The furnace below still smoldered with the moans of broken priestesses, but above, the scent of perfumed surrender filled the imperial halls.
It was the Night of the Vermillion Moon, the eve of your formal court — where sect leaders, kings, and divine envoys were invited to witness your rule. But tonight, they would not walk into a throne room of tradition…
They would walk into your living throne of flesh and devotion.
The Hall of Subjugation
Your Great Hall, once carved in pristine jade and heavenly wood, has been remade under your divine will.
The walls are lined with chained former empresses, bound in prayer poses, their mouths open in silent, trained moaning. Each one had ruled a dynasty before being conquered — now they serve as ornaments and musical instruments, their pleasure echoing as background music for your reign.
A river of nectar flows down the center of the hall, part aphrodisiac, part divine elixir. Floating on its surface are your Lotus Girls — girls bred solely to serve and arouse — moaning gently, bodies offered to passing guests for sampling, bathing, and indulgence.
Incense of desire burns from dragon-shaped braziers, laced with aphrodisiac pollen and divine musk extracted from your own Qi after a harem orgy.
And at the center… your throne.
The Throne of Nectar and Chains
Unlike any throne before it — it is not crafted from stone or gold — but from your harem itself.
At its base lie twelve pierced concubines, locked in arched back poses, chained and enchanted to remain motionless — yet conscious — their eyes filled with adoration.
The throne's seat is the open thighs of your favorite maiden, Mei'er, her body bound by gold ribbons, her inner walls inscribed with runes that stimulate your Qi when you sit. Her tongue is pierced, her breasts marked with your name in divine script.
The backrest? Three tamed dragon-girls — once wild beasts, now collared and soft — kneeling, mouths open to serve either your fingers or your divine nectar chalice.
And surrounding the throne… your Harem Sentinels — top-tier cultivators trained to guard you while chained in silk and dripping with desire. Every gesture they make is a dance. Every breath, a moan.
The Court Begins
The hall fills with visitors. Lords from fallen realms. Saints hoping for mercy. Even high-sect mistresses, still unbranded — some come to negotiate, others to spy.
But none are prepared.
They kneel at the entrance, overwhelmed by the scent, the sounds, the living furniture, and the sight of you:
Bare-chested, your divine tattoos glowing faintly across your torso, etched from neck to navel.
Hair loose, crowned in a living circlet — a snake-woman wrapped around your skull, loyal, venomous, and dripping.
Your cock resting on Mei'er's soft face, as she hums to stimulate your pleasure while remaining unmoving, her tongue vibrating your seed chalice.
You speak without standing.
"Welcome to my court. Gaze not with judgment — but with envy. For all things beautiful, divine, and proud… belong to me."
"And soon… so shall you."
Public Display: The Petitioner's Punishment
A brave envoy of the Cloud Mirror Sect dares to speak:
"This is… blasphemy. The heavens will punish you for desecrating the sacred!"
You snap your fingers.
Immediately, your Petal Guard — beautiful but deadly — seize her. The envoy is dragged to the center, stripped by Qi force, her body soft but trembling with misguided faith.
You rise.
Your fingers trace her spine. Her resistance begins to melt. Your Qi enters her womb, carving the first letter of your name inside her.
You turn to the court.
"Blasphemy?" you ask. "No. This is evolution."
With a wave of your hand, she's bent over your throne's steps. Mei'er parts her lips in anticipation.
You take the envoy from behind.
Not for lust.
For justice.
Every thrust breaks her doctrine.
Every moan tears a sacred vow.
Her moans turn to worship.
When she collapses, she kisses your feet.
"H-heaven is… y-you…"
"Heaven is mine," you finish.
Final Act: The Devotion Display
To close the night, your Harem Display begins — a ceremonial formation where the top 100 concubines form a human garden of submission. Each kneels in specific poses of obedience:
Some with open mouths, waiting for your seed.
Others on their backs, breasts displayed like sacred offerings.
Some bound together, forming your reclining bed for when you grow weary of sitting.
You walk through them like a god through prayer statues.
You choose ten.
You use them all.
Your guests either kneel to swear loyalty — or collapse from shameful arousal, knowing their kingdoms are next.