The council hall of the Myriad Demons Palace sat at the very apex of the precipice, its vaulted ceiling soaring more than twenty meters high, black stone pillars rising from the floor straight to the dome, each column etched with flowing dark-red runes.
Inside stood a semicircular long table curving toward the hall's entrance, fronted by nine high-backed stone chairs arranged side by side behind it.
Yin Luo sat in the third stone chair from the left.
Her posture was casual, her right leg crossed over her left, the hem of her sheer gauze outer robe draping to the floor, completely concealing the space beneath and in front of her seat.
Her calves, wrapped in sheer black stockings, were faintly visible through the slit of her robe, her ankles crossed together.
In the shadows shrouded by that sweeping hem, Jerry crouched directly before Yin Luo's chair, his back resting against the front legs of the seat, the crown of his head less than ten centimeters below her crossed thighs.
The fabric of her robe enclosed him from all sides in a cramped, private space, the air thick with Yin Luo's signature scent—a blend of blood tea and wisteria blossoms.
The sheer stocking fabric hovered less than five centimeters from his cheek, the black mesh weave faintly discernible in the gloom.
Other Elders filed into the council hall one after another.
Footsteps echoed from the hall entrance, boot soles striking the flagstones with varying weight and tempo.
Crouching beneath the veil of her robe, Jerry tracked the headcount of entrants by sound alone.
Five. Six. Seven.
The eighth set of footsteps halted three meters in front of Yin Luo's chair.
"Junior Sister Blood Butterfly."
A man's voice—deep, laden with a deliberately pitched baritone magnetism.
"Mmh." Yin Luo's response was a solitary, indifferent nasal hum.
"The Palace Master has not yet arrived?"
"If he hasn't arrived, then he hasn't arrived. Why ask me."
The man's footsteps moved away toward the other end of the table, followed by the scraping of a chair pulling out, and then the sound of him sitting down.
Beneath the shelter of her robe, Jerry shifted his crouched posture.
His knees were growing sore from the prolonged squat; nudging his right knee two centimeters outward, it brushed against the stocking fabric covering Yin Luo's left calf.
The nylon felt slick and silky, indenting slightly under the contact of his knee.
Yin Luo's calf tensed for an instant upon being touched, then relaxed.
The council commenced.
The Palace Master's voice carried from the center of the long table—aged, raspy, like coarse sandpaper grating across rough timber.
Jerry understood little of the proceedings, as most concerned mundane internal sect affairs: "Spirit stone yields at the East Sea branch have fallen thirty percent," "The beast-breeding pens in the Southern Borders require additional hands," "The energy extraction array of the Blood Sea requires its seventh maintenance overhaul."
Throughout the entire council, Yin Luo spoke only twice.
Once when the Palace Master singled her out to ask when the Artifact Refining Pavilion's new batch would be delivered, to which she answered with three words: "Next month."
The other was when an adjacent Elder asked how her refinement of the treasure won at the last auction was progressing, and she replied with two words: "It's fine."
Roughly forty minutes into the meeting, an Elder seated at the far right of the long table abruptly ceased speaking.
Silence gripped the hall for two seconds.
"Junior Sister Blood Butterfly."
That Elder's voice carried from the far right, his tone laced with subtle alertness.
"Beneath your chair... there is something."
Yin Luo's crossed legs did not move.
"What something."
"A faint fluctuation of aura. Its frequency differs from spiritual energy."
Jerry's entire body seized with tension upon hearing this.
Under sustained, close-proximity contact, the spiritual camouflage membrane had begun to degrade, leaking an infinitesimal trace of magical power through the seams.
The leak was minute—so minuscule that under normal circumstances it would have been undetectable.
Yet every single person seated in this council hall was an arch-cultivator at or above the Nascent Soul realm, their divine senses razor-sharp beyond mortal comprehension.
The atmosphere in the hall shifted in three seconds flat.
All Elders atop the nine stone chairs snapped their focus onto Yin Luo, their divine senses reaching out like invisible tentacles toward the void beneath her seat.
Yin Luo's right hand moved beneath the long table.
Reaching beneath the table into the space before her chair, her five black-nailed fingers seized the back of Jerry's head.
Weaving her fingers through his hair and pressing her pads firmly against his scalp, she yanked upward with force, lifting his head fifteen centimeters from his crouched stance and stuffing him directly between her crossed thighs.
