They didn't scatter, not after Xue Lan left.
She had exited the courtyard with a sway in her hips, still visibly sore from her morning use, and her robe clinging to the sweat she hadn't bothered to dry. She'd kissed Lin Mu's cheek before leaving him behind—still hard, still silent, still surrounded.
And the crowd? It didn't disappear.
It closed in.
"Senior Brother Lin," one young man said, lowering his voice like a conspirator. "If it's true... I an, if you allow it... would you be willing to grant a night with your wife?"
Lin Mu blinked.
The man smiled apologetically. "Just once. I would, of course, offer spiritual crystals—or a duel service in return. I've heard she enjoys variety..."
Before Lin Mu could speak, another voice cut in.
"I'd also like to offer," said a clean-shaven disciple from the Cloud Ring Hall. "For the sake of dual cultivation, of course."
A few others stepped closer, clearly emboldened.
One woman clapped her hands in mock delight. "Is this going to beco a formal sect ritual soon? A sign-up sheet? Will you be managing her lovers by rotation, Lin Mu?"
He opened his mouth—but the words caught in his throat.
"I... will consider it," he said softly.
There was no strength in the words. Only surrender.
The crowd shifted again—this ti as a group of female disciples approached.
They weren't laughing.
They were watching him closely.
One of them—an older inner disciple nad Yue Fei—tilted her head, her sharp eyes gleaming. "I thought the rumors were just cruel exaggeration. But you really do let her choose others. And you... serve afterward."
She took a step closer.
"You don't even try to reclaim her?"
Lin Mu shook his head.
"You're handso," another girl whispered. "And loyal. I think I understand why she glows like that."
"You like it, don't you?" Yue Fei asked, voice smooth. "Being beneath her. Being beneath them."
He said nothing.
She smiled.
"I'd love to be worshipped like that. Maybe I should find a man like you."
He was trembling when they left.
And harder than he should've been.
Later That Night
The bed was soft beneath her. Pillows stacked around her back, the silks pulled down to her thighs. Her legs were parted lazily, her robe discarded completely.
Xue Lan lay in full post-fuck satisfaction, skin glowing, hair loose and damp. Her breasts rose and fell gently with each breath. Her nipples remained hard, and her inner thighs were slick with residue—thick, musky, unmistakably not her husband's.
Lin Mu knelt between her legs, eyes lowered, lips at her hips.
"I ca straight from him to the courtyard," she said, voice drowsy and teasing. "There was still so of him inside when I stood in front of you."
He nodded.
"I know. I could sll it."
"Did you feel jealous?"
He didn't answer.
Instead, he began to lick.
Slowly.
Gently.
His tongue traced along her inner thighs, kissing each red mark, each stretched fold. Her pussy was swollen, pink and twitching slightly—open and still leaking the last drops of Jin Rui's seed.
She moaned softly, not in pleasure—but satisfaction.
"There's still so left deeper inside," she whispered. "Can you reach it for ?"
He tried.
His tongue dove deeper, licking up the bitter, musky taste of another man's cum. Her folds were soft, warm, loose. His lips moved without demand—only service.
She pet his hair.
"You're so good at this," she said, voice dreamy. "My good little husband."
He moaned softly against her pussy.
And the Sutra pulsed.
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