Venerable Demon King & The Doting Immortal (QT)
Chapter 345: Dinner with the family

Chapter 345: Dinner with the family

Han Xin watched as Xiang Yu walked away, his hand rising instinctively to stop him, only to fall back to his side. He took a deep breath, his eyes closing briefly as he tried to regain control. When he opened his eyes, he glanced down at the bulge in his pants, a clear indication of his arousal. Xiang Yu had ignited a fire within him and fled without taking responsibility.

With a click of his tongue, Han Xin shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. He picked up the bottle of the chilled sports drink that Xiang Yu had left for him. If this was Xiang Yu’s apology then it was a good start. Han Xin twisted the cap open and took a long sip, the cool liquid sliding down his throat, dousing the fire that Xiang Yu had started.

As the chill spread through his body, Han Xin’s mind began to clear, but the memories of Xiang Yu’s scent and touch remained, lingering like a haunting melody. He knew that this encounter was just the beginning. The events of that night would surely repeat again, but this time, he would be pressing the crown prince down on the bed.

***

Xiang Yu staggered out of the private room and found that the passageway was empty with only a few cadets in the distance. He tried to regain his composure grateful that there was no one to witness this otherwise the news would be all over StarNet within the hour.

The air felt stifling, suffused with an intensity that matched the turmoil inside him. He could still feel the remnants of Han Xin’s presence lingering, an unyielding force that tugged at him, igniting a chaotic force of emotions he struggled to contain. His pulse raced, and each heartbeat seemed to echo the frustration thrumming through his veins.

Desperation clawed at him as he slipped into the next available private locker room, the door locking shut with a soft click that momentarily shielded him from the outside world. Inside, the space was dimly lit, the faint scent of cedar mingling with the sterile sterility of the surroundings.

The walls felt too close, closing in around him, amplifying the sensations that overwhelmed him. He leaned against the cold, hard surface, desperately seeking solace, but instead found only a rising tide of discomfort.

His body was aflame, every nerve ending alight with an insatiable craving that twisted in his gut. Despite Han Xin’s apparent restraint, the absence of his pheromones had created a vacuum that pulled at him, leaving his gland feeling swollen and itchy, a raw reminder that he needed Han Xin’s pheromones to survive. "Tsk, why is he so stingy?" he muttered under his breath, the words escaping like an exhale of pent-up frustration.

Han Xin could have spared a fraction of his pheromones even a mere hint, but instead, he had chosen to hold back, leaving Xiang Yu to grapple with the consequences. Xiang Yu had already forgotten that he had been given a choice and he had chosen to use the medicine instead.

With trembling hands, he fished out the auto injector that the steward had prepared for him, the cool material a stark contrast to the heat radiating from his skin.

He unscrewed the cap and, with practised precision, injected the first dose into his abdomen. The sharp sting was a welcome distraction, but as the moments ticked by, he realized that the relief he craved was as elusive as ever.

He took a deep breath, the air filling his lungs, yet it felt insufficient, a fleeting respite that quickly faded. He injected a second dose, the familiar rush coursing through him, but still, the heat clung stubbornly to him, refusing to dissipate. It was a cruel reminder of his body’s increasing tolerance, a silent warning that he was heading toward a breaking point.

Frustration threatened to spill over as he prepared the third auto injector, the needle glinting ominously in the low light. With each prick, he felt like he was fighting against an unseen enemy, a battle he was losing. But as the third dose entered his system, a wave of coolness washed over him, wrapping around his limbs like a soothing balm. Gradually, the chaotic feeling subsided, the pain melting away until he felt as soft and pliable as a strand of cooked noodles.

But even as the relief settled in, a shadow of worry crept into his mind. This was only a temporary fist. He needed to find a stronger solution or risk facing this insatiable craving again and again. It seemed he needed to ask the Marshal for something after all.

***

Xiang Yu strode down the grand hallway of the main palace, his steps echoing off the marble floors. The steward, struggling to keep pace, fumbled with his collar, his breath coming in short gasps. "Your Highness, please slow down," he implored, his voice tinged with desperation.

As they moved through the corridor, palace staff bowed in greeting, their eyes lowered in respect. Xiang Yu’s stern expression and imposing aura left no room for casual conversation. He was a man on a mission, and he had forgotten about the dinner with his father, the Imperial Lord until it was almost too late.

Reaching the ornate doors of the dining hall, Xiang Yu pushed them open with a firm hand. Inside, his father and Peng Xiu were already seated at the long, polished table. Xiang Yu bowed deeply, his voice steady as he said, "My apologies, Your Majesty. This son is late."

Imperial Lord Xiang stared at his son for a long moment, his gaze inscrutable. Peng Xiu, seated elegantly with a napkin on her lap, snorted in disdain. The silence stretched until the Imperial Lord finally spoke. "No need for apologies. Take a seat."

"Thank you, Father," Xiang Yu replied, taking his place opposite Peng Xiu. He made no attempt at friendliness, his demeanour cold and distant.

The staff began to serve the appetizers, moving with practised efficiency. Once the dishes were laid out, they left the room, leaving the family of three to dine in tense silence. Imperial Lord Xiang wiped his lips with a napkin and turned to his son. "How is the relationship with you and the twins going?"

Xiang Yu’s response was curt. "It’s going well, Father. You need not worry about it."

Peng Xiu’s annoyance was palpable. "It’s going so well that I am starting to think he wants to be the Marshal’s daughter-in-law," she retorted, her tone dripping with sarcasm.