The instant his head was pulled up, Jerry's face slammed flush into the stocking-clad flesh of Yin Luo's inner thighs.
The sheer black mesh pressed flush against the bridge of his nose and his lips, her body heat radiating through the whisper-thin nylon directly into his skin.
Yin Luo snapped her legs shut the moment his head was jammed inside, her firm inner thigh muscles clamping both sides of his cheeks, locking his entire head firmly between her thighs.
And then, Yin Luo's hips began to move.
Shifting her buttocks two centimeters forward on the stone seat, her crotch pressed flush against Jerry's forehead and the tip of his nose.
The sheer black nylon stretched taut over the swell of her pelvis, beneath which lay an ultra-thin layer of silk panties, baked hot and warm by her inner core heat.
Through the dual layers of stockings and silk panties, the tip of Jerry's nose was jammed dead-center into the apex of her crotch, right against her cunt.
Yin Luo's hips began to rock slowly back and forth.
The range was tiny—less than a single centimeter per stroke—yet more than enough to grind the fabric of her crotch repeatedly against the bridge of Jerry's nose and his lips.
The nylon emitted a whisper-fine rustle against his face, a sound so faint only Jerry could hear it.
"What is the matter, Senior Brothers?"
Yin Luo's voice drifted down from above Jerry's head.
Her tone was languid, brimming with an irritable aura of what are you making such a fuss about.
Her hips did not cease moving as she spoke, continuing to grind her clothed crotch slowly against Jerry's face.
Jerry's nostrils were flooded with the scent emanating from Yin Luo's intimate core.
It differed entirely from the scent of the rest of her body—richer, heavier, carrying a warm, faintly salty, musky female tang.
The stockings stretched with the thrusting motion of her hips, the weave expanding so that Jerry's lips pressed through the taut mesh directly against the silk fabric of her panties.
The silk panties were baked hot by her body heat, coated in a fine layer of moist lubrication.
"Junior Sister Blood Butterfly, the aura beneath your chair..."
The Elder at the far right spoke again, his suspicion giving way to perplexity.
Yin Luo unleashed her divine sense the instant the Elder opened his mouth.
Her late Nascent Soul divine sense surged outward like an invisible bulwark, blanketing a three-meter radius around her chair.
The crushing weight of her spiritual presence slammed into the probing mental tendrils of the other Elders, swatting them back like an invisible giant hand.
"I said, there is nothing."
Yin Luo's voice chilled half an octave.
Her hips ceased grinding, but her thighs clenched even tighter around Jerry's head.
Her inner thigh muscles clamped his cheeks from both sides, pinning his head into an immovable lock.
"Aren't your divine senses reaching a bit too far, Senior Brothers?"
The hall fell dead silent for three seconds.
"...Junior Sister overthinks. We intended no offense."
The Elder at the right grew courteous, his mental probes retreating entirely from Yin Luo's space.
The other Elders reined in their senses as well, the tension dissolving back into normalcy.
The Palace Master's rasping voice sounded anew as the council resumed.
Once their attention drifted, Yin Luo's thighs relaxed slightly.
Her inner thigh muscles shifted from clamping to merely cradling his cheeks.
Her hips resumed that microscopic rocking motion, grinding her soaked crotch slowly over the bridge of Jerry's nose.
Crouched beneath her outer robe, Jerry's face remained buried between her thighs, his nose jammed against her pussy.
He could distinctly feel that the wet patch soaking through her panties had become far more pronounced over the past thirty seconds.
The dampness had escalated from a faint dewy sheen to a thorough soaking, the wet stain spreading two centimeters outward from her slit.
Yin Luo's breathing drifted down from above.
Her respiration was about twenty percent faster than normal; with every exhalation, her abdomen contracted slightly, pushing her pelvis half a centimeter forward, mashing her wet panties even harder into Jerry's nose.
The council carried on, the Palace Master's voice echoing as he discussed personnel transfers in the Northern Domain branch.
Yin Luo occasionally chipped in a word or two, her voice level and languid, utterly indistinguishable from her everyday demeanor.
Only Jerry knew that her inner thighs were trembling uncontrollably.
The council finally adjourned after the Palace Master concluded the final agenda item.
