For as long as he can remember, he hasn't had a good day.

His mother beat him like a wild dog, there was no reason, no need for a reason, first punches and kicks, then sticks and rattans, thumb-thick rattans I don't know how many broke, I don't know how many scars he has on his body, and I don't know how many times he has woken up from a pool of blood.

When his mother beat him, she kicked him in the crotch so hard that he convulsed and passed out, and when she woke up, she choked him by the neck again until he rolled his eyes and stuck out his tongue, and when he was about to die, she cursed and let him go, and when he was calm, she continued to pinch him.

He wouldn't beg for mercy - he hadn't begged for mercy since he knew that begging for mercy didn't work under his mother's rattan and under his fists and feet.

He wouldn't cry either, and he hadn't cried since he knew it would only spur his mother to beat him hard.

He will only endure, gritting his teeth and enduring, and when he can't bear it any longer, he will pass out.

He will never forget that it was a thunderstorm, the rumbling thunder almost toppled the roof, and the wind mixed with the heavy rain crackled the windows back and forth. For some reason, his mother tied him up with a rope. He took off his pants and brought a pair of scissors and reached under his crotch, followed by a piercing pain that made him pass out.

At the moment of fainting, what remained in its eternal memory was his mother's distorted face under the light of thunder and lightning, and the pair of huge ** on his chest that was almost torn.

When he woke up, his crotch was wrapped in layers of gauze, and everything in the world changed.

Boys of the same age have all turned into duck voices, but his voice is still so sharp, when he and the other boys gathered around, opened their eyes wide and looked at the Spring Palace paintings, he saw that they were so excited, but he didn't react at all.

He didn't know why the naked women in the book could arouse the excitement of these boys, but they didn't appeal to him at all.

One summer day not long after he recovered from his injury, a group of young boys were swimming by the river, standing on the river beach to see who had the longest **, but he refused to take off his pants.

When the boys forcibly pulled out his pants with all hands and feet, everyone burst into laughter, because under his crotch, the man's pride was gone, and he didn't have any of the two small balls that fell under the little ** of other little boys! The rest, just a small eye.

In the laughter of everyone, he finally understood why his voice didn't get thicker, why he didn't react to the Spring Palace painting, all because in that thunderstorm, his mother had deprived him of the right to be a real man.

The children tied one of his hands to a trouser belt and hung him from a large tree beside the village road, stripped him naked, and then laughed and threw him with a lump of dirt and spat on him.

He didn't cry or beg for mercy, just as he had been under his mother's raining rattans.

It was a Taoist aunt who drove away the children and saved him. This aunt took pity on him for being bullied by others, and taught him kung fu in private for a month -- this kung fu is called dividing muscles and bones.

In his heart, this Dao Gu is the best person in the world to treat him, and the only person who treats him well, everyone else only thinks that he is a monster, a deformity, and a beast that everyone can kick and abuse.

It's a pity that a month later, Dao Gu left. She was never seen again.

Since then, though, no one has dared to bully him, as he has broken the arms of all those who bullied him. Including fucking ones.

That summer, he was sent to the palace as a small eunuch. It was also that summer that his mother died, and no one knew why.

In the palace, the suffering he suffered since childhood helped him to endure all the bullying, and the observation of his face from childhood also made him quickly gain the favor of his master, and slowly became a person who can also decide the fate of others.

However, I don't know when he will start to go crazy every time there is thunder and lightning.

I don't know how many years have passed, but walking wildly, throwing things, and fighting can't calm his crazy heart, and he needs more stimulation to calm his heart.

As a result, a palace maid in her twenties who admired his power and tried to "eat" with him became his first victim.

It was also a thunderstormy night, and when the maid had crept into his quarters, he had removed her chin with his crooked hands so that she could not cry, and had broken her hands and feet, so that she could not escape, and could only stare at him with terrified eyes, and endure his torment helplessly.

He kept kicking her, kicking her breasts, kicking her pussy, pinching her neck repeatedly, making her die and come back to life, ** was slowly cut off alive, and it was a whole night, and it was finally dead at dawn.

He was excited to find that the bloody blood could calm him, and the eyes of a woman who were terrified and slowly lost their luster could give him peace of mind.

In a panic, he cut the body into several pieces, put it in his pocket, and smuggled it out of the palace and threw it into a secluded ditch. Before that, he plucked out a small handful of the woman's pubic hair and placed it in a small jewelry box.

