The atmosphere inside the City Lord’s manor was so thick with tension you could practically cut it with a dull knife. It wasn’t the dignified silence of meditation, but the suffocating pressure of a powder keg about to blow.

Elder Fu Yan sat at the head of the table, and honestly, the man looked like he had aged fifty years in a single night. His face was grey, his eyes were bloodshot, and he was massaging his temples like he was trying to crush his own skull to stop the headache pounding inside.

Standing in front of him were his two “allies,” and they looked ready to tear each other’s throats out right then and there.

On the left was Deacon Jiao from the Azure Sword Clan. The man was shaking with rage, his hand white-knuckled on the hilt of his sword. His aura was flaring up and down, sharp and uncontrolled.

“Your puppet stabbed my nephew!” Deacon Jiao roared, spit flying across the table. “He’s crippled, Fu Yan! His meridian channels in his sword arm are severed! That is a breach of our alliance! That is a declaration of war! I demand compensation immediately, and I want the head of that wretched puppet master on a platter before the sun sets!”

On the right stood the unit commander of the Silent Puppet Guild. The guy was as emotional as a rock. He just stood there, draped in those creepy grey robes, staring blankly with dead eyes while Deacon Jiao screamed.

“Your ‘nephew’ is an arrogant brute who drew his weapon first,” the Guild leader replied, his voice a flat, irritating monotone that somehow made Jiao even angrier. “Our unit acted in self-defense according to protocol. Furthermore, your disciples destroyed three of our costly ‘Shadow-Stalker’ constructs in their drunken rage. Those materials are not cheap. We demand compensation for the loss of assets.”

Fu Yan felt like his head was going to explode.

“Silence! Both of you!” Fu Yan shouted, slamming his hand on the table. “It was a tavern brawl! A simple misunderstanding fueled by wine and youth! We are on the verge of taking control of the entire sect! The ceremony is in three days! Can’t you just put this petty matter behind you until we have secured the prize?”

Deacon Jiao scoffed, a harsh, ugly sound. “Misunderstanding? You call my nephew losing his arm a misunderstanding? And what about the cause, eh? What about the women? The Crimson Pill disciples who started this whole mess?”

Fu Yan hesitated. He had sent men to look. He had scoured the city. “They… vanished!”

The Puppet Guild commander let out a sound that might have been a sneer. “You’re telling me you can’t even find three little girls in your own city? In a city controlled by your faction?”

Deacon Jiao narrowed his eyes. “Seems suspicious, doesn’t it? Almost like someone wanted us to fight. Or maybe someone wanted to hide the witnesses.”

Fu Yan gritted his teeth. He knew it looked bad. Those three women—Qiu Yun, Su Ning, and Bai Xue—had simply evaporated into thin air. His patrols found nothing. No spiritual trails, no witnesses seeing them leave the city. It was like they had ghosted out of existence.

“I have my best trackers on it,” Fu Yan lied through his teeth. “But right now, we need unity. Listen to me. I will compensate you. Both of you.”

He took a deep breath, making a promise that pained him physically. “I will open the treasury. I will pay double the standard rate for the injured men and the broken puppets. Massive compensation. Enough to buy ten nephews and a hundred puppets. But you must hold your peace for three days. Just three days! Once I am Sect Leader, you will have your fill.”

Deacon Jiao and the Puppet commander exchanged a look. It wasn’t a look of agreement; it was a look of cold, calculating greed mixed with deep suspicion.

“Fine,” Deacon Jiao spat. “Three days. But if I don’t see that spirit stone mountain, I’m taking it from your corpse.”

“Agreed,” the Puppet commander droned. “Payment upon completion.”

They turned and marched out, not even bowing, leaving Fu Yan alone in the silent room. He slumped back in his chair, feeling drained.

He had a terrible feeling in his gut. A premonition that things were spinning wildly out of his control. But he pushed it down. He just needed to survive until the coronation. Once he held the Sect Master’s seal and sat on the throne, everything would be fine.

“Guard!” he called out. “Send a team to the Herbal Garden and the Scripture Hall. Ensure everything is secure for the transition. I want a full inventory.”

He had no idea. He had absolutely no clue that while he was playing diplomat, his house had already been robbed blind.

An hour later, the doors to his study banged open.

