Chapter 138
Just as Luo Fanshuang tried to rise, Ning Chen suddenly pressed her down with his hand.
“You—slow when going down, fast when coming up.”
From the previous round, he had already mastered the intricacies of her body.
Now, he could prescribe the right remedy.
Luo Fanshuang didn’t question or protest—she obeyed without a word.
Plop! Plop! Plop!
The moment she forcefully lifted herself, the suction cups detached almost instantly.
“Mmm~”
A tremble ran through her. Even with her naturally dulled senses, she couldn’t withstand it this time—a sound finally escaped her lips.
Unfortunately, since she was facing away, he couldn’t see her expression.
“Keep going. No breaks.” Seeing her standing still as if to recover, Ning Chen had no intention of allowing it.
“Yes…” This time, Luo Fanshuang responded, her voice trembling faintly.
The jade plate before him rose and fell, each retreat fiercely resisted.
Ning Chen leaned back, half-lidded eyes savoring the efficiency of full automation.
This new-model “floor cleaner” really has strong suction—what endurance!
Gradually, Luo Fanshuang’s soft whimpers grew distorted, crumbling under the strain.
Every time she surfaced, her body shuddered violently from the pressure.
Born numb, incapable of feeling?
Nonsense.
She just hadn’t been taught the right methods.
Look at her now—just a few lessons in, and she was already tirelessly diligent.
Fifty-seven, fifty-eight, fifty-nine, sixty!
The count ended. Ning Chen raised his hand, prepared to spare her—for now. There would be plenty of time later.
SMACK!
A crisp sound rang out, a bright red handprint blooming across pale snow.
“Ah!”
Luo Fanshuang’s entire body tensed, her delicate toes curling against the floor. By sheer accident, she anchored herself—gripping the ground like a stubborn octopus, even wrapping around what remained of her prey, refusing to let go.
Unlike the last one, she didn’t slide out.
Then, she collapsed back into the chair.
Her once-cold jade-like complexion now melted into springtime hues. Those indifferent, emotionless eyes now shimmered with desire, her faint pink lips parting heavily with each breath.
Her mind, conquered in such a short time, was mush—no longer capable of thought, only primal instinct.
Squelch!
Plop! Plop! Plop!
“I choose you—use Splash!”
Ning Chen smirked.
So beneath that icy exterior lies a desperate core?
Interesting. Let’s see how much she can take.
The jade plate rose and fell.
His palm fell and rose.
Moans echoed through the room.
Watching Luo Fanshuang’s brows knit in pleasure, the waiting women couldn’t help but sneer.
“Who knew Senior Sister Luo, always so aloof, would be such a slut for this?”
One whispered—just loud enough to be heard between moans.
Yeah!
Never judge by appearances.
The other female cultivators agreed inwardly.
At this rate, wouldn’t this hussy end up taking the lead?
So sneaky! They’d all agreed on sixty strikes per person!
And here she was, taking extra!
Yet none dared protest—after all, the Eldest Brother was clearly enjoying himself.
Their impatience grew.
As cultivators, with pills and spiritual energy regulating them, the initial pain of “unboxing” had long faded.
All that remained was soul-deep pleasure.
After just one round, they’d already adapted—molded into Ning Chen’s shape.
Each one craving more.
No!
Almost instantly, they reached the same conclusion.
They’d do the same.
If the Eldest Brother didn’t stop them, they’d endure the strikes—just to keep his favor longer.
By the time they finished thinking, Luo Fanshuang’s snow-white peaks had been painted crimson.
Yet even under such conditions, she persisted—measuring the depths of the cave with relentless dedication.
An indescribable haze clouded her mind. Her legs trembled uncontrollably, barely able to climb, yet she clung to her “hiking pole” with everything she had.
Finally, at the 145th thrust—and Ning Chen’s 85th slap—the system’s alarm blared.
Luo Fanshuang’s seismic activity peaked, reaching magnitude eight.
Completely spent, she collapsed.
But amusingly, even then, the secret realm refused to release Ning Chen.
As she fell forward, there was a full second of suspension before—
Plop! Plop! Plop!
—the suction finally broke.
Face-first, she prostrated at Ning Chen’s feet.
He glanced at the waiting Maid Mei, who immediately stepped forward and dragged the limp Luo Fanshuang away.
“Next.”
His voice held no trace of desire.
Since the order followed tournament rankings, Jiang Yan eagerly stepped up.
“Eldest Brother~” Her voice dripped with honeyed seduction, her steps swaying enticingly.
Women like her—once aroused—became especially wanton. Disregarding personality, she was a rare gem.
But Ning Chen didn’t care.
What did her usual temperament matter?
Before him, she’d obediently bend over and serve as his personal peach.
“Eldest Brother~, I want to face you.”
Jiang Yan tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, flaunting her charm.
Ning Chen ignored it, but since the request wasn’t unreasonable, he allowed it.
“Do as you like.”
“Thank you, Eldest Brother!” Jiang Yan was uncharacteristically polite.
Yet her nature wasn’t fully suppressed.
For example—she immediately mounted him, wild and unrestrained.
After aligning the missile to its launch trajectory, she slammed down.
Boom!
Boom!
A perfect display of “force triumphs over finesse.”
Each impact forced air in and out violently.
The engine roared—clearly a high-end model.
The only flaw? The path couldn’t fully sheath the weapon.
But with each thrust, progress was made, compressing further.
The cost? The deeper defenses had to open up.
Jiang Yan’s arched brows twisted, her mouth gaping like a suffocating fish—gulping air to fuel her momentum.
By the 30th strike, the soul-piercing spear had fully corroded.
But in turn, its tip had breached the dark abyss, discovering new frontiers.
“No! I can’t—!”
Jiang Yan gripped the armrests for balance, her voice far louder than Luo Fanshuang’s.
The overwhelming pleasure was too much.
Yet her words and actions were in complete contradiction.
“Don’t want this!” she cried—while pounding harder than anyone.
Tch. Another slut.
The same thought crossed everyone’s minds.
Soon, her sixty strikes were done.
But like her predecessor, Jiang Yan refused to leave.
She’d thought herself clever—facing him meant no spanks, right?
But she forgot one thing.
If her back had two, didn’t her front have two as well?
The only difference?
This time, Ning Chen didn’t even need to lift his hand.
SMACK!
A violent shake.
A red handprint bloomed on Jiang Yan’s left peak—sending the right one swaying.
“Eeek!” She hadn’t expected this!
Before she could react—
SMACK!
Ning Chen’s backhand struck the other side.
Good.
Now it was symmetrical.
What followed was a relentless barrage—left, right, left, right.
Compared to before, this was far more entertaining—watching the twin cherries jiggle, a visual feast to avoid monotony.