Chapter 259 Alaric’s Influence Over Entire Mystic Ice Sect

Sect Mistress Meng Yao returns to the council of elders, her steps measured and her expression carefully neutral. The elders await her in the austere chamber, their faces etched with concern after the recent demonic attack. They rise as she enters, their eyes seeking answers.

“Grand Elders, esteemed elders,” Meng Yao begins, her voice carrying the weight of her position. “I have spoken at length with Lord Alaric Steele.”

Elder Shuyun, her silver hair intricately woven with jade ornaments, speaks first. “Sect Mistress, what news does he bring? Is the alliance he offered genuine? Can this outsider truly be trusted with the secrets of our sect?”

Meng Yao nods slowly. “His alliance is genuine, Elder Shuyun. His power… it is undeniable. You saw yourselves the ease with which he dispatched the demons at our gate, and later at the guest palace. He erected a barrier of immense power, one that even now repels the lingering demonic presence.”

Elder Qinlan, her face showing the weariness of countless battles fought and won, adds her query. “But the cost, Sect Mistress? What price does this Steele lord demand for his assistance?”

“He has asked for an exchange of knowledge and resources,” Meng Yao explains, her tone measured. “Access to our libraries, our cultivation techniques, our spiritual herbs. In return, he offers us the secrets to his barrier technology, tools to combat fire and shadow demons, and a further… proposal.”

A murmur ripples through the assembled elders. Elder Hongfei, known for her sharp intellect, leans forward. “A further proposal? What manner of offer?”

Meng Yao takes a deep breath. This is the part that requires careful handling. “Lord Steele has proposed a new form of protective attire for our disciples. Garments enchanted to enhance their Battle Aura and provide superior defense.”

“Protective attire?” Elder Shuyun raises a skeptical eyebrow. “Our traditional robes have served us well for centuries.”

“Indeed,” Meng Yao agrees. “But these are… different. Lord Steele explains that for the enchantments to be most effective, the material must be in close contact with the skin, allowing for an unimpeded flow of Battle Aura.”

Elder Qinlan frowns. “Close contact? What does that entail?”

Meng Yao pauses, choosing her words carefully. “The base garment, as he describes it, is… minimal. A two-piece design, covering only the essential areas.”

A collective gasp echoes through the chamber. Elder Hongfei’s fan clatters to the ice floor. “A… a two-piece? Sect Mistress, surely you jest!”

“I understand your shock,” Meng Yao says calmly, though she can feel her own cheeks warming at the memory of Alaric’s detailed explanation. “It is… unconventional. However, Lord Steele has assured me that modesty will be maintained.”

She proceeds to explain the two layers of illusion. The outer layer that projects the image of elegant, flowing robes befitting the Mystic Ice Sect, and the inner failsafe that instantly conjures real clothing should the illusion be compromised. She emphasizes the protection against mental manipulation woven into the fabric.

The elders listen with a mixture of disbelief and growing intrigue. Elder Shuyun remains skeptical. “Illusions can be broken, Sect Mistress. And trusting an outsider with something so… intimate… for our disciples…”

“He demonstrated the potency of his enchantments with the barrier,” Meng Yao counters. “And he has offered a demonstration of this protective attire as well. Furthermore,” she adds, her voice gaining a persuasive edge, “think of the benefits. Enhanced Battle Aura, greater agility, superior defense against the specific threats we now face. And a safeguard against mental attacks, which have become increasingly prevalent.”

Elder Qinlan strokes her chin thoughtfully. “The protection against mental attacks is significant. We have always been vulnerable in that regard.”

Elder Hongfei, ever pragmatic, asks, “And the cost of these… minimal garments?”

“The materials will be provided by us,” Meng Yao explains. “Lord Steele requires only his time and expertise to craft and enchant them. He insists on taking personal measurements to ensure a perfect fit and optimal enchantment.”