The Elders rose from their stone chairs one after another, footsteps echoing in all directions.
Squatting beneath her robe, Jerry listened as those footsteps receded one by one.
Yin Luo's thighs remained clamped shut.
"Someone is still here."
Her voice drifted down, suppressed to a bare whisper of breath.
Brisk footsteps approached from the doorway, the stride shorter and lighter than the other Elders, almost like a jog.
"Luoluo."
A woman's voice—higher pitched, trailing off in an affectionate, cooing lilt.
Yin Luo's thighs loosened slightly upon hearing the pet name, the pressure against Jerry's cheeks softening to a gentle rest.
"Sister-in-law."
"Did the Palace Master just assign you to the Alliance Summit? That summit is dreadfully boring; I nearly fell asleep when I went in his place last time."
The footsteps stopped right beside Yin Luo's chair.
Through the slit of the outer robe, Jerry could faintly see a pair of boots embroidered with golden patterns, standing less than a meter away on the right side of Yin Luo's chair.
"Sister-in-law attended before?"
"Once. Afterward, the Palace Master said my identity was too sensitive as an outsider who joined the sect, and the righteous hypocrites disliked seeing me, so he wouldn't let me go again." The woman's tone was breezy and carefree. "Not that I wanted to go anyway. A bunch of old men bickering together, and then drinking and socializing after; utterly vexing."
"I don't want to go either."
"But you must go. The Palace Master named you personally, and the other Senior Brothers are all occupied." The woman's boots shifted half a step forward, her voice dropping. "By the way, I heard you brought someone back recently?"
Yin Luo's thighs seized tight the moment those words landed.
"Who said that."
"That junior brother of yours next door—Zhao something—he saw you bringing a Foundation Establishment boy into your quarters."
"Meddlesome mouth."
"So it's true, then?" The woman's voice brimmed with gossipy excitement. "What's he like? Is he handsome?"
"Sister-in-law."
"Alright, alright, I won't pry." The woman's boots stepped back. "I'm heading out. I'll drop by for tea tonight."
"Mmh."
The clicking boots receded toward the portal, the doors groaned shut, and complete silence descended over the council hall.
Yin Luo's thighs parted.
Her right hand reached beneath her robe, threading her fingers into Jerry's hair, pulling his head out from between her legs.
Jerry's face emerged from the darkness of her robes.
His nose and lips were glazed with a glistening sheen of moisture—juices that had soaked through Yin Luo's panties and transferred onto his face during their prolonged contact.
His grey eyes squinted slightly against the returned light, then fixed on Yin Luo seated above him.
Yin Luo was flushed crimson down to her collarbones.
Her thighs snapped shut the moment his head cleared, knees clamping together, the sheer black stockings rubbing as her inner legs pressed flush.
Pulling her right hand from his hair, she wiped her palm against the flank of her inner robe.
"Get out."
Jerry slipped out from beneath her hem, stood up, and dusted off his knees.
That slick wetness still lingered on his lips; flicking his tongue across his lips, he lapped her intimate juices straight into his mouth.
Yin Luo's slit pupils blew wide as she watched him lick his lips.
"You..."
"Tastes delicious."
Yin Luo flicked her black-nailed finger straight toward Jerry's forehead.
Jerry tilted his head back two centimeters; her finger grazed past empty air, missing entirely.
"Degenerate."
"You were the one grinding against me."
Yin Luo's lips parted and snapped shut. Her face flushed even hotter, burning from her throat to the roots of her ears until the tips glowed purplish-red.
Rising from her chair, her sheer robe swirling around her legs, she turned toward the grand exit.
"Back to my quarters."
Jerry followed close behind. The two exited through the council doors into the outer corridor.
The passage was deserted, dim violet lanterns stretching their shadows long.
Yin Luo led the way, her pace thirty percent faster than usual, the hem of her sheer robe snapping sharply with her hurried strides.
Her stocking-clad calves flashed alternately through the slit of her robe, her long strides stretching the nylon into taut creases along her inner thighs.
Back in her quarters, Yin Luo pushed open the wooden door, stepped inside, and clicked it shut behind them.
Jerry stood by the entrance, leaning against the locked door. Yin Luo stood in the center of the chamber facing the window, her back turned to him.
Her shoulders rose and fell, her breathing still rapid and shallow.
