Dual Cultivation: Gathering SSS-Rank Wives in the Cultivation World-Chapter 345- Cat-Kin Wars

The command tent’s entrance flap tore open with enough force to rip the fabric. A catkin lieutenant staggered inside, her spandex combat suit shredded along the ribs where claws had found purchase.

Blood seeped through the tears, mixing with sweat that made her copper-toned fur glisten in the lamplight. Her breasts heaved with ragged breaths, the tight material stretching obscenely across her chest with each gasp.

"Commander Mamoon!" She dropped to one knee, leaving a crimson stain on the woven mat.

"The Eastern Gorge position—we’ve been routed, ma’am. Those white-furred cunts pushed back Captain Yan’s entire third battalion."

Mamoon didn’t turn from the tactical map immediately. Her clawed finger traced the gorge’s location, and even from behind, her figure commanded attention.

Forty-three seasons of brutal cultivation had sculpted her into something beyond mortal—a body that married lethal grace with raw, overwhelming femininity.

The black latex bodysuit clung to her like a second skin, so impossibly tight that every curve, every dip, every intimate contour was on full display.

The material stretched across her heavy, rounded breasts, her nipples pressed against the thin latex in sharp relief. Lower, the suit molded to her sex with obscene precision, the fabric creating a pronounced cleft that outlined her labia in exquisite, vulgar detail.

Crimson markings traced her meridian pathways across shoulders, down her spine, emphasizing the powerful muscles that shifted beneath.

"How many?" Mamoon’s voice carried the lazy danger of a predator sizing up prey.

"Two hundred dead. Another three hundred wounded. They’re using—"

"I didn’t ask for a casualty report." She turned, amber eyes glowing faintly in the tent’s shadow. 𝓯𝙧𝙚𝒆𝙬𝙚𝒃𝙣𝙤𝒗𝓮𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

"I asked how many battalions those cotton-tailed bitches committed to the gorge."

The lieutenant swallowed hard. "At least four, Commander. Maybe five."

"They’ve fortified the ridgeline with earth cultivation arrays and—"

"And you’re telling me this why?" Mamoon prowled closer, each step measured, hips swaying in that dangerous rhythm unique to apex predators.

"You came all the way back here, abandoning your unit, to deliver news I could have received via communication array?"

"Ma’am, Captain Yan ordered me to—"

"Captain Yan is either dead or incompetent." Mamoon stopped inches from the kneeling lieutenant, looking down with those burning eyes.

"Tell me something useful, pet. What formation are those long-eared whores using?"

"Heavy hammer artillery, ma’am. They’ve positioned at least thirty sledge-wielders on the castle walls."

"They’re launching boulders the size of supply wagons straight into our—"

A whisper of displaced air. So subtle most would have missed it entirely.

Mamoon’s hand shot sideways in a blur of motion, fingers wrapping around a throat that hadn’t existed in that space a heartbeat before. She yanked hard, her cultivation-enhanced strength dragging a coughing, sputtering figure into visibility from behind the tent’s central support beam.

A rabbit-clan woman materialized, emerald eyes wide with shock. She wore the typical scout armor of her tribe—reinforced leather that hugged generous curves without offering meaningful protection.

The armor’s design prioritized mobility over modesty, leaving her thick thighs bare and her cleavage prominently displayed. White fur covered her forearms and calves, and two long ears lay flat against her skull in fear.

"Well, well, well." Mamoon’s lips curved into a smile that showed too many teeth.

"What exquisite fortune. A little spy rabbit, sneaking about in my command tent."

Her claws pressed against the woman’s windpipe, not quite breaking skin but promising she could. "How long have you been eavesdropping, you furry little cunt?"

The spy gurgled, hands scrabbling at Mamoon’s wrist.

"Commander!" The lieutenant surged to her feet, blade half-drawn.

"How did she—when did she—"

"Shut up." Mamoon didn’t look away from her captive.

She brought her face close to the rabbit woman’s, inhaling deeply. "Mmm. I can smell the enchantments on you. Invisibility arrays. Silencing formations."

Her grip tightened. "Tell me, little spy... did your Matriarch think I wouldn’t discover what you vermin have been doing in our eastern mines?"

Mamoon’s eyes blazed brighter, her voice dropping to a lethal purr. "You cotton-tailed thieves have been excavating earth core minerals from our territory for months, haven’t you?"

"Supplying them to the Third Inner Circle. Those precious minerals that took us decades to locate."

The rabbit woman’s face flushed darker, veins standing out on her forehead. Her eyes darted sideways—guilty confirmation.

"We caught you. We stopped your pathetic excavation crews."

Mamoon’s fangs gleamed. "And instead of accepting punishment like the herbivore filth you are, your Matriarch decided to expand borders? To steal more land?"

Her claws drew a thin line of blood along the spy’s throat. "Did she really think I’d let that slide?"

The rabbit woman’s hand slapped against a pocket sewn into her armor at hip level. A cultivation array flared brilliant green—teleportation magic, third-circle minimum, expensive as fuck.

Her body shimmered, edges becoming translucent like morning mist.

Mamoon’s fingers clenched on empty air as the rabbit woman dissolved completely, her form scattering like smoke in wind.

"Fucking coward." Mamoon’s jaw clenched hard enough to make her fangs ache.

For a moment, she stood perfectly still, every muscle in her latex-wrapped body coiled tight. Then she spun toward the tent entrance, her long crimson-and-black hair whipping behind her.

"Lieutenant. On your feet."

The younger catkin scrambled up. "Yes, Commander!"

"Sound the war horns. All battalions—and I mean ’all’ battalions—form up for immediate assault."

Mamoon strode past her, already moving toward the tent flap. "We’re done playing defensive warfare with these herbivore cunts."