A disciple rushed in, his face the color of old ash, stumbling over his own feet. He fell to his knees, gasping for breath.

“Elder… Elder!” the disciple stammered, his eyes wide with terror.

“What is it?!” Fu Yan snapped, standing up. “Speak!”

“The… the core medicinal garden…” the disciple choked out. “It’s… it’s dead, Elder! It’s gone!”

Fu Yan froze. “What do you mean, dead?”

“The Spirit-Gathering Tree… it’s missing! Pulled out by the roots! And the herbs… the Thousand-Year Ginsengs, the Spirit Lotuses… everything! The ground has been scraped clean! It’s just dirt, Elder! Just dirt!”

Before Fu Yan could even process this catastrophe, another disciple ran in, looking just as terrified.

“Elder! Report from the Scripture Hall!”

Fu Yan felt his knees go weak. “What? What about the Scripture Hall?”

“The guards… they were found unconscious behind the pillars! And the inside… the shelves… they’re empty! The scrolls, the jade slips, the ancient texts… swept clean! There’s nothing left but dust!”

Fu Yan staggered back, clutching the edge of his desk for support. “Impossible… the arrays… the guards…”

“There’s more,” the first disciple whispered, trembling. “We… we found something in the garden. One of the junior brothers tried to investigate the hole where the tree used to be… he triggered a trap. Black needles. He’s paralyzed. But before he fell… he saw a rune carved into the dirt.”

“What rune?” Fu Yan hissed.

“It looked… it looked like a control sigil from the Silent Puppet Guild, Elder.”

Fu Yan’s eyes bulged.

“And in the Scripture Hall,” the second disciple added hurriedly, “we found a mark etched onto the central pedestal. A sword. The mark of the Azure Sword Clan.”

Fu Yan stood there, paralyzed, as his entire world collapsed around him.

It wasn’t Lianhua. She was crippled. She couldn’t have done this.

It was his allies.

Those greedy, backstabbing vultures! They had played him! They had staged that brawl in the tavern as a distraction, a smokescreen! While he was busy mediating their petty squabbles, they had raided his sect! The Puppet Guild took the herbs for their alchemy and wood cores! The Azure Sword Clan took the techniques to strengthen their warriors!

They were stripping the sect bare before he even took the throne!

“AAAAAAAAHHHHHH!”

Fu Yan threw his head back and let out a roar of pure, animalistic, soul-tearing rage that shook the dust from the ceiling rafters.

“TRAITORS! THIEVES! THEY WILL PAY! THEY WILL ALL PAY!”

He didn’t know about the Crimson Dragon Cauldron. He assumed it was safe in the secret vault that only the Sect Mistress could open. He figured even if they looted the halls, they couldn’t get the ultimate treasure.

But the rest… the herbs… the scriptures… the foundation of the sect… it was gone.

He grabbed his sword, his eyes burning with madness. He was going to kill them. He was going to kill Jiao. He was going to kill that puppet freak.

The alliance wasn’t just fractured. It was dead. And soon, the streets would run red with blood.

Miles away from the screaming Elder and the chaos of the sect, the atmosphere couldn’t have been more different.

In the rented courtyard, the air was calm and sweet.

Wang Jian and Sect Mistress Lianhua materialized in the main room, stepping out of the shadows as Wang Jian dropped his concealment technique.

Liu Ruyan was waiting for them, pacing anxiously. She looked up, her eyes wide.

“Did you…?” she asked, her voice breathless.

Wang Jian just smiled. It was a calm, confident smile. He walked over to the table and swept his hand over it.

Clunk.

A tiny, teacup-sized cauldron made of dark red metal appeared on the wood. It sat there, heavy and innocuous, but pulsating with a faint, ancient heat.

Liu Ruyan gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. As an alchemist, she felt the power radiating from it instantly. “It… it’s true. You actually got it.”

“The Crimson Dragon Cauldron,” Wang Jian said casually. “Securely acquired.”

He didn’t stop there. He opened his spatial pouch again.

“And a few other souvenirs.”

He started emptying the pouch. It was like a waterfall of treasure. Scroll after scroll of ancient techniques spilled out. Jade boxes containing Thousand-Year herbs piled up. Rare ores. Artifacts.

