Chapter 663- Cultivation World is a Bit Cruel
"You didn’t see the four pillars," the first merchant said. "Four. Simultaneously. From a cave in the eastern valley. My cousin’s friend is a Foundation Establishment cultivator — he was passing through the area on a commission. He extended his spiritual sense toward the cave. He said the energy was real. Core Formation. Four of them. And the women — he saw them the next morning. Village women. Torn clothes. Bare feet. But radiating Core Formation energy."
Zhou Hai snorted. He took a drink from his wineskin. "Women. Barefoot and pregnant in the fields, and now they’re Core Formation cultivators. The world’s gone mad."
Caihong — his wife — said nothing. Her needle paused. Her dark eyes — plain, tired, the eyes of a woman who had spent twenty years following a wine merchant along dusty roads — flickered toward the forest. Toward the darkness beyond the campfire’s light.
She had heard the rumors too. In every town, every market, every inn. The immortal who appeared to women. Who chose them. Who took them. Who elevated them.
Her hands trembled. The needle slipped. She pricked her finger. A bead of blood appeared.
She brought her finger to her mouth. She sucked the blood. And she looked at the forest.
Caihong’s heart was beating. Not with fear. With something else. Something she hadn’t felt in years — not since her youth, not since before Zhou Hai, not since before the caravan and the wine and the dusty roads. The stories made her body warm. Made her skin tingle. Made the place between her thighs — thick-furred, neglected, dry for years — moisten.
She said nothing. She returned to her mending.
But she looked at the forest.
Tianlong dropped from the trees.
He fell like a stone — no, like a shadow detaching from the canopy, his dark silk robe whipping, his golden qi suppressed to a sliver. He landed at the edge of the campfire’s light, his feet touching the ground without sound. His massive frame materialized from the darkness — the golden eyes catching the firelight, the dark silk robe shimmering, the divine qi radiating outward in a wave that hit every man at the campfire like an invisible hand pressing on their chests.
The merchants froze. Their wineskins stopped. Their mouths opened. Their bodies — mortal, weak, carrying no cultivation whatsoever — buckled under the spiritual pressure. Four men collapsed face-first into the dirt. Three more staggered, their knees buckling. The remaining five dropped to the ground, their foreheads pressed to the earth, their bodies shaking.
Zhou Hai — the caravan leader — was the last to fall. His thick belly hit the ground. His weathered face pressed into the dirt. His squinting eyes went wide — the squint gone, replaced by the raw, animal terror of a mortal in the presence of a god.
"Immortal —" he gasped, the word muffled by the dirt. "Lord Immortal — please — we are simple merchants — we have spirit wine — take what you want — please —"
Tianlong ignored him.
His gold-crimson eyes found Caihong.
She was still sitting beside the fire. Her needle and thread were in her lap. Her dark eyes were enormous. Her plain face was flushed. Her large tits were heaving beneath her cotton blouse, the dark nipples visible through the fabric. Her wide hips were pressed against the ground, her thick thighs trembling.
The divine qi hit her. The Horny God Physique’s pheromones — radiating from his body, concentrated by proximity — washed over her. Her skin flushed. Her nipples hardened. Her pussy — thick-furred, neglected — gushed. The moisture ran from between her legs, soaking her cotton undergarment, the wetness visible through her rough skirt.
"No —" Zhou Hai saw where the immortal was looking. He scrambled — his thick body lurching from the dirt, his hands raised, his weathered face contorted with desperate, futile courage. "No — stop — you can’t — that’s my wife —"
Tianlong looked at him. One glance. The gold-crimson eyes — cold, flat, the gaze of a predator acknowledging something beneath its interest — met Zhou Hai’s squinting eyes.
Zhou Hai hit the ground. Not a blow — the spiritual pressure alone drove him down, his body flattened, his face pressed into the dirt, his arms pinned at his sides. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t lift his head. Couldn’t do anything except lie there, his cheek in the dust, his eyes rolled toward the firelight, watching.
Tianlong walked toward Caihong.
She didn’t run. She didn’t scream. Her dark eyes — plain, tired, now enormous and wet — watched him approach. Her hands gripped the needle and thread. Her large tits heaved. Her thick body trembled.
"Stand," he said.
She stood. Her legs were shaking. Her rough skirt was wet — the arousal soaking through the cotton, the dark patch between her thighs visible. Her large tits swung as she rose, the heavy mounds lifting, the dark nipples stiff through the fabric.
Tianlong grabbed her blouse. His pale fingers gripped the cotton. He pulled. The fabric tore — the sound sharp in the silent camp. Her large tits swung free — heavy, wide, the dark nipples stiff, the areolae wide and brown. Her thick body was bare from the waist up. Her armpits were visible — unshaven, dark tufts against her tanned skin.
He grabbed her skirt. Pulled. The cotton fell. Her thick legs were revealed — the skin tanned, the flesh soft, the thighs thick and rubbing together. Her undergarment — a thin cotton panty, previously white, now soaked through — was visible. Her pubic hair was visible through the wet fabric — dark, thick, the curls pressed flat.
He grabbed the panty. Pulled. The wet cotton peeled from her body, the fabric releasing her flesh with a soft, sucking sound. Her pussy was revealed — a dense, black forest covering her entire mound, the thick lips visible through the hair, the pink interior glistening. Her thighs were soaked — the arousal running down her inner legs.
He grabbed her. His large hands gripped her thick waist, his pale fingers sinking into her tanned flesh. He lifted her. Her thick body was pressed against his, her large tits crushed against his chest, her bare feet leaving the ground. He carried her — three steps — and pressed her against a tree.
The bark was rough against her bare back. The wood scraped her skin. Her large tits were crushed between their bodies, the dark nipples grinding against the dark silk of his robe. Her thick thighs were spread, her hairy pussy exposed, the lips parted.
He removed his robe. The dark silk pooled at his feet. His golden body gleamed in the firelight. His cock — twelve inches, hard, the shaft pale, the head purple — pressed against her hairy, wet pussy.
"Lord —" she whispered. Her plain face was flushed. Her dark eyes were wet. "Please —"
He entered her.
PAAAH!!
"AAANGH~!!!"
The full twelve inches drove into her cunt in one thrust. The broad head stretched her thick lips, the shaft spread her walls, the length drove through her cervix and into her womb. Her thick body convulsed against the tree — her large tits heaving, the dark nipples pointing, her back arching, the bark scraping her skin raw.
"NO — STOP — TOO BIG — YOU’RE TEARING — MY —"
PAH! PAH! PAAH! PHACCK!
"HNNNGH~!! AAANGH~!! OUNGH~!!"
Her large tits bounced with each thrust — the heavy mounds swinging against her chest and then outward, the dark nipples tracing arcs. Her thick thighs were spread, her hairy pussy stretched around his pale shaft, the lips pulled taut, the arousal and blood spraying with each impact.
Zhou Hai watched. His face was in the dirt. His eyes were rolled toward the firelight. He could see his wife — pressed against the tree, her large tits swinging, her hairy pussy stretched around the immortal’s cock. He could see her face — contorted, tear-streaked, her mouth open. He could hear her screams. Her begging. Her moans.
"IMMORTAL — PLEASE — STOP — THAT’S MY WIFE —"