She trembled. Then she tried, for the last time in her thousand-year life, to be a sect master.
"I have thought about this," she said, walking forward, her chin lifting, her voice finding its ceremonial register even as her eyes could not stop dipping toward that impossible tower. "The body is a vessel. The vessel is impermanent. If surrendering this vessel saves the realm and its people, then a cultivator who refuses is no cultivator at all. The Dao is sacrifice. The Dao is, is..."
Her voice faltered. He had started stroking his own cock. Slowly. Watching her speak with open amusement.
"Come on," he said. "You can do it. Come sit."
She walked to the bed. Her disciples, kneeling around him now like a court, watched her with shining eyes. One of them reached out and took her hand when she reached the edge of the mattress.
"Master, come on," the disciple said. "You're delaying it. We also need our turn after."
