Novel Full Chapter 386: The Saintess’s Web in the East
Chapter 386: The Saintess’s Web in the East
The climate shifted with a dramatic, undeniable finality as the grand Flying Ship of the Jade Serpent Guild left the arid, scorching boundaries of the Tagor Desert and pierced the atmospheric veils of the Eastern Prefecture. The dry, cracking heat that had baked the hull for weeks gave way to a thick, humid moisture. The scent of ozone and sand was replaced by the bracing, salty tang of the endless ocean.
Alaric stood alone at the very bow of the massive, floating fortress. The wind up here, slicing through the clouds, was fierce, but his Archmage vitality rendered it little more than a gentle breeze against his bare, sculpted chest. His black robes fluttered wildly around his legs as he looked out through the reinforced, transparent magical shielding that encapsulated the vessel. Below him, breaking through the white, fluffy expanse of the cloud layer, the dark, jewel-toned blue of the Eastern Sea stretched out to the horizon, dotted with emerald-green islands that looked like scattered jade coins upon a sapphire table.
He took a deep breath, savoring the salty air. His mind was a complex, multi-layered chessboard of geopolitical strategy and carnal conquest.
He had successfully gutted the foundation of the Flame Emperor. The Northern Prefecture and the Western fringes were entirely under his thumb. The icy perfection of Yun Lan, the fiery, mature devotion of Queen Cai Wei, and the vast, bottomless economic resources of Ya Su—all of Feng Xiao’s women and assets in those regions were now completely, irreversibly bound to his will and his bed. Furthermore, he possessed Lin Ruoli, the Jade Serpent Guildmaster. Unlike the others, Lin Ruoli had no connection to Feng Xiao’s harem; she was a variable Alaric had conquered purely through his own terrifying dominance. Yet, her utility was perhaps the greatest. Her mercantile empire was not restricted to the North; its roots dug deep into all the prefectures, with its main, beating heart located in the very capital of the Celestial Dragon Empire. Her vast network and this very Flying Ship provided him with the ultimate mobility and untraceable logistics.
But the North and the West were secured. The ’white moonlight’, Gu Ling, remained safely locked away in the impenetrable dimension of the Gu Emperor Clan, waiting for a future date. Now, Alaric’s ruby eyes were fixed entirely on the East.
He reached into his spatial ring and retrieved his Phone Artifact, tapping a single, glowing rune.
Less than a minute later, the heavy oak doors leading from the luxurious inner cabins to the observation deck slid open with a soft hiss of magical pressure.
"You summoned me, Master?"
The voice was a melodious, ringing chime of pure, unadulterated devotion.
Alaric turned. Saintess Ceanna walked onto the polished wooden deck, her bare feet making no sound. She was a breathtaking vision of corrupted holiness. As per his strict, unyielding mandate for the duration of the voyage, she was dressed in a nightgown, but hers was a terrifyingly sheer, pristine white silk that radiated a false aura of purity and sanctity.
The sea breeze, penetrating the outer shields just enough to circulate fresh air, immediately caught the thin fabric. The white silk whipped around her tall, impossibly voluptuous figure, molding itself to every spectacular curve. Her skin was a flawless, creamy, milky-white, glowing in the morning sunlight. The nightgown plunged deeply at the front, failing spectacularly to contain the sheer, massive volume of her heavy, holy breasts. They swelled and bounced with her every step, the large, dark pink nipples visibly hard and straining against the translucent fabric. The garment offered no secrets; the dip of her slender waist, the flare of her incredibly wide, curvy, child-bearing hips, and the dark triangle of hair between her thick thighs were clearly visible through the sheer material.
Ceanna did not walk to his side. She stopped five paces away and sank gracefully to her knees. She bowed forward, pressing her forehead to the cool wooden deck, her massive breasts squishing against her knees. She crawled forward until she reached him, lifting her beautiful, angelic face to press her soft, rose-painted lips against the polished leather of his boots.
"The Pure Maiden Holy Temple awaits your arrival, Alaric," she whispered, her azure eyes looking up at him, shining with a fanatical, lust-drunk light. "The East is primed for its Hidden Deity."