The room began to fill with a dazzling, multicolored spiritual light. The medicinal fragrance from the sealed herbs was so potent it made the air thick and heady.

Liu Ruyan and Sect Mistress Lianhua stared. They were looking at the accumulated wealth of a thousand years. The entire heritage of a major sect, sitting in a pile on the floor of a rented house.

The three of them stood around the mountain of wealth. The greed in the room was palpable. It wasn’t just Wang Jian. Even the women felt the rush of possessing such power.

“This,” Wang Jian said, gesturing to the hoard with a grand sweep of his arm, “is ours. This is the foundation of our new power. The Crimson Pill Sect is just a name now. The real sect… is right here in this room.”

Sect Mistress Lianhua looked at the cauldron, then at Wang Jian. Her eyes were shining with a dark, vengeful pride. “I did it, Jian,” she whispered. “I helped you destroy him. He has nothing left.”

Wang Jian turned to her. He saw the look in her eyes—the adoration, the submission, the twisted pride.

“You did,” he agreed.

He pulled her into his arms, ignoring Liu Ruyan for a moment. He didn’t care about propriety. He didn’t care about hiding anything anymore.

“And you have earned your reward.”

He kissed her. It wasn’t a gentle peck. He grabbed the back of her head and mashed his lips against hers, his tongue invading her mouth. He groped her openly, his hands squeezing her ass, roaming over her body, claiming her right there in front of her disciple.

Liu Ruyan watched, a smile playing on her lips. She didn’t feel jealous. She felt… complete. She was happy for her Master. Happy for her lover. Their twisted little family was finally whole.

Wang Jian broke the kiss, leaving Sect Mistress Lianhua breathless and flushed.

“Now,” he said, looking at both of them, his hands still resting possessively on Lianhua’s hips. “We rest. We cultivate. We absorb these gains. And we let Fu Yan tear himself apart.”

“What about those three women?” Ruyan asked. “The three who helped?”

“I’ll send word to our three little spies,” Wang Jian mused, a wicked glint in his eye. “Their work is just beginning. Now they must spread rumors. Fan the flames. Tell the Azure Sword Clan that the Puppet Guild stole the cauldron. Tell the Puppet Guild that Fu Yan is hoarding the treasures for himself.”

He laughed softly. “We will let them eat each other alive. By the time they realize what happened, we’ll be long gone.”

That night, the bed in the rented courtyard was crowded.

Wang Jian lay in the middle, with Sect Mistress Lianhua on one side and Liu Ruyan on the other. The priceless Crimson Dragon Cauldron rested on the bedside table, a silent, metallic witness to the birth of their new, dark alliance.

Wang Jian pulled them both close. He kissed Ruyan’s forehead, then buried his face in Lianhua’s neck. He had won. He had stolen the sect, broken the queen, and secured the future.

“Sleep well, my pets,” he whispered into the darkness. “Tomorrow, we start building our empire.”

The next morning, Wang Jian met with Qiu Yun, Su Ning, and Bai Xue in a secluded alleyway. They looked excited, flushed with the success of the tavern brawl.

“You three did well,” he praised them, handing each of them a small pouch of high-grade spirit stones as a reward. “But the game isn’t over.”

He gave them their new mission.

“You will return to the city,” he instructed. “But don’t go near the factions directly. Too dangerous. Instead, I want you to ‘confide’ in your admirers among the general populace. The merchants. The rogue cultivators. The loose-lipped servants.”

He leaned in close. “Spread conflicting stories. Create a fog of war.”

He looked at Qiu Yun. “You whisper to people that you heard Fu Yan paid the Puppet Guild with herbs from the core garden… the one he claimed was barren due to a blight.”

He looked at Su Ning. “You tell people you saw Jiao Feng’s men sneaking around the Scripture Hall right before the alarms went off… carrying heavy sacks.”

He looked at Bai Xue. “And you, my innocent little flower… you tell everyone, with tears in your eyes, that you heard Fu Yan can’t pay his allies because the Sect Mistress emptied the treasury before she fled, and now he’s trying to frame everyone else to cover his poverty.”

“The goal is total chaos,” Wang Jian said, his voice hard. “I want everyone pointing fingers at everyone else. I want paranoia to be the air they breathe.”

