The Enchanting Shiniang
In a mist-shrouded immortal mountain, cranes soared gracefully among the peaks. Unknown immortal herbs and ancient medicines clung steadfastly to sheer cliffs, unmoved by the wind.
At the mountain's highest point floated a grand palace suspended in midair. Above it hung a massive purple crescent moon—a huge waning gibbous, glowing with crystalline violet light. A woman in a flowing purple dress, her figure slender and alluring, reclined languidly against the crescent. One hand propped up her jade-like chin, her face hazy and indistinct. Her long,Pink and tender legs dangled lightly, swaying gently.
Wei Yun sensed she was gazing at him from afar. He heard her murmur, "Child, I hope you stay far from the strife of the immortal path. Yield in conflicts, avoid killing, and live a peaceful life..."
"Who are you?" Wei Yun shouted loudly.
His shout shattered the vision, everything dissolving into nothingness.
"Who are you!"
Wei Yun bolted upright in bed—it had all been a dream. His body was drenched in sweat.
He rose, poured water, and wiped himself down with a towel. It was his first time having such a bizarre dream, so vivid and wondrous. He swore he'd never seen that woman or been to that place. How could such a scene appear in his dreams? He couldn't figure it out.
"Time for morning recitations."
Morning lessons involved all disciples chanting scriptures together in the grand hall. The text was the Moral Truth Scripture, universal among righteous cultivators—earnest words guiding one toward virtue, authored by an ancestor eight thousand years ago and passed down for millennia.
"In the beginning was the Dao and Virtue; I now transmit it... Heaven and Earth are not unkind, but do not favor only the benevolent—their virtue nourishes all things... The sun and moon share my greatness; how am I different from them... Every blade of grass, every tree contains Heaven and Earth... Every instant is eternity... Yin and yang cycle, all things perish, yet the Dao and Virtue endure forever..."
Wei Yun chanted the scripture. Though willful and irreverent, he was meticulous. He sensed profound mysteries in its words, each a pearl of wisdom, though he couldn't grasp them. So he imprinted every character in his heart, silently reciting whenever he could.
After morning lessons, Wei Yun followed his eldest senior brother, Zhang Zhi Ping, to chop firewood in the back mountains. Once the wood was carried back, he hurried off to meditate and breathe. His brothers and sisters smiled, their eyes filled with approval.
The modest Xuan Hu Guan brimmed with warmth and camaraderie.
The pretty third senior sister, Mo Xiu Yun, encouraged him with a tease: "Little Twelfth, once you refine your true qi, I'll give you my bellyband."
Her words sent a shiver through Wei Yun, drawing envious glances from the others—they'd never gotten such treatment!
His handsome second senior brother, Zheng Ping, pulled him aside and whispered, "Little junior brother, you gotta push hard! Tell me if you hit any snags."
Flattered, Wei Yun exclaimed, "Whoa, second brother, no need to be so nice. What's the catch?"
Zheng Ping grinned lecherously. "Here's the deal—I've been pining for your third senior sister Mo Xiu Yun forever. After she gives you the bellyband, pass it to me, yeah?"
Wei Yun blinked, then got it. Among the three senior sisters, Mo Xiu Yun was the beauty, her cultivation second only to the eldest brother. No wonder the seniors adored her. Facing Zheng Ping's pleading eyes, he could only agree.
Wei Yun cupped his hands. "Third senior sister truly is Xuan Hu Guan's top beauty. Wishing second brother success!"
Zheng Ping laughed. "You're wrong, junior brother. Xuan Hu Guan's real beauty isn't her."
"Oh?" Wei Yun paused—clearly third senior sister was the prettiest.
Zheng Ping leaned in mysteriously. "It's Shiniang."
Wei Yun realized. Though he'd never seen Shiniang, he'd heard of her. She was enigmatic, always recuperating in the back hall, rarely appearing. He'd overlooked her since joining.
