In an instant, Han Xinrou was naked on top of Han Ling, the moonlight streaming through the curtains of the bamboo hut and outlining her curves with ethereal perfection. Her body, sculpted like a goddess, trembled not from shame, but from animalistic anticipation.
Han Ling held her hips firmly, but not in a hurry—his fingers dug into the soft flesh as if he wanted to engrave that sensation into her soul. His amber eyes analyzed her with intense coldness, but the heat in his touch betrayed the uncontrollable desire that ran through his blood.
Han Xinrou gasped once more, her voice whispering with an almost childlike pleasure:
"I want to engrave every part of you within me… even your spirit…"
She leaned forward, her long, dark hair falling like silk curtains around them. Her lips touched his, first in a gentle brush, then in a deep, hungry, almost desperate kiss. Her nails scratched his chest, leaving red trails. She didn't want affection—she wanted dominance, and submission too. She wanted to mark him. She wanted to make him hers again, inside and out.
And Han Ling… let her.
At least for now.
But even in the heat of that moment, his eyes did not close. As Han Ling moved his hips, moving up and down Han Ling's long shaft in slow, precise movements, Han Ling's mind was still restless—focused on the technique lying in the corner, on that nagging feeling that lingered like a splinter in his soul.
Something about that technique still called to him, whispering from the shadows.
Each stroke Han Xinrou made on his long shaft was like the touch of a spell: pleasurable, yes, but also hypnotic—a dance between two ghosts who had once destroyed each other. Her muffled moans against his neck, the sweet, possessive whispers that escaped between kisses, all of it seemed to want to chain him deeper. But the technique here…it pulsed with a dark, subtle energy, and for some reason, Han Ling felt like she was watching him.
Han Xinrou moaned, her eyes closed, her body writhing more intensely. Her gift, her all-seeing eye, flickered involuntarily—triggered by emotion, by the impending climax, by the fear of losing him again. And in that flash, she saw it too.
"This technique..." she whispered in between the motion, her hips still moving up and down, but her gaze now fixed on the manual lying in the corner of the cabin. "Sweetie... It seems she wants you."
Han Ling clicked his tongue, a bead of sweat running down his chin. His hands moved up her back, pulling her closer, burying his face in the neck of the woman he hated for loving so much.
"I know," he replied, his voice hoarse, like the growl of a restrained beast. "And that's what worries me."
Han Xinrou paused for a moment, her back arching with an involuntary shudder. Her nails dug into his shoulders, she stared at him with wide eyes—her possessiveness mingling with something new. A silent fear.
"You won't leave me… for her, will you?" Her voice was frail now, as if she were on the verge of begging.
Han Ling pulled her chin up, forcing her to face him as he reversed their positions, pressing her down on the bed and taking the initiative.
"Don't be silly," Han Ling growled, his voice low and filled with restrained fury. His amber eyes seemed to glow in the darkness of the cabin, reflecting not only the moonlight, but the abyss he carried within.
Beneath him, Han Xinrou gasped, her lips parted, her gaze clouded by a cruel mixture of desire and fear. But he did not stop. His long shaft plunged once more into her moist, hot depths, like a spear seeking to rip her apart from within.
"This technique," he whispered against her lips, between slow thrusts that made Han Xinrou's entire body shudder beneath him, "is but a distant whisper compared to the scream that is your body against mine. It will never compare to you."
Her hips moved more firmly, and Han Xinrou moaned loudly, her slender fingers clenching the sheets, her legs closing around his waist as if the world might try to rip him away from her at any moment. The feeling of being filled by him, completely, without any room for doubt, was like a hot current that burned her soul.
"Sweetie…" she gasped, her voice cracking between tears and pleasure, "if you leave me, I… I'll destroy this entire world."
"I know I would," Han Ling replied with a dark half-smile, his teeth grinding together as he sped up his movements, causing her to arch her back and let out a shaky moan. "But before that… you're going to come for me, again."
Han Xinrou whimpered, her body bending like a wildflower in the wind in a hidden valley, every nerve in her body begging for him. Her gift flickered behind her eyes like a storm of confusing visions—possible futures, deaths, kisses, destruction. But none of that mattered.
Only Han Ling.
