NTR: Choice Based System

His hand, freed from holding her upright, settled on her hip again, pressing her firmly against the ground.

The kiss continued, relentless and violating. She tried to turn her head, to escape the invasive pressure, but his other hand came up to hold her face.

He began to use his evil Dual Cultivation technique on her, making her feel the warmth of his tongue.

His other hand cupped her big breasts, squeezing them to increase the stimulation of his touch. The longer he continued, the more she lost the battle with him.

Finally sensing the end of the struggle from her side, he slid his hands beneath her robe and freed her big breasts. Then, without wasting time, he licked her erected nipples and began sucking them.

As he continued to suck, a faint mark near the apex of one breast caught Clan Leader Ye Wanshu's eye. A faded, almost healed indentation, like the trace of teeth.

A cold, possessive rage flared within him, the thought of the Holy Son's marking her made Ye Wanshu possessive.

His grip on her tightened, and without warning, he sank his own teeth gently but deliberately into the tender skin just below the mark, leaving a fresh, angry red impression.

"AAHAAA!"

Yu Mei cried out, a sharp gasp of pain tearing from her throat.

Ignoring her cry, Ye Wanshu simply shifted his attention, releasing her plump melon only to claim the other.

He gave her breast a tight, almost brutal squeeze before drawing the peak of nipple into his mouth, his sucking now less a seduction and more a triumphant assertion of ownership.

The combined assault on her senses, the pain swiftly followed by intense pleasure, was overwhelming.

Her body, already weakened and hypersensitized by the insidious effects of the evil Qi he had used, offered little resistance.

A hot flush spread through her, concentrating between her thighs a wetness of her lower lips began to leak.

She could feel the undeniable wetness spreading, a humiliating dampness that seeped through her silken robes, staining the fabric around her lower body.

The struggle she had desperately clung to, the last vestiges of her will, crumbled entirely. Her own flesh seemed to betray her, responding to his touch with a keen, involuntary arousal.

Ye Wanshu pulled back slightly, a low, triumphant chuckle rumbling in his chest. His eyes, dark and predatory, bore into hers.

"Hah... there it is," he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction. "The mask you wear... finally cracks." He gestured vaguely towards her lower body with his free hand. "This pliant heat... this is the truth of you. Yu Mei, now you have shown your true self."

Saying this, he lowered his head again, not for her breast this time, but for her lips.

He kissed her, not with the violating force of before, but with a deep, consuming pressure. And, just as he had anticipated, Yu Mei did not recoil.

Instead, her lips parted beneath his, a soft whimper escaping her.

Tentatively, her tongue met his, then twined with it, a desperate, clinging response that sealed her perceived surrender. It was a long, breathless kiss, filled with a dark, twisted passion that spoke of dominance and yielding.

The kiss ended abruptly when Ye Wanshu felt a faint warmth against his robes – the subtle hum of a transmitting artifact.

He drew back, a wide, predatory smile growing on his face as he recognized the specific sequence of pulses. A message from him. The Holy Son.

He stood, his imposing figure casting a shadow over her kneeling form. "Yu Mei," he said, his voice now carrying a new edge of anticipation, "get up."

He watched as she pushed herself unsteadily to her feet, her eyes downcast, her chest still heaving. "Now that you have submitted yourself to me... completely..." His smile widened. "Let me show you something...."

He turned, expecting her to follow. A small, reluctant dip of her head was her only answer.

With fumbling fingers, she adjusted her dishevelled robes, attempting to hide the visible evidence of his violation, tucking her swollen breasts back into her robes.

***********

On the other side.

Hell, the man with skin like polished bronze and eyes that held the cold depth of a winter night, sent the monstrous demon flying with another brutal punch.

The colossal creature, a ten-foot-tall mass of twisted muscle and dark energy, slammed into the base of the mountain with the force of a falling boulder.

The impact generated a violent tremor that shook the very earth, sending cracks spiderwebbing across the stone face.

Drawn back by the unnatural shaking and the sounds of combat, the returning training escort guards arrived to a scene of utter devastation.

