Reverend Obscenity-Chapter 19: Pawns and Promises

The twilight sky bathed the Nether Blossom Sect in a soft hue of dying gold.

Lin Fengyang returned alone, his footsteps steady, lips slightly curved with unreadable amusement as he approached Meiyin's manor.

The warmth of the sex marathon still clung to his skin, but beneath it, his mind worked like a grinding gearwheel.

Near him, the old ghost Huo Yan cackled with delight.

"So that was Nie Mingzhu, was it? Hah! What a succubus in mortal flesh! Insatiable, devouring you like a starving tigress in heat!"

Huo Yan's voice reverberated gleefully. "This old ghost's seen centuries of bedplay, but that girl...! If all women were like her, men would die smiling."

Fengyang smirked faintly. "You're drooling."

"And why not? Her curves were a work of dark art! You were a beast, boy. But she—she was a whole battlefield."

"Hmph. She got what she wanted, and I got what I needed to get stronger. That's all that matters."

"You also enjoyed it."

"I'm not dead, old ghost. Of course I did."

Their banter faded as the manor's silhouette came into view.

Before he could step past the arched gate, a figure dashed out—Lian Xue.

"Young master!" She flung herself toward him and clutched his robes. "Where have you been? I've been worried sick—searching everywhere!"

Fengyang raised a brow at her unusually desperate tone.

That morning, he had informed Su Meiyin of his intention to take a solitary stroll through the sect, and requested a way to safeguard himself in case of danger.

In response, Meiyin had given him a matched artifact known as the Twin Soul Rings of Auspice.

These rings were an intimate, synchronized pair: once worn, Meiyin could sense his life force, yang essence, qi condition—whether full, spent, or partially depleted—and his exact location within the sect.

The artifact remained invisible to anyone below the Nascent Soul Realm, and its sensing abilities functioned exclusively between the bound pair.

No other cultivator, even if they wore similar rings, could detect or perceive them.

Fengyang accepted one ring, wearing it beneath his sleeve. Meiyin wore the corresponding pair on her finger.

He had also made a specific request: not to inform the servants, including Lian Xue, about his plans.

With Gu Xingchen's growing suspicion of him due to his recent rise, Fengyang preferred to move without leaving any trail for potential schemes.

However, despite his precautions, he still ended up facing Lian Xue that morning.

She had slipped into his chambers shortly after Meiyin departed for her sect duties.

Once again, she attempted to seduce him, trying to delay his cultivation and insinuate herself into his plans.

But Fengyang, firm in his decision, turned her away without yielding even a moment.

As a result, though Lian Xue did learn of his intention to take a stroll, she wasn't early enough to intervene or plot ahead of time.

Whatever thoughts she harbored, they came too late—his departure went unimpeded.

In addition, he requested—and received—Rank 3 Qi Restoration Pills from Meiyin.

These potent pills, often accessible only to those at the Core Formation Realm or individuals with significant backing, were capable of rapidly restoring one's qi and revitalizing their vigor.

Lian Xue was restless the entire day when Fengyang wasn't anywhere to be found after going on his stroll alone.

She paced through the manor, her mind racing with worry.

She even sent servants to search the grounds, instructing them to probe every corner of the sect for any sign of him.

But despite their efforts, no one could account for his whereabouts.

Her unease deepened, and she urged Meiyin to return, hoping the mistress would have some insight into his location.

Yet Meiyin only chuckled softly, her demeanor calm and collected, as she dismissed Lian Xue's concerns with an air of quiet reassurance.

"Don't worry about him, Xue'er. Fengyang is safe," Meiyin said smoothly, offering a string of excuses to keep Lian Xue from searching for him.

Lian Xue could only give up bitterly, though her anxiety continued to fester.

But Lian Xue's true concern was not for Fengyang's safety—it was his schemes.

The way he moved through the sect, seemingly with a purpose she couldn't predict, worried her.

His rise was rapid, and if she couldn't keep him in check, she feared losing her favor with Young master Gu.

If Fengyang continued to succeed in his schemes, he would become a formidable force to contend with, not just within the sect, but outside of it as well.

Now, faced with Lian Xue's pleading eyes, Fengyang exhaled.

"I didn't mean to worry you, Xue'er. I just needed space to clear my mind. You should know by now—I always return."

"But you were gone the whole day..." Lian Xue's voice trembled with both concern and frustration.

Fengyang gently placed a hand on her shoulder, his touch surprisingly soft.

"You should tell young master Gu that our agreement still stands. I've not forgotten my promise to him."