That afternoon, back in his quarters, Wei Yun sighed. At this rate, who knew when he'd refine true qi, open his meridians, and enter Foundation Establishment from his mortal shell?
Full of vigor and confidence, but without progress, when would it end?
He stepped out, wandering aimlessly through the courtyards around the back hall.
Unknowingly, he passed through a moon gate into a serene garden.
A grassy lawn and flower bed came into view, with a swing in the middle. A stunning woman swayed gently on it.
Wei Yun halted, looking up.
Her eyes were limpid pools, brows like fine paintings, her melon-seed face fair and delicate. Her figure was graceful, though pale. She wore a pink gossamer gown, her exposed skin snow-white, gleaming in the sun. Her long jade legs swung lightly, exuding seductive charm that stirred the soul.
Her breasts and hips were perky and full, all her curves concentrated there, wildly disproportionate to her slender frame elsewhere.
Her plump rear sank into the swing seat, the wood spreading the tender flesh apart.
As the swing rocked, her massive tits jiggled playfully like bouncing orbs.
Wei Yun stared, dumbfounded, then snapped to—oh no. This was Master Qing Feng Dao Zhang's residence; the woman was Shiniang!
Shiniang had married in three years ago, shrouded in mystery. She rarely appeared outside special occasions. Impressions stopped at her name: Shui Hong Yao.
Even meals were left at her door by disciples. She seemed a reclusive housewife, her illness lingering three years.
Master Qing Feng Dao Zhang was over fifty; Shiniang looked barely thirty—young enough to be his daughter. Wei Yun envied him. As Zheng Ping said, she was a heavenly beauty. Marrying her left no regrets in life.
Master had been refining pills indoors for days, no time even for meals. Yet Shiniang had leisure to swing alone.
As Wei Yun turned to leave, the enchanting Shiniang called, "Is that the new little Twelfth?" Her voice tinkled like silver bells.
"Ah..." Wei Yun bowed his head, cupping hands. "Disciple Wei Yun pays respects to Shiniang!"
Shui Hong Yao's bright eyes flashed, lashes fluttering. She smiled seductively. "Perfect timing. Mid-Autumn nears—go to the city and buy mooncakes. I'm craving some."
"Now?"
"Of course. Get a bit of everything."
"Leave it to me, Shiniang!"
Wei Yun hurried off, fearing to alert Master. He didn't want him knowing he'd been here, even if no punishment came.
Round trip to Feng Wu City took over an hour. Wei Yun rushed back with mooncakes to honor the beauty. Exhausting, but her praise made it worthwhile.
For days after, Wei Yun sneaked to the back garden daily, heart soaring if she was there, despondent if not.
Each time, Shui Hong Yao sent him on errands—fetching or buying things, or chatting idly. Soon, he knew the garden's plants intimately and her story better.
Three years ago, gravely injured, she'd collapsed roadside. Passing Qing Feng Dao Zhang saved her. After devoted treatment, she survived, recovering mobility after over a year. Grateful, she married him.
For two years, he'd tirelessly sought medicines, refined pills, using all his knowledge to restore her vitality.
Wei Yun thought: If I'd found such a beauty, I'd cherish her too. Master got lucky.
Suddenly alarmed, he realized he'd fallen into her gentle trap, enjoying it. Dangerous—this was Shiniang, not a Feng Wu City whore. How could he harbor such wicked thoughts?
He restrained urges to "bump into" her, focusing on the Qi Nourishment Art.
Progress stalled, so he studied talismans, physiognomy, formations, medicine, pill refining, talisman swords. In months, he grasped their essentials, though limited by cultivation.
Autumn fled, winter came—New Year's approached.
One evening, Wei Yun returned from the city after visiting his parents with gifts. He brought treats for his brothers, who often helped him; bonds were strong.
Carrying a painting and rouge for Master and Shiniang, he headed to the back hall.
