Both masked men moved in.
She was conscious and trying to resist, wrists pushing, heels scraping stone, but she did not have enough strength left. One grabbed her arms and tied them behind her back with strong rope that bit into the skin at her wrists until the flesh whitened around the fibers. The other bound her legs at the ankles with the same ruthless efficiency, looping the rope twice and cinching it until her calves pressed together. They did not seem interested in killing her. Capture. Use. Something worse later, somewhere quieter.
Her upper half was totally exposed.
The pink robe hung off her shoulders in ruined strips, and the mountain air kissed every newly bare inch of her twenty-year-old body — the undersides of her breasts, the plane of her stomach, the curve of her hips where the underwear still clung. Sweat cooled on her skin in a thin shine. The two men did not resist their lust for even a breath. Capture could wait. Use came first.
One masked man grabbed her chest and squeezed without thinking.
Thick fingers sank into tit-flesh until it bulged between his knuckles. The woman shook, trying to twist away, a broken sound leaving her throat — but she could not stop him. Her tits changed shape in his rough hands, flesh reshaping around his grip, nipples dragged and pinched until they stood even harder, reddening under abuse.
He lifted one breast and let it fall with a heavy bounce.
Yan Chi's mouth went dry even from the tree. The man did it again. Lifted. Dropped. Watched the flesh settle and roll. Laughed under his mask at the bounce, a wet ugly sound, and said something to his partner that the wind stole before Yan Chi could catch the words. He buried his face between her tits and rubbed his masked cheek against them like a dog, then went back to squeezing, leaving red fingerprints on the pale outer curves.
The other tore her underwear apart with a sharp rip that echoed off the stone.
The lace string snapped at one hip and then the other. He yanked the ruined cloth free and tossed it into the ferns. Her pink, puffy pussy lay completely exposed. It looked tight from the way her bound legs pressed together at the ankles, shaved clean as porcelain, folds glistening with a mix of fear-sweat and something the chase had already woken in her body — a perfect untouched flower that made Yan Chi's cock throb painfully in his trousers even as anger at the scene coiled under the arousal like a second pulse.
From the tree he could see everything.
The pink outer lips. The darker inner folds just visible where they parted. The clean shaved mound. The way her asshole peeked between her cheeks when the man shoved her knees wider against the ankle rope. A bead of slick gathered at her entrance and trembled there without falling.
That beautiful female cultivator — twenty years old at least, golden-haired, fairy-faced — lay naked in the jungle with two men touching her. She tried to resist — thighs flexing, shoulders straining against rope — but the poison made her weaker with every heartbeat, limbs turning heavy, vision swimming until the canopy above her was only a green blur. Her lips moved. She might have been trying to form a technique name, or a curse, or a plea. Nothing came out but a broken breath.
The second man pushed his mouth onto her crotch and started licking her pussy with wet, greedy sounds that carried clearly up into the tree where Yan Chi sat frozen.
Slrrp.
Chu.
Slrrp.
It was perfectly shaved and clean, just like high-class family women who kept themselves ready for dual cultivation contracts and political marriages. From the way he groaned into her folds, she tasted like flowers and fear and the faint chemical bite of whatever poison was killing her. He could not stop sucking.
His tongue pushed between her lips and lapped at her entrance.
Then it climbed to her clit and circled it until her hips jerked against the stone despite the poison. His hands held her thighs open as far as the ankle rope allowed, thumbs digging into the inner flesh, spreading her so he could get deeper, so he could see everything — pink folds, glistening entrance, the tight clean ring of her asshole just below.
He spat on her pussy and licked the spit back up.
He sucked her outer lips into his mouth one at a time until they were swollen and darker. He was eating her like a man who had chased for half a day and intended to collect every coin of the prize. Each wet sound rose through the leaves. Yan Chi's fingers dug into the bark until his nails ached.
Teeth grazing. Tongue circling. Treating her breast like fruit he had stolen and meant to finish before anyone came looking. He switched breasts. Sucked the other nipple until it stood as red and wet as the first. Pinched both at once between thumbs and forefingers and stretched them gently upward until her tits peaked, then released and watched them bounce back.
Pop.
She was already half-unconscious, golden lashes fluttering, the poison and the exhaustion and the violation dragging her under into a place where resistance became only a twitch of fingers and a faint sound in the throat.
