Chapter 610-Two Mommies infront of their Sons
Morning came to the Plum Blossom Sect with the smell of mountain flowers and formation incense.
The sun crested the eastern peaks in long, golden strips that cut through the mist hanging over the waterfall gardens. The water fell from a height of forty feet, crashing into a deep pool that fed the sect’s spiritual veins. The mist around it was thick with qi, dense enough to taste on the tongue.
The Cai mother walked the garden path.
Her body was wrecked.
Her azure silk dress was clean—she had found a fresh one in the ancestor’s quarters—but her body beneath it told the story of the night. Her enormous tits were marked with bite marks and finger bruises that showed through the fabric. Her dark nipples were so swollen they pressed visible bumps against the silk. Her thick ass ached with every step, the anal still raw and leaking from the hours of brutal use. Her cunt was a mess of dried seed and her own arousal, the lips puffy and tender.
She walked anyway.
Because her son was in the quarantine garden. The ancestor had moved him there at dawn, she had been told. A compassionate gesture, the elders said. The ancestor was so kind, so merciful, allowing the boy to cultivate in the fresh air while the demonic qi was assessed.
She passed through the willow gate and saw him.
Her son was seated beneath the waterfall.
The water crashed over his shoulders, his cultivation robe soaked through, his hands pressed together in meditation. His face was pale. His lips were blue with cold. And he was coughing.
Blood sprayed from his mouth in a thin, pink mist that dissolved in the waterfall. His body convulsed. His cultivation base flickered—the golden righteous qi fighting against the black corruption that had been seeded in his meridians.
"Mother!" He opened his eyes. The blood was still on his lips. He stood, stumbled on the wet stone, and ran toward her.
She caught him.
Her thick arms wrapped around his body, pulling him into her chest, pressing his face into her enormous, marked tits. She did not care that he could feel the bite marks through the silk. She did not care that her nipples were so stiff they poked into his cheek. She held him and wept.
"Are you alright?" she whispered, her hand in his wet hair. "Are they treating you well? Have you eaten?"
"Mother, I am fine," he said. His voice was thin. "The elders gave me pills. The qi is being purified. But it hurts. The black energy fights back."
She pulled back and looked at his face. The dark circles under his eyes. The blood on his lips. The fear in his young eyes. She wiped the blood with her thumb.
"You will be fine," she said. "The ancestor is merciful."
The word tasted like ash in her mouth.
’[The Cai Mother — Internal]’
’Merciful.’
’The man who fucked my ass until it smoked. The man who made me help him destroy a blind girl’s anal. The man who came inside my bowels while I sucked another woman’s tit. That man is merciful.’
’And the worst part is that it is true. He spared my son. He gave him a garden instead of a cell. He let me see him.’
’What does mercy cost when it comes from a god who uses your body as a cock sleeve?’
’I do not know. I do not want to know. I only want my son to live.’
The sound of footsteps on the garden path made them both turn.
Another woman walked through the willow gate.
She was thick. Not fat, but full-figured in the way of a woman who had borne children and trained in martial arts. Her body was well-proportioned, the wide hips of a mother, the strong thighs of a cultivator, the heavy tits of a woman who had nursed. She wore a simple dark robe, the kind given to visiting family members, and her hair was loose around her shoulders. Her face was marked with the stress of a mother whose son had been declared a demonic cultivator.
Behind her walked the second boy.
The one Tianlong had declared demonic. The wiry, feverish one whose black qi had been exposed on the arena platform. He was thinner than before, the quarantine having stripped the false strength from his body. His eyes were hollow.
"Mother," the boy said, his voice flat.
The woman rushed to him. She grabbed his shoulders, looked at his face, checked his arms. "Are you eating? Are they giving you medicine? Are you—"
"I am fine, Mother," the boy said. He looked at the Cai mother and her son. "We are both in the same garden. They separated us at night but let us cultivate together by day."
The two mothers looked at each other.
They recognized each other. Not from the sect—from the merchant world. The Cai trading house and the Liu silk merchants had done business for years. They had sat across negotiation tables. They had shared tea. They had discussed their children’s futures with the polite, careful words of women who understood power.
Now they stood in a quarantine garden, both of their sons declared criminals, both of their bodies used by the same god.
"Madam Liu," the Cai mother said.
"Madam Cai," the Liu mother replied.
They did not embrace. They did not share their stories. The shame was too fresh, too total. They simply stood together in the morning sun while their sons sat on the wet stones and tried to cultivate.
Tianlong arrived.
He walked through the willow gate with the unhurried stride of a man who owned the ground. His robe was open at the chest, the carved muscle gleaming with morning dew. His cock hung heavy between his thighs, thick even in its resting state, swinging with each step. Behind him walked the blind girl, her arm in a sling, her white eyes tracking the qi of the waterfall. And behind her, Meihua, the corrupted demon-eyed daughter, her crimson gaze scanning the garden with predatory alertness.
Both mothers turned.
Their bodies responded before their minds did. The Cai mother’s nipples stiffened against her silk dress. The Liu mother’s thick thighs pressed together beneath her robe. The pheromone-thick air of the Horny God Physique reached them across the garden, and their cunts flooded with an arousal so immediate and so shameful that both women looked away.
"Ancestor," they said together.
They bowed. The deep, formal bow of sect members before their leader. Their heavy tits swung forward with the motion, their thick asses rising. They held the bow, faces toward the ground, until Tianlong walked past them.
His hands found their asses.
Both of them. His left hand on the Cai mother’s thick, silk-covered cheek. His right hand on the Liu mother’s firm, robe-clad globe. He gripped both with possessive, vulgar force, his fingers sinking into the soft flesh, kneading the maternal meat as he walked between them.
"Good morning," he said.
His voice was casual. Conversational. The voice of a man greeting his servants after a long night.
Both mothers flinched. Their bodies went rigid. But they did not pull away. They could not. Their sons were sitting ten feet away, trying to cultivate, their eyes closed in meditation.
"Ancestor," the Cai mother whispered. Her face was crimson. "My son... he is right there..."