"Wh-what did you say?"
Nadia spun around.
Artis shrugged casually, not even bothering to cover up his impressive nine-inch member, which stood proudly like a monument to poor decisions. He leaned back on the bed with a cheeky smirk, elbow propping him up, one leg lazily draped over the edge.
"I don't know if it was the alcohol talking or if he was just being honest. But let me tell you, there were so many things he said that could make a rock explode itself."
Nadia gulped, her eyes wandering down to his manhood, which was about as subtle as a peacock at a funeral. It was big, girthy, and veiny—pulsating ever so slightly like it was trying to communicate. She shook her head, trying to regain her composure as if it were a lost battle.
"What—what other matters did he say?"
She stammered, desperately trying to focus on his face instead of the not-so-distant reminder of her husband's failures.
"Oh, sister, I really don't think you want to hear that. I mean, do you really want to know how he described you? Because I'd hate to ruin that pretty little daydream you've got going."
He sleezily rose from the bed, proudly flaunting his impressive physique like a model at a brothel's fashion show. Strutting over to the wardrobe, he grabbed a crisp white robe, giving it a little twirl for dramatic flair, then sashayed back toward the mirror, ready to make a grand entrance.
But just as he began to tie the robe, Nadia suddenly yanked his arm, spinning him around like a rag doll. Her face was as red as a ripe tomato, anger radiating from her in waves. He could practically see the steam rising from her head.
As she glared at him, he couldn't help but notice that her chest was rising and falling like a wild beast—her nipples clearly visible through the sheer silk of her nightie, practically waving a white flag of surrender.
And up close, her full lips looked so delectable he felt like a kid in a candy store, dying to just grab them and twist them like a pretzel. But alas, he managed to restrain himself, reminding his inner villain that there were still boundaries—even in a cultivation novel.
"I don't want you to know that, sister. No wife should hear that!"
He gently grabbed her hand and freed his arms, turning back to the mirror as if he were the main character in a romantic drama. With a flourish, he resumed tying his robe, putting on a show like it was an Olympic sport.
"I want to know. I have a right to know!"
"No, you don't."
He replied, smirking as he adjusted the collar of his robe like a nobleman preparing for court.
"I'm your elder sister, and I demand that!"
She declared, crossing her arms with the kind of authority that made him briefly consider running for the hills.
"I don't give a fuck!"
He shot back, puffing out his chest as if he were challenging her to a duel over who was the real family authority here.
"Grrr…"
Nadia growled, her face turning a delightful shade of crimson. She redirected her fury at him, shooting daggers with her eyes that could probably cut through steel. He felt a cold sweat trickle down the back of his neck.
'Crap! I forgot she had some kind of cultivation base! Or was it body tampering? Honestly, I don't want to find out right now.'
"I—I demand to know the truth!"
She exclaimed, her voice reaching a pitch that could probably shatter glass.
'Yep, now's the time.'
He thought, feeling a rush of bravado. He locked eyes with her, channeling all the drama he could muster. With a flourish reminiscent of a third-rate actor in a low-budget film, he declared,
"You can't handle the truth!"
His voice boomed with a ridiculous gravitas that made even him stifle a laugh. Nadia's anger faltered, her eyes widening like saucers, and for a moment, she looked like a deer caught in the headlights of a speeding carriage.
"J-just say it... dammit..."
She muttered, weakly punching his arm like a kitten trying to assert dominance over a lion.
A smirk crept onto his face as he reveled in the moment.
"Fine. You win. He uh...He said... he said... you were just a stepping stone for him to get closer to me!"
He paused dramatically for effect, letting the words hang in the air like a poorly timed fart at a family dinner.
"That way, he can get closer to the young master and the Patriarch..."
Nadia's entire world tilted on its axis.
"What?!"
She exclaimed, looking as if he'd just told her the sky was green. She had been bracing for some awful revelation—like being told she was bad at bed or that her cooking could start a war—but this? This was worse than a thousand paper cuts!
'Gotcha!'
Seeing her trembling form, his smile widened to the point that it looked like his lips were about to burst.
'Sow discord and steal the wives. That's my motto, ladies and gentlemen! I shall steal them all, starting from my own family—because who needs boundaries when you have a grand plan?'
"Lie... it's a lie..."
Nadia stammered, her voice shaky as she clenched her fists like a cartoon character ready to burst into flames.
"Maybe it's the alcohol. Maybe it's him. I don't know... But honestly, if I were you, I wouldn't want my little brother stalking my husband and digging up the truth either."
He said, chuckling while he took his sweet time tying his robe. He could have done it in a flash, but no, he was savoring this moment like a chef with a fine wine—relishing every drop of tension in the air.
The longer he dragged it out, the more delicious the drama became. This was a crucial time, and he was playing it like a maestro conducting an orchestra of chaos. He was sure his last words would reel her in, hook, line, and sinker.
"Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to visit the Patriarch for my well-deserved reward."
He said, striding confidently toward the door. As he passed, he made sure to 'accidentally' brush against her.
Thud!
Her soft, squishy breasts met his elbow with all the grace of a meat pie colliding with a brick wall. He could practically hear the squish echoing in the room.
But to his surprise, she didn't bat an eyelash—her expression was as focused as a cultivator meditating at the peak of Mount Introspection.
He smiled and stepped out of the room and strutted down the hallway like a peacock showing off its feathers, mentally preparing for his meeting with the Patriarch. After all, he was on a quest for his reward.