Jin Yong's Biographies: Zhao Min's Blooming Flower Bud

Zhang Wuji went to Shaolin Temple to gather information; she wondered how he was doing.

Zhao Min reached out and touched her burning cheeks, gently rubbing her left foot. She couldn't describe the sweetness or tenderness in her heart; it was a wonderful feeling. At that moment, she and Zhang Wuji were bound together, inseparable, and perhaps forever.

It was quiet outside; Du Baidung and Yi Sanniang must be asleep. They were a loving couple. What was a married couple like?

Thinking about this, Zhao Min felt a surge of panic. "Zhang Wuji! You little rascal! Don't you know I want you to hug me, to kiss me?! Are you going to touch my foot or not?!" Zhao Min felt increasingly agitated, not only in her thoughts but also in her increasingly hot body. Why did her body go weak just thinking about such things? It had been like this for quite some time now!

Having learned from experience, Zhao Min succumbed to her desires. She lay on her side on the hard bed, slightly hunching her body, her legs pressed together, rubbing back and forth. Her fingers parted her undergarments, touching her tender breasts, bringing a comfortable tension, a surge of urgency… Zhang Wuji was right beside her, gently stroking her feet. That familiar tingling sensation spread from the soles of her feet, irresistible.

A thud roused Zhao Min from her comfort and confusion. She had been wondering what Zhang Wuji looked like, why she couldn't see clearly what was between his legs? Did he have pubic hair like her?

But clearly, something was wrong! Zhao Min sprang to her feet, reaching for her short sword. Before she could draw it, the door opened, and in the lamplight, Zhou Zhiruo, dressed in a green robe, appeared like a ghost in the doorway. She was silent, expressionless, blood dripping from her fingertips, her eyes cold, with a hint of smugness.

Zhao Min's heart sank, a cold sweat breaking out on her back. What to do? She quickly assessed her situation. Actually, there was no need to assess; Zhou Zhiruo was right before her, her greatest enemy. And behind her stood two men holding lanterns: one was the handsome young Song Qingshu, the other was Chen Youliang, Cheng Kun's disciple and her brother's trusted lieutenant!

Zhao Min assumed a fighting stance, drew her short sword, and with a flick of her wrist, brought it towards her own neck.

Was she going to die? Life had just begun. She had just come together with her beloved Zhang Wuji, preparing to spend the rest of her life together. How difficult the road had been, how hard-won happiness had been! She wanted to continue being happy.

But Zhou Zhiruo had come; she had come to destroy her. She was powerless to resist, she couldn't be a humiliated prisoner, she couldn't yield to her in the end. No, now she had only the choice of death. What a pity! At least she had a brief period of happiness, so it wasn't too much of a regret. Zhou Zhiruo, I'm about to become a vengeful ghost. Let's have one last good fight!

Zhao Min raised her head, smiling slightly. A wisp of smoke appeared, followed by a cold, bloodied hand gripping her wrist. A numbness shot through her waist, and all her strength vanished. Zhao Min stared in despair at the chilling gaze that passed before her, and slowly slumped to the ground.

"Want to die? Not so easy!" Zhou Zhiruo disappeared through the doorway, her tone unchanged, still sharp and cutting.

Zhao Min had never experienced such defeat, nor had she ever felt so helpless. A fear gripped her, a terror of the future that lay before her.

"Your Highness, greetings!" Chen Youliang approached with a grin. After Zhou Zhiruo's departure, Chen Youliang's cautious demeanor returned to its confident state.

He understood women, knew what kind of woman Zhao Min was, especially now that she had gone from a high and mighty, unapproachable princess to a prisoner. This excitement was peculiar.

"What do you want?" Zhao Min tried to remain calm, though she was terrified.

"I won't do anything to you, but my mistress likes you very much; she misses you day and night." Chen Youliang's hand reached out and brazenly pinched Zhao Min's delicate cheek, laughing—lewdly and subtly.

Zhao Min sensed something frightening in that gaze, and her heart clenched. The hand didn't leave, continuing to caress her.

"Take your hand away." Chen Youliang was shocked by Zhao Min's unique authority, involuntarily withdrawing his hand, then enraged, slapping Zhao Min across the hard bed.

"Alright." Song Qingshu's voice drifted over.

"Let's go. My mistress is waiting." The light dimmed, and Song Qingshu's figure disappeared, his voice carrying a faint sadness and a chilling aura.