Snowflakes drifted; cold wind bit. Wei Yun clutched his cloak tighter.
Late from gifting brothers, it was deep night. Master's room still had lamplight; Wei Yun approached.
About to knock, strange sounds stopped him.
He knew them well!
"Mm... ah... faster... harder... aaah..."
"Baby... my darling..."
Heavy pants carried the voices from the room, into his ears.
He knew what was happening. Turning to flee, he paused, crept to the window, peered through a paper tear.
One glance, and he couldn't look away.
Inside, alluring Shiniang Shui Hong Yao lay naked on a soft couch, snow-white body sprawled. Her long legs spread wide, revealing her fur-covered tender pussy, slick with juices. Plump ass pressed the cushions; full tits quivered.
Her body trembled, sweat and pussy nectar mixing, dripping.
Kneeling between her legs, naked Qing Feng Dao Zhang shouldered one leg, wielding a jade pestle in the other hand—finely carved from jasper.
The pestle plunged in and out of her juicy slit, thick labia parting and closing. Each thrust made her shudder, moaning "ah"; withdrawals pulled gushes of nectar.
Peeping outside, Wei Yun's heart pounded. No virgin, he'd seen plenty of trysts, but these were Master—immortal elder—and his dream woman. Their live erotic show glued his eyes.
Breath held, fearing noise.
Then he noticed oddity: he was rock-hard outside, but Master's cock hung limp, no vigor. Using a jade toy on her fertile pussy—such waste!
With a cry, Shui Hong Yao squirted heavily, body convulsing, collapsing limp.
Qing Feng Dao Zhang dropped the pestle, knelt before her, lapping her gushing nectar like a dog. "Baby, more? I want to drink..."
"Mm..." Shui Hong Yao whimpered, fingers spreading her lips toward his open mouth. A stream jetted from her urethra straight in; he gulped eagerly, like sweet dew, eyes gleaming.
Wei Yun gaped. The dignified Master had such a fetish—unbelievable.
After draining her piss, Qing Feng Dao Zhang licked his lips, embraced her. "Baby, I got spirit talisman money lately—replenishes true essence fast. With it, I'll soon refine 'Return Essence Pills'—top healing elixir from Medicine King Sect. You'll recover fully."
Shui Hong Yao smiled. "Thanks, husband. My injury's fine. But you—when will your root's ailment heal, restoring your manhood?"
Qing Feng Dao Zhang sighed. "Years ago, external interference derailed my cultivation—stuck at Foundation Establishment peak, lower meridians damaged, root impotent... Shameful, can't satisfy you, my darling. Once healed, I'll fill you proper."
"You satisfy me now," Shui Hong Yao smiled faintly, eyes hiding displeasure.
Master, lost in affection, missed it; peeping Wei Yun, sharp-eyed, caught it.
Wei Yun wished it were him embracing her. Dazed, his gift clattered.
Inside, they turned. Qing Feng Dao Zhang frowned. "Who's outside?"
Done for! Wei Yun thought.
A "meow" sounded; a black cat dropped from the eaves, shivering at the door. Wei Yun slipped away.
Qing Feng Dao Zhang, in a single robe, opened up, chuckled at the cat. "Just a cat."
Shui Hong Yao's eyes flashed. "Poor thing, freezing. Let it in."
"Fine." He carried it inside, shut the door.
...
Next morning, during recitations, Wei Yun was uneasy, fearing Master knew of his peeping—grave sect violation.
Qing Feng Dao Zhang, in robes, inspected calmly as always. Wei Yun relaxed.
After, Wei Yun brought gifts to the back hall, met Master. "Brought these from the city yesterday—hoping Master doesn't mind. Painting for you, rouge for Shiniang."
Qing Feng Dao Zhang smiled, took them. "Among disciples, you're the most filial, Yun'er. I'll accept—for Shiniang too. You've been here four months—how's cultivation?"
"Others fine, but qi refinement stagnant."
