Villain: Manipulating the Heroines into hating the Protagonist

Chapter 1031: Forging the Tribulation Bastion

The volcanic smelting cavern situated deep beneath the central peak of the third outer island possessed an atmosphere that closely resembled the lowest depths of a fiery purgatory. Here, thousands of feet below the surface of the churning ocean, the raw, unbridled fury of subterranean magma violently intersected with highly pressurized deep-sea thermal vents. The resulting environment was a crucible of unimaginable thermal heat dispersion and crushing physical pressure.

Massive, jagged walls of hyper-compressed obsidian formed the boundaries of the expansive underground chamber. The dark stone was completely slick with condensation, weeping constant streams of boiling mineral water that hissed and evaporated the moment they struck the sprawling pools of thick, sluggishly bubbling magma covering the cavern floor. The air itself was a physical burden, thick with the choking stench of burning sulfur, heavily laden with localized spatial friction, and radiating a temperature capable of instantly carbonizing the flesh of any ordinary mortal.

Wang Jian stood perfectly still at the absolute center of the cavern, his tall, heavily muscled frame completely devoid of any protective garments from the waist up. The intense, hellish glow of the magma pools illuminated the flawless, diamond-like luster of his skin, a direct, physical manifestation of his Stellar Demonic Meridian Scripture operating at peak capacity. His broad chest rose and fell in a slow, incredibly measured rhythm, each exhalation venting a visible plume of superheated white steam into the oppressive air.

He stared intently at the massive, raw blocks of deep-sea ores resting upon a colossal, flat-topped anvil carved entirely from a single, unbroken piece of Heavenly-Strike Meteorite Ore.

For the past ninety days, the sect had existed in a state of hyper-focused, relentless preparation. The grand undertaking had completely consumed their vast, newly acquired resources. Within the absolute, lightless depths of the deepest closed-door meditation chamber in the upper pavilion, Mu Lianhua remained entirely sealed away. Wang Jian’s incredibly potent, high-grade Yang essence, combined with the miraculous restorative properties of the Verdant Eternal Spring Essence he had relentlessly pumped into her voluptuous body, had entirely repaired her shattered foundation. Now, her internal Golden Core had fully accumulated the required, maximum spiritual density. She was no longer cultivating; she was actively compressing the immense, volatile energies within her Dantian, preparing to forcefully shatter the core and birth her Nascent Soul.

The Heavenly Thunder Tribulation would arrive the moment she stepped out of that chamber. The catastrophic, descending celestial lightning of a Nascent Soul breakthrough possessed enough raw, destructive power to instantly vaporize low-grade and mid-grade Spirit Tools upon contact. Standard defensive arrays would shatter under the sheer kinetic weight of the heavens.

They required specialized, tribulation-dispelling armaments.

“The structural integrity of the base metals must be flawless, Husband,” Yue Lingshan called out, her voice amplified by a localized, wind-attribute sound-carrying technique to pierce through the deafening roar of the bubbling magma.

Yue Lingshan stood fifty paces away, perched precariously upon a narrow ledge of cooling basalt. She wore a specialized, form-fitting set of pristine white robes woven entirely from Thousand-Year Spirit-Silk, though the extreme heat of the cavern had already soaked the fabric through, causing it to cling tightly to the lush, soft curves of her wide hips and heavy breasts. Her beautiful, virtuous face was pale, coated in a thick sheen of sweat, yet her eyes remained entirely focused. She held a cluster of seven glowing, incredibly heavy Earth-Suppressing Formation Plates carved from deep-sea coral, continuously weaving highly complex, ancient hand-seals to manually stabilize the chaotic, shifting thermal currents of the cavern.

“The ambient Fire-attribute Qi is actively attempting to reject the heavy physical density of the Nine-Folded Profound Iron,” Yue Lingshan reported, her delicate fingers trembling slightly as she forcefully channeled her pure Wood and Water-attribute Qi down into the bedrock, actively fighting the geological pressure. “If the thermal heat dispersion is not perfectly regulated, the internal runic matrices we intend to carve will fracture before the metal even cools.”

“Maintain your focus on the outer perimeter containment arrays, Lingshan,” Wang Jian instructed, his voice a low, heavy rumble that carried absolute authority. “Do not allow the subterranean magma to breach the primary seal. I will handle the thermal subjugation of the ores.”

Yue Lingshan nodded deeply, her heart swelling with profound admiration and unconditional love for her capable, powerful husband. She immediately turned her complete attention back to her heavy formation plates, entirely oblivious to the dark, deeply depraved reality unfolding just mere paces behind her husband’s back.

Wang Jian turned his gaze away from his virtuous wife and looked toward the three mature, exceptionally beautiful women standing in a precise, submissive semi-circle near the base of the massive anvil.

Lin Wanyue, the aristocratic former wife of City Lord Hai Kuo, stood at the forefront. She wore a modest, high-collared purple silk dress that desperately attempted to conceal the massive, incredibly heavy proportions of her enormous breasts and wide, child-bearing hips. The extreme heat of the cavern had caused the fine silk to plaster itself aggressively against her skin, highlighting the prominent, hard peaks of her nipples pressing against the fabric. Her flawless, mature face was flushed a deep, vibrant crimson, not just from the environmental heat, but from the intense, shameful arousal currently pooling between her thighs under Wang Jian’s dark, commanding stare.

To her left stood Shangguan Wan’er, the supreme head of the Golden-Scale Auction House branch, dressed in a sleek, form-fitting black gown. To her right stood Hua Yimei, the mature Sect Leader of the Fragrance Melody Sect, wrapped in a deep crimson dress. All three women were currently bound to Wang Jian by profound slave seals, their minds completely broken and reshaped to crave his absolute dominance, entirely hiding their true, degraded nature from Yue Lingshan’s innocent eyes.

“Lin Wanyue,” Wang Jian commanded coldly, dispensing entirely with the polite, scholarly facade he maintained in front of his wife. “Step forward. Ignite the forge.”

“Yes, Master,” Lin Wanyue whispered breathlessly, her voice thick with immediate, unquestioning obedience.

She stepped up to the edge of the massive meteorite anvil. She possessed a True Water Root, an elemental affinity that fundamentally clashed with the fiery environment. However, Wang Jian had forcefully implanted the Crimson Sun-Marrow Flame directly into her Dantian during their time in the True Monarch’s tomb, establishing a terrifying, highly volatile water-fire equilibrium within her internal meridians.

Lin Wanyue raised both of her delicate, trembling hands, palms facing the massive, black-colored ingots of Nine-Folded Profound Iron resting upon the stone. She closed her eyes, drawing in a sharp, deep breath that caused her massive breasts to heave violently against the tight constraints of her soaked purple silk dress.

She forcefully tapped into her Golden Core, dragging the deeply dormant, alien heat up through her central meridian channel. The sheer physical pain of moving the Heavenly Flame through her water-aligned pathways caused her to let out a soft, highly erotic whimper, her thighs instinctively clenching together.

Suddenly, a thick, viscous, blood-red fire erupted from the center of her palms.

The Crimson Sun-Marrow Flame roared to life. It did not behave like standard fire; it poured from her hands like a heavy, boiling liquid, sloshing heavily over the jagged surface of the raw Nine-Folded Profound Iron. The moment the heavenly flame made contact with the pitch-black metal, the ambient temperature within the immediate vicinity of the anvil spiked to an unimaginable, terrifying intensity. The solid rock floor beneath Lin Wanyue’s boots immediately began to melt, turning into slick, glowing slag.

Wang Jian stepped directly behind Lin Wanyue. He did not maintain a respectful distance. He closed the gap entirely, pressing the hard, heavily muscled plains of his bare chest directly against the soft, yielding curve of her broad back. He reached around her waist with his large, calloused left hand, his fingers completely bypassing the fabric of her dress to grip the bare, soft flesh of her lower stomach, pulling her lush, incredibly heavy hips firmly back against his groin.

Lin Wanyue gasped sharply, her eyes flying open as the sudden, overwhelming sensation of his thick, hard manhood pressing against her backside sent a violent shockwave of pure, undiluted lust directly through her nervous system.

“Keep the thermal output perfectly stable, Wanyue,” Wang Jian whispered directly into her ear, his hot breath sending violent shivers down her spine. His right hand moved upwards, casually cupping one of her massive, heavy breasts through the soaked silk, his thumb roughly flicking the stiff, sensitive nipple. “If the heat fluctuates, the metal will reject the folding process. And if you fail me, I will punish you right here, in front of the others.”

“I… I will not fail, Master,” Lin Wanyue whimpered, her voice dripping with extreme desperation and profound arousal.

She leaned her heavy body back into his dominant embrace, using his solid physical frame as a structural anchor as she pushed every single ounce of her Core Formation Qi into the Crimson Sun-Marrow Flame. The thick, bloody fire intensified, clinging to the Nine-Folded Profound Iron like a ravenous beast.

Slowly, agonizingly, the impossibly dense, black-colored ingots began to soften. The sharp, jagged edges of the profound iron gradually rounded out, the exterior surface shifting from a light-absorbing obsidian hue to a terrifying, glowing cherry-red. The raw physical density of the metal fiercely resisted the thermal breakdown, producing massive, localized spatial distortions that caused the air around the anvil to physically warp and ripple.

“The metal has reached optimal viscosity,” Wang Jian declared, his tone shifting into absolute, clinical focus.

He released his deeply intimate grip on Lin Wanyue’s body, stepping up to the anvil. He reached down and grasped the haft of a massive, incredibly heavy forging hammer. The tool was forged entirely from pure, unadulterated Star-Core Iron, possessing a raw kinetic weight capable of crushing a Foundation Establishment cultivator into fine paste with a single, unassisted drop.

Wang Jian lifted the massive hammer effortlessly, his arm muscles bulging to impossible proportions. The Stellar Demonic Qi in his veins surged, turning his skin into a terrifying, abyssal void that completely absorbed the blinding glare of the molten iron.

He planted his feet firmly upon the melting stone, aligning his spine, his hips, and his shoulders to generate absolute, unimpeded kinetic transfer. He raised the Star-Core Iron hammer high above his head, the heavy metal tearing through the thick air with a high-pitched scream.

He brought the hammer down.

CLANG.

The physical impact was deafening. The massive, ringing sound wave exploded outward, physically slamming into the cavern walls and causing the stalactites overhead to violently shatter and plummet into the magma pools. A blinding shower of superheated, glowing orange sparks erupted from the strike point, scattering across the anvil and burning small, hissing holes into the stone floor.

The heavy, viscous block of glowing Nine-Folded Profound Iron instantly flattened under the crushing physical weight of the blow, expelling a visible, screaming jet of trapped air and structural impurities.

Wang Jian did not pause for even a fraction of a second. He utilized the immense kinetic rebound of the strike to carry the heavy hammer back up over his shoulder in a fluid, continuous arc. He adjusted his footing, shifting his weight perfectly, and brought the hammer crashing down again.

CLANG.

He was executing the ancient ‘Earth-Shattering Forge Method’. He struck the molten iron a third time, a fourth time, a fifth time. Each blow was delivered with terrifying, absolute precision, driving the molecular structure of the heavy metal closer and closer together, completely eliminating any microscopic air pockets or structural flaws that could conduct celestial lightning.

By the twenty-first strike, sweat was pouring freely down Wang Jian’s heavily muscled chest and back, his physical exertion matching the incredible spiritual drain of the forging process. He reached out with his left hand, grabbing a heavy pair of inscribed iron tongs. He effortlessly flipped the flattened, glowing slab of profound iron over, folding the metal perfectly in half upon itself.

Lin Wanyue immediately surged her Crimson Sun-Marrow Flame, rapidly reheating the folded joint to prevent thermal stress fractures.

Wang Jian resumed his brutal, rhythmic hammering. He folded the profound iron twenty times, thirty times, forty times. With every single fold, the physical mass of the metal shrank, but its overall kinetic density increased exponentially. The glowing slab no longer flattened easily; it actively resisted the Star-Core Iron hammer, producing bone-rattling shockwaves that traveled straight up Wang Jian’s forearms, threatening to tear his muscle fibers apart.

Finally, on the forty-ninth fold, Wang Jian delivered a singular, devastating downward strike that utilized every ounce of his Stellar Flesh Reinforcement.

CLANG!

The shockwave blasted outward, entirely extinguishing a nearby pool of bubbling magma. The metal stopped glowing cherry-red. It stabilized into a heavy, thick, incredibly dense rectangular slab.

“The physical reconstruction is complete,” Wang Jian panted heavily, his chest heaving as he lowered the Star-Core Iron hammer. “Now, the runic integration.”

He discarded the hammer and drew his demonic saber, ‘Blood’s Thirst’. He channeled his highly compressed, volatile Stellar Demonic Qi directly into the tip of the blade, generating a razor-sharp, dark point of spatial-rending energy. He leaned over the cooling slab of folded profound iron and began to carve.

He moved with frantic, terrifying speed. He etched highly complex, deeply intricate lightning-diverting runic matrices across the broad surface of the metal. He did not carve standard defensive barriers; he inscribed a specialized, conductive routing system designed to forcefully capture the chaotic, localized energy of the Heavenly Thunder, funnel it across the dense molecular structure of the Nine-Folded Profound Iron, and aggressively disperse the celestial kinetic force directly downward into the deep-sea bedrock.

As Wang Jian carved the final, anchoring rune, he stepped back. The newly forged masterwork rested upon the anvil. It was the Nine-Heavens Iron Severing Bastion, reconstructed and optimized to serve as the ultimate, unyielding shield against the wrath of the heavens.

“Wan’er,” Wang Jian barked, not taking his eyes off the cooling shield. “Your turn. The Abyssal Star-Iron.”

Shangguan Wan’er stepped forward immediately, her pale blue eyes entirely devoid of their usual mercantile calculation, replaced with absolute, slavish devotion. She moved to a secondary, smaller anvil situated to the right.

She retrieved a large, intricately carved abacus from her spatial ring. The frame was crafted from thousand-year spirit-wood, and the beads were polished pearls of high-grade spiritual jade. However, this standard configuration was utterly insufficient to withstand the ambient pressure of Nascent Soul level combat, let alone the direct strikes of Heavenly Thunder.

She reached into a specialized, frost-jade stasis box resting beside the anvil and withdrew a handful of incredibly thin, shimmering threads of pure Abyssal Star-Iron. The threads were so physically heavy that her delicate wrists visibly strained to lift them, the spatial metals actively warping the air around her fingertips.

Shangguan Wan’er began the painstaking, highly complex process of integration. She channeled her Peak Core Formation Qi, wrapping her spiritual energy around the Star-Iron threads. She carefully, meticulously dismantled the wooden frame of her abacus. Using a specialized, high-heat array pen, she bored microscopic channels directly through the center of each jade bead.

She then threaded the heavy, spatial-rending Abyssal Star-Iron directly through the beads, entirely replacing the wooden structural rods with the dense, unbreakable spatial metal. The process required absolute, flawless precision. A single millimeter of misalignment would cause the spatial friction of the Star-Iron to violently shatter the jade beads into dust.

Sweat beaded on Shangguan Wan’er’s forehead as she secured the final thread, locking the heavily upgraded artifact into place. The new ‘Celestial-Tide Abacus’ hummed with a deep, terrifying resonance. The integration of the Abyssal Star-Iron massively enhanced its computational speed, allowing her heavily refined Divine Sense to instantly calculate microscopic stress fractures in massive defensive arrays during a high-speed crisis, granting her the ability to predict and deflect incoming tribulation strikes before they even fully formed.

“Yimei,” Wang Jian commanded, shifting his gaze to the voluptuous Sect Leader.

Hua Yimei stepped up to the third forging station. She summoned her signature Lifebound Magical Treasure, the Crimson Phoenix Zither. The heavy, beautiful instrument floated before her, its thick strings glowing with a dull, threatening heat.

However, the standard wooden bridges that elevated the strings above the zither’s body were structural weak points. They would instantly combust under the extreme, concentrated thermal heat of a descending thunderbolt.

Hua Yimei reached into her spatial ring and withdrew three large, jagged, bone-white fragments. They were ancient dragon-bone studs, harvested from the skeletal remains of a Fifth-Grade deep-sea wyrm. She utilized a specialized, diamond-tipped carving knife, forcefully channeling her Core Formation Qi into her hands as she aggressively sawed and filed the incredibly hard bone fragments down into perfect, heavily grooved bridges.

She forcefully wedged the carved dragon-bone studs beneath the thick, fire-serpent vocal cord strings of her zither, tightly securing the heavy cords.

“The glacial brine,” Wang Jian instructed, his eyes tracking the structural tension of the instrument.

Hua Yimei immediately lifted a large, heavy iron bucket filled with thick, slushy, pale-blue liquid. It was pure, highly concentrated glacial brine, harvested from the extreme northern ice floes, possessing a temperature so low it actively froze the ambient spiritual energy in the air.

She lifted the heavily modified Crimson Phoenix Zither and forcefully plunged the entire wooden frame and the newly installed dragon-bone bridges directly into the bucket of glacial brine.

HSSSSSSSSSS!

A massive, violent cloud of freezing, opaque white steam erupted from the bucket, instantly filling that section of the cavern. The extreme, violent shift in temperature—from the boiling heat of the volcanic forge to the absolute zero of the glacial brine—caused the wood and the bone to rapidly contract, heavily fortifying the structural density of the artifact.

When Hua Yimei pulled the zither from the brine, the wood had turned a deep, frosted black, and the dragon-bone studs possessed a terrifying, unyielding rigidity. The weapon was now fully capable of channeling her absolute maximum sonic fire-qi to unleash heavy, physical sound waves capable of violently deflecting falling thunderbolts off their trajectory.

Suddenly, a massive, violent tremor shook the entire cavern.

The jagged obsidian floor violently bucked upward. The massive pools of thick, bubbling magma surged, the fiery liquid splashing dangerously high, slapping against the stone walls. The ambient thermal currents in the air rapidly spiraled out of control, creating a localized, highly destructive elemental backlash. The opposing forces of Lin Wanyue’s Crimson Sun-Marrow Flame, the cooling Nine-Folded Profound Iron, and the extreme cold of the glacial brine had severely destabilized the underground environment.

“The subterranean ley lines are collapsing!” Yue Lingshan screamed in terror, her beautiful face instantly draining of color as she desperately pushed her hands downward.

The heavy, deep-sea coral formation plates she held began to violently shake, glowing with an unstable, erratic green light as the immense, crushing physical weight of the shifting tectonic plates threatened to shatter her arrays entirely.

“Hold the perimeter, Lingshan!” Wang Jian roared, his voice cutting through the deafening sound of grinding bedrock. He did not rush to help her. He knew her capabilities.

Yue Lingshan gritted her teeth, biting her lower lip so hard a drop of crimson blood welled up. She entirely abandoned her defensive posture. She threw her body forward, dropping to her knees directly upon the dangerously hot, shaking basalt ledge. She slammed her bloodied palms flat against the stone, channeling every single drop of her pure, highly refined Wood and Water-attribute Qi directly into the seven Earth-Suppressing Formation Plates.

“Nine-Palaces Subjugation: Earth-Locking Roots!” Yue Lingshan chanted, her voice straining with immense physical and spiritual effort.

The seven heavy coral plates shot out from her position, slamming violently into the shaking walls of the cavern, embedding themselves deeply into the obsidian. Massive, thick, glowing green roots of pure spiritual energy erupted from the plates, violently spreading across the cavern floor and walls like a rapidly growing, parasitic vine. The spiritual roots aggressively dug into the fracturing bedrock, physically binding the shifting tectonic plates together, forcefully dragging the erratic thermal currents back into a state of rigid, highly structured equilibrium.

The violent tremor slowly subsided. The magma pools settled back into a low, sluggish boil. The cavern stopped shaking.

Yue Lingshan collapsed forward onto her hands and knees, her chest heaving violently, gasping for breath. Her pristine white Spirit-Silk robes were entirely ruined, soaked in sweat and coated in dark grey ash. Her spiritual reserves were completely, utterly drained.

Wang Jian moved with blinding speed. He crossed the cavern in a single leap, landing softly beside his exhausted wife. He immediately knelt down, wrapping his large, muscular arms around her trembling body, pulling her securely against his broad, bare chest.

“You did perfectly, my love,” Wang Jian murmured softly, his voice dripping with profound, feigned concern and deep affection. He gently brushed the sweat-dampened hair from her pale face, kissing her forehead tenderly. “Your arrays held the line. You saved the forge.”

Yue Lingshan leaned heavily into his strong, protective embrace, a weak, happy smile touching her lips despite her extreme exhaustion. “I… I could not let the artifacts shatter, Husband. Not when you worked so hard.”

Wang Jian easily scooped her up into his arms, carrying her bridal style. He turned toward the tunnel leading back up to the surface.

“You have exhausted your Dantian, Lingshan,” Wang Jian said gently. “You must return to the upper pavilion and enter deep meditation immediately to prevent foundational damage. The forging is complete. I only need to oversee the final cooling process and properly store the raw materials.”

“But… the others…” Yue Lingshan protested weakly, looking over Wang Jian’s broad shoulder toward the three women standing near the anvils.

“They are fine. They are sturdy,” Wang Jian assured her smoothly, carrying her into the tunnel. “Go. Rest. I will join you shortly.”

He carried her all the way up the long, winding stone stairs, ensuring she was safely deposited within her private, heavily warded meditation chamber in the upper pavilion. He kissed her deeply one last time, watching with a loving smile as she closed her eyes and immediately entered a state of profound spiritual recovery.

Then, Wang Jian closed the heavy stone door. The loving, devoted husband vanished entirely, replaced by a cold, calculating, and incredibly demanding tyrant.

He walked back down the dark tunnel, his heavy boots echoing loudly against the stone. When he re-entered the sweltering volcanic forge, the atmosphere had shifted entirely.

The three refined tribulation artifacts—the Nine-Heavens Iron Severing Bastion, the Celestial-Tide Abacus, and the Crimson Phoenix Zither—had fully cooled, settling into a dull, light-absorbing obsidian hue that radiated a heavy, terrifying physical density.

But Wang Jian ignored the artifacts.

He looked at Lin Wanyue, Shangguan Wan’er, and Hua Yimei. The three mature, breathtakingly beautiful women were standing in a line near the central anvil. They had not moved a single inch since he left. They stood with their heads bowed, their hands clasped submissively in front of them. The extreme heat of the cavern had thoroughly soaked their elegant dresses, the fine fabrics clinging aggressively to every single lush curve, highlighting the heavy weight of their massive breasts and the wide flare of their hips.

The grueling, intense physical exertion of the forging process, combined with the lingering adrenaline from the near-collapse of the cavern, had left Wang Jian’s highly conditioned body buzzing with a heavy, primal need for release.

“The work is done,” Wang Jian stated, his voice a low, dark vibration that echoed in the silent cavern. “But my muscles remain incredibly tense. The physical feedback from the Star-Core Iron hammer was severe.”

Lin Wanyue, the aristocratic wife, immediately stepped forward, falling gracefully to her knees upon the hot, ash-covered stone floor. She did not hesitate. She reached out with trembling, delicate hands and grasped the waistband of Wang Jian’s trousers.

“Allow this lowly servant to ease your tension, Master,” Lin Wanyue whispered, her voice completely devoid of any aristocratic pride, filled only with absolute, desperate submission.

She pulled his trousers down, freeing his massive, heavily engorged manhood. She leaned forward, her large, heavy breasts spilling out from the soaked neckline of her purple silk dress, pressing against his thighs as she opened her mouth and took him deeply inside. She moaned softly, a wet, highly erotic sound that echoed loudly in the hot cavern, her tongue swirling hungrily, eagerly serving the man who had completely shattered her dignified life.

Shangguan Wan’er and Hua Yimei did not wait for an invitation.

Shangguan Wan’er, the dignified merchant queen, stepped behind Wang Jian. She pressed her lush, incredibly soft body entirely against his broad, sweaty back. She reached her arms around his waist, her hands moving expertly across his heavily corded abdominal muscles, massaging the tense, aching flesh with highly refined, specialized acupoint techniques. She pressed her face into the crook of his neck, her hot breath ghosting across his skin as she began to eagerly kiss and suckle the side of his throat, her hips grinding rhythmically against his backside.

Hua Yimei, the proud Sect Leader, dropped to her knees beside Lin Wanyue. She aggressively tore the collar of her crimson dress open, entirely exposing her massive, heavily veined breasts to the sweltering heat. She leaned in close, her hands joining Lin Wanyue’s, actively helping the aristocratic woman service him. Hua Yimei’s tongue traced the base of his shaft, her eyes rolled back in pure, degraded ecstasy as she submitted herself entirely to his dark desires.

Wang Jian tilted his head back, letting out a low, heavy groan of profound satisfaction.

He stood there in the center of the sweltering, volcanic forge, surrounded by the terrifying, newly minted tribulation artifacts, while three of the most powerful, dignified, and beautiful women in the surrounding sea domains eagerly, desperately degraded themselves on their knees to service his lust. The absolute, undeniable contrast between their highly respected public positions and their secret, filthy reality as his personal sluts fueled his Heavenly Yang Divine Physique, causing a massive surge of fiery, potent energy to flood his meridians.

He reached down, grabbing Lin Wanyue roughly by the hair, forcing her head down deeper, aggressively dictating the pace. His large right hand reached over to grab Hua Yimei’s heavy, exposed breast, squeezing the soft flesh so hard his fingers left dark, bruising marks, causing the Sect Leader to let out a sharp, breathless gasp of pain and intense pleasure.

