Lixue closed her eyes, utterly surrendering the icy pride of the Sword Sovereign to the absolute authority of her lord. The cold, imperious bearing she wore like armour in every corner of the cultivation world, the frost that made lesser cultivators flinch and avert their gaze, dissolved completely beneath his hold, leaving behind something raw and willing and entirely his.
With her wrists still pinned above her head by Shen Yu's unyielding grip, she had no choice but to lean forward using only the arch of her neck and the willing tilt of her body. She drew a slow, deep breath first, and immediately felt the effect of it.
The scent of his primordial yang essence was overwhelming, ancient and layered, like the first breath of a world being born. It curled into her lungs and sent a shudder rippling through her meridians, her Ancient Sword Sovereign bloodline stirring in response as though recognising something older and vaster than itself.
