Her perfect features twisted with the force of her weeping, snot mixing with tears as she completely abandoned any pretense of composure.

Her nine tails wrapped around them both protectively, creating a cocoon of silver and gold fur as she pressed his face deeper into her massive breasts.

Tianlong lay there completely stunned, his usual perverted thoughts—the automatic mental commentary about her incredible body, the strategic calculations about seduction tactics, the satisfied smugness at his successful manipulation—all of it simply... vanished.

Gone.

As if someone had reached into his mind and switched off every crude impulse, every sexual thought, every manipulative scheme.

All he could see was her pain.

Pain so deep, so raw, so utterly devastating that it seemed to resonate in his very bones.

This wasn't acting, wasn't political maneuvering, wasn't the careful emotional display of someone trying to gain advantage.

This was grief—pure, unadulterated grief that had been compressed and buried for thousands of years, now erupting like a dam bursting under impossible pressure.

"Hic... hic... my prince... my beloved prince..." she hiccupped between sobs, her hands trembling as they touched his face with the reverence of someone handling the most precious treasure in existence.

Her tears fell faster, splashing onto his cheeks and mixing with the golden blood still trickling from his wounds.

Each drop felt like liquid fire against his skin, not from heat but from the sheer emotional weight they carried.

'What the fuck is this feeling?'

Tianlong's mind reeled as something twisted painfully in his chest—something he didn't recognize, didn't understand, and definitely didn't like.

He was a pervert. A manipulator. A man who had built his entire existence around getting his dick wet and accumulating power through carefully plotting dirty minded approach.

But this... this made him feel sick in a way that had nothing to do with blood loss.

Here was a woman—a gorgeous, powerful, absolutely fuckable MILF—literally crying her heart out while pressing his face into the most magnificent pair of tits he'd ever encountered, and all he could think about was how much it hurt to watch her tears fall.

'Stop it,' he thought desperately as his vision began to blur from blood loss. 'Stop crying like that...'

Her sobs intensified, becoming almost violent in their intensity as millennia of suppressed anguish poured out of her.

She pressed his head against her chest so tightly he could feel her heartbeat thundering like war drums, her entire body shaking with the force of her weeping.

"I tried to find you," she whispered brokenly against his hair. "I searched everywhere... I never stopped looking... even when they said you were dead, even when they showed me the body, I knew... I knew it wasn't real..."

Something cracked inside Tianlong's chest—something that had nothing to do with his physical injuries.

Despite his rapidly fading consciousness, despite the urgent need to maintain his deception, despite every logical thought screaming at him to stay in character—his hand moved.

Not to grope her. Not to position himself for better access to her body. Not for any of the thousand perverted reasons that usually drove his actions.

His hand lifted with agonizing slowness, fingers trembling not from weakness but from an emotion he couldn't name, until his palm came to rest against her wet cheek.

The moment his skin touched hers, she froze.

Her golden eyes—still streaming tears—locked onto his crimson-gold gaze, and in that instant, he saw something that made his throat close up completely.

Hope.

Pure, desperate, earth-shattering hope mixed with a love so profound it seemed to bend reality around them.

His thumb moved without his permission, wiping away her tears with a gentleness that surprised them both.

The salt water felt scorching against his fingertips, each drop like a physical weight settling in his chest.

"Hey..." his voice came out as barely a whisper, rough with blood loss and something else entirely. "Stop those damn tears now..."

Her breath hitched, eyes widening even further as she stared down at him.

"Y-you don't look good with them," he managed, his glare weak but somehow fierce as he met her gaze. "You're... you're too beautiful to cry like that, you stupid woman..."

The words came out wrong—harsher than he'd intended, tinged with an anger that wasn't directed at her but at the tears themselves, at whatever had caused them.

But his eyes soon became blank as his hand fell loosened before he lost consciousness.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Tianlong's eyes slowly fluttered open, consciousness returning like waves lapping against a distant shore.

The first thing he noticed was the unfamiliar ceiling—rough wooden beams crisscrossing above him in a pattern that spoke of simple, functional construction.

The scent that filled his nostrils was different too.

Not the opulent perfumes and silk of his palace, but something earthier. Pine sap, wood smoke, and the faint musk of wild animals lingering in the air.

Blinking to clear his vision, he found himself lying on a bed made of rough-hewn wood, covered by simple furs and woven blankets that were surprisingly soft against his skin.

The hut was rounded, walls curved in the traditional style of the northern tribes, with small windows that let in streams of golden sunlight.

Given his ability of absolute domain and his Great Vehicle realm cultivation, his enhanced senses immediately mapped the area around him.

He could feel the spiritual signatures of the fox tribe village spreading out in all directions—dozens of lesser fox spirits, spirit beasts patrolling the perimeter, and the familiar presence of Yu Xiang seated nearby.

But what struck him most was the absence of that overwhelming, cosmic-level aura that had nearly crushed him before.

Akane's presence was nowhere to be felt.

"It was awkward, right?" his voice came out rougher than expected as he slowly pushed himself up on his elbows.

From across the small hut, Yu Xiang looked up from where she'd been sitting at a simple wooden table, her violet eyes meeting his with obvious relief.

"Yes," she said quietly, setting down what appeared to be a cup of herbal tea. "I never expected someone of her caliber to show such a sight."

The silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken questions and uncomfortable revelations.

Even for someone with absolute power like him, allowing his vulnerable side to be seen meant something.

It meant that what she'd witnessed had been genuine—raw, unfiltered emotion that even he hadn't been able to control.

Yu Xiang had understood that much.

Someone of Akane's strength didn't need to act. Didn't need to fake tears or manipulate through false emotion.

Her power was so absolute that pretense would have been meaningless.

Which made her breakdown all the more confusing.

Her eyes kept looking toward Tianlong, wondering what he could have possibly said to make even a powerhouse like Akane Mishink cry with such devastating intensity.

But all she could see was him clenching his jaw while placing his arm over his forehead, his expression twisted with something she'd never seen before.

"Shit..." he muttered under his breath. "It's unlike those stories..."

Hearing his words, Yu Xiang felt a flicker of confusion cross her features.

But soon enough, she simply blinked and stood from the table, approaching him with careful steps.

"Are you alright, Emperor?" she asked as she reached his bedside.

He just breathed slowly, his crimson-gold eyes staring up at the wooden ceiling as if uncaring whether she would judge him for what he was about to say.

"It was awkward seeing her breaking like that when I was the one who should..."

But he couldn't complete the words.

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