"Back on the council chair," Jerry's voice carried from behind her, "you got soaking wet."
Yin Luo's shoulders locked rigid.
"Shut up."
"I'd rather not."
Jerry stepped away from the door and walked directly behind Yin Luo.
Standing roughly shoulder-height to her, his gaze aligned level with the center of her shoulder blades.
Raising his right hand, his fingers caught the silk sash of her outer robe at her waist.
Yin Luo's body stiffened the moment his fingers touched the cord.
"What are you doing?"
"Finishing what we started."
Yin Luo spun around. Her dark red slit pupils stared down at Jerry's face, dilating and constricting erratically as if torn by hesitation.
Her lips parted as if to spit out "no" or "get out," but the words dissolved when met with the steady, calm, utterly unthreatening gaze in his grey eyes.
Jerry laid both hands on Yin Luo's hips.
Pressing through the sheer gauze into the supple muscle of her waist, he exerted a firm downward guidance.
Guided by his touch, Yin Luo took two steps backward until her calves bumped against the bed frame, her knees bending as she sat down on the edge of the mattress.
Jerry dropped to his knees.
Kneeling on the floor before the bed, his hands rested on Yin Luo's knees, his fingers prying her clamped legs apart.
Her thighs offered slight resistance as they parted, inner knee muscles tensing in an instinctive attempt to close.
Jerry added pressure, pressing his thumbs into the hollows of her inner knees, nudging them outward.
Yin Luo's resistance broke.
Under Jerry's guiding fingers, her legs spread to shoulder-width.
The hem of her sheer robe fell away to either side, baring her inner thighs clad in sheer black stockings.
The black nylon climbed up from her knees, hugging her mid-thighs and upper thighs all the way to her hips.
At the apex between her thighs, the silk panties beneath the sheer stockings were laid bare, clinging tight to her contours, displaying a dark, saturated wet stain two shades deeper than the surrounding fabric.
Jerry leaned his head in.
His lips pressed against the sheer black stocking along her inner thigh.
The black mesh indented under the pressure of his mouth, the heat of her flesh radiating through the thin nylon directly against his lips.
Starting just above her knee, his lips dragged slowly upward along the tender curve of her inner thigh.
With every centimeter he advanced, his lips lingered for a second, the tip of his tongue darting out to lick across the nylon.
Yin Luo's thighs quivered wherever his lips grazed.
The muscle beneath contracted, relaxed, and contracted again.
Her hands braced against the mattress behind her, clutching the bedding white-knuckled.
Jerry's mouth traveled up to the very root of her thigh.
The stocking was stretched taut here, the diamond mesh opening wider.
Through the expanded gaps, his tongue touched the surface of her soaked panties.
The silk fabric was thoroughly drenched in her juices, drenched to complete saturation, coated in a glistening layer of clear, slippery lubrication.
His tongue swept flat across the wet silk crotch.
The taste of her pussy nectar was salty with a faint, intoxicating tang, several degrees hotter than skin temperature.
Yin Luo's hips bucked backward the instant his tongue tasted her panties, her ass sliding two centimeters across the sheets before Jerry's hands clamped her thighs, holding her fast.
"Don't pull away."
Jerry's command rose from between her spread legs, his hot breath puffing directly onto her soaked silk crotch.
The puff of air sent another violent shudder through Yin Luo's thighs.
Moving his right hand up, his finger hooked into the waistband of her panties.
He yanked the silk fabric three centimeters to the side, pulling the crotch aside to fully expose her bare, glistening pussy lips beneath.
Jerry pressed his bare tongue directly into her wet clit and pussy.
Yin Luo's back arched violently, her inner thigh muscles convulsing in the throes of an intense orgasm that spasmed through her for ten full seconds.
Her fingers clawed into the bedding, her black nails puncturing five tears through the silk sheets.
Her ragged, frantic gasps gradually slowed, the violent heaving of her breasts subsiding to a soft rhythm as her taut belly relaxed.
Jerry lifted his head from between her soaking thighs.
His lips and chin were glistening with her clear, sticky pussy juice, shimmering faintly in the dim lantern light.
He wiped the corner of his mouth with the sleeve of his inner robe and stood up.