Chen Youliang withdrew his hand, casually placing it on Zhao Min's crotch, and laughed, "Your Highness, let's go." What had happened? What would become of her? Zhao Min's thoughts were disrupted, unable to formulate a plan. Even if she did, what could she do?

It was already autumn, and Zhao Min, wearing only her undergarments, felt cold, mainly a chill in her heart. She draped her arm over Chen Youliang's shoulder, his hand supporting her leg, constantly rubbing it—it was very uncomfortable. A rustling sound filled the air, and Zhao Min felt countless greedy eyes immediately surrounding her—filthy beggars!

Having been upside down the whole time, her head was spinning. When she was put down, she was oxygen-deprived and extremely dizzy. Zhao Min breathed greedily, and only after the stars flashed before her eyes did she manage to see that she had been led to a dilapidated mountain god temple. Everywhere was ash, dust, and animal droppings, a stale stench permeating the air. The statue of the god was mottled, exposing the mud and weeds beneath, and she could still see the remaining half of his face, a compassionate single eye. What was to come would take place under the mountain god's merciful gaze, wouldn't it?

Zhao Min was a little scared. The disheveled, tattered, and mud-covered beggars hadn't followed her into the main hall. They peered from anywhere they could see, their eyes gleaming like wild beasts in the darkness, their breaths filling the air with a nauseating, sour stench. Zhao Min felt like she couldn't breathe; her heart and nerves felt like they were being squeezed and torn apart.

Chen Youliang was beside her, squatting, laughing, and admiring her own body. Disgusting, Zhao Min felt a surge of anger. She couldn't stand such rude stares, nor could she accept her fate of being manipulated. The thought of dignity, however, offered some respite from her fear; she was used to dignity.

Song Qingshu strode inside with unwavering steps.

Compared to the filth and gloom of the main hall, the rear hall was like a paradise—perfectly clean and spotless, without a trace of filth. The lights were bright, a rare brightness, and a bamboo mat lay on the floor. Although there were few furnishings, the cleanliness was comforting.

However, Zhao Min's heart grew even colder. Zhou Zhiruo was in the inner hall, her back to everything. Her slender figure was beautiful under the lamplight, yet there was something eerie about her. Her long hair was still so soft and lustrous, and she was still so meticulous, but she seemed to have completely changed, shrouded in a mysterious and dangerous aura.

"Zhou Zhiruo, what do you want?" Zhao Min overcame her fear. She shouldn't be afraid of her, even if she was a demon, she shouldn't be afraid of her.

"Shut up! The master hasn't asked you anything, you can't say anything!" Song Qingshu kicked Zhao Min's buttocks without any mercy.

Zhao Min was furious, but powerless to resist. She couldn't move. Where had she ever suffered such humiliation since childhood?

She glared at Song Qingshu.

"Don't hit her." Zhou Zhiruo waved her hand.

"Yes." Song Qingshu retreated to the side like a docile kitten. Zhao Min saw Chen Youliang kneeling meekly at the door, which puzzled her greatly.

"Zhao Min." Zhou Zhiruo's voice drifted over.

"You're very smart and beautiful. Do you think you're the master of this world?" The tone was gentle, like a casual conversation.

"Do you think everything should belong to you?" Zhao Min paused, wondering if what could anger her could also bring her relief.

"He's mine." Zhao Min smiled, truly no longer afraid. There was nothing left to fear. Now it was a battle between two women; defeating her mentally would be good enough.

"Do you remember how you treated my mentor at Wan'an Temple?" Zhao Min had never been particularly interested in matters below the law.

"Brother Wuji treated me very well." Zhao Min didn't intend to change the subject; this was her only chance to defeat Zhou Zhiruo.

"Do you remember how you treated my mentor at Wan'an Temple?" Zhou Zhiruo's tone remained unchanged as she repeated. "You hate me, don't you? Because you could never have Brother Wuji, and now he's mine." Zhou Zhiruo didn't answer; her breathing was somewhat rapid. Zhao Min saw her back sway slightly, unsure if it was from the lighting or anger.

"Are you very proud?" "I'm happy." "You won't be happy." Zhou Zhiruo smiled faintly, slowly turning around to gaze at Zhao Min's face.

Zhao Min was shocked to find Zhou Zhiruo's face streaked with tears, her gaze cruel. She forced a stiff smile, her beautiful face contorted like a wounded beast. Had she really won? Zhao Min suddenly felt sorry for Zhou Zhiruo, even regretting her hurtful words.

