The abandoned fortress rose from the misty valley like forgotten bones—ancient imperial outpost, wards half-crumbled but strong enough to hide their qi signatures. Tie Lan led them through hidden gates, her iron-gray armor still dented from the duel, black hair loose now, framing a face softened by the new bond. Her forces had sworn uneasy oaths, camping outside as bodyguards.
Inside the main hall, torchlight flickered over stone walls etched with old battle murals. Wei Chen's pride claimed the space—robes and armor shed, bodies glowing from the day's victories.
Tie Lan stood before him, steel eyes locked on his golden sun brand. "My oath is given," she said, voice low but steady. "Heart-Anchor binds me. But I serve properly."
Wei Chen pulled her close, hands unbuckling remaining plates. "Serve with everything, general."
She dropped to knees first—disciplined precision in every move, mouth taking him deep with controlled heat. Her tongue worked methodical, throat relaxing to swallow fully, iron core drinking Yang greedy. Wei Chen groaned, fingers threading her hair, guiding rhythm.
The pride circled warm—Lin Xue's cool hand on his thigh, Su Mei's warmth teasing his sac, Yu's primal growl approving, Zhao Ling's phoenix sparks dancing curious.
Tie Lan rose, pushing him onto a stone bench—straddling swift, guiding his length to her slick entrance. She sank disciplined slow, walls gripping command-tight. "Order me," she breathed, hips rolling precise.
Wei Chen thrust up hard—hands gripping her scarred waist. "Ride until you break."
She obeyed fierce—pace building relentless, breasts bouncing under his palms, iron essence refining his fire into forged strength. Climax hit her like a command obeyed—body arching rigid, walls clenching steel-hard as she cried his name. "Dragon—yours!"
He filled her deep, seed triggering breakthrough—her core igniting iron-gold, discipline weaving into the pride's flame as seventh strand.
They cycled together after—pride linking hands, essence flowing seamless. Tie Lan's iron steadied wild edges, turning raw power unbreakable.
Later, around a fire in the hall, scouts reported. Yu's tribe feasted outside, Zhao Ling's imperial guards integrated wary under Tie Lan's command.
But whispers came north—carried by beast runners and demon shadows.
Madam Feng. Vengeful matriarch of the fallen Feng clan. Rumors said she hunted the one who "defiled" her lineage—phoenix blood ties twisted by old betrayal. Her forces gathered: widowed generals, loyal retainers, qi cold with hate.
"She seeks the princess," Tie Lan said, sharpening her sword. "Old feud. Zhao clan destroyed Feng alliances years ago. She blames royals for her husband's death."
Zhao Ling paled, phoenix qi flickering. "I… heard stories. She's nascent soul realm. Ruthless."
Wei Chen pulled her onto his lap, hand soothing her thigh. "She comes through us now."
Lin Xue's frost qi sharpened. "We prepare. Fortify."
Su Mei grinned. "And burn if she pushes."
Yu cracked knuckles. "Fight good. Mate after."
Tie Lan nodded, oath steel in her eyes. "My sword first. She won't touch the pride."
But scouts brought more—a letter sealed in black jade, delivered by shadowed courier.
Madam Feng's words: The phoenix thief awakens. Return what was stolen, or I come for her—and the dragon who warms her bed.
Wei Chen crushed the jade in his fist, golden fire flaring.
"Let her come."
The pride closed ranks—bond humming fierce.
North winds carried cold promise.
Vengeance approached.
To be Continued
© Kishtika., 2026
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