Dead City.
The Evil Consort sat upon the Skeleton Throne, her expression impassive as she watched the scene unfolding on the light screen: the enraged dragon breaking free from its bonds. She did not blink until Yan Zhen descended into the water. Then she resumed control of Jiu Youyue’s body. Turning her back to the pool, she allowed her dress to slip away. With mystic power, she wove a bath towel and wrapped it around her alluring figure before slipping into the water after him.
Though this was Jiu Youyue’s body, it was still partly hers, controlled by her own consciousness. Naturally, she resisted exposing herself before strangers—especially a deadly foe like Yan Zhen!
Even so, she felt deeply uncomfortable. The humiliations he had inflicted upon her fueled a burning desire to slap the cocky brat to death!
She refrained because Yan Zhen carried the Fire Refining Starry Sky within him, along with the White Lotus Mark implanted by Jialan Fairy. Any direct confrontation would fail to subdue him.
A failure now meant no second chance like this. If he hunkered down and grew stronger, defeat would come again.
The Evil Consort narrowed her eyes, suppressing her unease. She guided Jiu Youyue’s body slowly toward Yan Zhen and placed her hands on his back.
“Let me wash your back, Little Zhen Zhen.”
Yan Zhen spun around abruptly, staring fixedly at the demoness before him. She froze, a foreboding sense rising in her heart.
“What—mmph!”
Before she could finish, his lips sealed hers. Jiu Youyue—no, the Evil Consort—widened her eyes in stunned disbelief, too shocked to react at first.
The intimate contact of their soft tissues sent shivers of electric pleasure through her. She snapped to her senses and rested her hands on his shoulders, ready to shove him away. But she reconsidered; that might give her away.
After all, this wench had already shared intimacies with the Flame Emperor. Excessive resistance to a mere kiss would surely arouse suspicion.
The Evil Consort endured. Yet Yan Zhen pried open her teeth and delved deeper, igniting shock and fury within her. Her hands clenched tighter.
After a brief hesitation, she quietly relaxed them.
Turning hostile now would waste half a year of waiting and the sacrifices already made.
This wasn’t truly her body, after all. A kiss was just a kiss.
As she rationalized this, Yan Zhen’s hands grew bolder, creeping upward stealthily.
Her body stiffened, instinct urging rejection even as faint pleasure stirred—a Mystic contradiction.
This was Jiu Youyue’s body, perpetually yearning for her lover’s touch. Only the Evil Consort’s consciousness rebelled. In plain terms, it was a case of “the mouth says no, but the body says yes.”
Resist? If not, he would press on. If yes, it would seem unnatural.
She hesitated anew. In her deliberations, her tongue began to tingle from the relentless assault. He refused to relent, leaving her increasingly desperate.
Only when she felt the towel—the last shred of modesty—removed did she reach her limit, as he toyed brazenly with her most vulnerable spot, even giving it teasing tugs.
The Evil Consort planted her hands on his chest and thrust him away with force, gasping raggedly for air.
“Not—not here, Little Zhen Zhen! They’ll return any moment!”
Yan Zhen sensed no wrong, his gaze softening with affection.
“But it’s been nearly a year since we last met. Don’t you miss me?”
He leaned in again. The Evil Consort shoved him back urgently, adopting Jiu Youyue’s tone.
“Not in a place like this! What if someone sees us?”
Yan Zhen, driven by primal lust, pried her hands apart firmly.
“They won’t return soon. We’ll make it quick.”
Her curvaceous form lay fully exposed to his eyes now. The demoness was a vision of seductive allure from head to toe, stirring forbidden desires.
Shame and fury burned through the Evil Consort. Though it was not her own flesh, the sensation of being laid bare before her archenemy felt all too real.
—Curse that damned Flame Emperor!
“Enough playing around. You said it yourself—we can’t linger here. Bathe first.”
Yan Zhen blinked innocently, his words deliberate.
“Jiu Youyue, are you—”
Her heart lurched.
“What?”
“Nothing. If you don’t want to, then never mind. I got ahead of myself.”
“…”
The Evil Consort frowned inwardly. Had he grown suspicious? This wench’s shamelessness surpassed all expectation; she had always been the bold initiator. A sudden chill would confirm his doubts.
She adjusted her voice swiftly and motioned for him to turn.
“Turn around. I’ll wash your back. Stay still.”
Yan Zhen presented his back to the demoness once more.
The Evil Consort exhaled softly in relief. Her hands glided over the youth’s broad back, scrubbing meticulously while threads of Death Mystic Force seeped imperceptibly into his body.
Truth be told, she could have transferred the Death Mystic Force during the kiss via his mouth. But with no real experience, his commanding rhythm had left her reactive and divided, unable to multitask.
Wisps of Death Mystic Force filtered from her fingertips into his back. Soon, Mystic fatigue weighed upon Yan Zhen.
Death Mystic Force eroded life force; in minute doses, it induced coma.
Yan Zhen knew her ploy. A simple circulation of his Five Extreme Flames would purge it, but he allowed the assault.
At last, overwhelmed by the corrosion, Yan Zhen slumped into unconsciousness, his breaths steady and even.
Once certain he was truly out, the Evil Consort withdrew her hands. Her feigned smile shattered, replaced by icy venom.
“No matter your future prowess, you’re naught but a callow boy for this palace to toy with now!”
She lifted Yan Zhen horizontally into her arms, climbed ashore, and evaporated the moisture from their bodies with a swirl of mystic power.
A massive Space Portal ripped open before them with a boom. Beyond lay an endless expanse of gleaming white bones.
It was her creation: the White Bone Grotto-Heaven, Yellow Springs World.
Jiu Youyue cradled Yan Zhen as they stepped through, vanishing with the portal’s closure.
All that remained was a discarded pile of the Jialan Flame Holy Son’s clothes.
In the shadowy void, the naked woman carried the equally bare youth along a path of bleached bones, reminiscent of the primordial pair molded by Nüwa.
They crept slowly toward the Skeleton Throne at the bone sea’s heart, mere ants in the vastness.
The Evil Consort had long awaited atop the looming seat. She regarded the distant speck below unhurriedly, content to let them draw near.
For in the impending clash, victory was already hers.
Jialan Fairy and Xing Chenxi would both fall to her schemes.
This immature Flame Emperor? Merely the pawn to topple them!
“Heh heh heh heh.”
Laughter bubbled from the Evil Consort, rich with smug arrogance.