He patted Wei Yun's shoulder. "No rush—everyone grinds slowly. Persist; success comes naturally."
"Thanks, Master! Off to chores."
"Go."
Wei Yun swept the front hall with brothers, welcoming the new year.
Afternoon, in his quarters, last night's scene replayed inescapably. He breathed deep, legs carrying him to the back garden—long absent.
A pink figure stood under the eaves, eyes bright, lips smiling at the snow. She extended a tender hand, catching flakes that melted through her fingers to water on the ground.
Snow-kissed Shiniang was ethereally ravishing; Wei Yun stared entranced.
"Yun'er?"
Shui Hong Yao turned, smiling softly. "Yun'er, what are you dawdling for?"
"Ah, Shiniang, I..." Words failed. Admit missing her? Impossible.
"Yun'er, come—Shiniang's tired. Help me rest."
She extended a jade arm.
He rushed over, solicitous, draping it over his shoulder, supporting her soft body inside. She sat on a rosewood chair; he massaged her shoulders.
Pinching her fragrant shoulders, inhaling her scent, Wei Yun thrilled.
First skin contact—silky beyond words. Last night's scenes flooded back.
Her delicate frame, under elegant poise, seemed pitifully fragile. Yet instinct told him her beauty hid a complex heart—every move too shrewd for ordinary folk. Even immortal-seeming Master lacked her innate transcendence.
This fascinated him more; massaging her was bliss.
She asked of his cultivation; he answered. Then, abruptly: "Odd—found footprints at my door this morning, like from last night. Was someone here? Yun'er, know who visited Master last night?"
"Ah... uh..." Heart racing, hands froze.
Her eyes narrowed, tone stern. "Yun'er, no lies before Shiniang."
What does she mean?
Thoughts raced: She suspects—knows—it was me, even saw us. Deny and get caught later? Disaster. Admit... her attitude leaves room.
He knelt. "Shiniang, it was me—punish me!"
She'd only probed, fearing another disciple. Relieved it was the youngest.
She liked him; her savvy saw his crush. She'd teased him deliberately, wanting the innocent boy groveling like a puppy.
Disappointed he'd resisted, even vanished awhile.
But he'd peeped—gotcha, kid.
Solemnly: "Yun'er, naughty. Why peep on Shiniang?"
"Last night, back late with New Year gifts for Master and you. Then... I lost my head! Punish me!"
"What did you see?"
"I... saw..."
"Speak."
"Saw Master and Shiniang... doing that!"
As expected. Eyes narrowing seductively, coolly: "Yun'er, doesn't your Master look like a dog? One that loves drinking piss."
Wei Yun paled in shock. "How dare I speak ill!"
Does Master know? If so, I'm dead—witness to his secret, silenced.
She saw through him, smiled. "Relax—Master doesn't know. I erased the prints."
Master unaware...
Relief washed over him. But why say that? Unhappy marriage? He'd seen her fleeting displeasure.
"Then... no punishment?"
She laughed. "Why punish? But... disobey Shiniang, and I'll tell Master. What he does then? Not my problem."
"I'll obey!"
His terrified pallor amused her—she had him.
"Up."
"Thanks, Shiniang!"
He rose, wiping sweat. Winter, yet soaked—thought his future shattered.
"Master's due back—go. From now, afternoons at the hour of the Sheep and the hour of the Monkey, come chat with Shiniang."
"Yes, Shiniang."
Shaken, he left, pondering her inscrutable mind.
Now certain: this beauty was no simpleton—scarier than Master.
Master's sternness was bluff, soft-hearted; Shiniang's gentle facade hid abyssal depths—most dangerous, toying with you unknowingly.
Yet he was smitten. Her looks, aura—rare in the world. He warned himself: don't cross her. But anticipated meetings.
Back in quarters, he told himself: Just a woman. This lord Wei Yun, man among men—what's to fear?