumphant, predatory lust as he surveyed his sprawling, devoted harem.

The White Moonlight was broken. The protagonist was marching blindly into the center of the web. The Imperial Court was primed for corruption.

“You have all served me flawlessly,” Alaric declared, his voice a commanding rumble that caused all nine women to shiver in synchronized, dripping anticipation. He grabbed Cai Wei by the hair, pulling her mouth off his dripping shaft, and roughly pulled Ling Ying up by her waist, positioning her wide, curvy hips over his lap.

“Now,” Alaric growled, his hands aggressively fondling Ling Ying’s massive breasts as he prepared to bury himself deep within her. “Let us celebrate our victory properly. I intend to use every single one of your bodies until you forget your own names.”

And as the night deepened over the Yao Clan’s Secret Realm, the Archmage continued his relentless, apocalyptic debauchery, entirely happy to revel in the absolute, unquestionable dominance he held over the greatest beauties of the Celestial Dragon Empire.