Alaric smiled, a dark, dangerous curve of his lips. He reached down, his large hands sliding under her armpits to hoist her up. She weighed almost nothing to his Archmage strength. He pulled her up and pressed her back against the heavy wooden railing of the ship’s bow.
"You have been busy while I conquered the sands, my Saintess," Alaric murmured, his hands immediately finding their way to her massive, silk-covered breasts. He kneaded the heavy, soft globes of fair flesh aggressively, his thumbs finding the hard, pink peaks of her nipples and rolling them through the fabric.
Ceanna gasped, her head falling back, exposing the long, elegant column of her throat. "Ah! Yes, Master. I exist only to serve your grand design. Your touch is a blessing..."
"Tell me," Alaric commanded, leaning in to press a hot, open-mouthed kiss to the sensitive skin just below her jawline. "Tell me exactly how you subdued these haughty Eastern noblewomen and built such a massive, influential temple without raising the immediate, violent ire of the orthodox sects and the local warlords. The East is proud. They do not bow easily."
Ceanna let out a shuddering breath, trying to focus her brilliant mind through the fog of intense arousal his hands were creating. She arched her back, instinctively pushing her massive chest deeper into his palms.
"I... ah... I used the most potent weapons a cleric possesses, Alaric," Ceanna smiled, her azure eyes flashing with a deeply insidious cunning that contrasted sharply with her angelic face. "Desperation. And miracles."
She shifted her weight, her wide, curvy buttocks pressing against the solid wood of the railing. "The Eastern Archipelago is a beautiful place, but it is constantly, relentlessly plagued by the dangers of the deep ocean. The sea beast miasma that drifts inland during the storm seasons, the incurable deep-water curses that afflict those who venture too far into the trenches... the nobility and the powerful cultivator clans here live in perpetual fear of the invisible rot of the sea."
Alaric listened intently, his fingers pausing their torment of her nipples to slide down her flat stomach, resting possessively on her wide hips. "And you capitalized on this fear."
"I did more than capitalize on it, Master," Ceanna purred, a wicked, deeply sinful pride in her voice. "I manufactured it."
Alaric raised an eyebrow, genuinely intrigued. "Explain."
"I did not simply arrive as a wandering Saintess looking to heal random sniffles," Ceanna explained, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial, excited whisper. "Before I established the first temple, I ventured deep into the abyssal trenches of the Eastern Sea alone. Utilizing my Archmage-level magic and the dark, corruptive spells I developed after embracing my true nature with you... I harvested the absolute deadliest, most virulent poisons and miasmas hidden in the darkest depths of the ocean."
She reached up, placing her soft, fair hands over his, guiding his fingers back up to her massive breasts, needing his touch to ground her as she recounted her grand scheme.
"I spent weeks in a hidden cavern, refining those abyssal toxins," she continued, her breathing hitching as Alaric resumed his heavy kneading. "I synthesized a curse-like poison. A plague. It was entirely untraceable, mimicking the natural sea-rot but far, far more aggressive. It didn’t just attack the body; it attacked the meridians, slowly and agonizingly sapping the strength and cultivation of the afflicted."
’She is a masterpiece of corruption,’ Alaric thought, looking at her flushed, holy face. ’To use the guise of a healer to become the ultimate plague-bearer. It is wonderfully poetic.’
"I targeted the major trade towns first," Ceanna detailed, her eyes gleaming. "The hubs of commerce and aristocratic power. I introduced the plague into their localized water supplies and the high-end atmospheric arrays of their inner cities. And then... I waited."
"You let them suffer," Alaric supplied, a dark chuckle escaping him.
"I let them despair," Ceanna corrected, her hips rolling slightly against him. "For weeks, the poison spread. It was devastating. The grand physicians of the East, the ancient alchemy masters of the island sects... they were entirely baffled. Their pills failed. Their purification arrays shattered against my abyssal synthesis. The wives of prominent sect leaders, the cherished, talented daughters of powerful dukes... they began to wither, their cultivation fading, their bodies failing. The terror was absolute."
