Chapter 107 - - 107 - Whispers of Betrayal at the Bedside [R18]

Chapter 107: Chapter - 107 - Whispers of Betrayal at the Bedside [R18]

Inside the dimly lit healing sanctuary of Azurefall, Prince Andrin lay motionless upon his bed, his face pale and slick with a cold sweat. Deep within his chest, his core remained completely shattered, fragmented beyond recognition. Even worse, the strange, unidentified object Lucien had violently forced down his throat during their last encounter was now revealing its sinister nature. No matter how desperately Andrin tried to circulate his remaining energy to stabilize his condition, his efforts proved entirely futile. His astral pool refused to gather even a drop of power. Deep inside his body, something unseen was greedily feeding on his astral pool, devouring his vitality like a relentless parasite.

As he fought against the agonizing emptiness in his body, the sharp sound of heavy footsteps echoed from the stone corridor outside.

Who is coming at a time like this? Andrin thought, his stomach twisting into a tight knot. Don’t tell me... it’s...

Unfortunately for the fallen prince, his dark intuition was entirely correct. The heavy footfalls grew closer and closer until a shadowed figure stepped through the arched doorway. It was Lucien Vale. A familiar, cruel smirk played across his sharp face as he looked down at Andrin, taking quiet pleasure in the prince’s miserable state.

"Still alive?" Lucien asked, his tone mocking and indifferent.

Why is he here again? Why? Andrin’s mind screamed in desperate frustration, though his paralyzed body could offer no resistance.

"Oh, don’t die that easily," Lucien said smoothly, taking another step into the room. "There are still many uses for you. And look, I brought someone along just to meet you. She wanted to say hi."

Lucien stepped to the side, and a woman slowly emerged from the shadows behind him. It was Anne. Her expression was cold, devoid of any sympathy as her eyes dragged across Andrin’s prone form.

"How are you, my love?" Anne said, her voice laced with bitter sarcasm. "You look truly terrible. Lucien told me today that he will start his Phase Two. I don’t know what it is, but he said after this you’ll be a changed man. Well, not like it matters to me. No matter how much you change... I’ll never forget your betrayal."

She lingered on him for a brief moment before turning her attention back to the man beside her. "What are you planning to do?" she asked, her eyes lighting up with genuine curiosity.

Lucien reached into his robes and pulled out a small glass vial filled with a glowing, pale green liquid. It was a potent poison he had taken from Elaria.

"Here, look at this," Lucien said, holding the clear vial up to the flickering light of the room. "This poison—I mean, potion—was made by one of my friends. And guess what it can do?"

Anne folded her arms over her chest and scoffed lightly. "You have friends? I know you just use people, bastard. Poison or potion, it’s the exact same thing if we are going to kill him anyway. So what kind of poison is that?"

"Wow, that was harsh," Lucien chuckled darkly, unimpressed by her words. "Well, this poison can erase memories slowly. But it’s not just that—you can actually select what you want to erase and what you want to keep. You can even create entirely new memories that never happened. I thought about it, and if we simply kill him right now, an investigation would immediately take place. A foreign prince dying isn’t a small matter, and I can’t let him stay on this bed forever either. Sooner or later, Aelene would figure something out. So, we are going to make Prince Andrin a completely new person. Aren’t you excited, Prince Andrin?"

Lucien laughed aloud, looking directly down at the powerless prince.

Anne leaned in slightly, studying the green liquid. "What about an antidote? Aelene is a genius when it comes to healing. What if she figures it out?"

"Don’t worry," Lucien replied with absolute confidence. "There is no antidote for this poison."

A cold, vicious smile spread across Anne’s face. "Then what are you waiting for? Just put that stuff in his mouth."

Lucien stepped forward and unstoppered the vial with his thumb. Reaching down, he pried Andrin’s jaw open, preparing to pour the glowing green poison down the prince’s throat.

"Wait," Anne interrupted suddenly.

Lucien stopped mid-motion. He snapped his head toward her, his golden eyes narrowing with a lethal glare that looked ready to kill. "What is it, bitch? Are you backing out?"

"No! Are you stupid, you fucker?" Anne spat back, completely unfazed by his dangerous aura. A wicked grin slowly curled her lips. "I was just thinking of making it a little more interesting."

"What do you mean?" Lucien asked, pausing as he lowered the vial.

"If we can make him forget whatever we want, then I want to torture him a little first," Anne said softly. Without waiting for his permission, she closed the distance between them and stepped directly into Lucien’s space.

