That night, Mei could not lift her heavy mood. She tossed in bed. The day's events haunted her, deepening her grief. The blood debt she and her son owed was too vast to count. Only killing Weiting could honor the dead.
But revenge felt impossible. She pictured the enemy's fierce martial skills, his vast power. How could she face him? Despair sank into her. Her future felt hopeless, clouded by Weiting's power.
The morning's public parade troubled her for another reason. The officials falsely named the crime as incest. It fit the rumors about the Joyous Sect perfectly. Yet, the crowd's filth, their thick spit, felt like it struck her own face.
Because she, too, was a shameful woman. In her heart, she craved her son, longed for forbidden passion. A lustful mother, consumed by sin.
What she saw was incest's fate. A crime despised by all, cursed by gods and men. One slip, and she would fall into the deepest hell, tormented forever.
Her son's face at the mountain's base was heavy. He bought five pounds of strong liquor. At dinner, he drank without pause. Zhu was not a drinker. This wild drinking must have come from the parade's cruel sight.
No wonder he drank so much. Even Mei took extra cups. Now her head spun, the wine's fault.
Outside, the sky was black. The air hung wet, heavy. Distant rumbles warned of a storm. It would be a sleepless night.
Drip. Drip. Rain fell, tapping leaves. Soon, silver threads poured, striking the earth. Mei listened, her heart stirred. She recalled her early days as a wife, curled with her beloved, hearing rain on banana leaves. Emotions flooded her.
Boom. Boom. Thunder roared. Lightning flashed, lighting the room bright. In that glow, Mei saw a figure by her bed, silent.
Her heart raced. She reached for the sword under her pillow. But her body was soft, limbs powerless. When had she lost strength? Her throat made no sound.
An enemy?
The thought came as another flash lit the room. The man's face was handsome. It was her son, Zhu.
Mei's fear eased. She wanted to ask why he was there. But Zhu knelt before her bed. Thud. Thud. Thud. He struck his head to the floor three times, each blow heavy. When he stood, blood dripped from his forehead.
Now, Mei felt true panic. Her son's face held a strange look, one she did not know. His upper body was bare. His eyes burned red, grieved yet blazing. It was the look he had at the morning's execution, unyielding as he watched the torture.
She understood his intent. Before she could speak, Zhu stepped to her bedside. Silent, he untied her clothes.
Mei burned with shame, anger. Yet she had no strength. Then she realized, Zhu had drugged the wine, waited for it to work. This night was planned.
Her sleepwear was thin. He untied her waistband, unbuttoned her pale tunic, pulled it open. Her full body lay bare, white as a lamb.
For comfort, she wore no bellyband. Her high breasts stood like steamed buns, plump, tempting, tips pink.
Her pure body, seen only by her husband, now lay bare under her son's gaze. Her skin burned with shame. She tried to move, felt her inner strength, but could not use it. She lay helpless, heart pounding.
* Jueren, I am sorry. Your wife cannot keep her purity. Our son has taken it * , she thought.
Zhu's hands were clumsy, rough, but quick. He knew his goal. After baring her upper body, he did not linger. He moved lower, pulling her silk pants and undergarments to her ankles in one motion.
In dim light, her secret place gleamed. Soft hair framed a blush of red, delicate, alluring.
Her legs met cold air. Her near-naked body lay exposed. Mei's shame peaked. Her throat worked. "Zhu, do you know what you are doing?" she cried.
Before she finished, Zhu stuffed cloth in her mouth. She could say no more.
Silenced, Mei struggled. Her eyes blazed with shame, rage, fear, regret. She glared at her son, demanding answers.
"Mother, I am sorry. I have no choice," Zhu said. His voice was low, choked with tears.
"I know you blame me. But I cannot bear it. Seeing Acui today, she reminded me of Yue." His voice broke, he sobbed.
Mei had strained against her paralyzed body, desperate to resist. But Zhu's words about Yue pierced her heart, sapping all her strength.
Besides her husband, her daughter's death was a pain that tore her heart. Yue's loss left an ache so raw, Mei could not bear to think of it, as if her soul bled anew each time.
Beyond Zhu, Mei had a lovely daughter, Yue. She was bright, sweet, adored by all. Zhu cherished her, doted on her endlessly.
But two years ago, Yue vanished. The family searched wildly. The next day, a nameless challenge came, with two small fingers.