She dug her nails into his back once more, scratching like a beast in heat, her breasts rising and falling violently against his chest as he sank into her, each thrust taking her deeper into that sweet abyss.
And then, at the peak, she screamed—a sacred and unholy scream. Her crystal-clear juices drenched Han Ling's shaft.
Han Ling poured himself into her soon after, his eyes finally closing for a moment, as if only there, in that moment, had he found something close to peace.
But while Han Ling and Han Xinrou's bodies were still intertwined, sweaty and sated, the technique lying in the corner of the cabin pulsed one last time—like a heart about to awaken after centuries of slumber.
Within the technique… there was a valley hidden between the veils of reality.
The landscape was a sea of silvery mist, with floating mountains suspended by broken celestial chains. In the center of this ethereal space stood a stone altar, covered in ancient inscriptions, and upon it, chained by threads of black light, stood a woman.
A fallen goddess.
Her long, silver hair floated as if underwater. Her pale skin seemed like living, translucent jade, and her eyes sparkled with shades of amethyst and ruin. She was naked, her perfect body shaped by divine ages but marked by sealing runes that burned an indecent pink, like living scars from the heavens' punishment.
She gasped.
She panted.
She watched.
The vision she was witnessing—Han Ling possessing Han Xinrou with animalistic intensity—was transmitted into her dimension like a living mirage through the spiritual bond the technique maintained with its chosen one.
"They love each other…" the goddess whispered, her voice hoarse with lust and envy, her eyes half-closed as she pressed her thighs against the cold stone of the altar.
One hand rose tremblingly to her own breasts, fingers teasing her hardened nipples, already sensitive from centuries of torment. The other slid between her spread legs, touching the clitoris of her soaking pussy, which throbbed with pent-up desire.
"Damn my body…" she moaned, arching her back, the light shackles tinkling with a sharp sound. "Since the heavens took my crown from me… since I was banished… these sensations devour me like hungry worms…"
She began to masturbate urgently, her eyes fixed on Han Ling, as if she wanted to cross the boundaries between worlds and push Han Xinrou aside, to take her place. Her pleasure mixed with anger, hunger, the desire for domination.
"Han Ling…" she murmured between moans, her hips moving in rhythm with his thrusts into Xinrou. "You're mine… You're mine!!"
With a muffled scream, her orgasm came like a dam breaking, her body trembling in spasms and her golden juices erupted with pressure, forming a small golden pool beneath her.
"Huff... Huff... Han Ling... Huff..." she said as she panted heavily one last time before passing out.
***
Seven long months had passed, but in a cultivator's life, that was equivalent to a blink of an eye.
During that time, Han Ling didn't leave Han Xinrou's room, the small bamboo hut at the top of the Jade Peak.
Dual cultivating with her every day, which wasn't exactly bad, since it seemed that with each session of dual cultivation, the benefits he received only increased.
He soon concluded that Han Xinrou was suppressing the amount of energy he received, gradually increasing it as his cultivation level rose.
Han Ling had already suspected this since the first time he dual cultivated with Han Xinrou, as there was no way a mere mortal could survive the energy of a powerful cultivator in the Tribulation Transcendence realm.
No matter how much he thought about it, it seemed impossible, and now, his hypothesis had proven true.
Han Ling didn't think too much about it—Han Xinrou did it for his own good, and that only made him love her more.
Even after reaching the maximum potential allowed by his mixed spiritual roots, dual cultivation with Han Xinrou forced him past that limit.
With another seven months, he had reached the Soul Formation Realm; with another year and a half, he reached the Void Refinement Realm.
***
Han Ling felt full of energy, a pleasurable sensation of omnipotence coursing through his body.
He felt that space trembled with his presence, that with minimal effort he could tear it like paper.
But soon, dissatisfaction took over Han Ling.
"It's been three years since I got here, I've cultivated hard and even so… Only now have I reached the Void Refinement Realm."
Han Ling was dissatisfied with how slowly his cultivation was progressing—after all, Lin Mei had already advanced to the Dao Integration Realm, but he had only just entered the Void Refinement Realm.
If other cultivators heard Han Ling say this, they would probably cry blood.
Reaching the Void Refinement Realm is extremely difficult, as beyond talent, it depended on many resources—and even with all that, it was impossible to reach this realm with less than a hundred years of cultivation.