Lucien casually tossed the unsealed vial into the void, sealing it away for later. Before he could say another word, Anne brought both hands up, cupping his face tightly, and pulled him down into a fierce, sudden kiss.

Anne was a smart woman, and every move she made was calculated. She had two primary reasons for taking the initiative right now. First, she wanted to ensure that Lucien fully trusted her; she needed to remain firmly on his good side, knowing just how terrifyingly strong he truly was. Second, she wanted to thoroughly humiliate Andrin for his past betrayal.

Lucien did not pull away. Instead, he returned the kiss with a rough, domineering intensity. There was no trace of love or tenderness between them; it was a kiss born entirely of raw purpose and mutual greed. Yet despite the lack of affection, neither of them could deny the dark thrill of it. For Anne, Lucien represented a completely new and intoxicating experience. She pressed herself against him, refusing to break the kiss even when their breathing grew heavy and ragged. As they swayed against one another, Lucien backed into a nearby wooden side table, knocking several glass bottles and metal implements onto the stone floor with a sharp crash.

Lying helplessly on his bed just a few feet away, Prince Andrin was forced to watch every single second of the spectacle. The shame and humiliation burned through his veins like acid. Pure rage flared in his chest, but his broken body remained entirely paralyzed. He could clearly see the expression on Anne’s face whenever her eyes fluttered open—she was genuinely enjoying it. She was enjoying it far more than she ever had with him. What had started as a simple, calculated plan on her part to kiss Lucien was quickly spiraling out of control.

Lucien suddenly grabbed a handful of Anne’s hair and yanked her head back, breaking the kiss to stare straight into her eyes. She was normally a refined, graceful like a noblewoman, but standing here with him, she had completely abandoned all pleasantries, acting like a shameless, barbaric woman.

Leaning down until his lips brushed against her ear, Lucien growled softly, "Bitch... do you really think a simple kiss like this is enough for me?"

"I know you," Anne whispered back, her breath hot against his neck. "It’ll never be enough to satisfy a bastard like you... How about this, then?"

She reached down, grabbed Lucien’s large hand, and forced it lower, pressing his palm firmly against her clothes right between her legs. They hurled insults at each other, yet that crude, raw edge was precisely what drew them together. There was no noble formality here, only a mutual desire. In truth, both of them shared the same unspoken goal: they genuinely wanted to dual cultivate with one another and consume each other’s energy.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Lucien slid his hand past the waistband of her pants, reaching straight for her warm, wet core. His fingers slid inside without resistance. Anne let out a low gasp, her body arching slightly as she faced directly toward Prince Andrin. Her expression was completely overtaken by raw pleasure as she felt his fingers moving inside her.

Lucien was far from gentle, but Anne didn’t want gentleness anyway. Andrin had been gentle with her, and look at where that had gotten him.

Both Lucien and Anne were dressed in rough leather attire of commoners. As Lucien moved his hand aggressively, the waist of her leather pants loosened under the strain until the metallic hook snapped with a dull pop. Neither of them cared in the slightest. His fingers pushed deep into her, reaching so far that her internal yin energy began to stir in response.

Gripping her firmly, Lucien lifted her off her feet with one arm while keeping two fingers embedded deep within her core. He carried her over to an empty bed nearby and tossed her down. From his angle on the main bed, Andrin could no longer see them directly; he was trapped facing the ceiling, forced to listen to the wet, slick sounds echoing through the quiet room as Lucien’s fingers moved relentlessly in and out of her.

"Bastard... do it faster! Go deeper, agh!" Anne gasped out, her hands clutching at the sheets beneath her.

"You really are a bitch in heat," Lucien said with a dark smirk, looking down at her. "Don’t worry, we have all night."

"I’m close... ah!" Anne cried out, her body trembling on the verge of a breakthrough.

Right at the critical climax, Lucien abruptly withdrew his fingers, pulling his hand away entirely.

Anne opened her eyes, gasping for air, her expression instantly twisting into annoyance. "You fucker! I was so close to having a breakthrough!"

"I know, bitch," Lucien replied smoothly, wiping his wet fingers on his leather trousers. "That’s exactly why I stopped."

Refusing to be denied, Anne surged up from the bed, grabbing Lucien by the shoulders and shoving him backward onto the mattress. She scrambled over his legs, her eyes burning with fierce determination.

"You really think I don’t know how to get back at you?" she murmured softly.

She reached down and aggressively pulled down his pants. The moment his trousers fell away, her breath caught in her throat, and her eyes widened in utter disbelief.