"What did Zhang Wuji do to you?" Zhou Zhiruo exploded, her voice hoarse and strained, far from her usual composure. "He's good to me," Zhao Min replied without backing down.

"He hugged you?" Zhao Min nodded.

"He kissed you? Touched you? Where did he touch you? Have you two already…?" Zhou Zhiruo's tone grew increasingly urgent, her expression increasingly fierce. She was no longer crying, but burning with anger; her beautiful lips trembled, her entire face and body trembling.

Zhao Min wasn't afraid. She found seeing Zhou Zhiruo in such pain pleasurable, even her earlier pity vanished. She smiled, watching with amusement. Enraged, Zhou Zhiruo lunged forward, grabbing Zhao Min's hair and tearing at it.

"That's mine!" Having said it, she felt better. Zhou Zhiruo stopped, calmed down, but her heart ached.

Zhao Min slowly opened her eyes. She had expected to endure even greater pain, but it was over so quickly. Seeing Zhou Zhiruo's gaze, Zhao Min knew acutely that it wasn't over at all, or even begun. This made her tense.

Zhou Zhiruo regained her usual composure. She released Zhao Min, smoothed the slightly wrinkled blue robe, took out a silk handkerchief embroidered with mandarin ducks, wiped away the tears on her face, took a deep breath, smiled slightly at Zhao Min, and slowly stepped back, kneeling in the flickering light. She carefully folded the handkerchief, her eyelids slightly lowered, her long, upward-curving eyelashes trembling.

"Strip her clothes." Her tone was gentle, as if she were saying something ordinary, or perhaps confiding in someone. But for Zhao Min, this was a disaster.

"What do you want? Zhou Zhiruo, you can't do this!" Unable to struggle or shout, Zhao Min stopped. Enraged by Zhou Zhiruo's amused gaze, she trembled with rage. She bit her lip, utterly humiliated!

She watched helplessly as Song Qingshu swiftly stripped her of her clothes. She saw Song Qingshu pause slightly, while Chen Youliang's gaze turned greedy… "You're not human!" Zhao Min was tormented by humiliation and anger. Her virgin body, exposed to the air, trembled slightly. Even her beloved Zhang Wuji had never seen her like this, and now she was forced to expose herself. Her heart churned, she desperately wanted to cry, but she couldn't lose! Zhao Min reminded herself, forcing back the tears that welled in her eyes. Her lips ached from being bitten, and they twitched incessantly. Zhao Min, no matter how much suffering she endured, she couldn't lose!

"So beautiful! No wonder Zhang Wuji was bewitched by you, you little vixen. Even I like you. Such tender skin!" Zhou Zhiruo's voice was soft, her gaze alluring. She lingered on Zhao Min's exquisite naked body, not intentionally creating an atmosphere.

Zhou Zhiruo was genuinely beautiful. Zhao Min was beautiful—her figure, her skin, her flowing curves, her overflowing vitality, her purity. Zhou Zhiruo knew her naked body was also beautiful, but not as radiant as Zhao Min's, not as fair and tender, not as delicate, not even as full as her breasts. What beautiful breasts, what tender nipples, what an alluring waist and abdomen, what beautiful legs! Zhou Zhiruo felt a surge of emotion, not from jealousy, but from the pleasure of seeing Zhao Min subjugated at her feet.

"Qingshu, ask her where that little thief Zhang Wuji touched her? I really want to know." Zhao Min saw Song Qingshu's infatuated expression; his handsome face flushed red, his gaze burning not with lust, but with hatred. Because Zhou Zhiruo hated her, did he hate her too?

"Here?" Song Qingshu pointed to Zhao Min's cheek. Zhao Min couldn't hold back her tears any longer. She had never felt such humiliation, such a profound sense of shame.

"Cry! You vixen!" A crisp slap sent a wave of dizziness through Zhao Min, a rush of heat to her head. Humiliation mixed with anger prevented her from crying out; she glared at Song Qingshu.

"Look!" He pinched the tender flesh of Zhao Min's chin with his nails, twisting it. The sharp pain made Zhao Min open her mouth, but she forced herself to scream. Seeing Song Qingshu's contorted face, she knew that if she cried out, he would be even more pleased. Zhou Zhiruo's gaze had also intensified.

"Here?" A hand reached for her chest, and Zhao Min felt the trembling hand kneading her breasts back and forth. There was no pleasure, only anger.

