The Corruption Dragon God: Lust System Chapter 692 - Silly boy

The four hundred and ninety-nine disciples had grasped one crucial aspect of Rouxi's selection for her next child: it was a trial by combat, and only one would emerge victorious.

However, in their pursuit of victory, they had overlooked something far more significant: morality, talent, and origin.

These were the three pillars she had laid down from the outset.

Each disciple was so consumed by the desire to showcase their prowess and strength that they forgot Rouxi wasn't seeking a mere disciple or a follower.

She sought a son.

Talent and power could be readily acquired, but a person's convictions, their values, their moral compass... these were qualities far harder to nurture.

Yet, even with the objective laid out so clearly, the young disciple kneeling before her still failed to comprehend.

"W-why?" he implored again, his gaze a tempest of anger and disbelief. His frame quivered as he remained on his knees, palms pressed firmly against the cool marble of the pavilion floor.

Rouxi emitted a soft sigh, laced with disappointment.

Had the caliber of the Celestial Fairy Pavilion's younger generation truly diminished to such a degree?

Her expression remained impassive, yet after a beat, her lips parted, and her serene, melodious voice resonated through every recess of the pavilion.

"While you were too paralyzed by fear to even meet my gaze, he stood tall, his head held high with unwavering pride.

As you, consumed by dread and cowardice, coalesced into a mob against him, he remained resolute, confronting your numbers with that same dignity and assurance.

Even in your defeat, you cast accusations without substantiation, succumbing to arrogance born of despair. You were incapable of accepting that another could possess such vastly superior might.

Had you nurtured that pride and confidence within yourselves, had you possessed the integrity to refrain from scheming like vipers in the grass to satiate your avarice, perhaps you might have stood a sliver of a chance.

Now, tell me... what right do you—nay, what right does any of you believe you possess to be deemed my children?"

Her pronouncement cast an absolute pall over the pavilion. One by one, gazes heavy with shame dropped to the floor.

Rouxi sighed once more, her emerald eyes shifting to Qingyi, who stood serenely amidst the kneeling throng.

Her full, alluring lips curved into an elegant smile as she beckoned the handsome young man with a delicate finger.

"Come, my cherished one. I shall guide you to your new abode."

The words startled Qingyi.

'My cherished one'? Was she already bestowing such endearment upon him?

He took a step forward, poised to ascend to the balcony, when a voice pierced the stillness behind him.

"How many can you command?"

The disciple remained kneeling, but his eyes were now fixed upon Qingyi, a peculiar blend of resentment and genuine inquiry swirling within them.

The handsome young man turned, a fleeting shadow of puzzlement crossing his features.

What was the meaning of this question?

"How many of those blades can you control? Five hundred is not your limit, is it?"

Upon hearing this, Qingyi's understanding dawned.

A subtle smile graced his lips as he once again grasped the Heaven-Defying Thunder Sword and unleashed the Tempest Monarch's Sword Art.

In that instant, the very fabric of the surroundings convulsed.

A formidable aura of lightning permeated the pavilion. The atmosphere crackled with energy, each disciple's hair standing on end as the spectral swords arrayed behind Qingyi began to proliferate without end.

One hundred. Two hundred. One thousand. Five thousand. Seven thousand.

The count ceased only when precisely ten thousand swords hovered in the heavens above the pavilion, each one radiating a combat potency equivalent to that of a standard disciple at the zenith of the Celestial Ascension Realm.

They formed a vast canopy, akin to a tempestuous storm cloud, with delicate tendrils of lightning dancing along the edge of every gleaming blade.

With a mere flick of Qingyi's finger, all ten thousand sword points converged, aimed at the disciples below.

Unadulterated terror seized their countenances. Was Qingyi intending to exact vengeance?

Their gazes darted towards Rouxi, a silent plea for clemency in their eyes, but she remained unmoved, not lifting a single digit. She simply observed her now-son with rapt attention, a faint, enigmatic smile gracing her lips.

Qingyi gestured with his hand, and the swords dissipated into the air like ephemeral smoke caught by the wind. His interest in those individuals had vanished.

Unbeknownst to him, this extraordinary display would soon bestow upon him a new, legendary title.

The Supreme Emperor of the Ten Thousand Blades.

The appellation of 'Emperor' was a distinction seldom bestowed upon individuals who had not yet attained the Celestial Emperor realm.

However, an exception was made on this occasion. And through this unique concession, Qingyi's renown surged anew.

An Emperor within the Celestial Ascension realm... was such a phenomenon not utterly preposterous?

The Supreme Emperor of the Ten Thousand Blades.

Numerous burgeoning talents now turned their attention towards the Cosmic Dawn Sect, ardently anticipating the opportunity to gauge the might of that enigmatic black dragon, Long Qingyi.

All that was required was a brief period of patience, awaiting the advent of the Great Sects Tournament, a grand event scheduled to unfold within the span of a mere three months.

It was then that they would finally have the chance to gauge Qingyi's true power firsthand.

The gaze of the handsome young man elevated, settling upon Rouxi, who was perched on the balcony railing above.

Her arms were pressed against her immense breasts from opposing sides, causing the soft, pale flesh to surge and spill over the modest neckline of her garments. A profound, shadowed cleavage was formed between them, incredibly alluring, so plump and heavy that it appeared capable of engulfing a man's entire face.

Her emerald eyes scrutinized Qingyi with a potent, peculiar affection.

The longer he observed that woman, the more peculiar the entire situation became.

With a gentle push from his feet, Qingyi propelled himself through the air, landing with elegant composure next to her. He cupped his fists and offered a bow of deep respect.

"Long Qingyi pays his respects to the Pavilion Mistress!"

A sweet, melodious laugh escaped her lips.

"Pavilion Mistress?"

Rouxi extended her hands and grasped his shoulders. Abruptly, she tugged him forcefully towards her.

His eyes widened dramatically in surprise as his face was driven forcefully into Rouxi's enormous, pale bosom.

The two gigantic mounds parted to accommodate him before drawing back together on either side, enveloping him completely within a warm, yielding valley of flesh and silk.

Her breasts conformed to the contours of his face, their plush softness jiggling faintly with every subtle movement she made. Her sweet, floral perfume saturated his senses, and her silken skin radiated warmth against his cheeks, the creamy fullness cradling his face as if it were custom-made for him.

Rouxi's hands settled tenderly upon his back. Her smile broadened as she felt the young man's hands instinctively clench her hips, his fingers sinking into the generous curve where her slender waist flared into those ample hips.

"You must call me Mom now, silly boy."

She delivered a soft, affectionate pat to his back before finally freeing him from the embrace of her chest. "I am Rouxi, your mother."

The beauty with green hair appeared close to tears, her voice brimming with tenderness as she gently stroked Qingyi's hair with delicate fingertips.

The handsome young man's confusion only intensified.

He had no idea what was wrong with that woman...

But damn, he actually enjoyed it.