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TDG: Ultimate Villain - Ch 33 Watching Herself Fall. (R-18)
🕑 Added 2025-05-29 13:53:21 +0000 UTCHuyan Lanrou wandered back to her dormitory, her steps slow and unfocused.
Her mind kept replaying Shen Xiu’s mocking words—echoes of humiliation that mixed with something far worse.
Each time her eyes blinked shut, she saw herself in Shen Xiu’s place… gagging, moaning, her throat stretched obscenely around Shen Fei’s thick cock.
The images came unbidden, vivid and relentless, igniting a twisted ache within her.
That night and even beyond, sleep never came.
She lay in bed, body flushed, mind tormented each night by shameful fantasies she couldn’t banish.
Meanwhile, Shen Fei's life progressed with a calm, effortless rhythm.
Despite the whirlwind of rising fame surrounding him—within Holy Orchid Institute and throughout Glory City—his days passed quietly.
With his strength now invincible in this world, the so-called Tiny Realm, threats like the Dark Guild or the Demon Lord had become irrelevant distractions.
He had transcended them.
One morning, in a private meeting with City Lord Ye Zong and the principal of the academy, Shen Fei leaned back lazily in his chair as their earnest faces waited for his response.
“We want you to craft matching cultivation techniques for every student in the institute,” the principal said. “Commoners, nobles—it doesn’t matter. The entire city is watching. You’ve become a symbol.”
Ye Zong added, “We’ll fund it all. You’ll gain support from every corner of Glory City. It’s a good deal, Shen Fei.”
Shen Fei gave a languid smile, his fingers idly tracing the rim of his teacup. “A good deal indeed. Fine. I’ll do it.”
Relief flooded both their faces.
As they left, Shen Fei remained seated, still smirking. ‘The City Lord pays, my fame grows, and I get to shape the next generation in my image. What more could I want?’
The following days fell into a steady, luxurious routine.
Every night, Shen Fei took Shen Xiu in her teachers quarters, reshaping her body into every posture his desires demanded.
He devoured her cries, her moans, her trembling submission, leaving her trembling and soaked by dawn.
In the mornings, Shen Xiu left for her classes—flushed and dazed but composed.
Shen Fei, meanwhile, bathed leisurely, enjoyed his breakfast, then strolled to the library with an air of effortless confidence.
There, he devoured books shelf by shelf, his reading pace superhuman.
At regular intervals, students arrived, guided by the institute’s new schedule: every cultivator would receive a custom-made technique from the academy’s greatest genius.
Shen Fei checked each student's soul form and elemental alignment, then casually created techniques that dwarfed anything they’d ever seen—five to ten times more powerful than what they’d used before.
He watched as awe bloomed in their faces, as gratitude turned into worship.
Rumors spread like wildfire.
"Did you hear? Shen Fei gave the Lin girl a fire technique that let her breakthrough overnight!"
"Even the principal admitted that the boy’s basically a greatest prodigy ever seen."
"And I heard… some girls are thanking him personally.”
Indeed, some beautiful students—grateful beyond words—offered their bodies instead.
They came to him alone, flushed and trembling, whispering their thanks with soft hands and parted lips. They seduced him—voluntarily, provocatively, hungrily.
Shen Fei would sigh as though inconvenienced… then take his time with them.
One on the study table. Another against the bookshelf. Sometimes two at once.
They weren’t as divine as the heroines he knew would come—mature Ye Ziyun, proud Xiao Ning’er in future, or the voluptuous Shen Xiu, Yang Xin, or Huyan Lanrou—but they were still radiant beauties.
Better, even, than the finest women he’d ever seen on Earth.
And of course, he didn’t just use them.
He upgraded each girl’s cultivation through his Absolute Yin-Yang Physique, pushing them to new heights.
In return, they returned again and again, addicted to both the pleasure and the power.
The legend of Shen Fei’s dual cultivation spread quietly at first within group of beautiful students.
But soon, whispers reached even the ears of female teachers.
"Did you hear? One night with him, and she advanced two whole ranks."
"They say he can tailor techniques… but it’s his physique that’s truly divine."
Those whispers carried desire, envy, and fascination.
As time passed, the old stories of Shen Fei the reckless playboy faded like smoke.
In their place rose a new image: Shen Fei the prodigy, the miracle-worker, the forbidden dream.
And so, the days rolled on and a month quietly passed away.
Every student at the institute, from the poorest commoner to the haughtiest noble, eventually received a cultivation technique—crafted personally by Shen Fei’s hands.
