A gentle smile curved Selene’s lips as her gaze swept across the sun-drenched arena.
It settled on Kael, who trained alone amid the scattered straw dummies and weathered weapon racks, the sharp whistle of his strikes cutting through the still midday air.
His bare chest glistened beneath the noon sun, drenched in sweat that traced glimmering paths down the hard ridges of his stomach.
The muscles beneath his skin had grown far stronger and more defined than they had once been, sculpted by relentless effort.
Seeing him so healthy filled Selene’s chest with warm joy.
"Miss Selene." Kael paused mid-form, lowering his arms, and dipped his head in a slight, respectful bow.
Selene shook her own head in return, a soft sigh escaping her lips as she feigned mild disapproval.
"Hm... silly boy, why don’t you just call me Mom? I’ve insisted on it so many times already."
She closed the distance between them with smooth, gliding steps.
She didn’t break stride as her slender fingers slipped into the deep, warm valley between them.
The plump, milky flesh parted around her hand before closing in on it from both sides. Those heavy mounds swallowed her wrist whole, engulfing it in a cushion of soft, perfumed skin that hugged her like the finest silk pillows.
The huge globes quivered gently every time she shifted her wrist deeper into the fragrant, shadowy cleavage, the pale upper slopes wobbling with each small movement of her buried hand.
A white handkerchief emerged a moment later, carrying with it the sweet, intoxicating warmth of her skin.
The moment her hand slid free, the soft flesh closed back together, the two mounds settling against each other with a slow, heavy bounce.
She came to a stop directly in front of Kael, whose eyes refused to tear themselves from that voluptuous cleavage, and smiled with tenderness.
She pressed the warm, perfumed handkerchief against his sweat-slick chest, wiping downward in slow, careful strokes.
Her hands came together at the very center of his pecs, her arms squeezing those huge, heavy globes inward from both sides until the cleavage deepened into a pale, bottomless canyon of flesh.
The dress strained beneath the pressure, its delicate seams groaning in quiet, threatening protest.
Soft, creamy flesh bulged obscenely over the neckline, two swollen crescents of skin spilling upward.
Kael’s breath caught in his throat, his pulse hammering against his ribs as he very nearly surrendered to impulse.
But in the next instant he noticed Selene’s hands go still against his chest.
"What happened, miss—" Kael caught himself just in time, swiftly channeling Qi into his cheeks to force them into a crimson flush, then continued with feigned, bashful embarrassment. "Mom..."
Selene’s heart nearly leapt clean out of her chest at those long-awaited words, her fingers tightening around the handkerchief as her entire face lit up with pure, unguarded excitement.
Finally, after twenty long years, her stepson had called her mother!
"Nothing, my dear. Just a few little pigs who don’t know their place in the world."
Selene smiled sweetly and rose onto the tips of her toes, tugging Kael’s head down so she could reach.
Her massive chest pressed flush against his sweat-slick torso, the soft mounds flattening against the hard planes of his muscles as she laid a tender kiss on his damp forehead.
She lingered there for a heartbeat longer than was strictly necessary before finally settling back down onto her heels.
Kael said nothing, merely offering a small nod before turning his face toward one of the two iron-bound gates that led into the residence.
With a sharp crack of wood striking against stone, the gate swung wide open, revealing ten figures advancing in tight, deliberate formation.
The leader was someone Kael knew all too well.
Sol Ashen, his cousin, hailed as the most talented young master of this generation of the Ashen Family.
Beside him stood Lucian Purewind, husband of Seraphine Purewind, while just behind the two, eight lesser figures rounded out the obedient entourage.
The warmth drained from Selene’s face in an instant.
"I hope you have a good reason for entering my residence without permission," she demanded, her voice dropping into a dangerously cold register.
She kept her aura carefully restrained, considering it beneath her dignity to crush insignificant ants with the full weight of her power.
"It’s nothing major, Senior Selene. Just matters among the younger generation."
Sol Ashen stepped forward, puffing out his broad, powerful chest. His shimmering golden hair caught the sunlight, and his striking sapphire-blue eyes settled on Kael with open contempt.
He couldn’t sense a trace of Kael’s cultivation, and so he simply concluded the other boy was too weak for his strength to even register on the spectrum.
Even if Selene had been actively concealing her stepson’s cultivation, it hardly mattered.
Sol himself stood just one step away from the Qi Foundation Realm.
He had nothing to fear from a pampered mama’s boy who had never once tasted the bitter sting of real death.
"Kael Ashen, Heir Disciple of the Ashen Family, you who have disgraced our name with your pitiful talent! I, Sol Ashen, challenge you to a martial duel for the position of Heir Disciple!"
His voice rang across the arena, and the eight behind him straightened their backs, chins lifting in unison.
Kael’s lips quirked upward in a barely contained grin, and he was on the very verge of shouting ’Hell yeah!’ when Selene cut sharply in.
"No, absolutely not! My baby isn’t going to fight you, you filthy worm!" she roared.
Her chest heaved with the outburst, the heavy globes lurching once against the strained fabric.
Even without releasing a single thread of her Qi, an overwhelming, suffocating power rode on her voice, sending faint tremors rippling through the stone tiles beneath her feet.
Loose straw skittered across the ground, and the wooden dummies rattled on their posts.
Had any mortals been present, their eardrums would have ruptured and their eyes filled with blood from the sheer intensity of that pressure alone.
Sol clenched his teeth at her words, jaw tight enough to ache, but soon realized he wouldn’t even need to respond.
A new presence was already approaching through the open gate.
"Yes, he will fight."
The voice echoed across the courtyard, and Selene’s eyes snapped to the side, fixing coldly on the newcomer.
He looked like an older, uglier version of Kael, his lips curled into a confident, arrogant smile.
Luke Ashen, Kael’s father, stood with calm, calculating eyes and his hands crossed behind his back.
"Come on, kid. Show me you’re more than a waste of oxygen."
"You!—" Selene was about to lose control when she felt Kael’s hand brush lightly against hers, his warm fingers transmitting an unexpected, grounding calm.
"It’s okay. I’m confident." He smiled, that smile carrying all the purity and kindness she knew only her stepson to possess.
Selene battled a storm of emotions raging inside her, anger, fear, and anxiety all warring at once.
Yet as she gazed into Kael’s handsome, resolved face, she found herself reluctantly taking a step back.