The city was no longer a collection of divided clans and wary merchants; it had become a unified chorus of adoration. From the smallest alleyway to the tallest pagoda, the name "Shen Yu" was spoken with a reverence usually reserved for ancestral deities. The public's loyalty to the Tang Clan had solidified into a fortress, and the "Golden Paragon" was its undisputed king.
Inside the opulent upper-floor office of the Jade Spring Hall, the sounds of the cheering crowds outside were muffled by heavy silken curtains and spirit-wards. Here, the air was thick not with incense, but with the scent of high-grade musk and skin.
Shen Yu sat back in his heavy mahogany chair, his expression one of bored, sovereign detachment. Kneeling between his legs was Xu Yi, his aunt's personal assistant. She had shed the professional exterior she usually wore around Mei Yilan, her obsidian robes pooled around her waist to reveal her lusciously large, ivory breasts.
Slurp... Squelch...
