The Evil Consort had never known the affection of elders.
Sealed away deep within the Yellow Springs shortly after her birth, she did not break free until a millennium later. By then, her clan had shattered, and all her kin had passed away. She was left with only Granny Meng, a loyal dead soldier, and two temple priests—one to guard her faithfully, the other to urge and instruct her.
In simple terms, the Evil Consort craved love, though she never admitted it to herself. She believed all her clansmen should simply adore and worship her.
She had never been in a position of weakness. Even when she fell for Yan Zhen, she refused to confess or yield to him. Instead, she schemed relentlessly to claim him first.
Now, hearing Yan Zhen say he wanted to dote on her, a faint, unfamiliar sensation stirred in the Evil Consort’s heart. Yet she still resisted. “This Palace should be the one spoiling you, you impudent boy… Obey This Palace and stop fooling around with Jialan—mmph~”
Her words cut off as Yan Zhen’s lips sealed her dark red ones. Then her slender legs were swept into his arms, hoisting her up.
A trace of timid vulnerability finally flickered across the Evil Consort’s face. She knew full well she couldn’t withstand Yan Zhen’s onslaught. She would end up a disheveled mess, stripped of her master’s dignity—and all of it witnessed by that nagging woman, Jialan!
But with her mouth claimed, the Evil Consort had no chance to speak. She could only surrender to the renewed blaze of passion, her delicate body tossing like a skiff amid raging waves.
Now that he had finally gained the upper hand, Yan Zhen slipped into a feverish frenzy. It was as if the woman before him wasn’t his Evil Consort Master or Saint Lord Master, but Jiuyou or Yun Xiu—playthings for him to ravish at will.
“Yan’er… Yan’er…”
The Evil Consort wanted to beg for mercy, but her pride forbade it. She could only call out Yan Zhen’s name in breathless urgency, hoping he’d grasp her plea. Instead, her master’s sultry cries only spurred him on. He turned into a ravenous beast, charging ahead with wild abandon.
The intense quaking even jostled Jialan Fairy behind her. Watching Yan Zhen devour the Evil Consort’s flawless form so greedily, a flush crept into Jialan Fairy’s cheeks. A subtle jealousy welled up within her.
Would Yan’er be this obsessed with her body too?
The thought set Jialan Fairy’s own body gradually heating. Her thighs pressed together instinctively.
In the vast, empty bedchamber, the symphony of love and desire echoed endlessly.
Under Yan Zhen’s relentless assault, it was as if some switch had flipped inside the Evil Consort. She surrendered to him again and again until her primordial yin was utterly depleted. Her eyes glazed over as she collapsed into Jialan Fairy’s arms, too spent to lift a finger.
Yan Zhen withdrew slowly. He sat cross-legged and began channeling his eight extreme flames to refine and absorb the vast, supremely pure primordial yin surging through him.
Jialan Fairy paid no heed to the Evil Consort, limp as a puddle of mud. She returned to Yan Zhen’s back, drawing him into her embrace. Then she circulated her spirit Mystic force to lend him aid.
The refining power of the eight extreme flames was terrifyingly potent. Jialan Fairy served as his vent, dissipating the overwhelming strain.
By the time the sun had climbed high, Yan Zhen had fully refined the primordial yin. His cultivation skyrocketed from First-Rank Supreme to Third-Rank Supreme. Under Jialan Fairy’s guidance, he condensed a domain heart and smoothly advanced to Fourth-Rank Supreme.
His surging mystic power flooded his meridians, bringing a twinge of aching fullness.
He opened his eyes, his burning gaze falling on the Evil Consort Master before him. Her pupil reflected her peerless, snow-white body, flawless in every way.
After a night of fervent union, the Evil Consort Master was utterly exhausted. She had slept soundly, drained to her core. She had given herself wholly, overflowing without a hint of resistance, and showed no signs of waking.
Yan Zhen couldn’t bear to rouse her. He lowered his head, breathing heavily.
This frenzy resembled his previous outburst—a side effect of mystic power rising too swiftly. Per the Evil Consort’s plan, Yellow Springs Water would purge it.
But she remained asleep, and Yan Zhen couldn’t enter the Shattered Grotto-Heaven housing the Yellow Springs.
Just then, the Saint Lord Master’s voice—brimming with compassion—sounded in his ear. “Yan’er, don’t be afraid. Leave it to me.”
Yan Zhen turned to see his Saint Lord Master smiling gently at him. She tugged lightly at the golden sash around her waist, parting the crossed lapels of her robe to reveal a white bellyband embroidered with golden lotuses. Her abundantly full breasts strained against it like two plump, ball-shaped rabbits, warping the embroidery severely.
Her layered skirts pooled at her waist. Jialan Fairy swept her loose white hair to one side, bowed her head slightly, and undid the ties at her neck and back. She removed the bellyband, setting it aside, then opened her arms. “Come here, Yan’er.”
Her lovely face flushed, yet her eyes shone with pure, maternal sanctity.
Saint Lord Master… Yan Zhen felt the restlessness in his heart instantly tamed. He dove obediently into her majestic bosom, burying his face there while savoring the pillowy softness against his cheeks and the soothing pats on his head.
Seeing Yan Zhen so docile melted Jialan Fairy’s heart like honey. The maternal glow in her eyes nearly took form. “Good boy, Yan’er. Relax now. I’ll help you adjust it.”
Yan Zhen lifted his handsome face to meet her gaze, asking innocently, “Are we going to dual cultivate?”
The blush on Jialan Fairy’s cheeks deepened. “Does Yan’er not want to?”
Yan Zhen shook his head at first, then reconsidered and nodded—only to feel that wasn’t right either. He hastened to explain. “Of course I do. I’m just worried the Saint Lord Master will feel she’s compromising herself.”
“Silly child, always overthinking. Do you truly think so little of me in your heart, compared to Chen Xi and the Evil Consort?”
“N-No, that’s not it! The Saint Lord Master, Master, and Evil Consort Master—you’re all equally important to me.”
“Then why say such things?”
“I’m sorry. I was wrong.”
Yan Zhen apologized sincerely, then gazed at her eagerly. “So… will the Saint Lord Master make me small?”
Jialan Fairy chuckled. “We’ll see after the adjustment… Right now, your mystic power has surged so much that shrinking would only burden you more—do you dislike it that much, Yan’er?”
Yan Zhen shook his head solemnly. “Whatever the Saint Lord Master likes, I like.”
Jialan Fairy felt delightfully woozy from his words. She cradled his face in her hands, her platinum eyes brimming with affection. “Such a smooth talker~ Don’t go picking up bad habits, Yan’er.”
Yan Zhen blinked. In a small voice, he murmured, “I want to kiss the Saint Lord Master~”
Bombarded by such sweet flattery, Jialan Fairy’s heart raced, her body warming as she breathed softly. “No, Yan’er—you can’t move. I’ll kiss you. As long as you want.”
With that, she leaned in and kissed him. A gentle suck drew the excess mystic power from his body into her mouth, easing his load.
Yet this method was inefficient at best. Direct dual cultivation was ideal, circulating the vast mystic power between them so Yan Zhen’s meridians could safely and swiftly adapt to the explosive growth.