Another wave of murmurs sweeps through the chamber. The thought of this powerful young man taking the measurements of each and every woman in the sect… it is a prospect that makes some of the elder’s cheeks flush despite their age and composure.

Meng Yao meets their gazes firmly. “We have seen Lord Steele’s capabilities firsthand. His charm is undeniable, and his willingness to aid us in our darkest hour is a testament to his character. The illusionary robes will maintain our dignity, and the failsafe will ensure our protection. Though untested by us, I believe his assurances are genuine. We must adapt to survive these times, and this alliance, along with this… unconventional attire… may be our key to a stronger future.”

Slowly, reluctantly, the elders begin to nod. The logic of Meng Yao’s arguments, coupled with their firsthand experience of Alaric’s power and the desperate situation they face, sways their decision.

“Very well, Sect Mistress,” Elder Shuyun says finally, her tone still cautious but accepting. “If you believe this is the best course for our sect, then we shall trust your judgment.”

The other elders voice their agreement, albeit with varying degrees of reservation. Meng Yao feels a wave of relief wash over her. The first hurdle is cleared.

For the next three days, the Mystic Ice Sect becomes a hive of activity. Alaric, now a respected and somewhat enigmatic figure within the Citadel, is provided with the requested materials: bolts of the finest Snow Spirit Silkworm silk, shimmering with a faint magical luminescence, along with rare inks and enchanting reagents.

His days are spent in a large, well-lit chamber, meticulously preparing his work area, his movements precise and efficient. But his primary task involves the personal measurements of each woman in the sect.

The disciples, their youthful curiosity piqued by the handsome outsider, approach him in small groups, their initial shyness giving way to a mixture of awe and nervous excitement. Their training has honed their bodies to a peak of physical perfection, lithe and graceful, with skin as smooth and pale as freshly fallen snow. While their muscles are toned and strong, their cultivation techniques emphasize fluidity and inner power, resulting in physiques that are undeniably athletic yet possess a delicate, feminine softness.

As Alaric’s fingers, surprisingly gentle despite their strength, glide over their curves, taking precise measurements of their busts, waists, and hips, a blush invariably creeps up their necks and spreads across their cheeks. Their breathing becomes shallow, their gazes darting away and then back towards him, a silent fascination in their obsidian eyes.

‘Easy peasy,’ Alaric thinks, a smirk playing on his lips as another beautiful disciple stumbles over her words, her cheeks flushed crimson as he measures her underbust. ‘They really haven’t had much interaction with men, have they? My charm is working overtime here.’

The inner sect disciples and the elders are more composed, their years of discipline evident in their outward demeanor. But even they are not immune to Alaric’s subtle charm. Elder Hua, her wisdom etched into the fine lines around her eyes, finds herself unexpectedly flustered as Alaric’s hands trace the curve of her hips. Elder Jialan, usually stern and unwavering, stutters slightly when he compliments the elegant line of her back.

‘These women are like delicate ice sculptures,’ Alaric observes, his hands carefully noting the subtle nuances of their forms. ‘Powerful and beautiful, but so… untouched in a way. It’s almost too easy.’

But it is his interactions with Sect Mistress Meng Yao and Young Sect Mistress Han Xinfeng that provide him with the most amusement.

Meng Yao, despite her regal bearing and attempts at maintaining a professional distance, cannot entirely hide the tremor in her hands as Alaric begins to measure her. Her mature beauty radiates an almost palpable aura of power and experience, but beneath the surface, Alaric senses a vulnerability, a curiosity that mirrors that of her disciples, albeit more carefully guarded.

When his fingers brush against the swell of her large, firm breasts as he takes her underbust measurement, he feels her breath catch sharply. Her obsidian eyes meet his, a fleeting moment of intense connection passing between them before she quickly looks away, her cheeks a delightful shade of pink.

‘Magnificent,’ Alaric thinks, relishing the subtle reaction. ‘For a woman who projects such icy control, she melts rather easily under a bit of attention.’

