Her lips left his lower lip, sliding along his jawline to his earlobe.
The tip of her tongue darted out, lightly licking the hollow between his earlobe and the side of his neck.
Shen Mo’s body arched violently—not the arching of someone straining against chains, but the involuntary spasm of a spine struck by an electric current.
The chains rattled loudly, red marks forming where the iron bit into the skin of his wrists and ankles.
Chao’er’s lips pressed against his earlobe, her breath pouring into his ear canal, wet and hot.
“Master’s Husband’s body,” she said slowly, each word wrapped in hot, damp breath that flooded his ear, “is more honest than Master’s Husband’s mouth.”
In those ten days, she had come to know his body completely.
She knew what would make his breathing falter.
She knew how to make his fingers clench unconsciously.
At first, he would bite his lip and desperately suppress his voice.
But eventually, he would lose control and make those sounds.
Every night since returning from the secret realm, she had been memorizing these things.
Not with her brain—with her body.
Her knee pressed between his spread… legs.
Through the fabric of his clothes, Shen Mo felt her kneecap press against him—hard, cold, carrying an aggression that had nothing to do with softness.
“You… get off,” Shen Mo’s voice was already shattered beyond shape, like thin porcelain dropped on the ground. “In the name of your Master—”
He thought this would be an insurmountable barrier—a dam he had built with his own hands using her obsession, enough to hold her back at least for a while.
Chao’er did not respond.
The entire room was filled with only the sound of breathing.
Hers, his—like two streams facing each other across an entire valley, each hearing the other’s water, about to converge.
She straightened her upper body from the foot of the bed, bracing her hands on the mattress, leaning forward like a beast that had finally waited for its prey to exhaust itself—slowly, inch by inch, closing in.
“Master?”
She repeated the word, chewing it slowly on her tongue, like savoring a piece of candy she had waited a thousand years to taste.
“Has Master’s Husband misunderstood something?”
“A Master is something meant to be pushed down and devoured~♡”
In her eyes, a so-called Master was nothing more than a high-end toy worth scheming over, conquering, possessing, and defiling.
Pretending to be submissive during the day, then pulling the lofty Master down from the altar at night and toying with him freely—that was what she wanted.
Shen Mo knew he wouldn’t survive tonight.
Her fingers hooked onto the tie of his inner garment.
With a flick of her fingertip, the tie silently came loose.
The lapels fell open to both sides, revealing skin so pale that the faint blue-green veins between his ribs were visible.
Her palm pressed against his chest.
Her palm landed precisely where his heart beat the most violently.
She could feel the pounding there—suddenly accelerating, like a war drum.
“Master’s Husband’s heartbeat tells this disciple,” her thumb traced a small circle on his chest, perfectly circling the spot where his heartbeat pulsed, “that Master’s Husband is afraid. But not afraid of this disciple… Master’s Husband is afraid that Honored Teacher is right beside us, and yet Master’s Husband’s body is already starting to respond to this disciple.”
Shen Mo’s breathing fell completely apart.
“Stop… Chao’er… stop…”
His wrists struggled futilely, the chains biting into his flesh, leaving red marks on both sides of his wrist bones.
His ankles were likewise secured by chains, and his knees instinctively tried to close because of the sensation on his inner thighs, but the chains mercilessly held them apart—he couldn’t even complete the most basic defensive posture of pressing his legs together.
Su Wan’er lay right beside him.
Her breathing was steady and slow.
She knew nothing.
Shen Mo turned his head, looking at his wife’s profile.
“If you must…”
He spoke, his tone carrying the resignation of one who had exhausted all resistance.
“Somewhere else, please?”
He met Chao’er’s eyes.
“Not here. Not in front of her.”
Chao’er’s movements stopped.
Her fingers rested on the fabric of his pants, less than two inches from the place she had been approaching but had never touched.
She looked at him and tilted her head.
“No.”
Her voice was sweet, with the slightly rising inflection Chao’er always used when being clingy.
But the dark red light flowing in those eyes belonged to Nan Gong Jin.
“This disciple intends to do it right here beside Honored Teacher, and defile Honored Teacher’s husband.”
As she said this, her expression was utterly serious.
“I want her to hear, to smell, to feel… even if she’s unconscious, her body will remember this moment! Remember how her man, while I was… cried for me, trembled for me, lost himself for me…”
“Heh, just thinking about it makes me tremble with excitement!”
Chao’er’s body trembled slightly from excitement.
Shen Mo was in despair.
If he were being tormented in private, that would be one thing—but beside his rightful wife, being taken by his own disciple… this was the ultimate humiliation! It was worse than death!
“No… Chao’er, please… go to the side room, the dungeon, even the courtyard… Just not in front of her, I—”
He looked at Chao’er with pleading, broken eyes.
“No can do, Honored Teacher.”
“I want you beside her, calling my name again and again, begging me to take you.”
“That’s what… total possession means.”
“No… mmph…”
Just as Shen Mo opened his mouth to beg, Chao’er sank her hips without warning.
He threw his head back, his long neck stretching into an arc as he let out a muffled groan of extreme suppression.
Tears slid from the corners of his eyes, dripping onto the cold ground.