The three women nodded, eager to serve. They vanished into the crowd, three beautiful viruses ready to infect the city with discord.

Back at the sect, Fu Yan was living a nightmare.

He sat in his wrecked study. Reports were piled high on his desk. The theft. The rune. The brawl.

And now, a pounding on his door.

Deacon Jiao and the Puppet Guild leader marched in. They didn’t knock.

“Payment,” Jiao growled. “Now. We’re leaving this cursed mountain. I want my spirit stones.”

“And the compensation for my units,” the Puppet leader added.

Fu Yan stood up, sweating. “Yes. Yes, of course. The treasury. Let’s go to the treasury.”

He led them to the massive vault doors. He used his key. The heavy doors swung open.

Inside… was air.

Empty shelves. Empty chests.

Fu Yan stared. He blinked.

“It’s… it’s empty,” he whispered.

He turned to look at his allies.

Deacon Jiao’s face went purple. “Empty? EMPTY?!”

“You played us,” the Puppet leader said, his monotone voice dropping to a terrifying buzz. “You summoned us here. You made us bleed. And now you tell us the pot is empty?”

“No! No!” Fu Yan shrieked. “It was Lianhua! She must have taken it! I didn’t know!”

“Liar!” Jiao drew his sword. “You’re hoarding it! You’re trying to cheat us!”

The alliance shattered right there in the vault doorway.

Fu Yan, the new Sect Master of the Crimson Pill Sect, found himself ruling over a barren rock, surrounded by empty buildings, with two armies of angry, unpaid mercenaries wanting his head.

He fled. He had no choice. He blasted his way out of his own treasury and ran for the hills, a rogue in his own home.

The hunt began. The Azure Sword Clan and the Silent Puppet Guild, believing they had been betrayed by Fu Yan and each other, declared open season on the Crimson Pill Sect leadership.

They tore the place apart looking for the loot that was already miles away in Wang Jian’s pocket.

While the Crimson Pill Sect burned in the fires of greed and paranoia, Wang Jian, Sect Mistress Lianhua, and Liu Ruyan were long gone.

They traveled deep into the wilderness, finding a new, even more secure safehouse hidden in a natural cave system protected by ancient, natural arrays that Wang Jian modified.

“This is it,” Wang Jian said, surveying their new home. “Deep seclusion.”

They began the long process of absorbing their gains.

They spent days reading the ancient scrolls, deciphering the pill recipes. Liu Ruyan and Lianhua worked together, their master-disciple relationship restored but fundamentally altered by their shared status as Wang Jian’s women.

One evening, as they were resting after a long session of sorting herbs, Sect Mistress Lianhua approached Wang Jian.

She knelt before him.

“Master,” she said softly. “I know.”

He looked at her. “You know what?”

“I know you can heal me,” she said, looking him in the eye. “Truly heal me. Back to my peak.”

She gestured to the loot. “I saw you in the garden. I saw your power. You have the resources now. You have the Tree. You have the knowledge. And I know… I know you are holding back.”

She took a breath. “You are worried. You think that if I recover my cultivation, if I become a Core Formation expert again… I will turn on you. I will kill you for what you did to me.”

Wang Jian didn’t deny it. He leaned back, crossing his arms. “It’s a reasonable concern, don’t you think? You are a proud woman, Lianhua.”

“I was a proud woman,” she corrected him. She crawled forward until she was at his feet, resting her hands on his knees. “But you broke that woman. You remade her.”

She looked up at him with eyes full of devotion. “I have given up on revenge. I have given up on pride. I know… I know I can’t be anything but your woman. Your slut. You have conquered my body so thoroughly that my soul has followed. I belong to you.”

“Please,” she begged. “Heal me. Not so I can rule. But so I can serve you better. So I can be strong for you.”

Wang Jian looked at her. He saw the truth in her eyes. She wasn’t lying. She was broken, and she was his.

“I believe you,” he said finally. “But belief isn’t enough. I don’t take risks.”

He leaned forward. “There is a way. A guarantee.”

“Tell me,” she said immediately.

“A Slave Seal,” Wang Jian said, his voice cold. “Imprinted on your soul. And on your body. It will place your life and death instantly in my hands. One thought from me, and your soul dissipates. You will never be able to harm me. You will never be able to disobey a direct command.”