His boldness increases as he moves to measure her waist, his hands lingering for a moment on the smooth curve of her hips, his thumbs gently tracing the indentation of her slender waist. He can feel the tension in her body, the rapid beat of her heart beneath her robes.

“Such a… formidable physique, Sect Mistress,” he murmurs, his voice low and husky, his ruby eyes holding hers for a fraction longer than necessary. “Truly befitting a leader of such power and grace.”

Meng Yao’s composure wavers slightly. She clears her throat, her voice betraying a hint of breathlessness. “Your… attention to detail is appreciated, Lord Steele.”

Han Xinfeng, the Young Sect Mistress, is a vision of youthful beauty, her skin luminous, her dark eyes sparkling with an almost childlike curiosity. Her figure is curvaceous and full, a testament to the vigorous training she undergoes, yet she possesses a delicate grace that is utterly captivating.

When it is her turn for measurements, her initial nervousness is quickly replaced by a playful intrigue. She watches Alaric’s every move, her gaze openly admiring.

As he measures her ample breasts, which are surprisingly full for her age, her breathing hitches, and she giggles softly. “Your hands are very… thorough, Lord Steele.”

Alaric meets her teasing gaze with a charming smile. “Only the best for the beautiful women of the Mystic Ice Sect, Young Sect Mistress.” He allows his fingers to linger just a moment longer than necessary, feeling the softness and warmth beneath his touch.

‘Youthful and vibrant, but with a figure that promises even more allure with age,’ he muses, thoroughly enjoying the blush that blossoms across her cheeks.

He is particularly bold with her waist and hips, his hands deliberately lingering, gently caressing the curves of her body, feeling the youthful resilience beneath her robes. He even allows his fingers to playfully trace the small of her back, sending a visible shiver through her.

“You possess a truly remarkable physique, Young Sect Mistress,” he compliments her, his voice laced with genuine admiration. “The grace and power you exude are quite… breathtaking.”

Han Xinfeng’s eyes sparkle with delight at his words, her blush deepening. “Thank you, Lord Steele. Your… presence has certainly brought a great deal of excitement to our quiet sect.”

‘Excitement is one word for it,’ Alaric thinks, internally chuckling at the understatement. ‘I’m pretty sure I’ve left half the women in this place a blushing, giggling mess.’

After three days of meticulous measurements and gathering materials, Alaric finally begins the process of creation. For the next seven days, he dedicates himself entirely to his task, working tirelessly in his secluded chamber.

His control over magical energy is nothing short of extraordinary. He weaves intricate patterns of enchantment into the delicate Snow Spirit Silkworm silk, infusing each thread with his own potent mana. He incorporates drops of his own blood into the enchanting process, a secret technique that ensures the resilience and longevity of the magic, binding the enchantments to his very life force.

Each woman in the sect will receive three sets of this new protective attire. The garments themselves are remarkably small, appearing to cover barely anything at all – narrow strips of silk designed to precisely contour to the breasts and the lower region, held together by delicate, almost invisible threads.

But the moment the disciples begin to try on their new uniforms, a collective gasp of astonishment ripples through the sect. The effect is nothing short of wondrous.

Their cultivated Battle Aura flows through them with unprecedented ease, no longer feeling constricted by heavy robes. Their breathing techniques, honed over years of rigorous training, resonate with a newfound power. They move with an enhanced agility and fluidity, their martial arts techniques gaining a sharper edge, a greater impact.

‘They feel the difference immediately,’ Alaric observes, watching a group of young disciples sparring with a speed and precision he hadn’t witnessed before. ‘The boost to their combat prowess is significant. This was worth all the… personal attention during measurements.’

Moreover, the illusionary elegant dresses that the bikinis conjure are simply breathtaking. For the outer sect disciples, the illusion manifests as standard, yet beautiful, flowing robes in shades of white and light blue, perfectly in keeping with the sect’s aesthetic.

