The Wicked System

Zhang Wenbin stood frozen for a moment before suddenly feeling as though he had been set on fire. An excruciating, unquenchable heat began to sear through his entire body. He checked the time; it was already past eleven at night. The folks in the rural mountain villages generally slept early. By now, the small village was plunged into darkness, save for a few sporadic, flickering lights and the occasional distant bark of a dog or cry of a night bird. The layer of sticky filth on his skin was unbearably uncomfortable. Seeing no one around, Zhang Wenbin stumbled through the dark down to the river to wash away the dirt. However, the moment he stripped off his clothes, he gave himself a massive fright. No wonder his clothes felt so tight and ill-fitting. His previously scrawny, ribbed torso was now layered with perfectly proportioned muscle. Even his pectorals had filled out with terrifying, bulging definition. But the most shocking transformation was down below. The previously overgro...

Upon waking, Zhang Wenbin was so terrified his face was drained of all color, pale as a sheet. The small, nameless temple had completely collapsed into a scattered ruin of shattered tiles and broken bricks. Even the sacrificial altar was splintered into pieces, and the idol that sat atop it had vanished without a trace. With a slight movement, a wave of profound soreness radiated through his body. It felt as though his entire skeletal structure had been crushed to dust and haphazardly reassembled; an unnatural and deeply unsettling sensation of being a stranger in his own flesh. "What is that stench?" He reached up to touch his face, his fingers coming away coated in a sticky, pitch-black sludge. A closer inspection revealed that his entire body was covered in this same foul, viscous substance. The odor radiating from it was uniquely putrid and nauseating. Zhang Wenbin struggled to sit up. Glancing at the sky, he realized night had fallen. He clearly remembered lying in...

The shout struck like a thunderbolt, shocking Qin Lan out of her stupor. Finding an unknown reservoir of strength, she violently shoved Zhang Wenbin away and scrambled to her feet. For the first time since the assault began, he saw her true face—hair in total disarray, her complexion flushed a mesmerizing scarlet. She shot Zhang Wenbin a glare that hovered between rage and coy reproach before guiltily snapping her gaze downward, her hands frantically working to adjust her violently displaced, rumpled bra. Zhang Wenbin was filled with bitter reluctance. The prime cut of meat he'd practically had in his jaws had been violently snatched away. He merely cursed the brevity of the journey; give him another thirty minutes, and he would have absolutely dominated and ravaged this coy widow right then and there. The demonic cravings refused to recede, his engorged member throbbing with a painful, unyielding fury. Gritting his teeth, his hands shot out to aggressively grope her buttocks on...

"Alright!" Zhang Wenbin sat down without hesitation. The move forced their bodies into impossibly tight proximity. Through the thin layers of their clothes, he could acutely feel the mature woman's scorching body heat and that same indescribable, intoxicatingly natural fragrance. "Sister, squeezing like this is torture. Why don't we adjust our posture?" Zhang Wenbin spoke with feigned distress. Wedged in like this, his own legs were contorted to the point of aching, and the beautiful woman's posture was visibly excruciating. Sitting like this for even a few minutes was unbearable; half an hour would guarantee paralyzing cramps for them both. With deliberate clumsiness, Zhang Wenbin shifted his body uncomfortably. As his arm moved, his elbow accidentally dug into a spot of supreme, yielding softness. The electric shock of the contact made Sister-in-law Lan's entire body shudder. A mesmerizing flush instantly painted her cheeks as she whispered,...

Under the blazing summer sun, the violently jolting rural shuttle bus lacked any trace of air conditioning. The suffocating, stagnant heat was nauseating enough to make one faint. What made it truly miserable was not an overabundance of passengers, but the suffocating piles of agricultural produce crammed into every inch of space. Sacks of melons and vegetables were one thing, but there were actually live, squawking chickens, ducks, and relentlessly squealing piglets. The cabin reeked of a chaotic medley of odors, accompanied by a cacophony of animal cries. Paired with the bone-jarring turbulence of the mountain road, Zhang Wenbin felt his mind on the verge of imploding. "Young man, pull your feet in a bit. Don't trample my ducklings to death." A woman's voice suddenly speaking up right beside him gave Zhang Wenbin a genuine start. He had sequestered himself in the deepest corner of the rural shuttle bus precisely to avoid being disturbed, flanked by what looked l...