She realized then that someone possessing a genuine Yang Physique was entirely beyond normal human metrics. Lucien’s shaft was already fully erect and burning with fiery energy, perfectly prepared for dual cultivation. She could even see faint drops of pre-ejaculatory fluid gathering at the tip. Without wasting another second, Anne leaned down and used her tongue to lick the tip clean before taking him into her mouth. She tried to devour him entirely, but she struggled almost immediately—his sheer thickness was almost too much for her throat to accommodate.

Lucien leaned back against the headboard, a lazy, satisfied smile spreading across his face as he watched her struggle. Realizing that a slow approach wouldn’t work, Anne shifted her rhythm, moving her head faster and using her hands to pump his length. But the difference between them was staggering. Lucien’s weapon was vastly larger and thicker than Prince Andrin’s had ever been. In fact, after seeing what Lucien possessed, Anne realized in an instant that Andrin was nothing by comparison; it was no wonder she had never felt true satisfaction during her time with the prince.

As the hot sensation surrounding his length built up, Lucien finally began to feel genuine pleasure. Reaching down with both hands, he firmly gripped the back of Anne’s head and began thrusting upward in an aggressive, inhumane rhythm. He drove himself deep into her throat without mercy, using her mouth entirely for his own gratification. Anne gagged, her eyes watering as she felt her mouth and throat being stretched to their absolute limits.

Driven by the swelling tide of his Yang energy, Lucien stood up from the bed, forcing her down onto her knees. His thrusts became faster, harder, and more brutal, driving his entire length into her mouth while she took every inch of it. Finally, Lucien grabbed her hair firmly, shoved his weapon as deep into her throat as it could possibly go, and released a powerful surge of his refined energy.

Anne groaned against his thighs, feeling a thick wave of hot essence and raw energy flood into her system. It felt as though her stomach, her core, and her throat were completely filled to capacity. She swallowed every last drop, gasping greedily as he finally pulled back.

Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, Anne looked up at him, her chest heaving as she panted for breath. "That was good, you bastard... but it seems like you’re done now? Now what?"

Lucien looked down at her with a dangerous glint in his eyes. "Bitch, do you even know what a Yang Physique actually means?"

Anne glanced back down at his lower half, and her eyes widened once more. His weapon showed no signs of softening whatsoever; it remained fully erect, brimming with concentrated Yang energy and instantly ready for another round of dual cultivation.

A mixture of thrill and challenge flashed through her mind. She bit her lower lip hard, her eyes gleaming with ambition. "Let’s see who wins tonight, then. Will you make me your bitch, or will I make you mine?"

"Oh, trust me," Lucien sneered, grabbing her by the chin. "No one has ever defeated me in dual cultivation. Be ready to become my bitch."

He pulled her up violently into another wild, messy kiss. This time, all restraint vanished completely. They tore at each other’s clothes like wild beasts. Anne shredded Lucien’s cheap leather shirt, ripping the commoner fabric apart to reveal the sculpted, rock-hard musculature of his torso. In response, Lucien grabbed her cheap top and tore it straight down the middle, exposing her bare chest. Her full breasts bounced with the motion, and Lucien immediately cupped them, squeezing the soft flesh tightly in his rough hands.

Anne bit down on his earlobe until she tasted copper, while Lucien sank his teeth into the soft skin of her shoulder, leaving deep red marks behind.

Without breaking the fierce kiss, Lucien scooped her up in his arms, carrying her across the short distance toward Prince Andrin’s bed. He slammed her body down, bending her roughly over the footboard of the very bed where the paralyzed prince lay helpless. Anne reached out blindly, her fingers wrapping tightly around the wooden bedpost near Andrin’s feet to anchor herself.

Lucien grabbed the remnants of her leather pants and ripped them away completely, fully revealing her glistening, swollen core. It was a beautiful sight, but Lucien wasn’t interested in appreciating its beauty. Gripping her hips with ruthless force, he lined himself up and thrust forward with everything he had.

There was no gentle preparation, no slow warmth. It was a single, devastatingly deep thrust that penetrated straight to the center of her core.

Anne let out an uninhibited, shrill cry that echoed off the cold walls of the sanctuary. It felt as though it were her absolute first time experiencing intimacy. The bulging veins, the searing heat of his Yang weapon, the sheer depth of the intrusion—she felt every single detail acutely. In that single, overwhelming moment, as her hands desperately gripped the bedpost right beside Andrin’s legs, Anne realized a terrifying truth: she was going to need to exert every ounce of her strength just to survive the night with Lucien.