Chapter 567- Ten Days Long Session
He lifted her out of the pool.
Not carefully. Not with the tentative handling of a man managing fragile cargo. He grabbed her hips from behind, mid-thrust, and simply picked her up — her feet leaving the pool floor, her enormous tits swinging free of the water, her cunt still stuffed full of his cock, her entire bodyweight supported entirely by the two points of contact between his hands on her waist and his cock inside her.
She screamed.
"KYAAANNGHH~!! WHAT — ANCESTOR~!! WE ARE — THE WATER~!!"
Gravity did the rest.
Her own weight drove her down his shaft by an additional half inch that the pool’s buoyancy had been preventing, and the new depth made her voice disappear into a breathless, high-pitched keen as his cockhead pressed against something in her womb that registered as both too much and not enough simultaneously.
He walked.
Each step joggled her on his cock. Each step sent a bounce through her enormous tits that made them slap against each other and against her own arms. Each step drove a fresh sound out of her throat that she had not planned to make.
"HNGH~! OUNGH~! HIEKK~! ANCESTOR YOU ARE WALKING WHILE INSIDE~!! EVERY STEP IS~!! OUNGH~!!"
He walked out of the bath hall.
Into the corridor.
The stone floor was cold under his bare feet and warm under hers where her toes occasionally dragged. The formation seals of the inner pavilion pressed against his cultivation output and yielded without comment. He carried the sect master of the Mount Hua Plum Blossom sect through her own hall corridors, impaled on his cock, her silver hair streaming down his arm, her tits bouncing with each step, the wet sounds of their connection audible in the stone quiet.
Behind them, at the bath hall entrance:
Four elders.
Standing in the doorway wrapped in whatever spiritual energy they had managed to reassemble into the approximation of clothing, their skin still glowing at the dantian, their eyes tracking the departure of their sect master with the communal expression of women who had experienced a great deal today and were not finished processing it.
Tianlong glanced back over his shoulder.
"Prepare a disciple competition," he said. His voice was the same even register it had maintained through everything. "Inner and outer sect. All disciplines. Call as many as you can gather."
Elder Mengsha stared at him.
"A competition," she repeated.
"For the selection of Dao companions. My additional ones." He turned back to face the corridor ahead. "Ten days should be sufficient. Make it thorough."
Yaolan, bouncing on his cock with her face pressed into his neck and her tits swinging, made a sound that was not entirely words.
"HNGH~!! — they are — OUNGH~!! — they are going to — HIEKK~!! — the disciples are going to —"
"Yes," he said.
"THE ENTIRE SECT~!!"
"The qualified ones."
A sound came out of her that was either a moan or an attempt at protest that the cock occupying her womb had converted mid-formation.
The four elders looked at each other.
Elder Fanxue, who was twenty-four hours ago a virgin and was now Peak Nascent Soul and had opinions about the situation that she was still organizing, said: "A disciple competition."
"For Dao companion selection," said Elder Ruiwen, in the tone of someone confirming information.
"While he spends ten days —" Elder Caifen’s eyes followed the corridor where the sound of Yaolan’s ongoing cries was already becoming more distant.
"Preparing the sect master," said Elder Mengsha.
They stood with this.
"We should," said Elder Mengsha, "begin making a list of qualified disciples."
"Yes," said three voices.
They began dressing in earnest.
Outside, on the mountain, the plum blossoms fell on outer disciples who had absolutely no idea what was coming for them in ten days.
He found the sect master’s chamber at the end of the inner pavilion’s primary corridor without asking for directions.
It was the largest room, naturally. Carved timber doors, formation-sealed, the handles wrought from a pale jade that glowed faintly with the sect’s accumulated cultivation signature. He pressed them open with one hand, the other still holding Yaolan by the hip, still buried inside her.
The chamber was everything a sect master’s chamber should be.
High ceilings. Stone walls hung with cultivation scrolls and the sect’s historical records, their edges gilded, their surfaces painted with the careful artistry of generations of devoted disciples. A meditation dais in the north corner, its formation arrays still warm from her last use. A wardrobe of carved plumwood, its doors inlaid with blossom motifs. A window overlooking the mountain’s eastern face, the valley visible in the afternoon light below.
The bed.
Enormous. Stone base, silk surface, the warmth-formation running beneath it with the steady, constant output it had maintained since her master’s time. Its four carved corner posts rose to chest height, their surfaces etched with cultivation texts that generations of sect masters had inscribed as they rose to the position.
Candles.
Three of them. In the bronze holder on the bedside table, their flames burning in the still chamber air with the same quiet, constant light that had lit that room three hundred and forty years ago.
Yaolan saw them.
Her body tightened — , full-body clench of a woman whose memory had been triggered somewhere below deliberate thought, her cunt gripping his cock with sudden, involuntary force, her breath going short.
Tianlong felt the clench. He turned his head, looked at the candles, looked at her face.
"I know," he said.
He carried her to the bed.
He sat on the edge with her still in his lap, facing away from him, his cock still seated in her womb. He reached around her, his large hands finding her enormous tits, lifting them, holding their full, soft weight in both palms.
His mouth came to her ear.
"The stain he left," he said, his voice low, even, "is not in the room. It is in how you were told to understand yourself." His thumbs pressed her nipples. She drew a breath. "I am going to remove it."
"How," she said. The word came out small. Not sect master small — genuinely small, the voice of a woman who was asking a real question.
"By showing you what your body was built for," he said. "Every variation. Every position. Every response it has been waiting to produce for four hundred years." His hands squeezed, a long, rolling compression of both enormous mounds. "You are going to learn yourself. And by the time I am finished, every candle in every room will be only a candle again."
She was quiet for a moment.
"You said I would need to become pregnant," she said.
"To cleanse the womb completely," he confirmed. "The old seed needs to be pushed out by new occupancy." His cock moved inside her, a slow, deliberate roll of his hips. "We have ten days."
"Ten days," she repeated.
"Beginning now."
He twisted her.
The motion was fluid and total — a rotation of her body that moved her from his lap to face-down across the bed in a single arc, her enormous tits flattening against the warm silk, her ass thrust upward, his cock maintaining its position inside her through the entire transition with the surgical precision of a man who had done this enough times to make it automatic.
Her face hit the pillow.
The pillow smelled of her own cultivation oils and three centuries of her own sleeping breath.
He raised her hips with both hands, tilting her angle.
"HNGH~!"
And then drove.
PAH!
"AAANGHH~~!!"