Mistakes, impulses, the messy heat of desire… they hadn't vanished with Lin Feng's ascension.
They simply wore a grander face now.
And strangely… that realization soothed him.
It grounded the roaring immortal in something mortal and real. Flawed but authentic.
No more hesitation.
No more pretending he was above the animal pull.
He was strong enough to be weak for her and that felt like victory.
With a low exhale, the last threads of restraint unraveled.
Lin Feng shrugged off the remnants of his robes in one fluid motion, silk whispering to the floor until he stood bare before her… every inch of his sculpted, immortal physique gleaming under the soft chamber light, his spiritual sword still rigid and glistening from earlier release, veins pulsing with fresh hunger.
He stepped forward, bent, and scooped Su Muyao up in a single effortless motion cradling her against his chest like a bride stolen from legend.
Her sticky, essence-drenched body molded perfectly to his.