Ceanna licked her lips, relishing the memory of her grand deception. "And when the plague reached its absolute peak... when the weeping of mothers and the desperate bounties of wealthy husbands filled the streets... I revealed myself."
She spread her arms slightly, mimicking the grandiose gesture of a divine savior. "I descended upon the capital in my pure white robes, radiating holy light. I walked into the quarantined estates of the dying nobility. I laid my hands upon the afflicted, and with my cleric magic—which was, naturally, the perfect, engineered antidote to the very poison I had created—I drew the rot from their bodies."
Alaric laughed, a rich, booming sound of absolute approval. He grabbed her by the hips and pulled her flush against his growing erection. "You traded their lives for their eternal servitude."
"Exactly," Ceanna nodded enthusiastically, wrapping her arms around his neck. "The characters in the East are smart, Alaric. They are inherently suspicious of free gifts and wandering saviors. But a binding, spiritual oath to a newly revealed deity in exchange for the lives of their wives and daughters? A promise of divine protection from the horrors of the sea? They considered it a remarkably fair trade."
"And the conditions of your ’miracle’?" Alaric asked, his hands sliding around to cup her large, curvy buttocks through the thin white silk. He squeezed the soft flesh hard, making her jump.
"I demanded no gold," Ceanna said, her voice dropping into a husky register as his fingers traced the cleft of her ass. "I demanded absolute devotion. The condition for my cure was that the wives and their beautiful daughters must officially join the Pure Maiden Holy Temple as high-ranking disciples. Furthermore, the patriarchs of these families were forced to fiercely, publicly promote the temple, declaring it a sanctuary for the good of the common people."
She leaned in, her breath hot against his ear. "They were forced to agree. The plague was too dangerous, and I was the only light in their darkness. Sometimes... sometimes I would deliberately exacerbate a curse on a particularly stubborn noblewoman, bringing her to the very brink of death, only to swoop in at the last second and cure her perfectly to solidify my divine status."
’They all believe I am their ultimate savior,’ Ceanna thought proudly, her inner mind a swirl of fanaticism and deceit. ’They weep at my feet. They are fiercely, unconditionally grateful to me, entirely, pathetically oblivious to the dark, suffocating web I have spun around their entire civilization.’
"The temple is now a leviathan, Alaric," Ceanna stated, pulling back to look into his ruby eyes. "It is entirely self-sufficient, fueled by the massive, voluntary donations of these grateful, influential families. They pour mountains of elemental crystals and rare treasures into my coffers, believing with all their hearts that they are supporting a righteous, holy cause."
Alaric lifted a hand and gently stroked her fair, flushed cheek. "You have essentially hijacked the social and political fabric of the entire archipelago."
"The wives and daughters of the most powerful cultivators now secretly answer to me," Ceanna confirmed, her chest puffing out proudly. "And through them, I control the husbands and the fathers. I know their secrets, their troop movements, their weaknesses."
Alaric leaned forward and kissed her deeply, a conquering, possessive kiss that tasted of her absolute submission. "You are a terrifyingly brilliant woman, Ceanna. You have delivered the entire East to me without shedding a single drop of my own blood. This is quite good. I initially thought I would have to simply arrive and forcibly taste the beauties of this region through violence and conquest. You have served them to me on a silver platter."
Ceanna melted into his hand, her voice a breathless, devoted purr. "I only did it to provide you with the most exquisite, willing beauties to fuck, my Master. Your pleasure is my only religion."
Alaric pulled away slightly, his eyes blazing with a predatory hunger. "Then let us discuss the menu. Tell me of the women waiting in the temple."
He turned and walked toward a massive, plush lounger positioned under a silken canopy on the deck. He sat down, spreading his legs, his posture screaming authority.
Ceanna followed him immediately, not walking, but crawling on her hands and knees across the polished wooden floorboards. The sheer white silk of her nightgown pooled around her, offering tantalizing glimpses of her heavy breasts swaying with the movement and her curvy, fat ass shifting alluringly. She reached the lounger and knelt between his spread thighs, resting her arms on his knees.