He had become more than a student, more than a noble heir.
He was their architect of power.
Their silent god.
…….
Huyan Lanrou had been cultivating the technique given to her by Shen Fei for more than a week now.
Her progress was nothing short of remarkable—already, she had broken through to the 3-star Gold-ranked Demon Spiritualist.
Logically, she should have been overjoyed.
She hadn’t needed to sell her body, become his toy or maid, or beg on her knees for the power she now possessed.
Her strength was growing steadily—enough, perhaps, to one day protect her family and Glory City from the looming threat of demon beast hordes.
And it was all thanks to the City Lord and the principal’s intervention.
But she wasn’t happy.
Not even close.
Because no matter how fast her cultivation rose, her mind refused to rest.
Night after night, she found herself trapped in fantasies—fantasies where she wasn’t just watching Shen Xiu being dominated... but taking her place.
She dreamed of being the one bent over, panting and moaning, filled over and over again by the man she had once claimed to hate.
At first, she had written it off as stress or confusion.
But it didn’t stop.
But now, they haunted her even in daylight.
Even in the middle of class, when Shen Xiu stood at the front teaching, her voice calm and composed—Lanrou’s mind would flash with lewd illusions.
The same woman speaking so proudly in public had once been bent over like a plaything, reduced to a drooling mess by her nephew’s thrusts.
The rumors didn’t help. Girls whispered about Shen Fei’s divine dual cultivation physique—how he could evolve women with his touch, how he’d molded countless girls into stronger cultivators with nothing but his rod and his seed.
And when Lanrou remembered Shen Xiu’s own cold words—“All of my Black Gold cultivation is thanks to his pounding. Every single breakthrough came under him.”—it all clicked.
She believed it.
‘Of course it's true. Why else would a proud woman like Shen Xiu willingly become his fuck toy?’
That was when her resistance truly began to crumble.
She started rationalizing.
‘If I give in, it’s for strength. For my family. For Glory City.’
But deep down, she knew.
It wasn’t just about strength.
It was about need.
Her pride couldn’t accept seeing girls her age—once weaker, with lesser talent—soaring in cultivation while she struggled.
She couldn’t stand knowing that they were advancing… because they had offered themselves to him.
And she couldn’t bear the constant heat in her body, the aching throb between her thighs, the way her mind and soul begged for his touch after weeks of fantasizing.
She wanted him.
Craved him.
Dreamed of monopolizing him.
No more excuses. No more waiting.
She would go to him now.
Not as a slut—but as a woman claiming her right.
His touch.
His presence.
His eyes that stripped her bare.
His cock that haunted her dreams.
She hated the girls around her—those once weaker than her, untalented, ordinary—who now surged forward in power, catching up, even surpassing her.
Not because they worked harder, but because they surrendered themselves.
She couldn’t take it anymore.
She left her quarters that day with a clear purpose—and a storm inside her.
The library loomed ahead, vast and silent.
She walked swiftly, her breaths shallow as she pushed past rows of bookshelves, her boots clicking on the floor.
Her mind was spinning with thoughts of what she would say—’I don’t want to be your slut. I want to be your wife.’
She would confront him. Look him in the eye. Claim what she deserved—not just lust, but recognition.
But then she heard it.
Slap.
Smack.
Moan.
Slap.
The unmistakable sounds of flesh meeting flesh, of moaning, of sin echoing among sacred books.
Her jaw clenched. Her pace quickened. She cursed Shen Fei under her breath, fury bubbling in her chest.
‘That bastard is doing it again. Doesn’t he ever stop?’
She turned the final corner—and froze.
The sight before her stole her breath.
Between the tall bookshelves of the library’s farthest, dimmest aisle—where ancient scrolls and forbidden records gathered dust—an erotic storm raged, unbound and relentless.
Yang Xin, Director of the Alchemist Association—normally composed, elegant, and feared for her sharp mind—was bent forward over an old wooden desk.
Her immaculate robes had been stripped away, leaving only her heels and a half-torn stocking dangling from one ankle.
Her flawless porcelain skin glowed under the golden beams filtering through a high window, and her ample breasts were mashed flat against dusty wood, nipples grazing the grain with each jolt of her body.
Her full, heart-shaped ass was raised high—offered willingly—and Shen Fei stood behind her like a sculptor admiring his masterpiece.
His fingers dug into her plush hips, and his cock plunged deep into her soaked warmth with a rhythmic, punishing cadence.