The inner sect disciples and the elders are granted even more elaborate designs. Their illusionary dresses are a deeper shade of blue, adorned with intricate silver embroidery that shimmers with subtle defensive magic. These illusions provide a tangible layer of protection in addition to the enhanced Battle Aura.

But it is the garments created for Sect Mistress Meng Yao and Young Sect Mistress Han Xinfeng that are the most exceptional. Their illusionary dresses are a striking black, the fabric appearing rich and luxurious, with elegant silver stockings completing the ensemble. The defensive magical abilities woven into their garments are among the strongest, providing them with significant protection.

Furthermore, their dresses possess a unique ability: they can store the wearer’s Battle Aura, allowing Meng Yao and Han Xinfeng to draw upon these reserves in the midst of battle, effectively recharging their energy. This is a truly invaluable ability for the leaders of the sect.

‘They look absolutely stunning,’ Alaric thinks, admiring Meng Yao as she tests the new dress, her every movement exuding power and grace. ‘Elegant, beautiful, and their figures… perfectly accentuated without appearing even remotely immodest. The illusions work flawlessly.’

As for the second layer of enchantment, the failsafe designed to conjure the illusionary dress into a real garment in case of magical disruption, Sect Mistress Meng Yao decides to test it in secret.

She instructs a trusted inner sect disciple, Xi Lihua, to wear the new uniform in front of Archmage Professor Maelis, without revealing the true nature of the attire.

Professor Maelis, who is still residing at the guest palace and has not been informed about the new uniforms, studies Xi Lihua’s appearance, her Archmage senses probing for any magical inconsistencies. To Meng Yao’s immense relief, Professor Maelis detects nothing amiss. She sees only a beautifully clad inner sect disciple in the traditional blue robes of the Mystic Ice Sect.

‘Not even an Archmage can see through it,’ Meng Yao realizes with a profound sense of relief. ‘Alaric’s enchantments are truly extraordinary. Our secret is safe.’

As the entire sect begins to wear their new uniforms, a wave of gratitude and awe washes over them towards Alaric. They marvel at the increased power and agility they now possess, and they are deeply touched by his willingness to use his remarkable abilities to help their entire sect. His presence is no longer viewed with suspicion but with genuine warmth and respect.

Meanwhile, Alaric is thoroughly enjoying his time within the Mystic Ice Sect. Everywhere he goes, he is surrounded by beautiful women clad in his enchanted bikinis beneath their illusionary robes. They seek him out, eager to show him their improved martial arts, their gratitude evident in their smiles and the light in their eyes.

He finds that his charm works even more effectively now, amplified by their positive feelings towards him. He can touch them, compliment them, even steal a kiss or a fondle of their breasts or a playful squeeze of their hips, and they respond with blushes and shy smiles rather than anger. The cultural difference and their relative inexperience with men make them incredibly receptive to his advances.

One evening, as the moon hangs high over the Dragon’s Spine Peaks, Alaric finds himself alone in his chamber when a soft knock echoes at his door. He opens it to find Young Sect Mistress Han Xinfeng standing there, her youthful beauty radiant even in the dim light of the corridor.

“Lord Alaric,” she says softly, her cheeks flushed. “May I… may I have a word with you?”

Alaric smiles, stepping aside to invite her in. “Of course, Young Sect Mistress. Please, come in.”

Han Xinfeng enters, her gaze sweeping over the simple furnishings of his room before settling on him, her dark eyes filled with a mixture of nervousness and open admiration.

“I… I wanted to thank you again for everything you have done for our sect,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. “These new uniforms… they are truly a miracle. We have never felt so powerful, so… free.”

“The pleasure was all mine, Young Sect Mistress,” Alaric replies, his gaze admiring the way the illusionary black robes cling to her curvaceous figure. “You and your sisters are most deserving of such enhancements.”

