"Truly, the Matriarch has been reborn in fire!"
Yilan’s expression remained a mask of cool, regal indifference. She didn’t yield an inch of her dignity to the man’s fawning.
"The heavens favor those who protect their own, Patriarch He," she replied, her voice smooth and hard as polished jade.
"I did what was necessary. My recovery is rely a sign that the Tang Clan’s work in this city is far from finished."
He nodded and finally, the He Patriarch’s eyes landed on Shen Yu. He pressed his hands together in a respectful salute, his rings clinking as he leaned in, desperate to catch the "saint’s" attention.
"And of course... the Golden Paragon himself!" the He Patriarch cried out, loud enough for the neighboring tables to fall silent.
"To see such a young talent rising like a sovereign dragon among us... truly, the heavens have blessed Thousand Waves City with your presence, Young Master Tang."
"Your ’rcy’ is the talk of every tea house from the docks to the inner peaks. To take in the survivors of your enemies and even grant them positions of trust... what a righteous, holy soul!"
"It is a profound honor for a man like myself to finally share a floor with a saint of your caliber."
Shen Yu offered a slow, calm smile, the kind that looked like a blessing but felt like a cold blade to those who knew better.
He looked at the He Patriarch with a gaze that seed to see right through the flamboyant robes and the greedy heart beneath.
"You speak of righteousness as if it were a rare commodity, Patriarch He," Shen Yu said, his voice carrying a tranquil, magnetic authority that silenced the surrounding air.
"I simply believe that every life has a purpose, provided it finds the right master to guide it. I appreciate your kind words, let us hope the future of the He Clan is as bright as the jewelry you wear."
The He Patriarch froze, unsure if he had just been praised or subtly threatened. He chuckled nervously, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead. "Ah... yes! Indeed! Truly wise words, Young Master!"
He sank back into his seat, his flamboyant presence suddenly feeling very small next to the quiet, absolute gravity of the man in white.
The tension at the table lingered for a heartbeat, thick and stifling, before City Lord Wu Shan broke it with a booming, jovial laugh. He raised a jade cup filled with amber spirit-wine, his Nascent Soul aura rippling outward just enough to steady the room.
"A toast!" Wu Shan declared, his voice commanding the attention of every guest in the hall. "To the prosperity of Thousand Waves City, and to the newfound peace brought about by the courage and righteousness of the Tang Clan!"
The hall erupted in a chorus of agreent as hundreds of cups were raised. Shen Yu took a shallow sip, his eyes never truly leaving the room. He could feel the gazes of the minor clan leaders, hungry, fearful, and opportunistic. To them, he was a miracle, to himself, he was a weaver, and they were the threads.
As the servants began to present the second course, braised Silver-Scale Carp that stead with an aroma of concentrated Qi, Yilan leaned in toward Shen Yu.
The movent was subtle, yet it brought the intoxicating scent of sandalwood and the faint, sharp undertone of her own spiritual essence into his personal space.
"You handled him well, Yu’er," she whispered, her voice a low, feline purr that barely reached his ear.
Her deep blue eyes flickered toward the He Patriarch, who was currently stuffing his face with frantic enthusiasm to mask his lingering nerves.
"He is a scavenger through and through. He raised his clan to this height by picking the bones of lesser families, but his presence at this table today isn’t a coincidence."
"I suspect the City Lord is backing him to maintain a semblance of balance now that the triad of power has been shattered."
She paused, her gaze cooling as she surveyed the other guests. "There were several clans on their level just a week ago, but the He Clan has soared in the last few days."
"They’ve secured a series of lucrative contracts with a major power from Dew Forest City. It seems our flamboyant friend is more than just a glutton; he’s positioning himself to be the City Lord’s new favorite tool."
Shen Yu didn’t turn his head, but a faint, knowing smile played on his lips. He watched the He Patriarch through the rising steam of the spirit-carp, already calculating how long it would take for the scavenger to realize he was rely being fattened up for a different kind of slaughter.
His gaze then drifted, sliding with predatory smoothness to the girl seated beside the rotund Patriarch.
This was He Lan, the daughter of the house. It was a genetic miracle she shared any blood with the man, where he was coarse and bloated, she was refined and slender.
She possessed long, silken black hair that frad a face of porcelain perfection, anchored by wide, doe-like brown eyes. Her body was tall yet petite, a lithe, delicate fra that suggested a delicious fragility.
Shen Yu’s tastes were as vast as his ambition. He did not discriminate by type, to him, every feminine form possessed its own unique rhythm of pleasure, provided the beauty was of a high enough grade.
As his eyes raked over He Lan, he bypassed the "saintly" mask for a fleeting mont, performing a cold, carnal audit of her potential. He noted the way her modest robes couldn’t quite hide the curve of her hips or the slender grace of her neck.
He could already imagine the sensation of that petite fra beneath him, trembling and tight, yielding to his absolute dominance.
He Lan was already staring, her breath hitching as she was caught in the gravity of his presence.
To her, Shen Yu wasn’t just a holy saint, he looked like a fallen immortal who had descended from the celestial peaks to grace their mundane world.
When their eyes locked, Shen Yu didn’t pull away. Instead, he deepened his smile, a small, devastating curve of the lips that radiated a warmth that was entirely manufactured, yet utterly intoxicating.
The effect was violent. A deep, scorching crimson flooded He Lan’s cheeks, and her heart hamred against her ribs like a trapped bird.
She bead a radiant, desperate smile back at him, her legs pressing together beneath the table as a strange, sudden heat blossod in her core.
Overwheld by the intensity of his gaze, she quickly dropped her head, focusing on her plate with frantic, trembling fingers, her mind a chaotic whirl of forbidden fantasies involving the Golden Paragon.
Shen Yu glanced back at the Patriarch, who was currently tearing into a piece of carp, grease glistening on his chin and staining his flamboyant silks. The contrast between the father’s gluttony and the daughter’s budding lust was poetic.
’Well,’ Shen Yu thought, his golden eyes shimring with a dark, satisfied light as he sipped his wine. ’With the daughter already offering her soul on a silver platter, it seems dismantling the He Clan will be a very... pleasurable affair.’
User Comments
0 comments from readers