The corridor stretched long and cold.
Stone walls wept moisture that smelled of old medicine and formation dust. The mother walked behind the elder, her azure silk dress clinging to the sweat between her shoulder blades, her new Core Formation base flickering erratically with each step. Her thighs were still damp from what the ancestor had done to her on the platform, her pussy lips swollen and slick beneath the expensive fabric.
"Your son will be placed in quarantine," the elder said, not turning. "The demonic qi must be purged before interrogation. If he is innocent, he will live."
The mother stopped.
Her hand shot out, gripping the elder's sleeve. "Wait," she gasped. Her voice cracked, aristocratic composure shredding. "My son is not a demonic cultivator. He is a Cai. We have served righteous sects for generations. There must be a mistake."
The elder turned.