Jueren was furious. He went alone to face the foe, never returned. That night, his head hung from a station pillar. Before that, a small coffin was left at their gate, unnoticed in the night's chaos. Inside was Yue's broken body.
Acui's body, shown in the morning's parade, was covered in brutal wounds. Yue's body was worse. Deep cuts and missing flesh showed a torture beyond cruel. A man who checked dead bodies, used to grim sights, turned pale and vomited at the horror. Still, Zhu washed his sister's broken form. He dressed her in a clean shroud. For two nights, he locked himself in his room. His loud cries of grief echoed, heard by half the household.
The Hongmen, allies of Jueren's martial clan, blamed the Joyous Sect, a group known for dark rituals. Some fiends there tortured young girls. The trail pointed to them.
But sorting Jueren's belongings, Mei found a hidden letter. It said if Jueren died suddenly, the killer was his third brother, Weiting. With the eldest brother gone, the fourth missing, no one in Hongmen could stop him. The letter urged Mei and her child to take a box holding clan secrets, flee.
Mei acted at once. To avoid the enemy, she took only Zhu, left quietly, without the box. That night, foes razed the Song household. None survived but Mei and Zhu, who escaped early.
Later, they learned Weiting was behind it. Mother and son swore revenge. But the dead would not return.
Yue's cruel death hurt Mei more than losing Jueren. Hearing Zhu mention her, Mei saw her daughter's small body in that coffin. Grief consumed her. Tears filled her eyes.
Beside her, Zhu wept.
"Yue and Father died horribly. Seeing that today, I could not hold back. I must have revenge, I cannot wait years. Only the Blood Shadow Skill can help. So I did this to you," Zhu said, tears thick.
"Even if not for revenge, I am an unfilial son. I failed Father, you. I know this is wrong, but I want you. Please, let me have this."
Sobbing, Zhu undid his pants. They fell, his hard cock stood tall before his mother. Outside, the storm roared.
Mei's tears flowed. She made muffled cries, struggling for one last fight. But it was useless. Her vision darkened as Zhu draped his shorts over her face, blocking sight.
"Mother, this is my fault. When you face Father, the judges of hell, our ancestors, say you were forced. I am the beast who defiled your purity. I alone will burn in hell," Zhu said.
His body shook, from emotion, from guilt. He was not fearless. The day's horrors, the thunder's wrath echoed in his mind. He knew this was a sin beyond redemption. Yet he pressed on.
He grabbed a wine jug. He poured some between his mother's legs, wetting her tense, dry pussy. He drank the rest, steeling himself. He climbed onto the bed, lifted her hips gently, positioned himself. With fear, reverence, he took a deep breath. Then he thrust, sliding his cock, born from her, back into her pussy.
"Mmph, mmph," Mei's muffled cries sounded.
It was done. Though she could not see, the sensation hit her. She shook her head, sobbing through the cloth, tears streaming.
Despite her fight, her purity was gone. Was mother-son incest her fate?
Thunder boomed. Zhu worked fiercely, a farmer tilling hard earth. His thrusts were deep, steady, driven by youth. He held her slim waist, keeping her steady. No skill guided him, only raw force, thrusting in, pulling out, thrusting again.
The cloth over her face made Zhu feel a strange thrill, as if he were taking her lifeless body. Yet the act of fucking his mother sent fire through his veins, a forbidden joy he could not resist.
"Mother, Mother, you are mine now. Forever, mine alone," he gasped.
Her body arched like a fish on a flame. Her curves trembled, sweat beaded. Her pussy, slick with wine, burned as his hot cock rubbed inside. The friction sparked a bitter need. Amid shame, a strange calm settled.
Did she not crave this moment?
To shed guilt, share forbidden joy with her son, was that not her heart's wish?
If not, why did she feel no anger as he violated her?
His cock was so warm. Each clumsy thrust lifted her to bliss, sharper than Jueren ever gave. She sank into it, unable to pull away.
Admit it. Her son was not the only sinner. She was a lustful mother, craving his cock. The one who deserved heaven's wrath was her, hiding behind virtue.
In her mind, Jueren's face appeared. Mei choked out another apology, but different.
* Forgive me, Jueren. Your wife cannot guard her heart. We raised too perfect a son. Only we remain. If I do not love him, who will? * , she thought.
Casting restraint aside, Mei drowned in their forbidden act. She felt like the parade's girl, strapped to a wooden donkey, her pussy pierced by a cruel rod. But unlike that girl, Mei rode her son's real, throbbing cock. Unlike that girl, Mei deserved this. She was a shameful woman, swaying her hips to sin's rhythm.
