Shameless Immortal: Emperor of Ten Thousand Beauties

The carriage rolled to a gentle stop in front of the Tang Estate’s main gates. The massive ironwood doors, reinforced with defensive arrays, creaked open as the guards recognized the clan insignia.

"We have arrived, Young Master," Uncle Fu announced, pulling back the curtain.

Shen Yu stepped out, the cool night breeze of the estate washing over him. He dismissed the old servant with a nod and began walking toward the Inner Court.

Unlike the bustling outer grounds where the guards and servants trained, this area was strictly forbidden to outsiders. It was the private sanctuary of the Tang Clan’s direct lineage, reserved solely for himself, Aunt Yilan, and Lixue.

Here, the silence was profound, broken only by the chirping of crickets and the rustling of spirit bamboo.

Shen Yu walked along the winding corridor that led to Lixue’s room and the family’s private training pavilion. As he drew closer, a rhythmic, sharp sound cut through the quiet night air.

Swish. Swish.

It was the sound of a blade slicing through the wind with terrifying precision.

Shen Yu paused in the shadows of the corridor, his golden eyes narrowing as they locked onto the solitary figure dancing under the moonlight in the center of the blue-tiled pavilion.

It was Mei Lixue.

She was not practicing any common elemental technique. She was executing the "Phantom Severing Sword Art," a technique relying purely on speed, precision, and killing intent. Her movements were a blur of white silk and cold steel, sharp enough to cut a falling leaf into ten pieces before it hit the ground.

Shen Yu didn’t make a sound. He simply stood there, hidden in the darkness, his gaze darkening as he drank in the sight.

Because of the intense physical exertion, her usually pristine, loose-fitting training robes were completely soaked through with sweat. The white silk, now damp and translucent, clung to her body like a second skin, ruthlessly betraying every secret curve she usually kept hidden beneath modest layers.

As she lunged forward, thrusting her sword, the fabric pulled tight across her chest. Her breasts, heavy and round, heaved violently with her ragged breathing. The sweat made the silk stick so perfectly that Shen Yu could see the distinct, perky outline of her hardened nipples pressing against the cloth, begging for release.

She spun around, executing a horizontal slash. The movement caused the skirt of her robe to flare out and then wrap tightly around her waist and hips. The damp fabric molded into the deep, sensual curve of her lower back and the plush, heart-shaped swell of her ass. Her thighs, strong and toned from years of cultivation, flexed powerfully beneath the thin material, glistening with perspiration.

Beads of sweat rolled down her long, graceful neck, trailing over her collarbone and disappearing into the deep V of her crossed lapels, a path Shen Yu desperately wanted to trace with his tongue.

’Beautiful,’ Shen Yu thought, his throat going dry.

Having just spent an hour teasing and pleasuring Meng Yan without any release for himself, Shen Yu was currently a walking powder keg of pent-up Yang energy.

Seeing his innocent fiancée looking so raw, so unrefined and erotic, triggered a dark, possessive hunger in his gut. The fact that they were alone in the private grounds, with no servants or guards to interrupt them, made the urge even harder to suppress.

He wanted to walk out there, grab her by that sweaty, delicate waist, and pin her against the rough stone pillar. He wanted to tear those clinging, wet robes right off her body. He wanted to bend her over the weapon rack and defile her right here in the open courtyard, under the gaze of the moon.

He wanted to hear the fierce "Sword Maiden" of the Tang Clan whimper and beg, watching her sharp killing intent crumble into a mess of lust and submission.

’Calm down,’ Shen Yu commanded himself, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the wooden railing. ’She is yours. There is no need to rush.’

He took a deep breath, forcing the demonic lust back behind the mask of the gentle fiancé. He smoothed his expression into a look of tender, loving concern.

He stepped out of the shadows.

"Lixue," he called out softly.

Mei Lixue froze mid-swing. Her senses were sharp, but Shen Yu had approached silently. She spun around, her sword tip dropping to the ground as her eyes widened.

"Brother Yu!" she exclaimed, her voice breathless from the exertion.

She hurried over to him, wiping the sweat from her forehead with her sleeve. As she got closer, she stopped a few paces away, her chest heaving as she caught her breath.

She looked down at herself. The white silk was practically transparent in places, sticking to her skin, outlining the dark aureoles of her breasts and the curve of her hips.

A deep, visible blush rushed up her neck to her cheeks. But unlike the shy girl of the past who would have covered herself or run away, Lixue stood her ground. Her fierce, possessive nature flared up. She saw the way Shen Yu’s golden eyes were raking over her body, hungry and intense.

Instead of crossing her arms to hide, she straightened her back, thrusting her chest out slightly, allowing him to see everything. Her eyes, usually sharp as swords, softened into a pool of possessive affection.

"You... you’re back late," she panted, her voice slightly husky. She stepped into his personal space, the heat radiating from her body hitting him. "Were you watching me for long?"

She bit her lower lip, her gaze dropping to his lips and then back up to his eyes, a silent challenge in her stance. She was shy, yes, but she was also his future wife, and she wanted him to look at her, only her.

Shen Yu stepped closer, closing the final distance until he was standing right in front of her. The scent of her, a mix of feminine musk, sweat, and winter plums, filled his nose, far more intoxicating to him than any expensive perfume.

He reached out and gently took her hand. It was calloused from the sword, hot and damp.

"Long enough to see that my Lixue has become even more beautiful," Shen Yu whispered, his thumb caressing her knuckles. His eyes raked over her heaving chest one last time, making her shiver visibly, before meeting her gaze with a warm, deceptive smile.

"You are breathtaking," Shen Yu whispered, his voice dripping with affection.

Lixue’s cheeks flushed a deeper shade of red, her fierce eyes softening under his praise. She leaned into his touch, enjoying the warmth of his hand on hers. But as the silence stretched between them, her gaze sharpened again. The Sword Maiden’s instincts were never dormant for long.

"And the treatment?" she asked, her voice dropping lower, losing some of its shy edge. She took a half-step closer, invading his personal space until her damp, heaving chest was mere inches from his pristine white robes. "How did it go with Matriarch Meng? Did it... Go well?"

"It was successful," Shen Yu replied calmly, maintaining his gentle smile. "The stagnation has been relieved for now."

Lixue didn’t reply immediately. Instead, she leaned forward, burying her face in the crook of his neck.

Shen Yu stiffened imperceptibly. He had washed thoroughly. He had used the Cleansing Receptacle on his clothes. He smelled of soap and fresh rain.

But Lixue inhaled deeply, her nose brushing against his skin.

Underneath the soap, underneath the crisp scent of the night air, her sharp senses picked up something else. It was faint, almost imperceptible, but it was there. A heavy, cloyingly sweet musk. The scent of a mature woman in the throes of heat. It was the lingering spiritual residue of Meng Yan’s Yin essence, something that a simple bath couldn’t entirely scrub from his aura.

Lixue pulled back slowly. Her eyes, usually clear and sharp as her blade, were now dark and swirling with a sudden, intense storm.

"You smell like her," she whispered, her voice tight.