Shameless Immortal: Emperor of Ten Thousand Beauties

The air in the carriage was static, charged with a tension so thick it felt like the moments before a lightning strike.

"My... skin?" Meng Yan’s voice was a fragile thread, her hazel eyes searching his for any sign of a ruse.

"Just the relevant areas," Shen Yu reassured her. His voice was a velvet caress, smooth and utterly devoid of the hesitation a normal youth would feel when addressing a Golden Core Matriarch. "The abdomen and the lower back. I am a doctor in this moment, Senior. There is no propriety in the face of illness, only the necessity of survival."

Meng Yan looked into those piercing golden eyes. They were so steady, so clinical. She felt a wave of self-loathing for the dark, liquid desire pooling in her belly, but the "Lunar Fire" was an uncompromising master.

"Very well," she breathed, her voice barely audible over the rhythmic thud of the spirit beasts’ hooves.

With fingers that trembled like fallen leaves, she loosened her gold sash. The crimson silk parted with a soft hiss, falling away to reveal the creamy, flawless expanse of her stomach. Her skin was so pale it seemed to glow in the dim spirit-stone light, a sharp contrast to the deep red of her robes. She burned with a shame that turned her neck a deep rose, yet she did not look away. She was a woman drowning, and he was the only shore.

Shen Yu reached out.

He didn’t hesitate. His hand laid flat against the naked skin of her lower abdomen, and for a fleeting second, his own heart skipped.

’Heavenly.’

The thought echoed through his mind. Her skin wasn’t just soft; it was living satin, radiating a feverish, concentrated heat that called to the Primordial Yin-Yang Scripture in his soul like a siren’s song. He didn’t just press; he molded his hand to her, his thumb brushing the sharp ridge of her hip bone while his fingers splayed across the territory three inches below her navel.

Meng Yan let out a sharp, broken moan, her head falling back against the velvet cushions. The sensation of his cool, calloused palm against her fevered skin was a violent shock to her system. It felt intimate. It felt possessive. It felt like a claim.

Shen Yu watched her reaction through hooded eyes, his pupils dilating. He moved his hand in slow, rhythmic circles, kneading the soft flesh as if searching for a knot, but in reality, he was savoring the texture of a Matriarch’s submission.

"The heat is concentrated here," he whispered, his voice dropping to a husky rumble that vibrated against her skin. "Does this hurt?"

He pressed down firmly over her Gateway of Origin.

"N-no..." she gasped, her hips twitching involuntarily, bucking upward into his palm. "It... it feels... strange. Like ice and fire at once."

"Turn around, please."

Meng Yan obeyed like a puppet whose strings had been cut. She turned her back to him, lowering the robe further until the smooth, pale valley of her spine was exposed down to the small of her back.

Shen Yu placed both hands on her skin, his thumbs finding the Mingmen acupoints, the Gateway of Life. He slid his hands down, his fingertips grazing the dangerous, fertile curve where her back met the heavy swell of her buttocks.

He felt her shudder violently. Her skin was damp with a fine sheen of perspiration that smelled of rare orchids and a desperate, biological need. He traced the line of her vertebrae, marveling at the contrast between her immense cultivation power and her current, trembling fragility.

’So responsive,’ he thought, the predatory side of his soul grinning. ’One touch and the "Goddess" is already melting.’

After a long, agonizing minute of mapping the topography of her desire, Shen Yu pulled back abruptly. He exhaled a long, heavy sigh, a masterpiece of calculated gravity.

The sudden loss of his warmth felt like a physical wound.

Meng Yan spun around, fumbling to clutch the loose silk to her chest. Her eyes were wide, glazed with a mixture of arousal and terror, searching his face for a lifeline.

"What is it?" she asked, her voice cracking. "Is it... is it bad?"

Shen Yu didn’t answer immediately. He stared at her with an unreadable expression, letting the silence stretch until it was almost unbearable.

"Before I give my diagnosis, I must ask you something," Shen Yu said, his voice low and serious.

Meng Yan nodded frantically. "Anything."

"The cultivation method you practice... is it a Yin-Fire attribute technique?"

Meng Yan blinked, surprised by his insight. "Yes. It is the Frozen Lotus Heart Flame Technique. I acquired it from an ancient ruin during my travels when I was still in the Foundation Establishment realm. It has served me well for decades."

Shen Yu nodded slowly, as if a puzzle piece had just clicked into place.

"That explains the peculiarity of your condition," he murmured, leaning back against the cushions. "You are currently in the Second Stage of stagnation, teetering dangerously on the edge of the Third. That is the final stage, Senior. Once you cross that threshold, the fire will consume your Golden Core from the inside out. Best-case scenario, you are crippled for life. Worst case... you descend into permanent, bloodthirsty madness."

The blood drained from Meng Yan’s face, leaving only the unnatural fever-flush burning on her cheekbones. She looked small, stripped of her Matriarchal power.

"Then the cure? You said you have a cure!"

"I do," Shen Yu confirmed. "I can brew the Nine-Yin Reversal Concoction. However..." He paused, looking genuinely troubled, his brow furrowing. "The ingredients are of the highest grade. Even with the Jin Clan’s vast reach, it will take at least two months to gather them and refine the pill to a purity your body can accept."

"Two months?" Meng Yan’s voice rose to a panicked pitch. She clutched her stomach, feeling the heat roiling beneath her skin. "I feel like I am being incinerated now. I cannot wait two months! What if I advance before the pill is ready?"

Shen Yu watched her chest heave with frantic breaths. He let her stew in that cold dread for several heartbeats, letting the silence magnify her desperation.

"There is... a temporary solution," he said slowly, locking his golden gaze onto her hazel one. "A way to suppress the fire and lock you in the Second Stage until the elixir is finished."