Chapter 1: Fallen Immortal

Tink…

Tink-tink…

A delicate, melodious chime drifted down from the upper floors of Pin Feng Lou, instantly silencing the boisterous music that usually filled its halls. Every patron’s head turned, their attention snagged. Eyes followed the sound, only to be ensnared by the sight of a pair of exquisitely shaped, dazzling legs descending the grand staircase. Pale gold threads, almost an afterthought, traced the elegant curve of a phoenix feather upon the girl’s slender calves. And the source of that captivating chime? Tiny, ornate bells, dangling from crimson silk cords tied around her perfect ankles.

She moved with an ethereal grace, clad in a gown of striking vermillion red, intricately embroidered with jade that seemed to catch and refract the lamplight. A spirit fox mask, crafted from some unknown, luminous material, obscured the upper half of what could only be a ‘phoenix-like’ face – a term often whispered for unparalleled beauty. Her legs were sheathed in fine, floral-patterned stockings, so sheer they were like newly fallen snow kissed with the barest, blush-pink hint of plum blossoms. Each step she took upon the polished wooden stairs was as light and poised as an immortal treading on lotus blossoms, a vision of purity and elegance utterly, jarringly out of place amidst the crass, money-reeking opulence of Pin Feng Lou.

A hushed murmur rippled through the crowd of patrons. Men of wealth and influence, their eyes wide, began to speculate just whose forbidden treasure this girl might be. After all, Pin Feng Lou was no respectable establishment; it was a den of earthly pleasures, a place where fortunes were spent on fleeting delights. This girl, though… she was a different caliber altogether. Not only was she breathtakingly beautiful, her attire exquisitely detailed, but there was something else that inspired a deeper, more cautious awe: the tiny bells adorning her ankles were engraved with the imperial insignia of the Grand Tutor’s Mansion – the Taishi Fu.

And in Luo City, within the vast Daxia Dragon Dynasty, who didn’t know the power and reach of the Taishi Fu? Any item bearing that mark, be it jade, silk, or even a person, was considered a treasure exclusively for the Grand Tutor’s use.

“Mistress Bailing?!” A portly madam from the top floor, her face a mask of fawning obsequiousness, practically tripped over herself as she scurried down to greet the newcomer, bowing low. “This old crone has failed to welcome you properly! What brings the esteemed Pavilion Master to our humble, worldly establishment today?”

The jade-masked girl’s phoenix eyes, visible through the mask’s slits, narrowed slightly, her gaze sweeping past the madam to fix on a private chamber further down the corridor. “My Young Master is… amusing himself in there?” Her voice was melodious, yet carried an undercurrent of something unreadable.

“Y-Yes, but the Young Master is only partaking of plain tea, Pavilion Master! He hasn’t even summoned a single dancer… Surely, this doesn’t violate the Mansion’s rules?” the madam stammered, her voice tight with trepidation.

Beneath the spirit fox mask, the girl’s vermillion lips curved into a faint, relieved smile. “Of course, it doesn’t violate any rules.”

“Then, Pavilion Master, you are here because…?”

“Oh, don’t be so tense, Madam,” the girl chuckled, the sound like wind chimes. “My Young Master had a rather… trying day at the Mansion. Scolded by the elders, you see. Feeling quite wronged.” She smiled, a flash of sweetness that belied the power she exuded. “This humble servant just felt sorry for him. Thought I’d offer a dance, cheer him up a bit, you know?” As she spoke, she even did a little twirl, showcasing the elaborate, Western Regions-style dance costume she wore.

The madam stared, her painted face slack with disbelief. Had she heard correctly? Mistress Bailing, one of the nine most revered Pavilion Masters in the entire underworld, a woman sought after by countless high officials and nobles, a figure before whom even Immortal Sect Elders had to kneel when discussing business… This woman was offering to demean herself, to dance and please some notoriously useless Young Master from Luo City whose reputation was in the gutter?

“M-My Lady… Please, you mustn’t jest with this old woman so…” the madam stammered, forcing a painful, awkward smile.

