Chapter 110: Damn! A Lewd Art Sage!

In He Yimo’s memory, Du Xiangwan was a minor character in the original story—seemingly insignificant yet steeped in personal tragedy.

She resembled Yun Jin, but unlike Yun Jin, Du Xiangwan wasn’t even a tutorial guide—merely a minor vendor selling array scrolls in the game. Due to her impoverished background and innate artistic talent, Du Xiangwan often took on commissions from fellow disciples to subsidize her family while cultivating at Wuji Sect.

In the cultivation world, art was a skill tied to productivity.
Arrays, inscriptions, seals—even spiritual portraiture…

These intricate patterns, when drawn on special scrolls with spiritual energy, became ready-to-use items. Cultivators paid Du Xiangwan to craft their desired array formations.

It was a decent side hustle to make ends meet.

But in the mid-game, a mysterious black-robed figure approached her with an irresistible offer: a massive fortune in exchange for three star-chart diagrams daily. Du Xiangwan, just a Golden Core cultivator, had no idea what astronomy signified.

Sensing it was a simple task, she agreed and began sketching celestial patterns day after day.

Until one day, she recorded something she shouldn’t have.

When players reached her home in the original game, they found the girl lying in a pool of blood. clutched in her grasp was a dagger engraved with the Scorpio constellation, beside her an unfinished celestial chart.

Later, both Wuji Sect and the Imperial Alliance investigated.
Du Xiangwan had been stabbed three times through her organs, yet the case was ruled a “su*cide.”

Despite Shangguan Qiuya’s relentless pursuit, the bizarre incident was silenced by unseen hands.

In his past life, He Yimo had never understood how Du Xiangwan truly died or what convoluted world-building Fallen Immortal hid.
But reborn now, new connections surfaced in his memory.

He recalled…

Mo Yuyan mentioning her late father’s obsession with Go. He’d often make her sit and play, forcing her to memorize obscure, ancient Go manuals stored in their home.
This left Mo Yuyan loathing Go as a child, instead gravitating toward swordplay with her neighbor, Mu Yanran.

Then, at age nine, her family perished in a celestial fire. Amidst the ruins, a few fragmented Go manuals remained.

When Mo Yuyan sought to master Go, Sect Master Mudao Sheng inexplicably forbade anyone in Wuji Sect from teaching her or sharing manuals. For years, she struggled alone, her skills abysmal.

There were parallels there…
But the intel was too sparse.

He suspected figures like Jiang Jinyou, Mu Yanran, and Mudao Sheng knew secrets, yet in the original story, they could never reveal them to a player—after all, they lived their own lives. And he? Just a walking camera, an outsider, irrelevant to their world.

The thought made He Yimo grind his teeth—wanting throttle the game’s developers.
Other reborn protagonists got cheat codes; he got Fallen Immortal’s cryptic lore. He doubted he knew more than a cunning vixen like Jiang Jinyou.

“Damn it… Work was hell in my past life; even escaping into a game felt like solving a paranormal mystery.”
“I’m reborn, for crying out loud! The day I crush everyone with overwhelming cultivation, I’ll grab Jiang Jinyou by the tail and shake her dry until she spills all her secrets!”

The more he fumed, the more he cursed under his breath.
Just then, the girl in white beside him piped up:
“Um… um… Young Master He?”

Du Xiangwan hugged her massive drawing board, her large eyes flustered.

He Yimo’s sudden smile made her shrink instinctively, burying half her face behind the board, revealing only her adorable panda-ear buns and pale pink, makeup-free eyes.

“What’s wrong? Hide from guests?”

He Yimo noticed her reaction and snapped out of his thoughts.

He gently pulled the board away, studying her face.

“Do I really look that scary?”

“No! No, no! Young Master He looks cool… like a villain in a story—ah! No! Very cheerful!”
She waved her hands frantically, stammering through every compliment she could muster.
But her racing heart betrayed her.

He Yimo maintained a polite, sunshine-bright smile.

Somehow, this only made Du Xiangwan more nervous.

“Th-that… Young Master He hasn’t specified… what kind of array you want?”

She hid behind her board again, peeking timidly.

Her gaze met his, and she immediately flushed, ducking her head.

So familiar… commissioning art feels like whack-a-mole…

He Yimo narrowed his eyes, clearing his throat.

“Come with me. I’ll show you what I want.”

“Ah…?”

Du Xiangwan blinked, confused why a commission required going outside.

But the purse he’d offered was too tempting. She meekly followed.

Head down, hugging her board, fingers fidgeting behind it.

Suddenly, He Yimo stopped short.

Du Xiangwan, lost in thought about the drawing, stumbled. Her board clattered to the ground. The impact squished her small chest against He Yimo’s back—beside her panda-ear buns.

“Ah—!”
“Sorry, sorry! I didn’t mean to…”

She flinched, looking up at him.

He Yimo turned back, suppressing a smirk. This trick never fails.

“It’s alright, Senior Sister Du. Please come a bit closer.”

“Huh?” Her head tilted.

“If you don’t come closer, how can you see the commission details?”

He stood at the top of the spiral staircase.
Du Xiangwan hesitated, then inched forward.