She reached into her robes and pulled out a glowing, rectangular jade slip.
"I have cultivated dozens of the absolute highest-grade beauties the Eastern Archipelago has to offer, Alaric," Ceanna reported, infusing a trace of mana into the jade. A holographic projection materialized above the slip, displaying portraits and detailed dossiers of stunning women. "Women whose looks rival even my own... or Queen Cai Wei’s."
Alaric looked at the glowing images. They were breathtaking.
"They are not mindless, empty-headed dolls," Ceanna clarified, sensing his analytical gaze. "They are highly intelligent, deeply educated women. Master strategists, peerless swordswomen, and brilliant scholars of the oceanic arts."
"Intelligent women can be troublesome if they realize the cage they are in," Alaric noted, running a hand through Ceanna’s blonde hair.
"But their intelligence is precisely what binds them, Master," Ceanna explained, her smile wicked. "They understand the immense value of the ’favors’ the temple provides. They know that without the temple’s blessing, their families would succumb to the rot. Their oaths of servitude are ironclad, woven with blood magic and religious dogma. They are trapped by their own intellect and their sense of duty."
She swiped a finger across the jade slip, enlarging a specific projection. It showed two women, bearing a striking resemblance to each other. Both possessed fair, luminous skin and incredibly voluptuous figures, dressed in the modest, yet figure-hugging white robes of the temple.
"I have secured a particularly exquisite pairing for you," Ceanna detailed, knowing exactly what fed Alaric’s darker appetites. "Madame Yue and her daughter, Xian’er."
Alaric’s eyes narrowed in intense interest. "A Mother-Daughter pair."
"Yes," Ceanna nodded. "Madame Yue is the mature, incredibly voluptuous widow of a prominent, recently deceased sect leader. Her body is lush, heavy with experience, and her political acumen kept her sect afloat after her husband’s death. Her daughter, Xian’er, is twenty years old, lithe but wonderfully curvy, and widely regarded as a peerless sword genius. A prodigy of the Eastern blade."
"And how did you ensnare them?" Alaric asked, his thumb idly stroking the soft skin of Ceanna’s inner thigh.
"I infected the mother with a particularly nasty strain of spiritual rot," Ceanna smiled, a sweet, angelic smile that delivered pure evil. "She was dying. The daughter, Xian’er, was desperate. She would have sold her soul to the devil to save the woman who raised her. So, I arrived as the angel. I cured the mother. In exchange, the proud widow and the arrogant sword genius both swore eternal vows to the Hidden Deity."
Ceanna looked up at Alaric, her eyes shining. "Now, they both wear the holy robes of the temple, living in the inner sanctum, eagerly waiting to offer their bodies to you to repay the debt of life. The mother wishes to protect the daughter, and the daughter wishes to serve in place of the mother. It is a beautiful, tragic knot of filial piety and maternal love that you can untangle however you please."
Alaric let out a low, rumbling groan of approval. The psychological implications were staggering. "To take the proud sword genius while her mother watches, bound by holy vows... it is delicious."
"There are more," Ceanna said, swiping the jade slip again. The image changed to show two young women who were absolute, perfect mirror images of each other. They possessed fair skin, large, perky breasts, and identical, alluring smiles.
"The Twin Jade Sisters of the Coral Island," Ceanna introduced them. "Brilliant, prodigal array masters. They were obsessed with unlocking the secrets of the ancient oceanic formations. I simply provided them with a fabricated, ’lost’ formation manual from the deity’s archives in exchange for their eternal vows and their induction into the inner circle. They are currently practicing synchronized, dual-cultivation techniques in preparation for your arrival."
Ceanna swiped again. "There is also a prominent Teacher-Student duo from the prestigious Ocean Lotus Academy. I infected the academy’s headmaster, forcing the brilliant teacher to seek my aid. Now, they both believe that submitting entirely to the physical desires of the Deity is the absolute highest form of spiritual enlightenment. They hold theological debates on the divine nature of your seed, Alaric."