The girl’s smile faded, her lips thinning into a line of barely veiled impatience. “Do you truly believe,” she asked, her voice dropping to a silken murmur that nonetheless sent shivers down the madam’s spine, “that you possess enough… emotional value… for me to bother jesting with?” Beneath the playful spirit fox mask, her phoenix eyes glinted with a coldness that pierced through to the very soul.

Sweat beaded on the madam’s brow. She swallowed hard, utterly incapable of uttering a single sound.

The jade-masked girl glided past her towards the private chamber of the Taishi Fu’s Seventh Young Master. She paused at the door, then glanced back, one perfectly sculpted eyebrow arched. “Well? What are you waiting for?” she purred. “You are the esteemed madam of Pin Feng Lou, are you not? When you introduce me to my Young Master… please be sure to emphasize that this humble servant is a… newly recruited dancer from the Western Regions.” She offered another dazzling, enchanting smile, her eyes curving into crescents, the innocent radiance momentarily returning to her仙颜 (xiānyán – immortal, beautiful face).

He Yimo had been stewing in Pin Feng Lou, nursing pot after pot of tea, for the entire day. Ever since he’d transmigrated into the world of the game “Fallen Immortal” – and worse, into the body of a cannon fodder villain – he’d been meticulously playing the part of the Taishi Fu’s good-for-nothing Seventh Young Master.

He was sixteen this year. According to the plot of “Fallen Immortal” as he remembered it from his past life, this was the year he was fated to die. Likely at the hands of a certain immortal cultivator named Mo Yuyan.

Mo Yuyan. A genius swordswoman from the prestigious Wuji Sect, and one of the most popular female leads in “Fallen Immortal.” She was, by all accounts, her Sect Master’s favored disciple. Her visit to the Taishi Fu this morning, representing the Wuji Sect’s intentions, should have been a joyous occasion for the Mansion. A grand alliance with a powerful Immortal Sect.

For He Yimo, however, it spelled doom. He’d drawn the short straw in the transmigration lottery, reincarnating as this Seventh Young Master – a villain, and a minor, easily-dispatched one at that. When a villain met a female lead, it was like a goblin encountering a saintess. And what chance did a cannon fodder goblin have?

From his memories of countless playthroughs and datamined world-lines in “Fallen Immortal,” the two most probable scenarios for his demise almost invariably involved Mo Yuyan. Option one: he’d somehow offend her within the Taishi Fu and be unceremoniously cut down by her sword. Option two: she’d, for some unfathomable reason, take him back to the Wuji Sect, where he’d eventually encounter the game’s actual protagonist and end up as a convenient source of early-game loot and experience points for said protagonist. Either way, encountering that woman meant a bad end. Guaranteed.

So, He Yimo had made the only logical choice: on the very day Mo Yuyan was scheduled to visit the Taishi Fu, he’d run away from home. If you can’t beat them, and you certainly can’t join them without becoming a walking treasure chest, then hide, right? He was already known as a hedonistic,纨绔 (wánkù – dissolute, profligate) young master. Lounging around Pin Feng Lou for a few days wouldn’t raise any suspicion.

He was only sixteen. Still young. And despite the “trash” persona, being reborn as a Young Master of the Taishi Fu meant he possessed immense potential power and resources. Not to mention the mysterious Western Regions demon race bloodline lurking within him! This was a god-tier starting hand! To waste it all becoming loot for some generic protagonist? Absolutely not!

If he could just rewrite the script… If He Yimo could just lie low in the Taishi Fu for a few years, quietly cultivating, soaking up all those limitless resources… Once his cultivation reached a satisfactory level, and he awakened his hidden demon bloodline, he’d shock the world! Then, using his knowledge of the game’s plot, he could turn the tables. He’d be the one beating down villainous bosses for their loot, the one snatching fortuitous encounters from under the protagonist’s nose…

“Mo Yuyan?” He Yimo scoffed internally, a cold smile playing on his lips as he sat alone in his private room. He took a sip of tea. “What would I have to fear from her then? That ‘Innate Frost Saint Physique’ of hers? She’d be too cold to even warm my bed.”