"Don't touch me with your filthy hands!" "You're so beautiful, aren't you just meant for men?" Zhou Zhiruo's chilling voice echoed.

"Qingshu, her voice is so beautiful, I love her screams." She was really about to scream; the excruciating pain felt like her nipples were being ripped off. Hold on!

Minmin, hold on! Zhao Min looked at the bulging veins on Song Qingshu's hand, at his merciless fingers, at the pitiful state of her proud nipples.

"Oh." He let go, and her nipples were hers again. The pain spread, and she was covered in a thin layer of sweat. It really hurt! Zhao Min gasped for breath; he was massaging her, which felt a little better.

"Hmph!" At the last moment before the scream erupted from her mouth, Zhao Min held on. The pain that had just subsided returned, this time not at her nipples, but at the lower edge of her breasts, pinching hard! The pain was different from the pain of having her nipples pulled; it was equally unbearable, and she could feel her head contracting, everything around her contracting.

He started rubbing again, and Zhao Min trembled. Fear was overwhelming. He understood women well, and he knew when to strike. She probably couldn't hold on much longer; she felt the urge to urinate. The urge was growing

stronger. Seeing Zhou Zhiruo's encouraging gaze, Song Qingshu became even more excited. Nothing was more important than making Zhou Zhiruo happy. He didn't hate Zhao Min, nor was he infatuated with her beautiful body. He knew it was wonderful, but she belonged to Zhou Zhiruo. What she hated, he would destroy without hesitation.

He spread Zhao Min's arms and gently tickled her underarms, watching her expression of endurance. It felt good!

Just as Zhao Min's delicate face relaxed slightly, Song Qingshu precisely plucked a tuft of armpit hair. Seeing Zhao Min convulse in pain, Song Qingshu felt an erection. It felt so good.

Chen Youliang lay between Zhao Min's legs, spreading her round, firm thighs. The skin on the inside was so tender, so delicate, that he almost couldn't bear to touch it. Below her hairy belly, a tuft of soft pubic hair covered her full, glistening vulva, adding to the allure of a dreamlike scene. Two moist mounds nestled between a deep, secluded valley, at the very top of which was a light brown bud. Then, a pinkish slit extended, forming a vortex at the end. His gaze was drawn to the vortex, wanting to explore its depths. How wonderful, how clean, how blissful… Zhao Min's will to resist was growing weaker and weaker. She felt she was about to succumb. Although shame, anger, and an unyielding spirit reminded her not to give in, not to!

But her body was about to give in. After a brief moment of pleasure came an unbearable pain. The pain and the pleasure intertwined, making her tremble, confused, ashamed, and angry. She couldn't resist it, and gradually she veered towards despair, gradually on the verge of collapse. All she could do was look at Zhou Zhiruo, at her crazed expression. It was rape, wasn't it?

She knew she couldn't escape rape. She wanted to take everything from her—her dignity, her pride, Zhang Wuji, and her virginity—turning her into something filthy. She was a devil, a ghost in angel's clothing, filled with hatred and brutality. She regretted not ending it at Wan'an Temple, so she wouldn't be in this state now… "You fucking piss!" The men's attention was focused on their genitals. They really needed to pee; this was their last line of defense. What did it feel like to break down?

They rubbed their stomachs, their thighs, pinched their labia and the tingling, numbing sensation in their clitoris, played with their writhing labia minora, pressed their perineum, and teased their restless anus with their little fingers… They were unrestrained; they longed for that moment. Her thoughts became empty, chaotic, still unable to escape the humiliation, still filled with hatred, still helplessly forced to submit—this useless body, this weak heart. Tears blurred her vision; the violent sobbing was exhausting. Why cry? Why submit to the devil?

"Let's see how long you can hold out!" A thin object, seemingly a bamboo skewer, sharp and resilient, pierced the tender clitoris, causing a sharp pain, before being thrust directly into the urethra! Pain and itchiness filled the air. After the bamboo skewer rotated once, Zhao Min knew it was all over. Her throbbing bladder relaxed, her tense muscles eased, and a warm stream, carrying her body heat, gushed out through her urethra… Crying could alleviate her grief. Apart from discomfort, she felt nothing else. She could feel the man churning inside her, freely roaming. The moment of deflowering was far less stimulating than she had imagined, and it didn't hurt much. Perhaps her self-destructive emotions had made her indifferent to what followed? In any case, everything was inevitable. She was meat on the chopping block, and they could do whatever they wanted, slaughtering her at will.