He watched her face, expecting hesitation.

Lianhua nodded immediately. “Do it. Implant the seal. I don’t mind.”

Wang Jian was slightly surprised, but he hid it well. “Very well.”

He stood up. “Undress.”

She stripped naked, standing proudly before him.

“Lie down.”

He placed his hand just above her pussy, on her lower abdomen. He channeled his Qi, burning a complex, visible seal into her skin. It formed the shape of a stylized heart, glowing with a faint, pink light. A sex slave stamp.

“This marks your body,” he said. “Now for your soul.”

He placed his hand on her forehead. “Open your mind to me. Do not resist.”

He unleashed his powerful spiritual sense. He dove into her mind, navigating the landscape of her consciousness until he found her soul avatar—a tiny, glowing version of herself floating in her sea of consciousness.

He manifested his own soul avatar.

Lianhua gasped in her mind.

Wang Jian’s soul body was… vast. It was a titan, radiating a golden, terrifying light. It was dense, solid, and immensely powerful.

She had been a Late Stage Core Formation expert. She had met Nascent Soul ancestors. But none of them… not even the legends she had read about… had a soul this dense at the Foundation Establishment stage. It felt like facing a god.

“How…” her soul avatar whispered, trembling before his majesty. “How can you have such a powerful soul?”

Wang Jian’s soul avatar smiled, a mysterious, teasing smile that shook her mental world. “I told you, Lianhua. I am special.”

He began to weave the seal, wrapping chains of golden light around her soul avatar.

“Do you regret it?” his voice boomed in her mind. “Submitting to me?”

“No,” she whispered, awestruck. “This… this is power. To serve such a being… it is not slavery. It is destiny.”

“Good answer,” Wang Jian said. “You made the right choice. As my favored slut, I will not treat you badly. I will help you. I will make you stronger than you ever dreamed.”

The seal clicked into place. It was done.

He withdrew from her mind.

Lianhua opened her eyes in the real world. She looked at him with new eyes—eyes filled with a religious, fanatical devotion.

“Master,” she breathed.

“Now,” Wang Jian said, cracking his knuckles. “Let’s fix you.”

He began the true healing. He used the full force of his Verdant Eternal Spring Essence, boosted by the energy of the Spirit-Gathering Tree he had planted in his spatial space. He didn’t hold back.

He repaired her dantian. He re-knit her meridians. He flooded her with power.

It took three days. Three days of intense, non-sexual, focused healing.

On the third day, a boom of energy shook the cave.

Lianhua opened her eyes. Her aura exploded outwards. The azure light returned, stronger, purer than before.

She was back. Late Stage Core Formation Realm.

She stood up, power radiating from her. She looked magnificent. Powerful. Untouchable.

Wang Jian looked at her. He smirked.

“Feeling better?”

“Yes, Master,” she said, bowing her head.

“Good.”

He stepped forward and shoved her. Hard.

She flew back, crashing onto the ragged ground of the cave. She didn’t use her power to stop herself. She landed on her back, looking up at him submissively.

“Time to test that new cultivation,” Wang Jian growled, his eyes burning with lust.

He walked over to her. She was wearing the elegant, conservative robes he had made her wear during the healing to avoid distraction. High collar. Long sleeves. Very dignified.

He reached down. He grabbed the front of the expensive silk robes.

RIIIIIIP!

With one violent motion, he tore the dress apart, right down the middle.

The fabric parted with a scream of tearing silk.

Lianhua lay there, exposed. Her large, heavy breasts spilled out, heaving with her breath. Her skin was snow-white, flawless, glowing with restored vitality. Her pink, erect nipples pointed at the ceiling. Her stomach was flat and toned. Her tight, pink pussy was revealed, wet with anticipation.

Wang Jian stared at her. He had fucked her a hundred times. He knew every inch of her.

But seeing her like this… restored to her full power, a Core Formation powerhouse, lying in rags at his feet, completely submissive… it was the most erotic thing he had ever seen.

“You look good, Sect Mistress,” he said hoarsely, undoing his trousers. “You look delicious.”

“I am yours to eat, Master,” she whispered, spreading her legs wide.

Wang Jian dove in. And this time, with her body strong enough to take his full power, it was going to be very, very entertaining.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep