Feng raised an eyebrow at her bold declaration.

  Sister Jin’s eyes were bright and teasing, a far cry from the hunger and paranoia from when he first met her earlier. It seemed the influx of flesh and qi had greatly mollified her mood and endeared her to him.

  His status as Young Master likely helped build a degree of trust as well. They had not known each other for long, in truth. While he had seen her on occasion during the Split-Headed Carnivore’s visits to his Sect, there was never a reason for either of them to share a conversation.

  It might have been awkward beside, for Sister Jin was already a mature adult when he was but a child. The woman had not appeared to age a day since he first met her nearly a decade ago. There was little common ground to be found between them in those years.

  But it was different now. He was in the Third Realm of Cultivation, the same as hers. While he could not be said to be her equal — given the advancement in Steps and age — the gulf between them was not as wide any more.

  It was… a novelty. Very well. He would not say no to a bit of friendly flirtation. Besides…

  “I believe I already achieved that earlier, Senior Sister. Or had I imagined the offer of intimacy you so graciously gave just moments ago?”

  She made a pout before leaning to flick him against his ears lightly. He chuckled at the admonishment.

  “Not with flesh or words, that’s cheating,” she argued. “Do it with your eyes alone.”

  An unreasonable demand, especially so given his complete ineptness at courtship and flirtations. Feng was about to deny her, but then he remembered Sister Jin’s earlier mournful observation about Lianshi, of how the Young Miss was stuck with only him as a romantic companion because of their childhood engagement.

  He was already well aware of his courting inadequacies, and though Lianshi had assured him multiple times that she did not mind his lacklustre displays of affection…

  She deserved more than this half-hearted relationship, soured by his mediocrity as a partner. He wanted her to be happy.

  Hei Feng looked at Sister Jin, who had folded her legs before her while languidly leaning against the trunk of the maple tree. The sashes of her robes had somehow come undone — a deliberate act, no doubt — allowing parts of them to slip off, unveiling much of her slender shoulders, long legs, and generous cleavage. Her eyes were expectant, her posture practically inviting him to look.

  Thoughts, place, and awareness — those were the three properties of a man’s eyes she had mentioned. Feng rid his mind of lust, ignoring the natural impulse to gaze upon the disciple’s creamy expanse of snow-white thighs, or the round fullness of her breasts exposed by her slipping robes, or perhaps the—

  No, stop. Focus, focus…

  It took a few tries, much to his shame and the amusement of the Senior Sister. In Feng’s defence, he was still a male teenager, and their kind were prone to behave like a boar in rut when in the presence of a beautiful, half-naked woman.

  The Sister was right about one thing, however: her body was a temple to beauty, and there were sights to savour wherever his eyes landed. The lithe muscles of her abdomen went taut as she stretched, accentuating the smooth breadth of their defined contours. His gaze fell upon the dimple of her navel, its bewitching shape almost tempting him to kiss it.

  His eyes went higher, tracing detail after detail: the elegant lines of her collarbone, the smoothness of her nape, the verdant tips of her neck-length hair, whose colours brought out the emerald in her eyes.

  The lushness of her lashes, the rich shades of black and velvet that artfully darkened the crease and corners of her gaze.

  The petal-light softness of her lips, as if made for him to bite.

  All this he saw, and they made him realise she was more beautiful than he had first thought of her. Dozens of minute details that he had missed, distracted as he was by her curves, directed by the baser lust of his body.

  Senior Sister Jin was right. There was more to a woman’s attractiveness than he realised. He was young, so perhaps his inexperience could be blamed, yet it did not resolve the issue of how his inexperience might burden the union between him and Lianshi.

  Had he ever looked at his Fiancée with such attentiveness? Or had he always been too afraid of her to do so?

  In those rare moments of intimacy he shared with her, during her visits, it was always him that shied away first. Always him who broke the kiss or pulled from their touch when their experimentations grew bolder. Lianshi always accepted his hesitation, of course, but he would be a fool not to see the hurt or dissatisfaction in her eyes whenever he did so.

  If he looked at her as he did to Sister Jin now… Would things be easier? Could he learn to fall for her properly, as a husband should?

  He will learn to love her. He must not accept anything less.

  The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

  When Feng met the serpent-green of Sister Jin’s eyes again, it was the older disciple who blushed and looked away first. Feng blinked and backed away, realising that at some point the two of them had unknowingly inched rather close to each other.

  “Ah, sorry,” he apologised, oddly flustered. “Was I staring too much?”

  “N-no, it’s just…” she stuttered. “I wasn’t expecting this much intensity from you.”

  Feng flinched. He moved to stand. “We can stop if you’re uncomf—”

  “Don’t stop.”

  The female disciple grabbed his wrist, pulling him back down. She looked at him intently. “Keep going.”

  Feng slowly sat back down. The way she looked at him, filled with anticipation and yearning… He felt something warm stir within him.

  “Tell me what you want,” she ordered, her snake-like emerald eyes sharpening into slits, bewitching him. “With your gaze alone. Make me feel beautiful. Wanted.”

  Wanted… What did he want? How can he make her feel his desire?

  His throat, he realised, was parched. Not just from lust, but a baser thirst as well. More than that, his qi reserves were nearing depletion. His repeated spiritual exertions and loss of bodily flesh had strained the balance of his soul. Normally, some Spirit Wine would be sought to alleviate his woes, but there was none nearby. Except…

  Feng eyed the gentle slope of Sister Jin’s neck, listening to the thrum of rushing life force within its veins as her heart drummed faster. He leaned forward, while the female disciple rested further against the trunk of the tree, angling her body back as he propped himself over her.

  His hands reached for her rounded hip, pulling her close, while hers slipped into the small of his back and drew him towards her. She tilted her head away, presenting her vulnerable throat to the mercy of his lips.

  Almost instinctively, Feng’s mouth sought for the swan length of her neck. His lips trailed the pale smoothness of her skin. When he inhaled, he could smell the fragrant scent of her sweat, flowery and inviting. He kissed her nape, tasting the excitement that exuded from her. The breath of her contented sighs sounded like the sweetest music in the world.

  He backed away slightly, once more looking into her eyes, asking for permission. She chuckled, eyes twinkling with amusement. “Go ahead.”

  Jin’s arms wrapped around him, while his hands gently grasped the back of her head and collar. Her breath hitched when his tongue traced her neck, seeking the right spot. His hunger was a raging beast now. Once he found the vein, Feng no longer hesitated.

  Qi reinforced his teeth, and he bit down against the iron-hard skin of her neck. Resistance was met, but eventually, his sharpened incisors broke through. Blood — hot, sweet, and so, so vibrant — poured into his mouth, and the Young Master drank. Deeply, greedily, like a babe nursed on a mother’s milk. Sister Jin crooned, her voice quivering in encouragement and pleasure. Her hand held his head in place as he drank, stroking tenderly with maternal-like affection.

  The iron-rich sweetness of her blood filled his throat, and his qi flared back to life. The female disciple’s advancement was not lacking, and her essence tasted richer than any Spirit Wine he ever had. For a minute, the two stayed in place, with Jin murmuring encouragements while Feng drank his full.

  Until finally, the Young Master’s thirst was sated, and Feng licked the wound clean before shakily backing away. The bite marks on her skin were already healed over, leaving out a trace save for the trail of saliva on her neck.

  “Better?” she asked, voice breathy and hot.

  Feng nodded, not trusting himself to speak as the high of her blood rushed into his head.

  The Young Master felt alive again, but he knew the effects to only be temporary. Blood was not an effective long-term substitute for alleviating qi Hunger, only a remedy to counter its debilitating effects. For true satiation, proper flesh and meat will be required.

  But for the moment, his soul was no longer as strained. His mind felt heady with energy, and his body had regained its vigour. Perhaps too much, given the way it was now visibly reacting to Jin’s warmth and closeness.

  “Hmm, someone’s excited,” Sister Jin teased. Her fingers made circles around his back. “Perhaps you would like to continue where we left off earlier?”

  He took a breath to calm himself, an act that did not help much due to her proximity and scent, but it sufficed in reigning in his immediate impulse to give in to lust-filled hunger.

  “That would be taking things too far,” he said, resolutely not looking at her as he pulled her — his? — robes back over her shoulder. “It is cruel to tease a Promised man, and improper besides, considering he is to wed the very Mistress that you serve.”

  “For the record, I would not have actually taken you to bed even if you agreed,” she stated sheepishly. “Although I do concur that the teasing was a little too much of me.”

  “What a coincidence. I concur with that statement as well.”

  That voice came from neither of them, but it was a voice both of them knew very well. Sister Jin’s face paled instantly, while Feng gave an amused huff at her reaction before smiling knowingly.

  They both whirled around, and saw the glare of Young Mistress Lianshi standing not four metres away from them, arms crossed and looking very displeased.

  Cultivator’s Harems and Seraglios, Part 2

  The institution of having multiple spouses is often times complex, with varying practices and meanings across different Clans, Provinces, and Sects. However, the typical definitions of a cultivator’s polygamous relation are as follows:

  If the superior and primary cultivator within a marriage is male, their group of spouses is referred to as his ‘harem.’ If the superior is female, then the group is referred to as her ‘seraglio’. Lesser male spouses are referred to as ‘consorts’, while lesser female spouses are called ‘concubines’.

  There is no strict rule for the gender composition of a cultivator’s harem or seraglio. A harem might not be solely composed of female concubines, and may hold positions for male consorts if it suits the cultivator’s preference. The same holds true for seraglios, which may contain concubines alongside consorts despite the primary cultivator being female.

  Though extremely uncommon, it is not entirely unheard of for a lesser cultivator to possess multiple superior cultivators as their spouses in harems and seraglios, rather than the other way around. Usually, this would only occur if the primary partner’s political position holds significant weight over their spouses, such as in the case of Clan Heirs or Nobles.

  As a final note, while love is a fine thing to have in a marriage, it is considered a secondary benefit and not the main focus in any relationship. Any cultivator who marries purely for love while disregarding all other political or strategic factors is usually scorned heavily by others. Such childish behaviour holds no place among the Path and demonstrates a complete lack of sense that ill-fits any would-be seeker of Immortality.

  — Excerpt from To Those Worthy of the Eternal Banquet