Alaric’s ruby eyes literally glowed with a terrifying, ambient lust at the thought of breaking these intelligent, proud, capable women. Women who believed with every fiber of their being that spreading their legs and behaving like cheap sluts was a holy, righteous duty ordained by the heavens.
"You guarantee their physical quality?" Alaric asked, his hands moving up to cup Ceanna’s massive breasts, squeezing them in rhythm with his heartbeat.
"Absolutely," Ceanna promised, leaning into his hands, her breath hitching. "They all have incredibly fair, flawless skin, exceptionally large breasts, and wide, curvy figures. I strictly filtered out anyone who did not match your precise, demanding aesthetic. Only the absolute zenith of Eastern beauty is permitted into the inner sanctum."
"And are they prepared for what is actually to come?" Alaric asked, pouring himself a fresh glass of wine from a floating tray, taking a slow, savoring sip. "They expect a divine presence. They might be shocked when the Deity treats them like common meat."
"They have been strictly, meticulously conditioned, Master," Ceanna replied, her voice filled with dark assurance. "Through hypnotic prayers, sleep-suggestion using your [Fantasy Weaver] echoes, and the incense burned in the temple... they believe that the Deity’s physical touch, no matter how brutal, degrading, or animalistic, is a blessing that actively purifies the soul. The rougher you are, the more they will believe they are being cleansed of their mortal sins. They are eager to be ’purified’."
’They are so incredibly smart in the ways of the world, economics, and martial arts,’ Ceanna thought, deeply amused by the sheer scale of her own deceit, ’yet they are so completely, hopelessly blind to the reality of my theology. They have traded their freedom for a lie, and they thank me for it daily.’
Alaric chuckled, a deep, resonant sound. He imagined the look on the proud widow’s face, or the arrogant sword genius’s expression, when the ’Deity’ they worshipped bent them over a holy altar and pounded them mercilessly.
"You have prepared a feast of epic proportions, Ceanna," Alaric praised, his free hand tangling in her blonde hair, pulling her head back. "I look forward to tasting every single dish. But..."
His smile vanished, replaced by a look of razor-sharp, calculating seriousness.
"What of the main prize?" Alaric asked, his tone dropping the playful lust and returning to the cold reality of his ultimate mission. "What of Princess Hai Lan? The woman who stands beside the Sea Devil."
Ceanna’s expression turned instantly triumphant. She sat up straighter on her knees, puffing out her massive chest.
"The Siren of the East is secured, Master," Ceanna declared proudly. "She is currently residing in the capital city of the archipelago, waiting in her heavily guarded palace for Long Chen to return from his brutal war on the oceanic frontiers. And she is completely, utterly under my influence."
"Explain," Alaric commanded.
"Princess Hai Lan is a brilliant woman, politically astute and possessing a powerful oceanic bloodline," Ceanna explained, mapping out the psychological profile of the target. "But she is also emotionally incredibly vulnerable. She is deeply shy, naturally reclusive, and fiercely, desperately in love with Long Chen. Her entire world revolves around him."
"Her greatest weakness," Ceanna continued, her eyes narrowing, "is the profound grief she holds for her destroyed kingdom, the Sea God Island. She relies entirely on Long Chen and his pirate coalition to one day restore her home and her people. She feels she owes him an unpayable debt."
"A heavy burden for a fragile heart," Alaric mused, swirling the wine in his goblet.
"Precisely," Ceanna nodded. "A few months ago, while Long Chen was away leading a massive fleet against the Abyssal Leviathans, Hai Lan fell deathly ill. A ’sea-demon’s hex’."
Ceanna paused, a sly, knowing smirk crossing her lips. "A hex which, purely by coincidence, I had secretly introduced into her private bathing pools through a bribed maidservant."
Alaric smirked. "Naturally."
"The palace healers were useless," Ceanna went on. "She was deteriorating rapidly. I stepped in, utilizing the vast political capital the Pure Maiden Holy Temple had already amassed. I bypassed her guards, entered her chambers, and healed her flawlessly. In her moment of absolute weakness and terror, I became her savior. I became her most trusted, intimate confidante."