The man at her hips pulled her legs up and lifted her buttocks — round, tight cheeks that bounced when he slapped them in anger, white flesh blooming pink under his palm.
Slap!
"This bitch has been running for half a day," he snarled, and slapped her ass again, harder.
Slap!
The flesh rippled. A pink handprint flared. He was taking the chase out on her white ass while his partner sucked her tits, switching between nipples with wet pops, leaving them shiny and red. Her body was being treated roughly, used like a prize before it had even been fully claimed, moans leaking out of her poisoned throat that were half pain and half the helpless sounds a woman's body made when it was touched too much too fast.
The man at her crotch dragged his tongue from her clit down to her entrance and pushed inside as far as he could without breaking anything he might want intact for later.
Her hips jerked against the stone. He licked lower, across the tight rim of her asshole, and she made a sound that might have been a sob. The man at her chest bit down on a nipple hard enough to make her cry out, then soothed it with his tongue, then bit again, leaving a faint ring of teeth around the pink tip.
Yan Chi's cock ached against his trousers. His hands ached from gripping the bark. The two hungers — to save her and to keep watching — sat in his chest like fighting dogs, and for a few filthy heartbeats the watching won.
Yan Chi watched the entire scene from the top of the tree, fingers digging into bark until his nails ached, and thought about helping her.
He was not an idiot. Those two were in a much higher realm than his fresh Qi Refining first stage. Exposing himself in a direct fight would get him killed and leave her in their hands with one more corpse for company. He opened the system shop instead, scrolling fast through limited options, pulse hammering, until one entry locked his attention in blue-white light.
[SYSTEM SHOP]
[Illusion Pill]
[Cost: 20 Pervert Points each]
[Stock: 5 per year]
[Effect: Locks target in vision of what they fear most (brief duration vs higher realms)]
Twenty points each. Limited stock. One year, five pills, no second chances if he wasted them. He hesitated for exactly one heartbeat — twenty points was more than half of what he had left, and the twins were still ahead, and Yan Jing was still ahead — and then he stopped thinking and exchanged one, because a golden-haired woman was being raped into unconsciousness on the stone below him and he was not going to sit in a tree and watch it finish. The pill settled into his palm like cold glass, runes faintly glowing along its surface, cold enough that his skin prickled. Twenty points gone. Fifteen left. Below him a golden-haired woman moaned under two mouths that were not asking permission, and the math of the Pervert System sat in his skull like a second, colder voice: spend now, earn later, or watch her break while you count coins.
Below, the man who had been sucking her tits was kissing her beautiful mouth now.
His tongue pushed into her warm lips while she was too weak to bite. Saliva strung between them when he pulled back to breathe. He kissed her like he owned her. He squeezed her breast while he did it, rolling the nipple between finger and thumb, and her golden lashes fluttered without opening. A thin thread of spit ran from the corner of her mouth down to her jaw.
The other held her legs up and rubbed his dick along her deep butt crack.
He was feeling her tight ass before enjoying her pussy. His thick shaft vanished between those buttocks, grinding the cleft with wet sounds. The head of his cock nudged toward the entrance of her pussy and then slid back up into the crack again, preparing to take what he wanted the moment his partner finished with her mouth.
Squelch.
Precum smeared the cleft shiny. He spat once into his palm, slicked himself, and lined up. The flushed head of his cock pressed against her entrance. Her folds parted around the tip. One more push and he would be inside her. You are reading on novelping.com, the official source.
Yan Chi crushed the Illusion Pill between his fingers and flung the activated spell downward like a thrown knife of light before that cock could push in.
Both masked men started panicking at once.
They screamed — high, broken, terrified — begging for their lives to empty forest air, eyes locked on nightmares only they could see.
Whatever the spell showed them, it was worse than a golden-haired beauty's naked body. One clawed at his own mask as if something were eating his face. The other dropped his sword and fell to his knees, babbling apologies to a father or a master or a debt-collector who was not there. Spit flew from his mouth. His cock bobbed wet and forgotten between his thighs.
The spell's window was short against cultivators of their strength: one minute, maybe less if their will held. Yan Chi needed them running, not frozen in screaming place.
For five heartbeats they thrashed over the woman's naked form.
