After what felt like forever, Jingliu struck down the last of the Wingweavers.
With ragged breath, her body no longer felt like her own—an instrument of overwhelming desire. Her core ached, her pussy twitched incessantly, and slick arousal dripped freely, soaking her inner thighs. Her mind, hazy from the relentless pleasure and the torment of being denied release, always teetered from ecstasy felt like agony.
Glancing down at her sweat-drenched, trembling body, she cast her gaze toward Luocha, who was scanning the area for their next objective. Out of his sight, her hand began to journey between her thighs.
But before she could reach herself, several invisible hands seized her wrist, restraining her. Even as she summoned every ounce of strength, she couldn't break free.
After a short, futile struggle, she surrendered. Her thoughts dissolved into fog. She wanted to sleep—no, she wanted to confront him.
"Miss Jingliu, there are still more settlements we need to track," Luocha's voice cut through the haze. "I found a map marking the remaining locations. We should eliminate them quickly. If we wait too long, they may grow suspicious when one of the settlements stops responding."
Jingliu's soul shuddered. Her body was already on the verge of collapse after that "short" fight. She couldn't bear much more.
But she knew: If they paused to rest, the momentum—their only chance for swift extermination—would vanish. The Wingweavers would be alerted, scattered, lost.
"Miss Jingliu, is everything alright?" Luocha asked, noting her silence. It was unlike her to hesitate.
Weighing the risk and reward, Jingliu resolved to end this nightmare quickly—then deal with the one responsible.
"I'm... ah—f-fine," she gasped, barely suppressing a moan. She tried to steady herself but failed, her breath uneven and heavy. "Let's... get going. Time... is of the essence."
Luocha's eyes narrowed. Her disheveled appearance and trembling voice did not escape his notice. "Miss Jingliu... Are you ill?" He raised his hand, gathering healing energy.
Hope flickered in Jingliu's eyes—until a voice, low and venomous, whispered in her ear:
"Jingliu, if you tell him, I'll torture your inner walls. Judging by your current state—and I haven't even started—you clearly wouldn't survive it, would you?"
A dark chuckle followed, chilling her to the bone.
Her voice caught in her throat. The words vanished.
"It's... nothing," she finally murmured. Luocha nodded slowly, hand lowered, though suspicion lingered.
Without delay, they moved toward the nearest settlement. But Jingliu's pace lagged—she was slower, her movements stiff and burdened by invisible torment.
This time, the hands never rested. They teased her relentlessly.
She felt engulfed in them—two massaging her ass, others stroking her thighs, some teasing her armpits and even the crevices between her fingers and toes. Every inch of her skin was licked, caressed, or fondled.
She felt revulsion—but also unbearable heat. Her sensitive body betrayed her with every stroke.
Her soaked core had long overflowed, and the droplets that fell to the ground froze into delicate shards of ice, only to shatter and scatter into the wind.
Five grueling hours stretched into an eternity. She was caught in a purgatory of desire, always at the edge of ecstasy, but never allowed to fall.
She was tormented without reprieve—breasts, ass, pussy, even her lips buzzed with hypersensitive energy. A whisper of touch could push her over the edge.
Her mind was long lost. Her vision blurred, and she heard only her heartbeat, thundering in her ears as she cut down the final Wingweaver.
"Luo. cha... I... will! R-rest." she moaned, staggering into his arms. He summoned the coffin, and Jingliu collapsed inside.
~~ Inside the mindscape
When she opened her eyes, she noticed everything.
The hands were now visible, attached to her body in dozens of places, teasing and stroking with slow, steady rhythm.
Her clothes lay scattered across the ground. Below her, a shimmering pool of clear liquid contained in a glass jar reflected her flushed form, more steadily dripping between her thighs.
She was slightly suspending above the ground, by chains restricting her arms.
The sensation of the fluid running down her legs should have disgusted her—but instead, it made her shudder with pleasure.
The kneading of her breasts, the squeezing of her ass, the slow circling on her clit—every single touch screamed ecstasy.
And just as her body was about to buckle in climax, every hand stopped in perfect unison.
She was denied again—left on the precipice, trembling, needing, burning.