Yin Luo lay sprawled over the edge of the mattress, sheer robe parted, black stockings tracing from waist to toes, panties dragged aside to mid-thigh—looking like an exquisite, decadent painting thrown into disarray.
Her slit pupils were half-lidded and unfocused, her breath still warm and panting from the aftershocks.
Jerry leaned down, bracing his right hand on the mattress beside her while his left cupped the back of her head.
He pressed his lips firmly against Yin Luo's mouth.
Yin Luo stiffened the moment their lips met.
Her lips were dry while Jerry's were slick, the wet contact smearing the unmistakable taste of her own intimate juices back across her mouth.
The tip of Jerry's tongue parted her lips, licking across the contour of her lower lip before withdrawing.
The kiss lasted roughly five seconds.
Jerry straightened up and took a step back.
Yin Luo lay on the bed, her slit pupils refocusing as she stared up at Jerry standing before her.
Her lips still carried the glistening wetness from the kiss; her tongue flicked out involuntarily to lick her bottom lip, tasting herself.
Jerry did not press further.
Turning around, he walked over to the chair in the room, pulled it out, and sat down, crossing his right leg over his left, acting as casual as if nothing had just occurred.
Yin Luo propped herself up on the bed, her panties still caught at mid-thigh.
She looked down at her disheveled state, then pulled her soaked panties back into place.
Her movements were swift; when her fingers brushed the residual slickness on her inner thigh, her fingertips flinched.
"What is this Alliance Summit?"
Jerry's voice drifted from the chair, his tone as nonchalant as asking what was for dinner.
Sitting on the bed's edge, Yin Luo pressed her legs together, her fingers clutching the gauze of her robe over her knees.
The tips of her ears still burned crimson, though the flush on her cheeks had mostly receded.
"A joint summit held every fifty years between the Righteous and Demonic factions. It governs the division of territories, distribution of resources, and coordination of foreign wars between the two paths."
She rose and walked to the wardrobe in the corner of the room.
Pulling the doors open, several outer robes of various hues hung inside.
Untying the sash of her sheer robe, the fabric slid from her shoulders, pooling at her ankles.
Back turned to Jerry, she stood clad only in sheer black stockings and her sweat-and-juice-drenched panties.
The line of her spine flowed down from her neck, past the hollow between her shoulder blades, through the dimples of her lower back, disappearing beneath the stocking waistband.
Hooking her thumbs into her panties, she peeled the soaked silk down over her hips and down her stocking-clad legs to her ankles.
Bending over, baring the full round curves of her bare ass, she scooped up the soiled panties and tossed them into a basket at the base of the wardrobe.
"This upcoming summit is somewhat unique."
She drew out a clean pair of panties—black, slightly thicker than the previous pair.
Stepping into them, she drew the panties up over her black stockings, snapping them securely over her hips.
"Because it will review the strategic progress of the war against your wizarding world."
She turned to face Jerry.
Her upper body was completely bare, her perky breasts and pale nipples exposed without cover, while the sheer black stockings hugged her lower body from the waist down.
She took a deep violet silk bodice from the shelf, tied the ribbons behind her neck, the fabric draping over her chest.
"The Righteous factions advocate escalating the offensive, while most Demonic sects maintain a wait-and-see stance. The Myriad Demons Palace sent me to listen and see what tricks the Righteous hypocrites are cooking up."
From the wardrobe she took a black robe—much heavier than the sheer gauze, embroidered with dark crimson floral patterns.
Draping it over her shoulders, she cinched the waist belt tight.
"You may accompany me."
She turned to face Jerry sitting in the chair.
"It'll let you hear the internal cultivation faction dynamics regarding this war firsthand. It should prove useful for when you return."
The corner of Jerry's mouth lifted. "Sounds like a plan."
Yin Luo shut the wardrobe doors, walked to the table, and poured herself a cup of blood tea.
She took a sip, set the cup down, and looked at Jerry.
"Let's go. I'll show you around the sect, and let you see what the cultivation realm is truly like."
Jerry rose from the chair.
Reaching inside his inner robe into his hoodie pocket, he retrieved the palm-sized cloth pack.
Opening the pack revealed four other pairs of stockings in different styles: pure white, grey, sheer nude, and a pair of ribbed black stockings with vertical pinstripes.
"Before we head out, care to swap into a fresh pair?"
Yin Luo's eyes landed on the four pairs in the pouch.