He bit his lip desperately, refusing to let any sound escape, his eyes vacant as he stared at the stone ceiling above, and at his unconscious wife who was within arm’s reach yet utterly unaware.
And Chao’er, watching him endure with such resignation and despair, let the demonic qi in her eyes burn even brighter, her movements growing rougher and more frenzied.
“Ah, do you think it’s disgusting? Unethical? Being treated this way by the child you raised yourself, right?”
She leaned in closer, her breath spraying across Shen Mo’s face, carrying the chill of demonic qi and a sick excitement:
“Since you really can’t accept it… how about we think of it differently?”
“Just pretend I’m Nan Gong Jin completely. Yes—that murderous, infamous demoness. She was the one who was shameless, who took by force, who coveted your face and your body, and used violence to have her way with you!”
“Chao’er is still Chao’er—she was just controlled by the demoness, it’s all involuntary. Master’s Husband is still Master’s Husband—just unlucky, caught up in a disaster that wasn’t his fault.”
“Thinking of it that way, doesn’t it feel better? At least you can comfort yourself that it wasn’t your failed upbringing, that Chao’er didn’t turn bad—it was all just… outsiders doing evil.”
“So? Isn’t that a thoughtful suggestion?”
Shen Mo was momentarily struck speechless by her utterly absurd, truth-twisting rhetoric.
But that reasoning really did seem like a lifeline, one that could slightly mask the suffocating sense of incestuous transgression.
He was just about to take that face-saving exit when his gaze involuntarily drifted toward the quiet figure beside them.
Right there.
Even in a coma, her cold, noble aura still pressed down on Shen Mo, making it hard to breathe.
Beside his wife’s bed, with another woman—even if that woman was a demoness—the shame still corroded his bones like sulfuric acid.
“Wan’er… is right here… I can’t… can’t do this beside her…”
“Master’s Husband, tired?”
“What?”
“Tired of playing the chaste martyr?”
Chao’er’s voice suddenly changed.
“When Master’s Husband was with Peak Master Rou, you weren’t the one being forced. Master’s Husband was on top.”
“Have you ever seen someone being forced who was on top?”
“You like her. When you were with her, your eyes were only on her. After you returned to Jiaoyue Peak, your body was covered in her scent, impossible to wash off.”
“Sister noticed it. This disciple noticed it too.”
“So this disciple can’t understand.”
The infatuation faded from her eyes, revealing the anger beneath.
And beneath that, the grievance of betrayal—the grievance of a child who watched an adult put up a sign saying “No Bad Things” in front of her, then turned around and committed every single thing the sign prohibited.
“Why can Master’s Husband be proactive in front of Peak Master Rou, but pretend to be forced in front of this disciple?”
“Why does Master’s Husband give gentleness to Honored Teacher, responsiveness to Peak Master Rou, endurance to Yun He, and even care to Lin Jingzhe—what does that leave for this disciple?”
Her voice cracked for a moment.
Just a moment. Then she pieced it back together.
“Leaving this disciple with the sight of a chaste martyr?”
“Didn’t you ask this disciple why Chao’er turned out like this?”
“This disciple will tell you.”
She knelt upright.
The chain on her collar made a faint clinking sound by her knees.
“I learned it from Master’s Husband.”
Shen Mo’s body seemed to have its spine ripped out from within.
Chao’er watched the light in his eyes die out.
A look of pleasure spread across her face.
He stared at her blankly, his reason shattered by those soul-piercing words.
The light in his eyes extinguished, leaving only dead, numb emptiness.
Even the strength to resist disappeared.
Chao’er looked at this scene with satisfaction.
She liked the way Master’s Husband looked when he became a doll.
She lowered herself again, her movements carrying pure, brutal conquest.
Shen Mo’s head tilted slightly, his gaze unconsciously drifting toward the only direction that could bring him hope.
His eyes stared unblinkingly at Wan’er’s beautiful sleeping profile.
Tears slid silently from his hollow eye sockets—burning, yet also freezing cold.
He carefully, almost reverently, took Su Wan’er’s hand that hung over the edge of the bed.
Their fingers interlaced.
At that moment, the scene was eerily grotesque.
Under that self-deceiving anesthesia, in that suffocating pleasure, his fingers tightened feebly, clenching around his wife’s fingers.
“Heh heh…”
When Chao’er saw that his tear-streaked face wore a twisted, self-numbing look of sanctity, his fingers still desperately clutching Su Wan’er’s—
An indescribable electric current shot up her spine, straight to the crown of her head.
Ecstasy.
Pure ecstasy.
This pleasure was a hundred times stronger than anything else!
It was the ultimate carnival after destroying all morality, ethics, and hierarchy.
If Shen Mo had fought desperately, it would have been mere violence. But now, holding his wife’s hand while… even needing to hold his wife’s hand to gain the false security of “I haven’t betrayed”…
“Good… good! Hold it well!”
“Master’s Husband, you… really know exactly how to make me excited.”
On one side, the hellish humiliation and the shameful pleasure of a betraying body; on the other, the gaze of the only remaining sacred place and the cold interlocking of fingertips.
His soul sank and floated in the extreme tearing and the filthy mire.