Zhao Min lay there, letting Song Qingshu and Chen Youliang do as they pleased. She didn't cry, didn't shout, and didn't shed tears anymore. She only breathed heavily, sometimes lightly, sometimes rapidly, in response to her body's reactions. Her mouth was dry, so she kept swallowing. Her mind was blank; she could only unconditionally endure.

She saw the man's penis. It wasn't as magical as she had imagined; it was ugly and dangerous, filthy and merciless—a weapon to torment a woman.

She was powerless to resist, and now even the will to resist was almost gone. The taste in her mouth was strange. Someone's penis had just been inserted into her mouth, making her throat hurt, nauseous, and constantly vomiting. It tasted very fishy. She wondered if they even bathed.

Her poor body couldn't believe that the erotic intercourse she had longed for would happen under such circumstances, filled with violence, humiliation, anger, helplessness, and excruciating pain.

Song Qingshu sat, placing himself on top of her, allowing his penis to penetrate deeper into her vagina. He forced himself to sway, and so he swayed, until he had no strength left. Chen Youliang still wouldn't let her go, thrashing about from behind, her anus twisting and turning, almost getting used to the rubbing.

What was he going to do? His glans entered, painful, numb, swollen and aching. There was no need to hold back anymore. Zhao Min felt her throat was hoarse from screaming, but she still screamed with all her might, her body convulsing again. She could clearly feel the sharp pain of her rectum being rubbed, the tearing sensation of her anus being stretched to an unprecedented degree, the overwhelming urge to defecate, the complete breakdown of her nerves. Just die like this!

Why is life so tenacious? Facing such ravaging, it becomes more and more clear-headed, more and more sensitive, more and more endlessly vigorous and passionate. It seems she doesn't want to die; there's still so much of the future waiting for her. "Minmin, you must live on. Even if you face immense pain, you must endure it all." A strange voice seemed to be speaking to Zhao Min from the depths of her soul, trying to awaken her from her increasingly painful grief. She didn't want to wake up like this; once awake, there was no escape from this unbearable pain! To what extent can hatred reach? To what extent can hatred make a person's life tenacious? To what extent can hatred make endurance reach?

"How is it? Does it taste good?" Zhou Zhiruo looked at Zhao Min, slumped on the bamboo mat, panting and convulsing. She stepped on Zhao Min's breasts, watching them change shape under her feet. Zhou Zhiruo felt a surge of pleasure, along with her tears and her sorrow.

Zhao Min didn't hide it. Wasn't this what Zhou Zhiruo wanted to see? Then she had to satisfy her. Now she had to endure even more humiliation and suffering, just to survive, waiting for an opportunity. Having come this far, what else couldn't she endure?

Zhao Min felt the lingering semen at the corner of her mouth, nauseous and vomiting. The semen she had been forced to swallow was tormenting her, along with the pain all over her body, the burning sensation in her vagina and anus. Now, she had nothing left—home, love, purity, chastity, even dignity. Only hatred remained to sustain her body and will facing destruction, and her own beauty.

"Take her out. Let the brothers taste the tenderness of this imperial princess," Zhou Zhiruo said calmly, withdrawing her foot.

Dawn was breaking, and the morning air was so fresh. Breathing it into her lungs and feeling it on her skin, Zhao Min involuntarily shivered. The autumn wind was cool, and her exhausted body was fragile.

Early birds were busy at work, chirping or flapping their wings and taking flight. The wind rustled the grass and trees, and there were also sounds of insects chirping and busy activity in the grass. Dewdrops, scattering sunlight, rolled reluctantly from the blades of grass to the ground, nourishing the soil.

Zhao Min admired the beautiful scenery that repeated itself day after day, week after week. She had never paid attention to these things before, but now they felt so familiar. However, there was no time to appreciate them. The nightmare that was not yet over had to continue. In order to see this beautiful scenery again, she had to endure it. Thinking of those filthy beggars wanting to vent their lust on her body, which, although no longer virginal, was still beautiful, Zhao Min didn't know if she could bear it. Actually, there was no question of whether she could bear it or not; she had to endure it, right?

When her naked body was bathed in greedy gazes, goosebumps rose on her skin.

Her acupoints had been released, but now she was a lamb to the slaughter. Her internal energy was sealed, and she didn't even have much strength left. She was exhausted and in pain.