Lian Xue's eyes widened in disbelief. "You really intend to... offer Lady Meiyin to him?"

The words slipped out before she could stop them, too late to take them back.

Fengyang didn't mind her rude probe.

"She's no longer my wife," Fengyang said evenly.

"Ever since I learned the truth about her... that I was merely a cauldron to her, a tool to be milked dry—I stopped caring. She's a whore in fine robes. Trading a whore for friendship with a dragon among men like young master Gu Xingchen? That's a once-in-a-century bargain."

Lian Xue stood frozen, a tremor running through her breath.

She had already asked him about Meiyin, and his answer had come swiftly and without hesitation.

Her curiosity deepened, and despite herself, she found herself probing further.

Fengyang didn't seem to mind her prying.

In fact, it didn't matter if she kept up appearances anymore—he was already undermining Gu Xingchen's plans.

To undermine their plans, Fengyang should already be aware of their intent to slow down his cultivation.

She hesitated, then asked, "You were training so hard... I thought you wanted to keep her..."

Fengyang's gaze softened for a moment before his voice returned to its usual calm, but with an edge.

"I'm training to free myself from this sect's cage. The world outside is vast. I'm nothing but a frog in a well. I need allies, like Young Master Gu, to help me climb out."

He leaned in closer, his words almost a whisper. "Tell him not to worry. He'll have her in his bed."

"Besides, a whore is to be shared, not hoarded," Fengyang laughed, denouncing his wife as a whore.

She shivered as he passed, his footsteps fading into the stillness of the manor's corridor.

So this is the price of betrayal... she thought. The devil doesn't forgive. But was it truly indifference, or just another mask? He was willing to hand over Meiyin—no hesitation, no possessiveness. Not even the urge to hoard her, to keep such beauty to himself to taint her every day. Could any man truly be that detached?

Lian Xue's mind raced, but in the end, she found no answers in the quiet emptiness of the hall.

In the study, Fengyang shut the door behind him and took out the porcelain bottle Meiyin had given him.

He uncorked it and swallowed a Qi Restoration Pill.

A gentle warmth spread through his meridians, easing the day's fatigue.

The pill could restore qi, vigor, and clarity. But it couldn't reverse the long-term toll of constant exhaustion. Hidden damage could accumulate.

I can't live like this every day... I need control. Discipline.

His body now revitalized, he rose and moved toward the training hall.

The training hall stretched out before him, bathed in the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the skylights.

Fengyang stepped into the center, his feet finding the solid ground as he settled into a deep horse stance.

His mind focused, he began the series of movements Meiyin had drilled into him over the past days.

He concentrated first on the horse stance, grounding himself for balance and stability.

Next, he shifted smoothly into the front stance, his body aligned for swift forward motion.

With a practiced fluidity, he transitioned into an inside block, redirecting an imaginary strike with precision.

He continued, moving seamlessly from snap kick to cross punch, then a round kick.

Each strike flowed into the next, his body moving in rhythm, each movement becoming more natural under the moonlit silence.

Fengyang repeated the motions, adjusting the flow as he became more attuned to the patterns.

The foundation of these techniques was essential—he had learned that much from Meiyin's guidance.

Now, with each pass, he sought to refine the precision of each strike and stance, solidifying his understanding.

As the night wore on, his movements grew sharper, and his focus deeper.

With the moon above, he worked tirelessly, committing each form to memory, ensuring he could call on them effortlessly when the time came.

Just moments after Fengyang returned to the manor, a young servant girl approached Lian Xue in haste.

Her name was Zhao Yanyan—a quiet, observant girl known more for her ears than her voice.

With a hesitant bow, she spoke in a low tone.

"Miss Lian... I-I saw Young Master Lin leaving Lady Mingzhu's manor not long ago. He was alone when he left... but the servants there were gossiping. They said he spent the entire day inside... and entangled with Lady Mingzhu in a debauchery..."

Lian Xue's brows twitched. Her pulse quickened.

Nie Mingzhu...? The name rang in her mind like a distant thunderclap.

She dismissed Zhao Yanyan with a nod, but inside, her thoughts had turned razor sharp.

Mingzhu was Su Meiyin's sworn rival and a disciple under Grand Elder Leng Ruxue's faction.

For Fengyang to approach her—worse, to bed her—was a seismic shift in the sect's power game.

So... he's even colluding with the Grand Elder's side now? He's not just maneuvering around Meiyin. He's expanding his hand. Fortifying both flanks. First Meiyin, now Mingzhu... He's building his own sphere of influence...

