Extra: Under the Thirteen Gods' Crown
The grand coronation ceremony lasted a whole day.
On the top of Mount Xumi, Shanjian City was bathed in a brilliant divine light that had not been seen in ten thousand years.
Indra was clad in an intricate, holy white robe, with lotus patterns and divine emblems embroidered in gold thread cascading down his shoulders, trailing several feet to the ground. He wore a crown of thorns, symbolizing the supremacy of the gods. A single, vibrant cinnabar mark on his forehead accentuated the depth and majesty of his serene golden eyes.
He accepted the worship of all races and listened to the prayers of all living beings. His every move perfectly matched the Celestial Clan's imagination of the new master - sacred, compassionate, powerful and unattainable.
His voice was calm yet contained unquestionable power, echoing in every corner, soothing the post-war trauma and confusion and bringing new hope.
Ashura stood at the forefront of all the royal families and envoys, wearing dark red heavy armor, representing the will of the ghost clan and the abyss.
He looked at the radiant figure on the high throne, complex and indescribable emotions surging in the depths of his crimson eyes—pride, submission, burning passion, and a hint of submission, burning passion, and an elusive agitation slightly stung by the grand brilliance.
The ceremony finally ended.
The heavy temple door slowly closed behind him, completely isolating him from all noise and prying eyes. This was the innermost chamber, belonging solely to the newly ascended Heavenly Emperor.
The hall was empty and silent, with only the soft light shining through the ceiling outlining the gorgeous and cold pillars and curtains.
Emperor Shitian exhaled slightly, the fatigue and tension of the past few days seeming to ease slightly. He raised his hand, his fingertips lightly touching the heavy crown on his forehead, and was about to take it off -
A large, burning hand covered the back of his hand first, stopping his movement.
Indra was slightly startled and turned his head.
Asura had quietly stood behind him, very close to him, without anyone noticing.
Losing the solemnity and sense of distance he had shown outside, his silver-grey eyes sank like thick, indissoluble ink in the dim light, roiling with a dark fire that almost devoured him.
"Don't take it off." Ashura's voice was very low and hoarse, with a frosted texture, and his hot breath brushed against Indra's sensitive earlobe, "...Wear it."
Emperor Shitian's golden eyes flickered slightly, and he instantly understood his intention. A very faint, understanding helplessness flashed across his eyes, but he did not truly refuse.
He simply looked at Ashura quietly, his tone steady, with a hint of the natural majesty of ascending the throne: "Ashura, today is different from the past, you must not be presumptuous."
Far from serving as a warning, these words were like a spark that completely ignited the dark and turbulent thoughts that Ashura had been suppressing all day.
"Your Majesty, are you reminding me that there is a huge gap between our status now." Ashura chuckled, and his other hand had already forcefully grasped Indra's waist, holding him tightly in his arms.
The cold armor rubbed against the gorgeous holy robe, making a slight friction sound.
"That's right." Indra tried to remain calm, but the sudden warmth and aggressive aura of Chizhi close to him made him miss a beat.
He raised his hand to push the other person away, but Ashura easily grabbed his wrist.
"That's perfect." Ashura leaned forward, his fangs glancing at the delicate skin of Indra's neck in an almost ambiguous manner, feeling the suddenly accelerating pulse beneath it. "I just wanted to... commit insubordination."
Before he finished speaking, he suddenly lowered his head and kissed the two lips that had issued countless sacred decrees today and accepted the worship of all people.
The kiss was undeniably aggressive, full of possession and plunder, in stark contrast to the restraint and submission he had displayed during the ceremony during the day.
"Ming..." A muffled groan escaped from Indra's throat. The Sun and Moon Crown, which symbolized the supreme authority, swayed slightly with the movement, and the hanging pearl curtains lightly bumped against each other, making a tiny sound.
He was trapped tightly between the cold armor and the scorching embrace. The layers of holy and gorgeous clothes only served to increase his restraint.