"Brothers, the master knows you've all worked hard and will reward you!" Song Qingshu pushed her on the back, and Zhao Min involuntarily fell towards those lowly, filthy beggars. She wasn't panicked; there was no need to panic anymore.

A commotion erupted as all the beggars in the mountain temple swarmed around, roughly kneading the still-pure body. Their hands were rough, the stench unbearable, their greedy, frenzied kneading excessively.

Zhao Min saw the cruel look in Song Qingshu's eyes; he was an executioner, and the real devil was behind him. She saw Zhou Zhiruo's pure face peeking out from the window of the back hall, her satisfied gaze fixed on her. Zhou Zhiruo was also naked. Zhao Min saw a hand carefully kneading Zhou Zhiruo's delicate breasts. Oh, behind her was Chen Youliang, his movements causing Zhou Zhiruo to sway.

Zhao Min didn't want to look anymore, nor could she bear to. She was completely overwhelmed by the stench, vomiting incessantly. Every inch of her skin was being rubbed by the beggars. She couldn't stand anymore and collapsed. As soon as she did, someone pressed down on her. She could only spread her legs and try to resist, but the beatings immediately neutralized her resistance. They were all so direct, without any other thoughts, just the most instinctive demands... She was held down by a beggar whose mouth reeked of onions and garlic and whose face was covered in a foot of mud. He kissed her lips. He not only kissed her lips but also pried open Zhao Min's teeth and stuck his saliva and tongue inside.

There were at least fifteen or sixteen hands on his body, but Zhao Min's entire attention was focused on the beggar who was forcibly kissing her. She couldn't stand it. His smelly hair was disheveled, blocking the sunlight, and his eyes were wild like a wild beast. His saliva was thick and sticky, and yellowish snot was flowing from his hairy nostrils. His strong hands gripped her head tightly, watching the snot fall onto her face, or rather, wipe it off, sticky... The beggar's howl made the air freeze, and everyone took a step back, watching the beggar cover his bleeding mouth. Zhao Min sat up, rubbing her face and mouth vigorously. Unable to hold it in any longer, she began to vomit… “Stop hitting me!” Zhao Min rolled on the grass in agony, the blows relentlessly landing on her until she curled up in a ball, motionless… This was the first blow. Zhao Min struggled to open her legs, but they were forced apart, and then her delicate lower body was struck hard, making her shudder in pain… Seeing the mud-covered buttocks, the unknown scars, the pubic hair fluttering in the wind like a pile of withered grass, slightly yellowed, emitting a foul stench, the penis was already erect. A dark, grimy hand rubbed it, and you could see the fingers sliding down, bringing down clumps of mud. The glans was swollen to a terrifying degree, the tip of the penis twitching, like a gaping maw approaching Zhao Min's mouth. She still couldn't stop vomiting; the stench was simply unbearable.

"You fucking move!" After being slapped, Zhao Min struggled to vomit while simultaneously sucking, but dared not taste it. Her tongue couldn't escape it; it was so salty, a filthy taste, pungent, bitter, gradually feeling like grime. Zhao Min cried her heart out, but no one pitied her; everyone was seeking pleasure.

Her hand was pulled out and forced to grasp a penis. Countless hands rubbed her body, some directly rubbing their penises against her skin. The penis inside her vagina swelled, finally erupting. She heard the man's gleeful roar, and then another long-awaited, filthy penis took over, thrusting and slamming against her body with a slapping sound. Was it saliva or snot?

Zhao Min felt a sticky residue spreading across her body, smeared by hands. The penis in her mouth ejaculated, then withdrew, trembling. Another penis followed, equally foul-smelling and savage, very long, reaching her throat, and about to continue… Zhao Min fainted, not from unbearable pain, but from nausea and humiliation, and something indescribable that tore at her nerves.

When she awoke, Zhao Min felt her skin tightening, her body covered in a viscous liquid that was drying, evaporating, or being absorbed by her skin. She had no feeling in her lower body; the parts that did feel sensation were numb and immobile. Only her consciousness was slowly returning. There were over thirty beggars… Could they all…? Zhao Min dared not think further. How much time had passed? It had been a long time. Her survival was a miracle. She doubted that a miracle might still happen; Zhao Min firmly believed this. Without a miracle, the hatred would never end, and she was still not used to not achieving her goals. Thinking of Zhang Wuji, a wave of sorrow washed over her. There was no future for her and Zhang Wuji, but she couldn't tell him. Zhang Wuji needed to learn to see the world for himself; he was too good, too gentle, and might be deceived again… Tears welled up uncontrollably. Without her, what would become of Zhang Wuji? Her throat felt like it was on fire, or something was stuck there, causing intense pain. She guessed it was from the penetration, tearing her skin in many places: her breasts, shoulders, stomach. They even considered opening her navel to see if it could serve as another conduit for their sins. Every place that could be penetrated burned with pain: her vagina, anus, even her urethra.