They dropped her legs. Scrambled off her tits. Cocks still out and wet from grinding against her ass and her mouth. One of them nearly stepped on her golden hair as he stumbled backward and caught himself on a fern that tore under his weight. Her body jolted once when a boot scraped her thigh, breasts bouncing sideways, and then both men were off her entirely, leaving her naked and bound and unconscious on the stone with spit shining on her nipples and slick shining between her thighs.
Then, at fifteen seconds, fear won completely.
They scrambled up and fled through the trees without even pulling up their pants, masks askew, trousers around their thighs, crashing through brush like hunted animals until the sound of them faded into the mountain and only birds remained, and the woman's breathing, and the drip of something from a fern leaf onto stone where a bead of precum had fallen and gone cold.
Yan Chi waited out the full minute in the tree to be sure the illusion had fully expired and they were truly gone. Counting heartbeats. Listening. The crashing faded into the distance, then into nothing, then into the ordinary noise of mountain birds reclaiming the air. His heart hammered. His cock was still hard from watching, a filthy reflex he did not bother to apologize for — Yan Fan would have jerked off in the tree and called it a free show; Yan Chi climbed down instead with his trousers tented and his jaw set. Then he dropped to the stone and went to the woman.
The stone was still warm from the fight's qi discharge. Ferns lay flattened in a ring around her body. Her golden hair was spread across the rock like a banner, and for a moment, before he knelt, he simply looked at her the way a man looks at something he has stolen from death: with greed and relief tangled together so tightly he could not tell them apart.
Up close she looked more beautiful.
Golden hair shone where sunlight broke through the canopy, strands stuck to her damp cheeks and throat and the upper curves of her abused breasts. Her face, slack with exhaustion, was the kind that started wars in storybooks and ended bloodlines in demonic politics — high cheekbones, a soft mouth still shiny with another man's saliva, long golden lashes that fluttered once when he touched her wrist to check her pulse.
Her breasts — a little red from rough hands, fingerprints faintly visible on the soft outer curves — looked too yielding and squeezy.
Nipples still stiff and wet from a stranger's mouth. The pink tips darkened from sucking and biting. A faint ring of teeth marked one areola. When he leaned closer he could smell the floral scent of her skin under the sweat and the poison, and under that the salt of another man's mouth.
Her pussy was a little wet.
Saliva and her own slick mixed on the shaved mound. Pink lips parted slightly from how her legs had been held. The entrance glistened. A thin trail of wetness had run down toward her asshole and dried sticky on the stone beneath her. He unbound the ropes carefully, rubbing the marks on her wrists with his thumbs until the white pressure-lines began to pink again, then worked the ankle rope free with the same care, easing her calves apart so the blood could return.
Her legs fell open slightly when the rope left.
He looked away for a heartbeat, then looked back because looking away did not erase what he had already seen and would see again. The shaved flower of her cunt lay open to the forest light. Her breasts rose and fell with each shallow breath. Checked her breathing — shallow but steady, the poison still grey at the edges of her lips but not yet winning. Checked her pulse at the throat. Looked at the shop again for an antidote before the poison finished what the masked men had started.
[SYSTEM SHOP]
[Universal Antidote Pill]
[Cost: 20 Pervert Points]
Twenty points. He had fifteen left after the illusion purchase.
[STATUS WINDOW]
[Name: Yan Chi]
[Status: Weak]
[Cultivation: Qi Refining 1st Stage]
[Pervert Points: 15]
Not enough. Confusion hit hard. Fifteen points. The antidote cost twenty. The math was simple and ugly and refused to change no matter how many times he opened the shop again. Bringing her to his home meant bringing unknown trouble into Yan territory — and those two masked men were dangerous enough that tracking a rescue trail back to the branch could start a war he was not ready to fight, a war Grand Elder Yan Li would happily use as an excuse to finish what Yan Jing's childhood kick had started. Leaving her here meant death or worse if the poison deepened or the men returned with clearer heads and sharper blades and a golden-haired prize still lying naked on the stone. He looked at her unconscious face — twenty years old at least, fairy-beautiful, lips still shiny — at the soft rise and fall of those abused tits, at the glitter of wetness on her shaved pussy, and the arithmetic of the Pervert System presented itself with the same shameless clarity it always did: points came from perverted acts. He needed five more points. Her breasts were right there. Raw. Untouched by him. First-time bonus territory.