'No,' her mind screamed, even as her body remained helplessly weak. 'No, not this. Anything but this.'
She had protected her purity through everything - through the war, through her husband's death, through months of hunting and hiding.
Even Lin Feng, for all their love, had never touched her in that way.
All of them had planned to properly consummate their marriage after the war was won, after the world was safe.
That day had never come.
And now this monster, this son of her husband's killer, was going to take the one thing she had kept sacred.
"Is this my fate?" she whispered, the words barely audible through her damaged throat. "Getting dirtied by the blood of that villainous monster?"
Cang Wuhen seemed to ignore her words, his attention focused on whatever twisted pleasure he was about to inflict.
He had something white in his hands now - some kind of cloth or bandage that he pressed against the wound in her neck.
Then his hands moved to her clothes.
Lianhua felt tears streaming down her face as he began cutting away her blood-soaked garments.
Each piece of fabric that fell away was another layer of dignity stripped from her, another step toward the ultimate humiliation.
"I shouldn't have saved myself," she muttered, her voice growing stronger but filled with despair. "Should have joined my husband... rather than be defiled by this wretched..."
She couldn't finish the words. The shame was too overwhelming.
As more of her body was exposed to the cold cave air, Lianhua felt something inside her break.
This was worse than death.
This was the complete destruction of everything she had been, everything she had stood for.
Cang Wuhen's hands moved over her skin, and she flinched at every touch.
His fingers were warm against her cold flesh, but to her they felt like brands burning away her purity.
'Even touching places my beloved husband never saw,' she thought in anguish. 'Places I had saved for him alone.'
She tried to struggle, but her body wouldn't respond.
The blood loss and cultivation damage had left her completely helpless, unable to even lift her arms to defend herself.
Then, to her horror, Cang Wuhen lifted her from the filthy cave floor.
She felt more of those disgusting worms falling away from her skin, but that was a minor concern compared to what was about to happen.
He carried her across the cave to what looked like an ancient altar, sweeping away the bones and skulls that covered it.
The stone surface was cold against her back as he laid her down, and she realized with growing dread what this meant.
'An altar,' she thought with sick irony. 'How fitting. I'm to be sacrificed to his twisted lusts on an altar of the dead.'
His hands moved over her again, touching every part of her body with methodical precision.
She had never felt so violated, so utterly helpless.
Each touch was agony - not physical pain, but the soul-deep anguish of having her most sacred boundaries crossed.
When his fingers passed over her most intimate areas - places that should have been her husband's alone to discover - Lianhua bit her tongue until she tasted blood, trying to distract herself from the humiliation.
'Why?' she wondered through her tears. 'Why couldn't I have died in battle beside my husband? Why did the heavens allow me to survive only for this?'
Cang Wuhen seemed to be taking his time, examining every inch of her exposed flesh with an attention to detail that made her skin crawl.
His expression was focused, intent, like a craftsman studying his materials.
Finally, he stepped back and looked down at her with what she could only describe as satisfaction.
There was something in his eyes - a kind of anticipation that made her stomach turn.
This was it. This was the moment her worst fears would become reality.
Lianhua closed her eyes and tried to think of Lin Feng - his gentle smile, his strong hands, the way he had promised to protect her from all the darkness in the world.
'Forgive me, my love,' she thought as she felt Cang Wuhen positioning himself above her. 'I couldn't even preserve myself for you in death.'
A single tear rolled down her cheek as she prepared for the final violation.
And then came a pain.
"Aangh—!?"
The sharp pain lanced through her arm like a needle of fire.
Lianhua's eyes widened in shock as whatever Cang Wuhen had injected into her began spreading through her bloodstream.
The sensation was unlike anything she had ever experienced - not the clean burn of spiritual energy or the familiar ache of battle wounds, but something foreign and invasive.
Within moments, a strange numbness began creeping through her limbs.
First her fingers went slack, then her arms, then her legs.
The constant pain from her wounds didn't disappear exactly, but it became distant, muffled, like sounds heard through water.
What kind of poison is this? she thought in growing panic as her body became completely unresponsive. Some demonic sect technique I've never heard of?
She tried to move, to speak, to do anything, but her body had become a prison.
Only her eyes remained under her control, able to blink and track movement.
Even her ability to feel was fading - the cold stone beneath her, the air against her exposed skin, even her own heartbeat seemed to be drifting away.
'Is this how I die?' The thought was strangely calm despite the terror coursing through her mind.
Paralyzed and helpless while this monster does whatever twisted things he has planned?
Cang Wuhen moved around her with clinical efficiency, and she felt something soft being placed beneath her head.
Her vision tilted as he adjusted her position, and she heard him mutter something about blood flow and brain damage.
'Blood flow to the brain?' Her thoughts were becoming sluggish, whether from whatever he'd injected her with or simple shock, she couldn't tell. 'What kind of torture requires that?'
From her new position, she had a clear view of her own body laid out on the altar like some kind of sacrifice.
Her naked form, pale and vulnerable, with the massive sword wound running from her abdomen toward her chest like a canyon carved through flesh.
The sight of her own nudity, completely exposed and defenseless, sent a fresh wave of humiliation through her paralyzed form.
Her breasts, the curve of her waist, the dark hair between her legs, her tail fur like a bedsheet - everything that should have been sacred, reserved for her beloved husband alone, was on full display for this demon's pleasure.
She tried to speak, to curse him, to demand he cover her, but only the barest whisper escaped her lips. "Pleas..e... St-stop..."
Even her lungs seemed to have lost their strength. Each breath was shallow, labored, as if the paralysis was slowly creeping toward her vital organs.
Cang Wuhen seemed oblivious to her distress, busy arranging various tools on a small table beside the altar.
She watched in growing horror as he stripped down to what looked like the barest minimum of undergarments - some kind of loincloth that covered only his most essential parts.
She saw a big dangling thing size of a sword hilt revealed between his legs, the most disgusting thing she had ever seen: veins, a part of a man's body, which they used to violate a woman.
Of course, she thought bitterly. 'He wants to feel my skin against his while he...'
She couldn't finish the thought. The reality of what was about to happen was too overwhelming.
To her absolute horror, Cang Wuhen climbed onto the altar and positioned himself straddling her torso.
His knees pressed into the stone on either side of her ribcage, and she could feel the warmth of his skin against hers.
The humiliation was beyond anything she could have imagined.
Here she was, a once-proud cultivator, naked and helpless beneath the son of her husband's murderer.
Her most private areas completely exposed, her body positioned for his convenience.
She tried again to speak, her voice barely a whisper. "P-please... just kill..."
But Cang Wuhen wasn't looking at her face. His attention was focused entirely on the wound across her torso, and in his hands he held what looked like a needle and thread.
'Thread?' Confusion mixed with her terror. What is he planning to do with that?
Her question was answered when he leaned forward, his hands moving to her breasts.
She wanted to scream, to fight, to die rather than endure this violation, but her body remained stubbornly unresponsive.
His fingers pressed into the soft flesh of her chest, and she could only watch in horrified fascination as he began working the needle through her skin.
Not roughly, not violently, but with careful, measured movements that spoke of practice.
He's sewing me, she realized with dawning horror. Like fabric. 'Like I'm some kind of... disgusting pig.'