Zhao Min moved with difficulty, immediately gasping for breath in pain. Her hair was matted together, and there was a foul, pungent smell of urine. Thank goodness she was unconscious; otherwise, seeing herself being tortured might have killed her on the spot.

She regained consciousness and felt her anus writhing painfully. A cool liquid was flowing out, and she dared not touch it. It must be a man's semen, or perhaps her own blood. Her lower body was a complete mess, and she couldn't look. She might have lost control of her bladder during the torture and might see her own urine and feces... The door opened, and then she saw Zhou Zhiruo's smug face. Zhao Min closed her eyes with difficulty.

"Tsk tsk tsk! These heartless bastards, how could they turn such a beautiful woman into this?

Quick, prepare hot water, give the princess a proper bath, prepare the finest wine and food. The princess is a precious princess, she's been working hard all day, she must be thirsty and hungry." The annoying fragrance disappeared, and Zhao Min felt her hatred growing stronger, but she couldn't let it be discovered, she should submit now. Grabbing her hair, her body was dragged up, Zhao Min screamed with all her might, the sound was unrecognizable even to herself.

It was still the back hall, still under Zhou Zhiruo's distorted gaze, the executioners were still Song Qingshu and Chen Youliang, her body was suspended, the stretched joints brought a sense of relief. Then came the soreness; her toes could barely touch the ground, or at least provide some support, relieving the pressure on her shoulders that bore the entire weight.

The sun had already set, its afterglow like blood, the slanting rays streaming in through the window, illuminating her shockingly pale body with a touch of life. Zhao Min dared not look at her own body; the darkest day of her life was not yet over. When would it end? Zhao Min's heart clenched as she watched Song Qingshu and Chen Youliang patiently preparing, a nameless fear rising within her, even though they genuinely seemed to be preparing for a bath and a meal.

The first bucket of water was bone-chillingly cold, chilling her from head to toe, chilling her to the core. Her body shivered violently, and a gasp escaped her lips.

"Is it comfortable?" Chen Youliang smiled, scrubbing Zhao Min's body with a brush.

Zhao Min trembled, unable to answer, and unwilling to answer at all. The strength she had just mustered seemed to be stolen away by the bone-chilling cold. The brush's scrubbing of her body was a numb, lifeless rubbing. However, when it reached her lower body, the brush suddenly increased its force, and Zhao Min screamed in agony as the pain transformed into a sharp blade, cutting her.

"Spare me, please!" Zhao Min pleaded. Zhou

Zhiruo enjoyed this pleading. She smiled, her eyebrows raised, a genuine sense of stimulation and satisfaction.

"Princess, aren't you always so clean? After you've bathed, we can have a proper 'new world of color,' okay?"... The second tub of water wasn't cold; her skin instantly turned red—it was scalding! But not quite burns yet. Zhao Min's screams became shrill, her chills turned into continuous trembling, her skin became sensitive, and her muscles twitched restlessly beneath her skin. Song Qingshu blew on Zhao Min's body, watching the sweat pour from her pores.

Zhao Min had stopped begging for mercy; she could only endure. They wanted to torture her—first take her virginity, then her dignity, and what would come next? Submission wasn't an option; she wouldn't be let go.

Watching the long brush pierce her body, she couldn't help but writhe. Her skin, now more sensitive from the hot water, reacted even more acutely to the brush's stimulation, making the torture even more brutal. The bristles were stiff, stimulating both her vagina and rectum simultaneously.