Their eyes widened in horror. The temporary camp they had left hours ago was gone, razed to a churned wasteland of rubble and splintered wood.

The mountain face was scarred and cracked where the demon had struck. And amidst the ruin, two figures battled like madmen – a hideous, towering being locked in ferocious combat with a lean, tan-skinned man who moved with impossible speed and power.

Their gazes then fell upon Ye Yang, who stood some distance from the main fight, leaning heavily against a jagged piece of shattered rock.

His clothes were torn, blood trickled from cuts on his face and arms, and his expression was one of shock and exhaustion.

A chorus of panicked voices erupted as several guards rushed towards him. "Fourth Young Master!" one yelled, his eyes scanning the chaos. "By the Heavens, what happened here?!"

Another grabbed his arm gently, concern etched on his face. "Are you alright, Fourth Young Master? You're injured!"

The questions tumbled over each other, born of fear and confusion. "Where is the Training Head?" demanded one guard, looking frantically around the destruction.

"And Madam Ya? Where is she?" another shouted, his voice trembling.

The grim realization began to dawn on them as they saw dead mutilated body of the guards who had been left behind. "Who did this to them?"

Ye Yang could only stare, his breath ragged. He then pointed a hand towards the ongoing battle, unable to form coherent words.

Meanwhile, the demon, recovering from the impact, roared in pure frustration. Its voice was a grating shriek that echoed across the plain.

"AAHAHHAAAAAAAA... Why! Why! Why! Why can't I make a damage on a weak body of yours!"

It lunged forward, a massive fist aimed at Hell, who seemed almost bored by its desperation.

Hell met the demon's desperate attack with effortless grace. He dodged the flailing punch and delivered a lightning-fast kick to the demon's chest.

The sound that followed wasn't just an impact, but an explosion of force that seemed to rip the air itself.

BOOOOM!

Hell remained standing right where he was, solid and unmoving as the mountain. But the monstrous demon struggled to get on its feet.

It slowly pushed itself up from the rubble, its movements jerky and pained. A strange, eerie laughter bubbled from its bloodied mouth as a dawning realization crossed its hideous face.

"That's... that's your real body...." The demon spoke, its voice hoarse but filled with sudden understanding. "Hahaha... I see now. That's why you can actually harm me."

It spat a glob of black blood onto the ground. "How did you manage to arrive in this world in your original form so soon? No matter... my lord will be very interested to learn this from you."

Ignoring the fresh blood staining its chin, the demon began to walk, or rather shamble, towards Hell.

Hell watched him approach, his expression unreadable, but his eyes held a cold intensity.

"Who is this 'lord' you speak of?" His voice was low and dangerous, cutting through the sound of the wind.

"And how did your kind find a way into this world?" He paused, a flicker of something unyielding in his gaze. "Answer me truthfully, and perhaps I will grant you a quicker end."

The demon chuckled, a wet, rattling sound from its damaged throat. "Quicker end? Hahaha!" It threw its head back, a twisted parody of laughter.

"If my true body were here, a single look from me would turn you to ash!" Defiance flared in its eyes. "As for my lord... you'll meet him soon enough. Sooner than you think."

Suddenly, the demon's already massive body began to swell even further, bloating like a grotesque balloon.

A sickening stretching sound filled the air, and the guards who had approached Ye Yang recoiled in horror. And then, a new sound... a human voice, muffled and desperate, seemed to scream from within the swelling mass.

"Master, kill him! Kill that guy!" It was the Training Head's voice, raw with terror and pain. A choked gasp. "Nooo... don't do thissss..."

The swelling reached a horrifying peak, the skin stretched drum-tight. Then, with a violent, explosive sound – "Spuch!" – the demon's body blasted apart.

A sickening spray of blood, gore, and mangled chunks of flesh blasted outwards, splattering the ground and the nearby rocks. Amidst the raining pieces, the demon's voice seemed to echo one last time, a fading, ominous whisper carried on the wind.

"We will meet again..."

Silence fell over the battlefield, broken only by the ragged of the surviving escort guards. Hell stood untouched; the demon's remains scattered around him like macabre confetti.