I can't wait. I need to report this to young master Gu. He must know before anyone else. 

While Fengyang remained in the training hall under the moonlight, Lian Xue quietly retreated to her chambers.

Within the dim interior, lit only by the pale glow filtering through the latticed window, she moved toward a shadowed corner behind a silk screen.

The scent of orchid incense lingered in the air, faint and calming.

From the folds of her sleeve, she drew out a mirror—an oval shard no larger than her palm.

Its surface shimmered like still mercury in the muted light, framed in black jade etched with softly pulsing qi runes.

She pressed a thread of her qi into the artifact.

The mirror flickered.

Then rippled.

And then—Gu Xingchen's face emerged.

Sharp-jawed, dark-eyed, beautiful in the way a blade gleamed before it cut.

His gaze was cool and unreadable, his presence coiled like a serpent.

"You have news?" His voice was cold and precise.

"I do," Lian Xue replied, her tone low and deliberate. "Young Master Lin visited Nie Mingzhu's manor today. He went alone... and remained there until evening. According to Zhao Yanyan, one of Mingzhu's servants was overheard gossiping—saying the two spent the entire day locked away, lost in each other's arms, indulging their lust without restraint."

A moment passed in silence.

"Interesting," Xingchen murmured, fingers tapping the edge of his robe. "So, he courts Meiyin's rival now?"

She whispered. "He's playing all sides within the sect. If Mingzhu aligns with him, eliminating him through internal strife would become... near impossible."

Xingchen chuckled. "Let him play. I'll see what his game is. Rats who run through fire don't realize they're cooking themselves."

The mirror's light dimmed as the call ended.

The training hall was quiet, the only sounds being the rhythmic breaths of Lin Fengyang as he drilled his stances and strikes.

An hour had passed since he started, his robes drenched in sweat, muscles aching but steady.

Each movement was deliberate, the flow of energy through his body becoming more refined with each practice.

His strikes were sharper now, his body more in tune with the techniques Meiyin had taught him.

He had been practicing the basic stances—the horse stance, the front stance, and the fighting stance—solidifying his foundation, before moving to the strikes: the jab, the cross punch, the front snap kick, and the roundhouse kick.

He was learning to harness his qi optimally, but there was still much more to refine.

He could feel it—the subtle power beginning to hum through him, his movements becoming smoother, yet there was an untapped potential lingering just out of reach.

As the final hour of his practice came to a close, he felt the exhaustion building in his muscles but also a strange sense of accomplishment.

His strikes had more precision now, but he knew this was only the beginning.

There was more to learn, more to master.

The doors to the training hall creaked open, and Su Meiyin stepped in.

Her presence was as striking as always.

The moonlight streamed through the high windows of the hall, bathing her in a soft glow, her robes fluttering with a grace that seemed to belong to a different world.

She stepped toward him, her gaze soft, but keen—scrutinizing every detail of his form.

Fengyang straightened, his breath steadying, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand.

Despite the tiredness coursing through him, his body felt the vigor at the prospect of learning something new.

For a while, she monitored his stances and strikes.

"You've improved, Fengyang," she said in a calm voice, her tone like silk.

She took in his posture, the way he held himself steady, the sharpness of his strikes.

"Your foundation is strong, and your movements have become more fluid. But there is still room for refinement."

Fengyang nodded, sweat beading on his forehead as he stood at attention. "I'm ready for more, Meiyin."

Her lips curved slightly in a soft smile, her gaze never leaving him. "Good. The stances and strikes you've learned are crucial, but mastering defense is just as important. It's not enough to simply attack; you must also protect yourself. The balance of offense and defense is key to survival."

She stepped back and raised her hand, motioning for him to follow. "Let's begin with the blocks."

She positioned herself in front of him, the fluidity of her movements reflecting years of experience.

Meiyin's body flowed into position like water, elegant and controlled.

With a sharp exhale, she raised her arm and demonstrated the first block, her movements deliberate and precise.

"First," she began, "the high block." Her arm moved in an arc above her head, intercepting an imagined blow with a swift, decisive motion.

The power in her movement was evident, but it was the control she exhibited that caught Fengyang's attention.

"A high block is used to deflect attacks aimed at your head or upper body. The key is not to meet the blow with force but to redirect it with a smooth, controlled motion."

She paused and looked at him, her eyes glinting with understanding. "Try it. Focus on the flow, not the force."

Fengyang nodded, dropping into a ready stance.