Ashura's palm slowly slid down the intricate patterns of the robe, his fingertips pausing briefly as they passed the waistline before finally resting on the crisp fabric, pressing gently through it. The rustling sound of the fabric rubbing against each other was particularly clear in the silent temple.
"Do you know what I was thinking when I looked at you today?" Ashura bit the corner of his lips, his voice vague and dangerous, "I was thinking, this dress... this robe... this crown... when worn on you, it is so sacred that I just want to mess it up with my own hands."
Hiss——
The magnificent robe couldn't withstand the power of the Ghost God of War, and a tear opened at the shoulder, revealing the jade-white skin beneath. The cold air touched his skin, and Emperor Shitian shuddered slightly.
"Asura...you!" Indra's breathing became completely disordered, and tears shone in his golden eyes. The perfect mask he wore after ascending the throne finally cracked, revealing the vivid truth inside that was gradually infected by lust.
"What about me?" Ashura turned him around, pressed him against the cold pillar, and approached him from behind. His hot lips wandered along his exposed shoulders and neck, while his hands reached into the slit of his robe more brazenly, caressing the skin that trembled due to the sudden exposure, and the strangely beautiful golden lines that slowly emerged on it.
"I am merely...seeing your majesty." He bit Indra's earlobe and whispered, his tone filled with malicious teasing and irresistible dominance. "In my own way."
The heavy crown finally slipped off during this secret confrontation, hitting the carpet with a dull thud.
Indra's long golden hair fell down like a waterfall, intertwining with the torn holy robe, forming a broken and gorgeous beauty.
He could no longer maintain the majesty of the Emperor of Heaven. His fingers were tightly gripping the cold pillar behind him, and his knuckles turned white.
However, her body lost control as Asura approached her in a familiar way. Her fingertips trembled slightly, and she unconsciously moved back a little closer.
Inside the temple, the only sounds were the restrained gasps and the subtle sounds of clothes rubbing against each other.
The supreme new emperor was trapped between the arms and the pillars of his ghost war god. Most of his gorgeous clothes had slipped off, and the divine crown had long since fallen to the ground. All those sacred and inviolable appearances were completely faded, leaving only the panic and helplessness that were difficult to conceal.
Asura's crimson eyes were fixed on the red tips of the ears of the man beneath him, listening to the subtle sounds that he tried hard to suppress but still leaked out. The subtle sense of alienation caused by the grand celebration during the day finally dissipated quietly at this moment.
It was in the center of this temple, a symbol of supreme authority, that he would ruffle his sacred robes, get close to his perfect outline, and listen to his voice of disorder.
He wanted to make sure that no matter how heavy the crown or how luxurious the robe, this person was his, from hair to fingertips, from soul to skin tone, forever.
When the last bit of distance was dissolved, when the burning passion completely enveloped that sacred body, Indra raised his head, his neck curved gracefully, and a long, trembling sigh escaped from his throat. All resistance and dignity finally crumbled.
He reached back, his fingertips weakly digging into Ashura's muscular arms. His voice was fragmented and trembling with tears: "... Gently... Gently... Ashura..."
This show of weakness only made the tension in the air even greater.
Ashura leaned over and gently wiped away the physiological tears that were sliding uncontrollably from the corners of his eyes. The strength of his fingertips was irresistible, as if he wanted to completely absorb the person in front of him into his own world, making them inseparable.
"Call me by my name, Indra." His voice was hoarse from the turmoil of his emotions, and his tone was filled with undeniable certainty. "There is no Celestial Emperor here right now. There is only Indra, who belongs to me."
Indra panted softly amidst a chaotic wave of emotions and sensations, but he finally let down his guard and obediently called out that name over and over again: "Ashura... Ashura..."
The divine crown, a symbol of status, had already rolled aside, reflecting a fine and faint light on the soft carpet.
Inside the temple, all titles and responsibilities bestowed by the outside world are stripped away, leaving only the purest exchange of hearts and the willingness to give each other honesty.
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