The disappearance of the palace maid did not cause much turmoil, and no one suspected him or dared to suspect him. The bones were not found, perhaps washed away by the surging river, perhaps buried by the sediment, perhaps taken away by wild dogs, perhaps eaten by wild beasts, but anyway, it did not cause him any trouble.

Of course, he regretted that the first killing was so imperfect, but he could forgive himself, after all, it was the first killing.

That murder allowed him to spend more than a year peacefully. Thunderstorms won't make him frantic either, because all he needs to do is open that jewelry box and look at his loot to calm his manic heart.

However, the excitement of the first murder finally faded slowly and helplessly like the bright colors of paint, and he began to become more and more irritable again, and the jewelry box could not calm him down.

So he started killing again, killing women, killing mature women - in the midst of a thunderstorm.

He is not choosing the woman in the palace, it is too easy to be exposed.

His status at that time already allowed him to enter and leave the court freely. He loved to kill in thunderstorms, and this is how the second woman died miserably at his hands.

This time in the wilderness, in the wilderness, listening to the woman's wailing and screaming, and begging for mercy incessantly, but to no avail, just as he had begged for mercy under his mother's rattan.

He loves the thunder and lightning and the pouring rain that gives him stimulation, and he likes to see this woman struggle powerlessly under his fists and feet, kick her, kick her hard, especially the pussy, kick hard, and then choke her neck and cut her **.

He liked to watch his blade slowly cut into the woman's **, slowly, cut it, stop and admire it for a while, and then continue cutting, the rain washed away the blood from the wound, revealing a miserable white fat, like the twisted pale face left in the depths of his memory in the summer of the rainstorm.

The woman's hands and feet were torn and she could not struggle, but she could only stare at him with her terrified eyes, and her terrible screams resounded throughout the wilderness.

He choked her neck, made her roll her eyes, and then immediately let go, and when she recovered her breath, he continued to pinch until she slowly died, and then he tortured her for a whole day, and when the rain subsided, the woman died with her eyes wide open and lost the luster of life.

The intense stimulus was so exciting to him that he didn't know if it was an impulse with a surname, but he felt an unusual excitement, an excitement after revenge.

This time, he planned well, and he found himself very good at killing people, killing women.

He plucked a handful of the woman's pubic hair and put it in the jewelry box, then cut off the woman's limbs, hung it on the tree, and placed the head on the tree and straightened it. Staring ahead, it gave him great satisfaction. Only then did he leave satisfied, and threw the severed limbs around.

This later became his habitual method of killing, and he never remembered killing several women, but for each woman he killed, he would have an additional collection. Admiring these collections became a major part of his leisure life.

Wang Dianshi's concubine Zhao Qinglan has been staring at him for a long time, and it took him a lot of effort to kill this woman. Zhao Qinglan is beautiful, flirtatious and violent, and he believes that subduing her will give him a sense of satisfaction.

However, Zhao Qinglan and Wang Dianshi mysteriously disappeared, which made him very distressed, and after careful searching, he finally found their clues, waited for her halfway, subdued her with his staggered hands, and slowly tortured her to death.

This success allowed him to calm his mind for months.

Until today.

Xia Yue's thunderstorms were frequent, and those trophies could no longer calm him, and he was like a wild beast out of a cage, looking for a target to hunt.

So, he found Judge Zhao's wife, Tian, with a follower and a little maid.

On their way back, he attacked them from behind, knocked down the maid and his attendant with a palm on the back of his neck, removed Tian's jaw, twisted her hands and feet, and carried her over several mountains and ridges to a deserted place.

At this time, thunder roared and heavy rain was heavy.

He deliberately put Tian's mandible back into place, listened to her screams, listened to her pleading, first kicked her slowly with his foot, and finally, tortured her to death as well.

This time, he deliberately took the corpse back to the path where the Tian clan was abducted not far away for dismemberment, and hung the body of ** on the big tree on the side of the road, and the head was placed between the branches, and the cut off ** and severed limbs were thrown on the road and among the grass at will.

The rain was still very heavy, so there was not a single pedestrian on the road, and he dealt with it all smoothly, stood on the side of the road, and admired it proudly for a long time, only a few ups and downs, and disappeared into the mountains.

……

(To be continued)