"Ah! Oh! Spare me, spare me!" The brush spun, and her body didn't just writhe; it practically bounced! Zhao Min couldn't hold on any longer, but the brush continued its torment, cruelly penetrating and scrubbing... The third bucket contained terrible salt water, causing all her injured skin to writhe. Her consciousness was already very unclear, but her drooping head was still jolted back by the intense pain of the sand. They abandoned their tools and used their hands to carefully apply the salt water to her wounds. Zhao Min fainted... When she woke up, Zhao Min used a great deal of effort to find herself being lowered, her hands tied behind her back, ropes twisting and turning around her body. Her breasts were more prominent due to the ropes, and her nipples were tied together with a thin rope. Her hands were raised high behind her, not being grabbed, but being pulled by a rope suspended from the ceiling beam. However, her upper body was downward because the rope binding her nipples was tied to the ground, making it impossible to straighten her upper body.

He was in a humiliating kneeling position, unable to change it. They had done it very carefully, even precisely, so that he was kneeling in the same position as Zhou Zhiruo, with his buttocks sticking up high, facing Song Qingshu and Chen Youliang behind him. The only thing that felt comfortable was that the cool ointment applied to his wounds had made them less painful.

"Is it comfortable, Your Highness?" Zhou Zhiruo smiled seductively, looking at Zhao Min, who was at least physically submissive, and felt an immediate surge of pleasure.

Zhao Min gasped for breath, trying to suck the remaining water from her hair into her mouth.

"Serve Your Highness a proper meal." "Yes, Master." How should she eat? She had no will to resist anymore. Zhao Min decided to just endure it. There was nothing to be ashamed of, nothing to defend; all that remained was to survive… Late at night, Zhao Min finally awoke with difficulty, unable to bear the brutal abuse she had just suffered. Zhou Zhiruo had also abandoned her composure and joined in the self-torture.

She even squatted down to urinate on her own face, pinched her nipples with her nails, scratched her navel, and tickled her armpits while Chen Youliang tortured her anus from behind. She used every trick in the book she could think of on herself.

The most unbearable thing was having Song Qingshu and Chen Youliang hold her down, forcing her to open her mouth and defecate.

Actually, Zhou Zhiruo's buttocks were quite beautiful, white and delicate, even her genitals were exquisite. However, she was doing the most insane thing, which made those beautiful organs seem terrifying. The writhing, dilated anus that had reappeared was squeezing out something that was indistinguishable in taste, but it was warm, soft, yellow, and was pouring into her mouth... Zhao Min vomited desperately. The cool night wind stirred up various sounds. After Zhao Min used her last strength to vomit, her mind became inexplicably clear. She imagined Zhou Zhiruo falling into her hands, she would make her taste everything, she would add every kind of torture she could think of to her body, and then death, she would not let her go!

"Princess, is that you?" A hoarse voice rang in her ear, very familiar. Zhao Min was startled. Who could it be? She looked up and saw Lu Zhangke's smooth face appear in the window.

"It's me!" Zhao Min tried her best to suppress her excitement. Although she knew that being rescued by Lu Zhangke was like escaping one tiger's den only to fall into another, she had to leave. After all, Lu Zhangke was only after her body and wouldn't be as cruel as Zhou Zhiruo. Besides, she now had a chance to take revenge on Zhou Zhiruo.

Suffering makes one grow and become stronger. Zhao Min was ready. The filth and wounds inside couldn't be seen. At least on the surface, she had to maintain her charming figure. In just one day and one night, she had already learned how to deal with men. Now she wasn't forced; she would use her most essential qualities to reclaim what she had lost.

Zhao Min soaked herself in the clear stream, washing her body with the utmost patience. She carefully parted her labia, letting the water cleanse her vagina. She inserted her fingers, but always felt they weren't clean enough. Then came her anus, which was painful, but the water created a strange pleasure.

Lu Zhangke and Hebi Weng were grilling the game they had just hunted by the stream. Hebi Weng was drinking, his face flushed. He wasn't usually interested in women, but Zhao Min was an exception, especially bathing right in front of him. He couldn't control his eyes, and his desire surged.

Lu Zhangke was direct and professional. He knew Zhao Min had definitely been gang-raped, or even subjected to worse abuse. But after washing, her incredibly beautiful body exuded a captivating fragrance, sure to bring her pleasure. Those breasts, those buttocks, those legs... Lu Zhangke felt himself becoming erect. He took off his clothes, revealing his well-maintained body and his proudly enormous penis, swaying as he walked towards the stream, impatient.

"Let me rest for a while, okay? I really have no strength left," Zhao Min gently pushed him away, knowing she still had to use her body to meet his eager desire. As Lu Zhangke thrust, Zhao Min fell asleep... Shaoshi Mountain, a place she couldn't forget. She wanted to see Zhang Wuji again, even if only once.
[The End]

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