"Mother, dear Mother, I love you. You are the best mother," Zhu cried.
At the peak, Zhu's voice broke like a child's. He gripped her breasts, lost in the thrill of defiling her. With a groan, he could hold no longer. His cum surged, filling her pussy to its depths.
Twelve years of seed returned to the womb that made him. For a twelve-year-old, the act drained him. He collapsed onto his mother, panting, speechless.
Zhu had not thought beyond this. To master the Blood Shadow Skill's three forms needed six months. Would he keep his mother bound to this bed? The skill required mutual effort. If she refused, forcing her like a corpse for months meant nothing.
But tonight was a breakthrough. Even the purest woman, once taken, shifts in her heart.
And beyond all, to love the woman he cherished, this made it worthwhile.
"Mother, I am sorry," Zhu said.
He lifted the shorts from her face, his voice soft with guilt. But as he moved, a numbness struck his underarms. His body froze, unable to move.
He cursed his mistake, using a weak drug. The drug was crude, boosted by wine's fumes. Their fierce lovemaking burned it away with sweat. How could it hold a woman skilled in martial arts?
He recalled how a mere touch years ago enraged her. Now, having stolen her purity, what could he say? He sighed, closed his eyes, awaited death.
But the killing blow never came. She pushed him off, sat up. A soft, warm hand grasped his softened cock.
Zhu's eyes flew open. A cloth fell over his face, blocking sight. Then undergarments, damp with her juices, his cum, were stuffed in his mouth.
In darkness, Mei's hand worked his cock. Her touch was gentle, kneading his flesh.
A boy's stamina was fierce. In moments, his cock stood proud, hard, eager.
"It has been years since I saw it. How did it grow so lovely?" Mei said. She studied her son's cock.
It matched his scholar's face, pale, clean. A twelve-year-old's cock, not too long, like a perfect toy, charming.
Hard to believe this thing brought her such joy.
Mei smiled faintly. Holding his cock, she blushed, boldly straddled him. His cock rested between their bodies. She rocked.
His cock pressed her pussy's entrance. Her wet folds dripped with cum, juices, coating his tip, shaft, balls, enveloping him.
As she slid upward, his cock's head nestled between her pussy lips. Each sway of her hips made his tip rub her, sparking heat.
The teasing drove Zhu wild. He longed to tear off the cloth, see his mother's pussy glide over his cock. Yet he wondered why she acted this way.
At his arousal's height, her voice reached him, soft, sorrowful, warm.
"This is your punishment. You dared use vile tricks to ruin your mother's honor," she said.
Her words were stern, yet playful. Zhu felt relief. She did not seem angry.
"We are all we have. No more acting alone. If you fall, how will I live? The deed is done, I have no more to say. You want my body? It is yours. The saying goes, a wife follows her husband, if he dies, her son. Your father is gone. This body is yours. Tomorrow, we train the skill together."
Her voice brimmed with love. Zhu choked up. A dream he never dared dream came true.
"You said you would face hell alone. But when I die, how could I face your father, our ancestors? If we are struck by heaven's wrath, let us fall to hell together. Before the judges, on blade mountains, in boiling oil, I will care for you. My good son, are you happy?"
Tears stung his eyes. His cock felt a heavy warmth. Soft flesh wrapped it, a pleasure beyond words. The cloth lifted. Her eyes, deep as the sea, locked onto his.
"Mother!"
"Say nothing, my sweet son."
Mei rocked her full hips slowly. Her eyes sparkled, lost in the act. She guided his fingers to the pearl at her pussy's top. A press, she moaned loudly, her body shaking. Her cries turned to wails, her hair whipping as she thrashed.
"Mother, it feels so good. Faster, please, I cannot take it," Zhu gasped.
Unlike his raw force, Mei guided their rhythm, a mature woman's skill. Seeing him tremble, she smiled. She pressed her breasts to his chest, their skin rubbing.
Their hands clasped tightly, fingers locked in shared desire. Together, they climbed to the peak of flesh, soul. Their gasps, moans wove a perfect song.
In the afterglow, Mei kissed him hungrily. Their lips met, no longer mother, son, but lovers at hell's edge.
"Zhu, will we reach paradise in our next life?" she asked.
"Why ask, Mother? Are you not there now?"