He steps closer, his charm radiating from him, making her breath catch. “And I must say, that black suits you particularly well. It accentuates your… youthful beauty… quite exquisitely.”

Han Xinfeng blushes, her gaze dropping shyly. “Thank you, Lord Alaric.”

A comfortable silence hangs between them, filled only by the soft crackling of the fire in the hearth. Alaric takes another step closer, reaching out to gently lift her chin, tilting her face up to meet his gaze.

“You know, Young Sect Mistress,” he murmurs, his voice low and seductive, “for someone who is so powerful and skilled, you are also incredibly… delicate. Beautiful.”

Her breath hitches again, her eyes widening slightly. She doesn’t pull away.

Alaric leans in, his lips brushing against hers. Her lips are soft and warm, and she makes a small, involuntary sound in the back of her throat. The kiss is gentle at first, a mere brushing of lips, but it deepens quickly as Han Xinfeng, emboldened by his touch and her own burgeoning feelings, responds with surprising passion.

His arms wrap around her slender waist, pulling her closer until their bodies are pressed together. He can feel the softness of her breasts against his chest, the gentle curve of her hips molding against his. The kiss intensifies, becoming more urgent, more demanding.

He eventually breaks the kiss, their foreheads touching, their breathing ragged. Han Xinfeng’s eyes are dark with desire, her cheeks flushed a deep crimson.

“Lord Alaric…” she whispers, her voice trembling.

“Han Xinfeng,” he replies softly, his thumb gently stroking her cheek. “You are a truly captivating woman.”

He kisses her again, a slow, lingering kiss that leaves them both breathless. He then leads her towards his bed, their hands clasped tightly together.

As this transpires, Alaric also takes the time to meet with Professor Maelis. He finds her still residing at the guest palace, overseeing the recovery efforts and assisting the alchemists.

“Professor Maelis,” Alaric greets her warmly, genuinely pleased to see her looking well. “How are you faring?”

“Alaric,” she replies, a smile gracing her lips. “I am quite well, thank you. And you? Sect Mistress Meng Yao tells me you have been quite busy assisting the sect.”

“Indeed,” Alaric says, a hint of amusement in his voice. “They are now remarkably well-equipped, I believe.”

He then shifts the conversation to the matter of the demonic forces. He informs Professor Maelis about his contact and subsequent alliance with the Concubine of the Patriarch of the Bellerose Noble Family in the Jorailian Kingdom, and how the remaining noble heirs of the Eloriath Kingdom are being sheltered and protected by Professor Lilliana within that family.

Professor Maelis nods, her expression serious. “I had suspected some of our nobles had sought refuge there. Lilliana is a capable woman. It is good to know you have made contact.” She expresses her relief at hearing that Alaric has already met with Professor Lilliana and that they have a plan to act against the demons.

Before departing, Alaric produces a small, intricately carved obsidian amulet. “Professor Maelis,” he says, handing it to her. “This is a Recall Anchor. If you ever find yourself in dire peril, activate it, and it will teleport you directly to the Steele Family mansion. Consider it a… safety measure.”

Professor Maelis takes the amulet, her brow furrowed in confusion. She examines it closely, turning it over in her hands. “A Recall Anchor? Alaric, I… I have never heard of such a thing. How does it work?”

Alaric offers a casual shrug. “It’s a little something I’ve been working on. A personal project. Just keep it safe, Professor. Hopefully, you will never need to use it.”

Professor Maelis stares at the amulet, her mind racing. The implications of such a device are staggering. Instantaneous teleportation over such a distance? It was a feat of magic beyond even her considerable abilities. She looks at Alaric, her eyes filled with a mixture of shock and disbelief.

“Alaric,” she says slowly, her voice filled with awe, “this… this is incredible. I had no idea you were capable of such… wondrous creations.” She shakes her head, still marveling at the amulet. “I… thank you, Alaric. This is… invaluable.”

Alaric simply smiles, his ruby eyes gleaming.