"Ugh~" No longer needing to hold back, Jingliu's breath came in shallow, heated gasps as her thighs pressed together, aching for more.
"Clank, clank." Heavy chains above clattered softly, restraining her arms, keeping her vulnerable and exposed.
"Ah, Jingliu, you've returned." A man appeared before her—no longer a mere shadow, but a solid form.
He had long brown hair tied into a loose ponytail, a sharp jawline softening into a dangerously charming smile. His warm, kind eyes glimmered with mischief, and he exuded the calm familiarity of a neighbor.
Clad in a modest Luofu robe, plain grey with traditional cuts, he looked completely unassuming. But every word from his lips dripped with twisted delight.
"Thank you for offering up so much of your mental focus. I can now manifest like this, all thanks to you," he said, voice gentle—contradicting the actions he does.
"Do. Not. Call my—Ahh~!" Her protest broke into a moan as a phantom hand pinched her clit, sending a jolt of raw pleasure through her.
"Hmm... You still think you're in control?" he mused, stepping closer. His hand trailed up her inner thigh, slow and tantalizing.
"Hm~" A helpless moan slipped from her lips.
His touch traveled over her hip and glided up her torso, brushing lightly until his fingers captured her breast, squeezing and kneading.
"Ah~!"
Every nerve in her body responded, hyper-sensitive within her mindscape. Every touch was amplified—overwhelming her brain.
The phantom hands grew bolder, rhythmically toying with her most sensitive spots, drawing her to the brink—only to cruelly stop.
"Aghh~!" Her frustrated moan echoed, filled with desperate longing.
"Whaaat d-do y-you waaant?" she whimpered, barely able to finish the question as the hands resumed their assault.
"What do I want?" he repeated with a low chuckle. "You, Jingliu. You remember our second meeting? Every artist yearns to possess their masterpiece. Surely, you know what I mean."
"Never!" she snapped, her voice sharp, but trembling. She gritted her teeth.
Ju Heng's smile didn't falter.
"I thought you'd say that... for now," he said, raising his hand. With a flick, an array of toys appeared in a neat display before her.
She recognized them.
Wand vibrators. Anal beads. Wireless eggs. A ball gag. A sleek blindfold. And many, many more.
"The IPC trades in everything. You'd be amazed what you can find if you look hard enough," he mused, amusement dripping from his voice. "Truly mankind's finest creations."
Of course these are just imitations but their functions are still the same.
One of the phantom hands paused its teasing of her clit and picked up a humming wand vibrator, already vibrating softly.
Two others pried her thighs apart, granting an unobstructed view of her glistening folds.
"N-no~!" Jingliu gasped, her voice trembling. The hands alone had already broken her resolve. She couldn't endure anything more—anything stronger.
Ju Heng said nothing—he only smiled. The wand buzzed louder, then pressed directly against her slick entrance, sending waves of hot, shattering pleasure through her.
"Ahhh!~ Hm~ ah~ st-hm~ op... ahhh~!"
Her voice dissolved into moans, her body helpless beneath the relentless pleasure. But once again, she was denied the sweet release that hovered just beyond her grasp.
Her body trembled, aching, so sensitive that even the phantom breeze brushing over her skin made her thighs clench. The torment had become an exquisite torture.
Before she could voice her desperation, another wave of stimulation surged through her—phantom touches tracing her inner thighs, lips, breasts—each one coaxing out louder, needier moans from within her.
"If you truly want that blissful release you've been aching for," Ju Heng's voice whispered into her ear, "then beg for it. Say it—'Please, make me cum.'"
But his words were nearly lost beneath the symphony of her own cries, her voice trembling with overwhelming desire as her body writhed beneath the onslaught.
Without her realizing, one of the phantom hands glided away, fingers brushing her skin like silk. It returned moments later, holding a sleek, humming wireless egg vibrator.
Before she could react—it pressed gently against her rear entrance, teasing in slow, deliberate circles.
Then, with no resistance and a wicked sense of timing, it slid the device deep inside her.
"Ahhhh~!"
Her moan spilled out, raw and breathless, as her body arched, the sudden invasion igniting a rush of pleasure that rippled through her trembling form.