He mimicked her movement, raising his arm above his head with intention.

The motion felt awkward at first, but he focused on her instructions, guiding his body to meet the imagined blow with the same fluidity she had shown.

The strike was intercepted, but he could feel the slight tension in his arm, the lack of seamlessness in his movement.

"Not bad," Meiyin said softly. "But there's still tension. Remember, the motion must be smooth and natural, as if you're guiding the attack away from you, not fighting against it."

Fengyang took a deep breath, resetting his stance.

He tried again, this time with more concentration, ensuring his body moved as one unit.

His arm rose smoothly, and this time, the motion felt more controlled, more effortless.

Meiyin nodded, a flicker of approval in her eyes. "Better. Now, the low block."

She demonstrated again, her body lowering slightly as her arm swept across her waist, moving to intercept an attack aimed at the legs.

"The low block is meant to deflect strikes aimed at your lower body. It requires both power and precision. You must bend your legs and use your core strength to guide the block."

Fengyang watched carefully, his eyes tracking her every movement.

He followed her lead, positioning himself low, his body grounded.

The low block felt more natural this time, his strength coming from his legs and core rather than just his arms.

He deflected the imagined blow, feeling the force roll off his body with less effort than before.

"Good," Meiyin praised, her voice a quiet affirmation. "Now, the inside and outside blocks."

Meiyin moved again, demonstrating how to use a quick, sweeping motion with her arms to deflect strikes coming from either side.

She showed the fluidity of transitioning from one to the other, her body a picture of grace and strength.

Fengyang watched intently, trying to mirror her movements as closely as possible.

She stood before him again, watching closely as he performed the sequence.

"Your technique is improving, but don't rush. Let each movement flow into the next. Block and redirect, don't stop and start."

Fengyang adjusted his rhythm, slowing down to focus on the smoothness of the transitions between blocks.

The movements were becoming more instinctive, his body learning the dance of offense and defense with growing confidence.

Meiyin gave a final nod of approval as Fengyang finished the last block.

"Excellent, Fengyang. Your understanding of the basics is strong. But remember, defense is just as much about timing as it is about technique. If you can read your opponent's movements, you'll be one step ahead."

She stepped closer, her presence soft but undeniable, a mentor and a guide. "We'll continue to build on this foundation. But for now, you've done well."

Fengyang looked at her, his eyes reflecting moonlight and something darker, more primal.

He stepped forward, brushing a strand of sweat-damp hair behind her ear.

"And how should I reward my devoted teacher?"

She lowered her gaze and shamelessly said, "Master, your cock would suffice."

"As expected of my shameless slave."

Fengyang stepped back, untied the sash around his waist, and let his robes fall open, his cock already half-hard, veined and glistening from anticipation.

"Come. Show me your devotion to me and my cock."

Meiyin knelt without protest, her eyes flickering with quiet submission as she settled onto the cool tiles of the training hall.

The moonlight pooled around her, casting a sacred glow over the scene.

She reached for his shaft, her fingers gentle but assured as she wrapped her hand around the base.

Slowly, reverently, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to the tip, tasting him like a sacrament.

Her tongue swirled, teasing the slit, before she took him into her mouth.

Fengyang inhaled sharply.

Her mouth was warm, wet, and eager. She bobbed her head slowly at first, her lips tight around him as she hollowed her cheeks and took him deeper with each rhythm.

The soft wet sounds echoed faintly in the moonlit hall.

Her hands cupped his hips, steadying herself as she began to move faster.

Every flick of her tongue, every suctioned pull of her lips, felt like a prayer—a wordless hymn of loyalty and longing.

Fengyang's hand drifted down to caress her head, his fingers threading through her silken hair.

"That's it... Just like that, Meiyin..."

She moaned around him, the vibrations sending shudders up his spine.

The pressure built steadily, the coiling tension in his cock drawing tighter and tighter with each stroke of her tongue.

She swallowed him hungrily, her movements growing more fervent as he neared the edge.

His hips bucked once—twice—then he groaned low in his throat as his release surged forth.

Meiyin didn't pull back.

She took it all, the warmth flooding her mouth as her throat worked to swallow every drop.

Not a single drop spilled.

Only when he finished did she pull back slowly, licking her lips clean with practiced grace.

Still kneeling, she looked up at him—eyes calm, full of unspoken desire and quiet pride.

With a final exchange of glances, both of them left the training hall, retreating to their chambers where the weight of the night's events would be settled in the stillness of slumber.