Unless one had a heaven-defying talent like Lin Mei's, it was extremely difficult to reach the Void Refinement Realm.
To reach that realm, in addition to accumulating enough qi, it was necessary to Comprehend a Divine Law in the Soul Formation Realm—something Han Ling obviously hadn't done, as all his cultivation came purely from dual cultivation with Han Xinrou.
He could use the power of the Divine Laws of space, time, and fate. But that power wasn't his—it belonged to Han Xinrou. If the Law's power were completely consumed, Han Ling could only use it again by replenishing it through dual cultivation with Han Xinrou.
That was a method that already existed—high-level cultivators would seal their powers within lower-level cultivators, allowing them to unleash that power in a single powerful strike.
The method Han Ling used was simply more exotic…
Han Ling waved his hand, causing a manual to emerge from his storage ring.
It was the Immortal Void Sword Art. Han Ling had never stopped trying to comprehend it all these years. He always had an uncomfortable feeling that this technique was something more, that it was calling to him.
Han Ling had practiced this technique several times and could be considered a kind of genius for being able to comprehend it, as it was something even cultivators in the Void Refinement Realm had difficulty understanding.
But no matter how much he had practiced it, it still seemed like a simple spatial distortion technique. Nothing more. Nothing less.
However, Han Ling wasn't one to give up easily. As long as that uncomfortable feeling didn't go away, he would keep trying, and would only stop once he discovered the secret of that technique.
As Han Ling deeply contemplated the mysterious technique, Han Xinrou silently materialized beside him without him noticing.
She slowly approached him, slipping into his arms, sitting on his lap and hugging his chest, deeply inhaling his masculine scent—that scent that drove her crazy.
Han Ling raised an eyebrow but didn't move. Her touch was already part of him. Han Xinrou's body fit perfectly with his, like a blade in its sheath. Like something the world had shaped solely to exist with him.
She opened his robes and rubbed her face on his bare chest like a spoiled cat, her legs folded around his waist, her white silk dress slipping from her pale shoulders.
"You look so serious, sweetheart…" she whispered, her lips brushing his chin. "So focused on that useless technique… Are you replacing me with it?"
The voice had a playful tone, but the poison hidden behind the words did not go unnoticed. Han Xinrou knew he would never do that. And even so, she couldn't resist the urge to test him. To provoke. To hear him say she was the only one.
Han Ling didn't respond immediately. His amber eyes narrowed, but his arms wrapped around her automatically, as if his body acted on its own—a subconscious reflex of something deeper than desire.
"This technique…" he murmured, letting the manual float in front of him with a flick of his fingers, "isn't ordinary. It doesn't make sense at all, it seems like a spatial distortion technique, but I feel that it's not."
Han Xinrou lifted her head, staring at the manual with disdain.
"Then why does it respond to you?" she asked, her fingers slowly sliding across Han Ling's defined abdomen. "Why does it pulse when you touch it? …I should tear it apart."
Han Xinrou narrowed her eyes. Her gift, the All-Seeing Eye, briefly lit up. Ethereal golden lines drew themselves in the air around the manual—and behind them, a shadow… feminine.
Then she saw it.
The chained goddess.
The altar.
The desire.
Han Xinrou pulled back slightly, her beautiful face now shadowed by tension. But it was only for an instant. Soon she smiled—a sweet, possessive, venomous smile.
"So she's alive…" she said, as if talking about an insignificant ant. "A sealed goddess, hungry, impure. And you're the toy she wants?"
She leaned in, her lips brushing Han Ling's ear. Her breath was hot, ragged, almost feverish.
"Let her try…"
Han Ling looked at her, and for an instant, his eyes reflected the same predatory gleam as hers.
"You're jealous of a technique?" he asked with a half-smile.
Han Xinrou gave him a light push—just to rub herself more against him. Her breasts pressed against his chest, her hips starting to move in slow, provocative friction.
"Not just a technique, sweetheart… of anything that dares to touch what's mine."
She licked her lips, and then, as if the outside world didn't exist, began to grind on his lap with smooth but firm movements, feeling Han Ling's erection grow, and her dress sliding aside, revealing pale, hot flesh beneath.
Han Ling let out a low sigh, his fingers squeezing her waist.
"…You're really going to drive me insane."
"I already did."
***
End of chapter.