# This is a story about a wicked disciple who bullies his master and takes him by force.
[Cold, ascetic monk top x wicked, arrogant Demon Lord bottom]
Mo Yu was originally a demonic flower nourished by resentment, utterly hateful and evil. Yet somehow, he became the disciple of Di Kong, the purest and kindest mage in the cultivation world.
Which immortal sect hadn't sighed in regret? How could someone so evil ever amount to anything?
Sure enough, even the finest bamboo had produced a poisonous shoot. Mo Yu grew into a crooked tree, his words flirtatious and unrestrained, his behavior even more wanton and unruly.
But no matter how turbulent the outside world became, to Mo Yu, nothing stirred his heart more than the master's cool, pure lotus fragrance.
Alas, his master was a stickler for rules, always observing the precepts. Knowing of Mo Yu's impure thoughts, he kicked him straight into a bottomless icy abyss.
Mo Yu crawled out of the abyss, biting the inside of his cheek as he sneered. How could he let his master refuse him what he wanted?
Later, driven by obsession, Mo Yu fell to demonic ways and ascended to the seat of Demon Lord. He dragged his master, who resisted to the death, back to his lair and had his way with him.
He never expected that their tryst would lead to an accident. Just as he held his round belly and planned to cuddle and kiss his master, he saw him with blood-red eyes like glass, raising a hand to slap him: Do you really want to give birth to this unholy child born of our forbidden master-disciple relationship?
With a bright red handprint on his face, he rubbed against his master like a cat that had stolen a bite and kissed him wetly.
His peach-blossom eyes were as vivid as the blazing peach blossoms of April, bewitching and wicked.
Not even the evil aura about him could suppress his boundless bravado: Of course I'll have it! Why wouldn't I? I could have eight or ten of them. My Weiyang Palace can afford to raise them.
Di Kong's lips were tender and red from being sucked on by him. He spoke coldly: What goes around comes around. You will get what's coming to you.
Mo Yu raised an eyebrow, disdainful: Retribution? What a joke!
Later, he was made to eat his words and truly suffered retribution, dying with his cultivation destroyed.
A thousand years passed, and he came back from the dead.
In an ancient temple in the wilderness, a little monk dressed in dazzling red lay on a branch of a withered tree, greedily chewing on a blackened roast chicken, his mouth greasy. Chew, chew, chew. Ptooey, ptooey, ptooey! This is awful!
With a thunderous crash, the earth shook. Mo Yu went splat on the ground, landing headfirst. Furious, he sprang up and hurled the roast chicken in his hand at the culprit with a whoosh.
The culprit wore a flowing white robe. He turned to look at Mo Yu, seemingly unable to believe his eyes, and blinked clumsily, his lashes trembling so delicately he looked like a butterfly.
Well, well! An old flame!!!
He wouldn't lose face, so Mo Yu wiped his greasy hands on his clothes and struck a domineering pose: Darling, come into my arms.
This ought to disgust Di Kong to death. After all, Di Kong was cold and ascetic, and loathed him deeply. Surely he wouldn't...
Di Kong promptly leaned gracefully into his arms.
Mo Yu: O_o???
Content warnings: 1. The bottom's true form is a hermaphroditic demonic flower. Years of exposure to resentment have left him extremely unstable.
2. Jiaye is a mama's boy.
Theme: Cherish every step along the way