Because of the Taishi Fu’s strict house rules (and a certain terrifying aunt), He Yimo never actually touched the women in Pin Feng Lou. He came purely for the tea and the atmosphere of decadent escape. Not that he’d always been so… abstinent. Once, driven by youthful curiosity and unable to resist the temptation, he had indulged himself a little too freely with one of the establishment’s more alluring dancers. The consequences had been dire. That very night, his Aunt had sniffed out the scent of “wild women” clinging to him. She’d used it as leverage, threatening to report him to his stern, iron-fisted father.

The fear of his father’s wrath was very real. He Yimo hadn’t dared to resist. His Aunt had him thoroughly under her thumb for a long, humiliating period. He’d spent his days escorting her on shopping sprees and his nights fetching water and washing her feet. The shame of it! What kind of noble young master gets bullied so thoroughly by a mere slip of a girl, even if she was his aunt?

“Yuan Xinyao must be part dog,” He Yimo muttered under his breath, “for her nose to be that ridiculously sharp.”

No sooner had the words left his lips than the door to his private chamber slid open.

“Young Master He, apologies for the intrusion.” The madam from earlier entered, her smile forced, accompanied by an absolutely stunning dancer in an intricate, jade-adorned gown.

A sudden chill prickled the back of He Yimo’s neck. The dancer’s eyes, visible beneath her spirit fox mask, glinted with an unnerving coldness.

“What is the meaning of this?” He Yimo arched an eyebrow, feigning mild confusion. “This Young Master doesn’t recall having the funds to request a dancer… And, more importantly, did she just glare at me?”

“No, no, no, not at all!” The madam’s expression was growing increasingly strained, but she managed to paste on another watery smile. “This young lady… she is a newly recruited dancer from the Western Regions! A true exotic beauty! Young Master, please, just consider it… an audition! A favor to this old woman, to appraise her talents. No charge, of course! Completely off the books!” As she spoke, the jade-masked girl beside her subtly softened her gaze, offering a small, almost imperceptible nod.

“What’s there to appraise?” He Yimo drawled, lounging lazily on the cushions, his tone deliberately dismissive and provocative. “She’s as flat as a cutting board. Don’t you know this Young Master prefers… a bit more substance?” He knew it was a dangerous game, baiting someone who was clearly powerful. Beautiful dancers were like roses with thorns. The more you looked, the more desire muddled your judgment. It wasn’t that he genuinely found her lacking; it was his damned Aunt’s canine nose he feared. One misstep, one lingering scent of perfume, and he’d be back to foot-washing duty for another month. A fate worse than death.

“Aiya! Young Master, your eyes must be deceiving you!” The madam seemed exceptionally anxious tonight. Hearing He Yimo insult the dancer, beads of sweat began to trickle down her heavily powdered face. “This old woman will… will leave you two to chat. Yes. Close the door, enjoy yourselves, take your time.” She babbled nervously, practically shoving the dancer into the room before hastily closing the door and retreating.

Now, He Yimo was alone in the private chamber with the spirit fox-masked girl.

“Alright, forget it,” He Yimo sighed, waving a dismissive hand. “Save your energy, young lady. Sit, have some tea with me, and then you can be on your way.” He gestured towards the empty seat opposite him.

But the girl remained standing, her voice cool and crisp. “The Young Master is unwilling to watch me dance… Is it because he finds my chest too small?” As she spoke, she subtly pressed her arms against her sides, emphasizing the modest curve beneath the light fabric of her dance costume—a pair of perfectly formed, if not overly large, ‘little steamed buns’.

“Just a joke,” He Yimo chuckled lightly, though his eyes remained sharp, appraising the beautiful dancer before him. “Didn’t mean to hit a sore spot.” He paused. “To be honest, a lady of your cold, elegant temperament and devastating beauty… you’re clearly no common prostitute. You must have been carefully cultivated by some prominent household since childhood. And judging by the madam’s terrified reaction, your backing isn’t insignificant. So, the ‘patron’ who sent you to my room… their status must be quite formidable.”

“Since I can’t touch you anyway, what’s the point of watching you dance?” he continued bluntly. “I’m a man of vulgar tastes. You should be seeking out those refined scholars and gentlemen who appreciate art over a cup of tea, not wasting your time on me.” He laid out his analysis, brutally honest. He was the Taishi Fu’s notoriously useless Young Master. Women who threw themselves at him usually wanted only money or power. For a dancer of this caliber, someone clearly of noble bearing, to be sent to ‘entertain’ a piece of trash like him… it couldn’t possibly be her own idea. Otherwise, why the hostile glare when she first entered? He hadn’t done anything to offend her… yet.

And… there was something else. He Yimo had a nagging feeling that this spirit fox-masked girl seemed… familiar. There was an aura about her, a spiritual resonance that was distinctly different from ordinary women.

“Patron? Refined scholars and gentlemen?” The girl tilted her head, a playful, almost mocking laugh escaping her lips, muffled slightly by the mask. “Young Master He certainly has a vivid imagination.” Her eyes sparkled. “But does the Young Master not know… how many officials and talented scholars in this world yearn for this humble servant’s attention? They don’t even get the chance to see my face, let alone share tea!” She smiled, her posture radiating confidence and a touch of proud arrogance.

Then, just as quickly, her phoenix eyes curved into a coy, alluring arc. “If the Young Master doesn’t believe me… why not… verify it for yourself? Personally?”

“This humble servant knows,” she purred, her eyes narrowing seductively as she began to glide slowly towards him, “that athough the Young Master speaks with disdain… in reality, he’s worried about succumbing to my charms… yet, he also fears my noble status, lacking the courage to actually make a move. Am I wrong?”

He Yimo was speechless. Damn, this girl understood men’s petty insecurities far too well.

With a graceful movement, she lifted the hem of her skirt, deliberately revealing a stretch of her flawlessly white leg beneath. “Don’t worry, Young Master,” she whispered, her voice like velvet. “Tonight… this humble servant can… serve you first.”

“Once the Young Master has had a taste… and his heart is at ease… then this humble servant will perform a dance for you. So you can properly appreciate the… art… yes?” That last sentence was breathed directly into his ear as she leaned down, her lips almost brushing his skin.

The intoxicatingly seductive whisper sent a jolt through He Yimo, a blush instantly creeping up his neck, his ears burning. He frowned, his mind a battlefield of conflicting impulses. But she gently cupped his face, forcing him to meet her eyes. He couldn’t look away, trapped by the intense gaze of those pale golden phoenix eyes beneath the spirit fox mask. They drew him in, mesmerizing him, as if he were staring into the depths of a bewitching abyss. That gaze… it was so alluring it could practically spin silk, the look of an enchantress utterly lost in the throes of love.

“Mmmhmmm~” she hummed, a triumphant little smile playing on her lips. “Just a moment ago, wasn’t the Young Master worried this was all a trick?” Her voice was a teasing caress. “How is it that after just a few words… the Young Master’s eyes are practically glued to me~?” She licked her lips delicately, her sleeve partly obscuring her face, her eyes sparkling with smug amusement. She subtly shifted, her jade-like leg brushing against his.

He Yimo’s mind screamed resistance, but his hand… his hand unfortunately had a mind of its own. It moved, almost involuntarily, towards that smooth, inviting skin. As his fingers made contact, tracing the delicate curve of her leg, he felt her give a tiny, almost imperceptible shiver. Beneath the spirit fox mask, her lips tightened, and a soft, muffled gasp escaped her as his touch lingered.

He Yimo looked up at her, curious.

Her face, though flushed a delicate pink, maintained an air of polite, almost amused detachment. “Young Master… isn’t this the kind of… ambiance… you prefer?”

“I do,” he admitted, his own eyes narrowing. “So, this is also part of your act?”

The girl’s expression didn’t change. She neither confirmed nor denied. She simply smiled mysteriously. “What does the Young Master guess?”

“My guess?” He Yimo’s voice was low, a dangerous edge creeping into it. “I guess… you’ve been chaste your whole life. Barely touched by a man. But tonight… someone gave you an order. A mission to… secure me, at all costs. Forcing you to… reluctantly… offer yourself up for my… pleasure?”

“Young Master He truly does love to imagine things,” she replied, her smile unwavering, though perhaps a fraction tighter. “It’s merely an act, of course.”

