The city was no longer a collection of divided clans and wary merchants; it had become a unified chorus of adoration. From the smallest alleyway to the tallest pagoda, the name "Shen Yu" was spoken with a reverence usually reserved for ancestral deities. The public’s loyalty to the Tang Clan had solidified into a fortress, and the "Golden Paragon" was its undisputed king.

Inside the opulent upper-floor office of the Jade Spring Hall, the sounds of the cheering crowds outside were muffled by heavy silken curtains and spirit-wards. Here, the air was thick not with incense, but with the scent of high-grade musk and skin.

Shen Yu sat back in his heavy mahogany chair, his expression one of bored, sovereign detachment. Kneeling between his legs was Xu Yi, his aunt’s personal assistant. She had shed the professional exterior she usually wore around Mei Yilan, her obsidian robes pooled around her waist to reveal her lusciously large, ivory breasts.

Slurp... Squelch...

Xu Yi used her ample cleavage to sandwich Shen Yu’s thick, throbbing length, rhythmically stroking him with the soft, pillowy weight of her chest. She looked up at him, her eyes hazy with a mixture of lust and playful mockery.

"The streets are practically flooded with tears of gratitude, my Lord," Xu Yi whispered, her voice a sultry tremor as she squeezed her breasts tighter around him. "The commoners call you a saint. The girls call you their ’Golden Paragon of the Silver Moon.’ They think you’re in here, pouring over ancient texts and bleeding for their sake."

She let out a lewd giggle, her nipples grazing the underside of his shaft. "If only they could see their righteous Savior now... taking a titjob from his aunt’s assistant while they chant his name."

Shen Yu’s eyes flashed with a dark, predatory amusement. He didn’t offer a word of denial. Instead, he reached down, his powerful hand tangling into Xu Yi’s hair. With a sudden, dominant force, he pulled her upward and forced his cock directly into her mouth.

GLUCK!

Xu Yi’s eyes went wide, but she didn’t miss a beat. Knowing exactly what he demanded, she began to roughly stroke his dick with her heavy breasts from the outside while her throat worked rhythmically to swallow the head.

Shlukk... Shlukk... Shlukk-nnn!

The sensation of her soft, pulsing heat and the tight seal of her lips pushed Shen Yu to the limit. With a guttural growl, his hips bucked. He erupted, releasing a massive, pressurized torrent of Yang essence. Xu Yi didn’t flinch; she took the entire load, her throat rippling as she swallowed every drop gulp by gulp.

Gulp... Gulp...

After a few moments, she pulled back, her lips glistening and her chin stained white. She opened her mouth wide, showing him her empty, coated tongue, a silent testament to her total submission.

Shen Yu leaned back, exhaling a long, cold breath. He thought about the title the city had bestowed upon him.

The Golden Paragon of the Silver Moon.

A cold smirk touched his lips. If the elders of the Righteous Sects from his previous life could see him now, clothed in the mantle of a righteous saint while standing atop a mountain of manipulated hearts, they would likely cough blood from the sheer irony. A demonic master being hailed as a paragon of light; it was a joke that only he truly understood.

He reached out, grabbing Xu Yi’s jaw and turning her around, bending her over the edge of his desk. Her lush rear was thrust upward, her back arching in a desperate invitation.

"And what," Shen Yu whispered, his voice a dark, commanding purr, "would you have this ’Paragon’ do to you now, Xu Yi?"

Xu Yi looked back over her shoulder, her face flushed and her breathing ragged. "I want the Paragon’s dick..." she rasped, her eyes rolling back with hunger. "I want it deep inside my filthy pussy. Mark me like you mark the city."

Shen Yu’s smirk widened as he stepped forward to claim her.

.

.

.

The Peng Clan estate was shrouded in a suffocating, poisonous dread. The air here was stagnant, heavy with the stench of cheap wine, unwashed skin, and the metallic tang of madness.

Inside the master bedroom, the once-opulent furniture lay in splintered ruins. Peng Kai, the head of the clan, paced the room like a caged animal. His eyes were a roadmap of burst capillaries, his face gaunt and glistening with oily sweat. Ever since he had dispatched the assassination order to Wraith-043, he had locked himself away, spiraling deeper into a booze-fueled paranoia.

Standing in the doorway was Li Qiu, his wife. She possessed a slender, mature figure and a face that had once been the envy of many, but now it was etched with deep sorrow. Her dark hair was disheveled as she looked at the wreck of a man who was supposed to be her husband. She had watched him disintegrate over the last month, the weight of the Tang and Jin alliance crushing his spirit.

She had warned him. She had pleaded with him to control their son, Peng Bo, whose arrogance had lit this fuse. But Kai hadn’t listened.

"There is no other way," Li Qiu whispered, turning to the trembling finance elder standing in the hall. "Pay the compensation. Give the victims the gold they need to buy the Tang pills. If we don’t, the mob will burn this estate to the ground before the week is out."

Though she harbored a cold, malevolent hatred for the Tangs, she was a pragmatist. She had stayed out of politics for years, but with her husband lost to insanity, the duty of the Clan as the Clan Head’s wife fell to her.

Suddenly, a dry, rasping cackle erupted from the corner of the room.

"Hahaha... all gone... it will all be gone soon... hehehe," Peng Kai muttered, his voice cracking. "Everything will be fine... the Tang Clan will be no more... hehehehe."

Li Qiu stormed into the room, her worry finally boiling over. She grabbed his sweat-slicked shoulder, shaking him. "What do you mean, Kai? What are you going to do? Answer me!"

Peng Kai turned his head, his crazed expression illuminated by the flickering candlelight. "Heh... I have already given the mission to the Thousand-Ghost Syndicate. That brat and those bitches will be cold meat by dawn."

Li Qiu’s blood turned to ice. "The Thousand-Ghost Syndicate?" she gasped, her eyes filling with terror. "Kai, do you have any idea what you’ve done? You know their policies! Do you know what happens if they fail?"

"Wraith-043 is at the Peak of Golden Core Realm, and they rarely fail," Kai growled, his voice a ragged, hollow shell. He didn’t want to think about the Syndicate’s strict code.

"Why?" she shrieked, her eyes filling with tears. "Why would you gamble the clan on assassins?"

CRACK!

Peng Kai’s hand lashed out, a backhanded slap that sent Li Qiu sprawling across the debris-strewn floor. He loomed over her, his shadow dancing grotesquely on the wall. "You bitch!" he roared, his voice cracking with hysteria. "You don’t tell me what to do! You should just listen and obey!"

He crawled onto her, his movements jerky and uncoordinated, his hands tearing at her silk robes with a violent, desperate hunger. Li Qiu didn’t fight him; she simply stared at the ceiling as tears tracked through the dust on her cheeks, feeling the final, pathetic thrashing of a man who had already lost his soul.