Her fingers reached out, pinching the white pair, unfurling it for two seconds before setting it down.
She picked up the grey one, inspected it for a second, and set it down.
Finally, she pinched the ribbed black pair with vertical stripes, her thumb rubbing the textured weave.
"This pair. The vertical ribbed texture feels different from the previous one."
"That was flat sheer; this is ribbed knit. Higher elasticity, better contouring."
Yin Luo sat on the bed's edge and peeled off the stockings she was wearing.
Rolling the fabric down from her waistband, she peeled them over her hips, thighs, knees, and calves, sliding them off her bare toes.
She folded the used stockings and set them on the sheets.
Picking up the ribbed pair, she started from the toes.
The ribbed fabric was tighter, demanding more tension as she pulled it up, generating a soft whispering friction against her skin.
The vertical pinstripe ribs ran lengthwise along her legs from ankle to hip, visually elongating her slender limbs.
Yin Luo stood up and admired her legs.
The ribbed black stockings clung perfectly to her curves, glistening with a dark silk sheen beneath the violet lantern light.
On her feet were traditional square-toed cultivator boots—boxy and utterly discordant with the modern erotic elegance of the stockings.
"Something feels off."
Jerry looked at the boxy flat boots paired with her ribbed stockings.
"You're missing high heels."
"What?"
"A type of footwear. The heel is elevated five to ten centimeters above the toe. When worn, the arch of your foot angles downward, stretching and tightening the calf muscles—it pairs far better with stockings."
Yin Luo's slit pupils blinked. "Your wizarding world certainly invents a great deal of eccentric things."
Jerry stood from the chair, his right hand slipping from his sleeve to trace a complex magical rune in mid-air.
Grey-black magic bled from his fingertip, coalescing into a fist-sized sphere of energy.
Within three seconds, the sphere elongated and split into two symmetrical shapes.
In five seconds, the forms solidified.
The grey-black magic condensed into solid matter, shifting from shadowy grey to glossy black patent leather.
A pair of black stiletto heels hovered above Jerry's palm.
The heels rose roughly eight centimeters, featuring a pointed toe with sleek, razor-sharp contours.
The glossy patent leather caught the lantern light with an obsidian sheen.
"Try them on."
Yin Luo kicked off her boxy boots, nudging them beneath the bed.
Her right foot slid into the shoe, her toes entering the pointed toe box as her heel settled onto the elevated stiletto.
Her foot arched downward at an elegant angle, tightening her calf muscles until their sleek curves stood out sharply through the ribbed black stockings.
Her left foot stepped into the other shoe.
Yin Luo stood up to her full height.
The eight-centimeter heels elevated her stature even further, widening the original twenty-centimeter height gap between her and Jerry to nearly thirty.
Her center of gravity shifted forward, her calf and thigh muscles locking into a taut, sculpted contour to maintain balance.
She looked down at her legs.
The ribbed stockings stretched from the collar of the heels up to her thighs, her legs rendered impossibly long, firm, and sculpted, the hollows behind her knees deepened, her thighs flowing in breathtaking lines.
"...It truly is stunning."
She tentatively took two steps.
On the first step, she wobbled forward, catching the wardrobe doorframe with her right hand.
The second step was steadier, her stiletto heel striking the stone floor with a crisp clack.
By the third and fourth steps, she found her rhythm—clack, clack, clack, clack—the sharp taps echoing across the room.
"The sound of walking has changed."
"That's how high heels work."
Yin Luo paced back and forth across the room, her stride shifting from awkward to effortless grace.
The forward tilt caused her hips to sway naturally from side to side, her plump ass cheeks shifting beneath the robe with every rhythmic step.
Pausing at the door, she turned around, her slit pupils gazing down at Jerry.
"Let's go."
The sharp clack-clack of her stilettos carried from the chamber out into the stone corridor.
Yin Luo strode ahead, the hem of her black robe swaying in cadence, the high side-slit occasionally flashing glimpses of her ribbed stockings and gleaming black patent stilettos.
Passing disciples occasionally stole glances at the exotic, never-before-seen footwear on her feet for a second or two before quickly averting their eyes to bow deeply.
"The sound of the heel clicking against the floor," Yin Luo's voice carried back to him from ahead, "is rather pleasant to hear."