"Ma’am?" The lieutenant’s voice cracked slightly.

"If we commit everything to a frontal assault on their fortified position, the casualties will—"

Mamoon stopped. Turned.

The look she gave could have stripped flesh from bone.

"Did I stutter, Lieutenant? Or have you suddenly been promoted to tactical advisor?"

Her voice dropped to that lethal purr again, the tone that preceded executions. "Those white-furred bitches think they can steal from us, spy on us, collaborate with mermaid filth, rain stones on our heads, and we’ll just... what? Sit here with our tails between our legs?"

She took a step closer. "Let me explain something to you about predator clans, pet."

"When prey forgets its place, when it grows bold enough to draw blood, you don’t retreat. You don’t recalculate."

"You remind them ’exactly’ why they should fear the dark."

The lieutenant’s ears flattened against her skull. "Yes, Commander."

"We’re taking their border castle tonight." Mamoon’s eyes blazed with orange inner light, her cultivation aura leaking out in waves of barely controlled violence.

"Every. Single. One of those rabbit cunts will either bend knee or bleed out on their own walls."

She paused at the tent entrance, her mind flickering to an unbidden thought. Yuna.

Her daughter. Sent away to the academy months ago.

The memory of that departure still stung: Yuna’s tearful eyes, her desperate pleas to understand the reasons for such firmness in her mother. Mamoon had been cruel that day, deliberately harsh.

"You’re weak," she’d said. "You should join academy to not dissapoint me."

It was for Yuna’s own good. The academy would forge her into something stronger, something worthy of their bloodline.

But now, with war drums about to sound and death marching across the battlefield, a small, treacherous part of Mamoon’s heart whispered a prayer. ’Be safe, little cub. Grow strong.’

"Now sound the ’fucking’ horns before I decide your incompetence runs in Captain Yan’s entire chain of command."

The lieutenant bolted from the tent.

Moments later, the deep, bone-shaking blast of war horns rolled across the encampment. Three long notes, then two short—the signal for total war mobilization.

The catkin army moved like a living shadow across the twilight battlefield. Three thousand warriors, every single one female, flowed toward the rabbit clan’s border castle in a synchronized wave of lethal grace.

They wore variations of the same uniform—form-fitting latex or spandex bodysuits that left absolutely nothing to imagination while providing surprising protection through cultivation-infused materials.

Some suits were solid black. Others featured tribal markings in crimson, gold, or silver that traced meridian pathways.

All of them clung to their wearers like they’d been painted on. Breasts of every size bounced and shifted with each powerful stride.

Thighs flexed beneath the clinging material, muscles defined in exquisite detail. Asses wrapped in glossy spandex moved with hypnotic rhythm.

The collective sound of three thousand women breathing in combat-ready synchronization carried a primal intensity that made the earth itself seem to tremble.

Mamoon led from the vanguard, her commander’s suit the most elaborate of all. The crimson markings weren’t just decorative—they were actual cultivation channels woven into the latex, allowing her to draw power more efficiently in battle.

The suit’s design included strategic cutouts that framed her breasts, the material forming a tight band beneath them that pushed them up and together.

Her nipples stood out sharply against the thin latex, visible to anyone who looked.

The lower portion molded to her pussy with such obscene precision that the outline of her labia created distinct ridges in the fabric, the central cleft pronounced and unmistakable.

She ran with the fluid grace of a jungle cat, each stride covering twice the distance of a normal woman’s sprint.

Around her, battalion commanders kept pace, their own suits marking them as elite—tighter, more revealing, designed to show that they’d earned the right to expose themselves so brazenly in battle.

A grizzled sergeant with scars crossing her left shoulder growled as she surged forward, her muscles coiling with predatory hunger. "For the clan! For Commander Mamoon!"

"Push forward!" Another warrior snarled, her fangs bared.

"Show those rock-humping thieves what happens when they steal from us!"

The catkin army thundered forward, muscles rippling beneath their latex-wrapped forms, breaths synchronized in predatory harmony.

Three thousand warriors surging like a living shadow toward the rabbit clan’s border castle, each stride carrying the weight of vengeance.

"For Commander Mamoon!" The battle cry ripped from a thousand throats.

Mamoon led the charge, her crimson-marked suit gleaming under the dying light. Her amber eyes burned with cultivation power, locked on the stone walls ahead where white-furred defenders scrambled into position.

The ground beneath them began to glow.

It started subtle—faint green luminescence spreading like cracks through ice. Then brighter. Pulsing. The earth itself seemed to breathe with malicious intent.

"Commander!" A battalion leader’s voice cut through the thundering footsteps. "The ground—"

"It’s a trap!" Multiple voices shouted at once.

Mamoon’s eyes widened, recognition dawning too late. Her gaze snapped toward the castle walls where rabbit clan warriors stood in formation, their smug faces barely visible in the distance.

"You mermaid bitches!" Mamoon’s fangs bared as she snarled toward the castle, her voice raw with fury. Those cotton-tailed cunts had been working with the merfolk all along—collaboration that went deeper than stolen minerals.

The light exploded upward.

Brilliant green energy erupted from the earth in spiraling columns, engulfing the entire catkin army in an instant. Three thousand warriors vanished into a blinding maelstrom of cultivation magic—a teleportation array so massive it must have taken months to prepare.

The burning started immediately.

Mamoon’s skin felt like it was being flayed by invisible knives. Her cultivation channels screamed in protest as the teleportation magic tore at her essence, dragging her consciousness through space in a way that violated every natural law. Around her, she could hear her warriors shrieking—raw, animalistic sounds of pure agony.

The light intensified. White-hot. Searing.

Then, through the burning pain shrouding them, a voice.

Male. Casual. Almost... confused?

"Um, who is my mother-in-law among them, by the way?"