Pah!
Pah!
Pah!
Each thrust echoed through the cavernous chamber.
The wet slap of flesh against flesh mixed with Yang Xin’s breathy cries and the dull creak of the old table beneath her.
“Mmmh! H-Harder… yes, like that, Master,” she whimpered, her voice shaking, eyes unfocused and glazed. “Fill me up again… I want to feel it… deeper!”
Her words slurred together, each moan higher than the last.
She was lost—body trembling, thighs quivering with every impact as her pussy clenched around him, desperate to milk every thrust.
Shen Fei grunted low in his throat, eyes locked on the rippling jiggle of her ass with every collision.
Her slick folds hugged his cock like a glove, squeezing and sucking him back in with every pull.
She was too perfect—ripe, tight, and gloriously obedient. He loved seeing a once-proud woman degraded so utterly.
“You really are a whore for this, aren’t you?” he said with a smirk, punctuating the words with a heavy thrust that made her yelp.
Smack!
He brought his palm down on her ass, leaving a blooming red handprint.
Yang Xin cried out, shivering beneath the blow, her voice soaked in lust. “Y-Yes… I’m your slut, Shen Fei. Please—don’t stop. Use me however you want!”
Pah!
Pah!
Pah!
The air was thick with the sound of skin colliding, wet and desperate.
Her body rocked forward with every impact, her fingers clawing at the table, nails digging grooves into the wood as her mouth hung open, drooling slightly from the corner.
Her breasts swung beneath her, heavy and flushed, nipples stiff with arousal.
Her entire frame trembled under the force of his thrusts, her inner walls tightening every time his tip crashed against the deepest part of her core.
“Ahh! Ahhh! I-It’s coming again…! Master—Shen Fei—I’m going to—!”
“Then cum,” he growled, dragging her head back by her purplish-voilet hair. “Cum while I fuck your soul.”
And she did.
With a scream muffled by the hand he slapped over her mouth, Yang Xin’s body convulsed.
Her pussy walls clenched wildly around his cock, drawing out a groan from deep in Shen Fei’s chest as her orgasm rippled through her.
Her juices spilled down her thighs, wetting his balls with every bounce.
But he didn’t stop.
Not even close.
He kept thrusting, faster now—his cock soaked and slick, slamming into her overstimulated body as if he could mold her from within.
“Your body… your talent… all of it belongs to me,” he hissed against her ear, his breath hot.
“Say it.”
“Y-Yes… I belong to you… Master Shen Fei… I’m yours… your slut, your tool…!”
Pah!
Smack!
Pah!
Pah!
Each slap resounded louder.
His hands alternated between grabbing her waist and spanking her swollen ass, the red marks growing darker with every blow. Her cries turned to high-pitched sobs of pleasure, overwhelmed, obedient, and euphoric.
Behind the next shelf, barely hidden, Lanrou didn’t know how to process it.
Even she has fallen to him.
Arousal bloomed in her core, hot and shameful.
But she didn’t resist it. Her hand slipped beneath her waistband as her other gripped the bookshelf.
She bit her lip, watching, breathing heavily as Shen Fei’s cock slid in and out of Yang Xin’s dripping core.
‘She’s not ashamed’, Lanrou realized. ‘She’s proud. She’s begging for it. She wants it.’
And suddenly, Lanrou did too.
‘I’ve waited long enough.’
She began pleasuring herself openly, hidden just enough by the shelves, her eyes never leaving the scene.
Her thighs trembled. Her mind burned. Her will melted into hunger.
She didn't care anymore.
She would give herself to him.
Shen Fei, aware of her presence the entire time, smirked to himself without turning.
His rhythm intensified. Each thrust slammed into Yang Xin harder, louder—performing not just for the woman beneath him, but for the one watching.
He could already see the transformation blooming in Lanrou’s heart.
Soon, she’d be his.
Not just in body.
But in the soul.
……
He thrust harder.
Faster.
Deeper.
Each movement a performance for the voyeur hidden in the shadows.
With one final growl, Shen Fei grabbed Yang Xin’s hair, yanked her back, and slammed into her to the hilt.
His cock pulsed.
Hot seed flooded her womb.
Yang Xin’s eyes rolled back as she moaned, body trembling as her insides were filled completely.
Spurt.
Spurt.
Spurt.
She collapsed forward on the desk, twitching, a blissful smile on her lips.
And from behind the shelf, Lanrou’s hand slowed… her own thighs slick, heart pounding, her pride in ruins.
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