Ceanna’s voice took on a silky, poisonous quality as she described her manipulation. "I used this proximity to slowly, methodically poison her mind. I did not speak ill of Long Chen directly; that would have raised her defenses. Instead, I played the concerned, spiritual sister. I simply planted ’concerns’ about the immense burden he carries. About the savage, unrefined nature of the pirate lords he associates with."
She leaned closer to Alaric, acting out the whispers she had used on the Princess. "I would hold her hand and sigh, saying things like, ’The sea is so vast, Princess. And men of the sea have appetites as deep as the trenches. Can a man surrounded by the spoils of war truly remain faithful when he spends months away from your warm, gentle bed?’"
"You fed her insecurities," Alaric said, highly impressed.
"She is smart enough to know that pirates are inherently unfaithful creatures," Ceanna said. "She knows they take what they want. I just took that latent, logical fear and nurtured that seed of paranoia until it blossomed into crippling, suffocating anxiety. I made her question her own worth. I made her wonder if her beauty was enough to hold a man who commanded monsters."
"And then you offered the solution," Alaric deduced.
"I convinced her that her anxiety was a spiritual weakness," Ceanna confirmed. "I told her that the only way to ensure Long Chen’s safety, and to spiritually bind his heart to hers, was to seek the blessing of the Hidden Deity. I convinced her that joining the Pure Maiden Holy Temple as an ’honorary’ high-ranking member would grant her the divine strength to support him and secure the restoration of her kingdom."
Alaric’s eyes widened slightly in dark delight. "So... the woman of the protagonist has sworn an oath to my cult?"
"Yes," Ceanna confirmed, practically vibrating with excitement. "She believes the temple is a force for ultimate, undeniable good. She thinks her daily, fervent prayers to the Hidden Deity are creating a magical shield that protects her lover in battle. She has memorized the scriptures. She wears the inner garments of the cult beneath her royal robes."
"She is incredibly shy, Alaric," Ceanna added, her voice dropping to a husky whisper. "She blushes at the mere mention of intimacy. She is pure, untouched, saving herself entirely for the day Long Chen restores her throne. Which will make corrupting her, tearing away that shy purity, and making her scream like a common whore all the more satisfying for you, Master."
’Hai Lan thinks she is saving her kingdom and protecting her heroic lover,’ Ceanna thought with a bubbling, internal laugh that threatened to spill out. ’She has absolutely no idea she just sold her soul, her body, and her future to a demon.’
Alaric stood up from the lounger, setting the wine goblet down. He walked to the edge of the deck, looking out through the magical shields at the rapidly approaching islands of the Eastern Archipelago. The sprawling, majestic capital city was just becoming visible on the horizon, a jewel of white stone and blue glass rising from the sea.
The pieces were perfectly aligned. Qin Wu, the Soul Eater, was undoubtedly hacking his way eastward, chasing a fabricated cure. Long Chen, the Sea Devil, was fighting a bloody war, oblivious to the rot in his own home.
"When Long Chen returns from the blood and salt of the frontiers," Alaric said, his voice echoing with absolute, terrifying certainty, "to find his beloved, pure Princess eagerly spreading her fair legs for the Deity she prayed to... the Sea Devil will break. His mind will shatter before I even have to lift a finger against him."
Ceanna crawled over to him, wrapping her arms around his legs, pressing her face against his thigh.
"She is waiting in her palace for her spiritual guidance, Alaric," Ceanna bowed her head, submitting the East to him entirely. "She is ripe for the taking. The feast is prepared."
"Then let us not keep the congregation waiting," Alaric declared.
He raised his hand, channeling his mana into the ship’s control matrix.
"Engage the primary cloaking arrays," Alaric commanded. "Silence the engines. We descend into the capital."
The massive Flying Ship shuddered slightly. The hum of the engines vanished, replaced by absolute, eerie silence. The hull of the ship shimmered, bending the light around it until the colossal vessel became entirely invisible to the naked eye and completely untraceable by spiritual sense.