Dual Cultivation: Gathering SSS-Rank Wives in the Cultivation World Chapter 438 - Introducing All Wives to Each Other

The room was quiet except for the sound of Sai’s breathing.

Shallow. Still ragged at the edges, each inhale pulling through her gills in soft, clicking intervals. The water-blue glow on her skin had settled into sothing ambient—barely a pulse, like moonlight on a still sea.

She lay exactly where he’d left her, sprawled across the crimson silk, tail curled slightly, one arm thrown over her eyes. Small chest rising and falling. The scales on her ribs still catching the chamber’s warm light, throwing tiny prisms across the walls in shifting patterns.

Alive. Recovering.

Tianlong stood at the edge of the bed, pulled back the sleeve of his robe, and cracked his fingers. One by one. Slow, deliberate pops.

"You can rest," he said.

Sai didn’t respond with words. Her fingers twitched once against the sheets—acknowledgnt, maybe. Or just muscle mory.

He looked at her for a mont longer than necessary.

Then turned and walked out.

The corridor of Maranor stretched in both directions, bathed in that familiar warm golden light that ca from formations embedded in the walls—formation scripts that glowed faintly, lines of script running floor to ceiling like veins through living stone.

The Pleasure Palace had a sll. He’d never bothered to na it. Sandalwood, maybe, and sothing sweeter underneath. Whatever it was, it was constant—one of those ambient facts about this space that existed in the background of everything, barely noticed but always present.

Two won stood flanking the door he’d just exited.

Guards. Palace servants. Both from the Stonefang tribe—Kaira’s original people—built the way those won always were, like soone had carved them from hardwood and then decided to add curves as an afterthought. Tall, muscular, copper-skinned. Their uniforms were short-skirted maid outfits—black and white, fitted at the waist but barely reaching mid-thigh, the fabric pulling tight against hips that had no business being that wide on a guard uniform. Both wore their hair up, exposing the thick columns of their necks.

They snapped to attention the mont he stepped out, their postures going rigid.

Tianlong’s golden eyes moved over them slowly.

He slapped the first one’s ass.

Flat-pald. Solid. The sound echoed.

SMACK.

Her whole body lurched forward with the impact, her hips swinging, the muscle jiggling under the short skirt before settling. A red bloom spread across copper skin. Her eyes snapped shut, her jaw clenching around the sound that wanted to co out.

"Mmnh—"

He grabbed them both at the sa ti—one arm hooking around each, pulling them inward, their bodies colliding with his chest simultaneously. Two sets of hands went imdiately to the sa place.

His cock.

Both of them. Hands overlapping, fingers competing for grip, their palms warm and urgent through the thin fabric of his lower robe.

"Please—" the taller one started, her voice low and thick. "Lord, the fire within us is—it’s been—please extinguish it—"

The shorter one’s head pressed against his shoulder, her hips grinding forward, adding wordless emphasis to the request.

Tianlong looked down at them.

Chuckled once.

"Go help her," he said, nodding toward the closed door behind him. "The rmaid. She needs a bath. Clean water, warm."

Both of them hesitated.

The taller one’s grip on his cock tightened fractionally—a wordless protest.

"Go," he said, and the word carried just enough weight to end the negotiation.

They released him. Bowed in synchrony. Disappeared through the door.

He walked.

His cock stood at half-mast beneath his robe—not demanding attention, just present, the way it usually was in this place. Maranor ran on a particular energy and his body had beco acutely aware of that over ti.

The corridor opened into a wider hall.

This section of the palace was more populated. Catkin won in various states of dress lined the walls—so in guard postures, so simply standing, so who’d apparently been mid-conversation and stopped the mont he entered their sightline. There were Stonefang won too, Amazonian builds that made the catkin look small by comparison.

All of them bowed.

A wave of motion, bodies tipping forward, hair swinging.

Tianlong moved through it like weather.

He didn’t stop walking, but his hands weren’t idle. He passed a catkin in light training clothes—pressed two fingers against the side of her breast, feeling it give, and kept walking before she’d finished her gasp. He passed a Stonefang woman standing beside a pillar—caught the chain at her hip, pulled her a step toward him, let his free hand rise to her chest and squeeze once—heavy, dense mass shifting in his grip—before releasing and continuing.

He stopped at one catkin entirely, pulling her forward by the back of her neck. She made a soft, startled sound. He lowered his head and sucked her nipple through the thin fabric of her uniform—just once, just briefly, his tongue pressing against the stiffening nub, her back arching imdiately in response—then stepped back and kept walking.

Behind him, a trail of won standing straighter, breathing harder, staring at his back with expressions that ranged from devotion to barely-restrained need.

He wasn’t doing it with any particular intent. It was just how Maranor worked. How ’he’ worked in this place. A kind of casual sovereignty that had no equivalent outside of it.

The hallway curved.

He turned the corner—

And sothing hit his chest.

A forehead. Hard. A sharp intake of breath, then a mont of stunned silence, and then—

He looked down.

Kaira looked up.

Or she would have, if her silver eyes could see anything. They were open, those milky, sightless irises catching the light without registering it, pointed sowhere near his chin.

She was completely naked.

That was the first thing you noticed about Kaira because there was nothing in the way of it—no armor, no robe, nothing between her skin and the palace light except the collar around her throat and the chains that dangled from it. Thin chains, delicate-looking things that soone had clearly chosen for aesthetic as much as function. They connected the collar to two smaller rings.

Her nipples.

Gold rings through each one, and the chains looped from those rings back up to the collar, creating a constant slight tension. The weight of her breasts—and they were ’substantial’, heavy and full, hanging with a natural gravity that made the chains sway with her slightest movent—pulled against the rings perpetually. Not enough to injure. Enough to be felt.

Her clit had a matching ring. Small, gold, catching the light when she shifted her weight.

She froze the mont contact registered. Her hands ca up reflexively—not to push away, but to grasp. Her palms found his chest and spread flat against it.

Reading him. Because that was how she navigated everything.

"Lord—" Her voice was low. A warrior’s voice, rough at the edges, accustod to giving orders rather than asking permission. "You startled—"

Tianlong reached out and grabbed the collar’s chain.

CLCK.

The motion yanked all three attachnt points simultaneously. Both nipple rings. Both piercings pulling upward.

Kaira ’scread’. Raw. Involuntary. Her entire body pitched forward with it, hands gripping his robe, nails finding fabric.

"’AHHH—’"

Then his other arm ca around her, and she crashed into his chest properly this ti—full contact, her breasts squashing flat against him, the chains pressing between them. His arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her in, and the scream cut off into sothing that was not quite a sob and not quite a moan.

Her body shook.

He lifted her right leg. Just one—hooking his hand behind her knee, lifting until her thigh ran parallel to the floor, opening her.

Air touched her.

Her breath caught, a sharp little sound escaping through her teeth.

"I—wait—" Her blind eyes moved across his face without landing anywhere. "I cannot see you clearly, I—Lord, I cannot tell which—"