The heavy, incense-laden air of the VIP suite fell completely silent, save for the ragged, synchronized breathing of the two cultivators.
Meng Yan lay perfectly still beneath him, her eyes closed, her mind completely blanked by the world-shattering intensity of her climax. The volatile Lunar Fire that had tortured her for decades had been violently purged, and the hollow, dying channels of her meridians were now flooded, packed to the absolute brim with Shen Yu's roaring, pure Yang essence.
She felt impossibly light. She felt whole.
But Shen Yu was not finished. The physical conquest was merely the prerequisite; the demonic grandmaster was here for her soul.
As he rested his forehead against hers, his golden eyes glowing with a terrifying, ancient light, he felt the precise, volatile shift within his own Dantian. The supreme catalyst—forged through their perfect Yin-Yang exchange, was ready.
"Accept my origin, Meng Yan."