“Closer.”
“Ah… y-yeah…”
“Even closer.”

“—Kyaa!”
Seeing her hesitation, He Yimo grabbed her silk-stockinged wrist, pulling her flush against him.

“Eeeeek!”
Her face flushed crimson, her voice trembling like a chipmunk’s.

Like a socially anxious person encountering a boundary-smashing Northerner for the first time—trembling, clueless about what comes next.
Before she could speak, he took her hand, pointing down the stairs.

There stood Mo Yuyan, arms crossed, eyes closed, awaiting something.

“S-Senior Sister Mo?”

Du Xiangwan froze in astonishment.

He Yimo snapped his fingers with a smile.

“That’s right. Senior Sister Mo… could you paint a beautiful sketch of her for me?”

“Huh?”

The bizarre request made her forget the awkward proximity. Her panda head rested on the railing, blinking in confusion.

He Yimo was exasperated. At every turn, she radiated this furtive vibe.

He’d pulled her to the staircase’s edge, yet she still clung to the railing like a thief peeking down at Mo Yuyan.

“B-but… you gave me so much money…”
“Not for some complex array… just for a meaningless sketch of Senior Sister Mo?”

After a long silence, Du Xiangwan turned, looking up at him incredulously.

This time, the close proximity didn’t faze her.

“Meaningless? Only arrays have meaning? Art is meaning!”

He Yimo suddenly struck a pose, lecturing like a passionate battle shonen protagonist.
Du Xiangwan jumped, feeling a wave of shame. Compared to him, she felt like a fake artist.

“S-sorry! Art is meaningful! It captures life’s beautiful moments… that’s what I always believed too…”
“There you go! Someday, I’ll take you to Soot-Stained Peak. Senior Sister Mo can pose, and you’ll just paint her.”

He smiled, deeply satisfied.
But just as she nodded obediently, he added:
“By the way… can you make it a bit… lewd?”
“Huh…?”

She blinked, doubting her ears.
Then, her panda head straightened suddenly.

He Yimo felt a chill behind him—like Frost-Humming Sword was at his throat. He quickly waved his hands.
“Never mind! Forget I said it. My standards aren’t high. Just shorten her skirt in the painting, make her stockings shinier… add some artistic touches, that’s all.”
“Oh! Oh, right! Now I get it, Young Master He!”

Their eyes locked. Du Xiangwan clutched her board, suddenly earnest.
For a moment, He Yimo underestimated the girls of Fallen Immortal.

If Yun Jin could be a master of innuendo despite her innocence, couldn’t Du Xiangwan be a seemingly pure otaku with hidden depths?

“You really understand?”
He Yimo’s gaze turned probing.

Stared at like that, Du Xiangwan realized how scandalous their topic was.

“I… I know exactly how to paint it!”
She nodded vigorously, her eyes determined, pledging allegiance to the Imperial Alliance.

Just as He Yimo remained skeptical, Du Xiangwan tiptoed, leaning in.

“Actually… I remember Senior Immortal Mo’s face and figure… so even if we don’t go to Soot-Stained Peak… I can paint it based on your description of the pose and outfit…” she whispered.

“Damn! A lewd art sage?!”

He Yimo’s eyes widened in reverence, as if staring at a living deity.

“For real?!”
“Of course!”
After several rounds of discussion, Du Xiangwan seemed less anxious.

The little girl stood tall with hands on hips, her chin lifted, lips pursed in a smile—years of meeting a customer who shared her niche kinks at last!
Their eyes locked. He Yimo took a deep breath, nodding with respect.

“Then let me ask you… what if I want a painting of her… naked?”
He leaned in, shielding his mouth with his hand, whispering into her ear.

“T-this is a bit much…”
Du Xiangwan blushed, unsure how to respond.

But just as she wrestled with her conscience, her gaze fixed on a figure approaching behind He Yimo—

“Eek—!!!!”

“Then tell me! What if I want an immortal kneeling on a bed, legs parted seductively, one hand slowly slipping off her high heels?”

“Young Master He!!! P-please, stop saying such things!!!!”

Hall of Celestial Balance, Main Chamber

As the white-haired immortal placed a stone on the Go board, instruments throughout the hall chimed in harmony.
Called “Celestial Master” by the fox-eared girl below her, she wielded extraordinary authority.

“So… an individual named He Yimo killed the Child of Prophecy.”
“His actions defy prophecy itself, undetectable by the astrolabe. This led to the deaths of Gu Wanglan and Chen Jianxin, as originally planned…”

“Coincidentally, whether the Nine-Colored Deer or the Innate Sword Saint Physique—they were all inherited by He Yimo, this ‘undefined existence’…”
The white-haired immortal spoke calmly, not raising her eyes from the chaotic board before her.
Click!

Another heavy stone fell, making the floor tremble—a sign of celestial wrath.
Below, the fox-eared girl narrowed her seductive eyes in confusion.

They had completed the organization’s mission, yet the Celestial Master’s fury was palpable.

“Celestial Master,” Jiang Jinyou spoke up. “Was your true intent never to execute Chen Jianxin?”

The hall fell silent. The white-haired immortal on the dais didn’t look up, her gaze fixed on the board—a faint, scornful smile touching her lips.