They remained in the hot, sulfurous cavern for over an hour. Wang Jian thoroughly, ruthlessly used their voluptuous bodies, taking out every ounce of his forging tension on their yielding flesh. He took Lin Wanyue forcefully over the massive meteorite anvil, her heavy breasts flattening against the warm stone while Shangguan Wan’er eagerly serviced him from the front, deeply swallowing his essence while Yue Lingshan remained completely, blissfully unaware in the pavilion above.

When Wang Jian finally finished, the three women lay collapsed upon the cavern floor, their beautiful faces flushed, their elegant dresses completely ruined and discarded, their bodies covered in sweat and his potent essence. They looked utterly exhausted, yet their eyes shone with a profound, sickeningly deep sense of absolute fulfillment.

Wang Jian casually adjusted his robes, looking down at his broken, devoted tools.

“Clean yourselves up,” Wang Jian ordered, his tone entirely dismissing the intense intimacy they had just shared. “Gather the artifacts. It is time.”

Before the women could even sit up, a massive, terrifying spiritual fluctuation violently slammed down from the ceiling of the cavern.

The sheer spiritual pressure was so immense, so incredibly dense, that it physically pushed the ambient heat waves away, dropping the temperature of the volcanic forge by twenty degrees in a single second. The thick, oppressive air grew instantly thin, screaming as localized spatial tears began to form along the obsidian walls.

Wang Jian looked up, his dark eyes narrowing with intense, calculated anticipation.

The heavy stone doors leading to the deepest, most secure subterranean chambers slowly ground open.

Mu Lianhua stepped out into the corridor.

The former Sect Mistress of the Crimson Pill Sect was entirely transformed. She wore a simple, unadorned robe of dark green silk, yet she radiated an aura that was completely, utterly terrifying. The ambient Fire-attribute Qi in the cavern actively bent away from her, subjugated entirely by the overwhelming, concentrated density of her presence. She was no longer just a Peak Late-Stage Core Formation expert.

She stood upon the absolute, razor-thin threshold of the Nascent Soul Realm. Her internal Golden Core was vibrating so violently that a faint, audible hum resonated from her chest, producing a visible, golden-azure halo of light that illuminated her beautiful, mature face.

She walked slowly, deliberately toward the center of the cavern, completely ignoring the ruined, naked state of the other women on the floor. Her eyes were fixed entirely on Wang Jian.

Wang Jian stepped forward. He reached down to the cooling anvil and picked up the massive, pitch-black Nine-Heavens Iron Severing Bastion. He held the heavy artifact out to her.

“The vessel is ready, Lianhua,” Wang Jian stated, his voice devoid of all warmth, holding only the heavy, absolute gravity of a commander sending his soldier into war.

Mu Lianhua reached out. Her delicate hands grasped the thick, heavy handle of the shield. Despite the astronomical physical weight of the Star-Core Iron and the Nine-Folded Profound Iron, her massively reinforced physical vessel did not tremble. She lifted the shield effortlessly, strapping it securely to her left forearm.

She then reached out with her right hand, taking up the heavy, intricate central array plate carved from pure, translucent Zenith-Lotus jade.

Mu Lianhua looked at Wang Jian, her eyes burning with an intense, unyielding fire. She did not kneel. She did not beg for his touch. In this singular, profound moment, she was not his submissive slave; she was a sovereign cultivator stepping onto the battlefield against the laws of the universe itself.

“My core is at maximum density, Master,” Mu Lianhua reported, her voice carrying a terrifying, dual-layered resonance that sounded as though two distinct voices were speaking simultaneously from her throat. “I can no longer contain the expansion. The heavens have locked onto my coordinate.”

Wang Jian nodded slowly.

“Then go,” Wang Jian commanded, his starlit eyes flashing with dark, absolute certainty. “Shatter the heavens, Lianhua. Ascend.”

Mu Lianhua turned. She did not look back. She gripped the Nine-Heavens Iron Severing Bastion tightly, her aura exploding violently outward as she blurred into a streak of green light, shooting directly up the primary access tunnel, heading straight for the surface of the island, where the dark, terrifying storm clouds of the Heavenly Thunder Tribulation were already beginning to gather, blotting out the sun.