Conquering the Mahayana Stage Fairy

“Th-thank you for praising me, Master. As long as you like it, this servant will make it for you every day from now on.” Shen Qingshuang gathered her courage and met Ye Xuan’s gaze as she spoke these words, which were almost a confession of love.

Seeing Shen Qingshuang gradually lower her guard, her eyes becoming gentle and filled with dependence, Ying’er’s lips curled into a sly smile.

“Oh!”

Ying’er suddenly slapped her smooth forehead and cried out, “I remember now! I still have to go to the spirit spring in the back mountains to prepare a medicinal bath for my husband. Those few spirit herbs have to be gathered right away!”

“Husband, Ying’er will go take care of that first!”

With that, Ying’er winked at Ye Xuan like a mischievous little sprite whose prank had succeeded.

Before leaving, she deliberately reached out and gave Shen Qingshuang a gentle push between the shoulder blades. Shen Qingshuang stumbled and fell straight toward Ye Xuan.

“Sister Qingshuang, I’m busy at the moment. My husband has just finished breakfast and needs someone to attend to him personally. Today, you’ll stay behind and serve him for the night. Be sure to take good care of him!”

Ying’er’s voice echoed through the grand hall. Before she had even finished speaking, she had already vanished like a wisp of smoke, thoughtfully closing the doors of the main hall tightly behind her.

Bang.

The sound of the doors shutting was exceptionally clear in the vast, luxurious bedchamber.

Pushed by Ying’er, Shen Qingshuang let out a startled cry and fell against the edge of the enormous Nine-Dragon Frost Throne, with much of her body landing across Ye Xuan’s legs.

The hall descended into deathly silence.

The only sound was the faint crackling of the merfolk candles as they burned.

Shen Qingshuang’s entire body stiffened. She could even clearly feel the astonishing heat radiating from Ye Xuan’s thigh.

The intense, masculine aura of a grown man, mingled with the faint fragrance of dragon salvia, surrounded her like a rising tide.

Her cheeks instantly flushed as red as if blood might drip from them. Her heart pounded wildly in her chest like a startled deer, as though it might leap straight out of her throat.

“How long are you planning to lie on my leg?”

Ye Xuan’s deep, magnetic voice came from above her head. It carried the lazy, teasing air of a man accustomed to being obeyed.

Shen Qingshuang came to her senses as though jolted by electricity. She hurriedly drew back and knelt at the foot of the throne on the jade floor, not daring to raise her head.

“Th-this servant deserves to die! I have offended you, Master. Please punish me!”

Her voice trembled, but this trembling was no longer the shuddering born of humiliation and fear. It was mixed with an indescribable nervousness, anticipation, and a trace of feminine shyness.

Ye Xuan did not speak at once.

Looking down from his lofty seat, he gazed at the woman kneeling beside his feet, a breathtaking beauty who seemed like an exiled immortal.

She was wearing a somewhat thin, plain-colored gauze dress that outlined her flawless, graceful curves—curves enough to drive male cultivators throughout the world mad.

Her raven-black hair spilled across the carpet like a waterfall, revealing a section of her slender, snow-white neck. Several faint red marks he had left there a few days earlier still remained.

As he looked at Shen Qingshuang, the corners of Ye Xuan’s lips slowly curved into an intensely predatory smile.

At first, he had not harbored any feelings for this woman. What he felt was largely the vengeful satisfaction of dragging the lofty Mistress of the Sword God Palace down from her pedestal.

But there was no denying that the process of conquering Shen Qingshuang had greatly satisfied the violence and possessiveness buried deep within Ye Xuan’s heart.

A supreme expert at the peak of the Great Vehicle Realm. An incomparable immortal revered by the entire world as the “First Lady.” A peerless beauty who had guarded her chastity for ten thousand years.

In the end, he had effortlessly torn apart every last bit of her pride.

She had offered him her purest and most precious virginity. She had cast aside her magnificent palace-master’s robes and changed into the bedchamber-maid uniform that symbolized her humiliation.

From a vengeful woman who had once refused to submit even at the cost of her life, she had gradually been tamed beneath him into a golden canary unable to live without her master.

There was something utterly captivating about breaking down a snow lotus that had once been beyond reach, crushing it into the mud, and watching it bloom anew in one’s palm with a bewitching, demonic beauty.

“Raise your head.”

Ye Xuan’s voice brooked no disobedience.

Shen Qingshuang’s delicate body trembled. Slowly, she lifted her stunning face.

Her eyes were still faintly red around the rims. The coldness in her gaze no longer held the dark, twisted hatred of before. In its place was a moist, springlike longing and complete submission.

Ye Xuan extended one hand and gently pinched Shen Qingshuang’s small, smooth chin between his long fingers, his thumb rubbing against her tender skin.

“Ying’er just said that you would stay and serve me for the night. Are you willing?”

Feeling the warmth of Ye Xuan’s fingers and hearing his blunt question, Shen Qingshuang felt as if all the blood in her body had been ignited.

Half a month ago, she would have regarded this as a humiliation worse than death.

But now, she had seen Ye Jiuhuang’s true nature. She had felt the sincerity and protection Ye Xuan offered her. And Ying’er’s thunderous warning had finally shattered the last of her confusion…

Shen Qingshuang’s state of mind had undergone a world-shaking transformation.

Since her body already belonged to him, why should her heart continue to struggle?

Shen Qingshuang let out a quiet sigh deep within her heart. It was as if that sigh were the final stroke that severed all the grudges and tangled emotions of the past eight thousand years.

From this day forward, there would be no more Mistress of the Sword God Palace in this world.

There would only be Ye Xuan’s bedchamber maid—only the woman who belonged to Ye Xuan.

Meeting Ye Xuan’s possessive gaze, Shen Qingshuang did not avert her eyes. Instead, like a docile kitten, she took the initiative to press her cheek against his palm and nuzzled it gently.

She parted her moist, red lips and spoke in a voice filled with seductive charm, complete submission, and resolve:

“This servant… is willing.”

“Not only tonight. From this moment through all the lives to come, Qingshuang’s life, Qingshuang’s body, and even Qingshuang’s heart…”

Shen Qingshuang looked straight into Ye Xuan’s eyes. A fervent, moth-to-flame passion burned within them.

“They all belong to my husband alone.”

The word “husband” was no longer the deliberate provocation she had once used to spite Ye Jiuhuang. This time, it was a genuine call from the depths of her heart—a cry of complete acceptance.

Hearing that word and seeing the last trace of defiance vanish from Shen Qingshuang’s eyes, Ye Xuan was overwhelmed by an unprecedented sense of absolute triumph.

He chuckled, his laughter filled with sinister dominance. Then he suddenly pulled Shen Qingshuang into his arms and pressed her firmly against the broad throne.

“Since you’re willing…”

Ye Xuan lowered his head, his searing breath brushing against Shen Qingshuang’s sensitive ear. Seeing her eyes instantly grow hazy, he spoke in a low, hoarse voice:

“Then let this master see just how much this immortal at the Great Vehicle Realm has learned about serving others.”

“Of course… my husband…”

Shen Qingshuang shed a single tear from the corner of her eye.

But this tear was no longer one of humiliation and despair. Instead, it was the release and surrender that came from casting off every burden, as though she had been reborn through nirvana.

She raised her arms, fair as white lotus roots, and wound them tightly around Ye Xuan’s neck like vines. With unreserved fervor, she pressed her burning body against his, eagerly meeting him.

Within the great hall, the swaying merfolk candlelight gradually dimmed.

A tempest, having nothing to do with revenge and leaving behind only the most primal conquest and submission, once again burst violently into motion.