“Is that so?” He Yimo smirked, his tone shifting from cautious to playful, almost predatory. “Then perhaps… I should verify that a little more thoroughly?” His fingertips resumed their slow, rhythmic exploration, tracing a path down her leg, over the impossibly smooth skin. Under his intense gaze, as his touch grew bolder, the cool disdain in her masked expression began to waver. A deeper blush suffused her cheeks, her breathing grew a little uneven, and even the tiny, pearly teeth biting her lower lip seemed to tremble slightly.

“Your acting is quite convincing, young lady,” He Yimo drawled, still deliberately provoking her.

But then, in the next second, his gaze snagged on something just beneath the hem of her skirt, on her calf. A golden, embroidered curve. The distinct pattern of a phoenix feather.

The playful smirk on He Yimo’s face froze. Deep-seated childhood memories, buried but not forgotten, surged to the surface, making his eyelid twitch involuntarily. Such tattoo-like markings weren’t uncommon; many demon races bore them as a sign of their true form after taking human shape. But a golden phoenix feather… and on the calf… He Yimo had only seen that specific marking once in his entire life. On the legs of the one person in the Taishi Fu whose memory was seared into his brain with a mixture of fear and… something else. He had, after all, washed the feet belonging to those phoenix-marked legs for an entire month. No one in the world remembered those legs better than He Yimo!

“Young Master…?” the girl purred, her voice a little breathless now. “Why have you stopped… touching me~?”

“Could it be… that the Young Master has guessed who the ‘patron’ is… the one who has so carefully nurtured this humble servant since childhood~?”

“Aiya! The mastermind behind this little seduction plot… It wouldn’t happen to be… the Seventh Young Master of the Taishi Fu himself, now would it~?” This time, it was the girl’s turn to feign surprised innocence, her voice dripping with playful mockery.

And this time, it was He Yimo’s turn to break out in a cold sweat.

The jade-masked girl let out a soft, triumphant humph. In a sudden, shockingly agile movement, she lifted her leg high, planting her silk-and-flower-stocking-clad foot firmly on the wall right behind He Yimo’s head. Thwack.

He Yimo’s eyes darted upwards. The tiny bells, tied to her ankle with red silk cords, now dangled just inches from his face.

Tink-tink… The bells chimed softly as her foot quivered slightly.

Those were the Luo Fei Bells. The prize he’d won at the Luo City Junior Martial Arts Tournament when he was seven. Later, to thank his Aunt for teaching him martial arts, he’d given them to her. He remembered now… The outside of the bells was engraved with the character ‘He’ (何), symbolizing the Taishi Fu. But the inside… the inside was engraved with two smaller characters: ‘Yimo’ (以默).

“Yuan Xinyao.” He Yimo’s lips twitched, a sense of resigned defeat washing over him as he looked up at the jade-masked girl. “Is this… another one of your ‘sting operation’ tests?”

Yuan Xinyao plucked the spirit fox mask from her face, revealing a countenance of pure, radiant, youthful beauty. “If it were a sting operation,” she said, her smile bright, “then congratulations, He Yimo!”

“Aside from you secretly calling your Aunt a ‘dog-nosed, flat-chested hag’ behind her back… Aunt is actually quite satisfied with your performance otherwise. I don’t know where you learned those… leg-touching techniques… but at least this time you weren’t easily fooled and utterly bewitched by a pretty face. Much better than when you were fourteen.”

“But…” Her smile softened, a hint of something else entering her eyes. “What if… this isn’t a sting operation? What if… it’s just Aunt coming to fetch her silly, run-away nephew and take him home?” Her playful expression faded, replaced by a more serious, almost gentle look.

He Yimo stared, stunned into silence again.

She lowered her gaze, the teasing finally gone. She reached out, her cool fingers gently caressing his cheek, her voice softening further, her beautiful face now reflecting genuine concern. “He Yimo.”

“All these years… even though you’re a little pervert, and you’ve caused no end of mischief around the Mansion…”

“But… in Aunt’s heart… you’ve always just been superficially frivolous. Deep down… you’ve always been a sensible, considerate, good boy.”

“You should know this.”

“This morning, when the immortal from Wuji Sect visited the Taishi Fu… all the elders in the family were singing your praises, hoping the immortal would agree to take you to the mountains for cultivation…”

“And yet… you ran off to a place like this, hiding away from everyone.”

She looked directly into his eyes. “—Can you tell Aunt why?”