Let’s not dwell on whether the female marquis intends to defy authority. At this moment, Xue Ying is at the most luxurious club in Yunmengze, the kind where money is thrown around without a second thought. Before arriving, she exchanged all sorts of suggestive glances, hinting at things that could be said—or not. Once inside, it was a full suite of massages and spa treatments. What, you ask about special services? This is a legitimate entertainment venue; absolutely none of that here, okay?
Downstairs, the air is filled with music and laughter, with many cultivators lingering, unable to tear themselves away. In their words, this isn’t indulgence in sensual pleasures—it’s the heavens’ consideration for them, the first step in tempering their Daoist hearts.
*Clearly, your thoughts are just too filthy.*
Inside the private room, it’s quiet. Xue Ying sits by the window, gazing at the vast lake and mountains outside. The room is elegantly simple, with the soft strains of a silver zither playing. Cangwu lounges lazily on the table, smoking intermittently, looking as if he hasn’t fully woken up, his expression drowsy.
“Senior,” Xue Ying calls again when he doesn’t respond.
Cangwu remains half-dead until a knock sounds at the door. Instantly, he straightens up, beckoning the person inside. With a smile, he tells Xue Ying, “The signature minced-noodle dish here is a must-try. It’d be a shame to visit Heaven on Earth without tasting it.”
*Not an illusion—the zither behind the screen misses several notes.*
The steaming bowl of minced noodles arrives, but more captivating than the dish is the person serving it. Her eyes shimmer like autumn waters, brimming with unspoken words. Her cherry lips part softly as she murmurs, “Guest…”
Cangwu props his chin on his hand, pondering for a moment before turning to Xue Ying. “Want some soy milk?”
“Salty.”
“Tsk. One sweet, one salty.”
And just like that, the courtesan is sent out again, resigned to grinding soybeans.
Seizing the moment, Cangwu strikes up a conversation. “There’s been quite a bit of chaos in the demon realm lately.”
He sets down his pipe. “Just got the rabbits back under control, and now the chicken coop next door is wide open.”
He doesn’t expect Xue Ying to understand, musing to himself before leaning in to ask, “Why do you want to become a Sword Immortal?”
Xue Ying hesitates over Cangwu’s sweet soy milk but decides to ignore it, answering earnestly, “To be the best in the world.”
The Sword Immortal is the strongest—she wants to be the strongest.
To Xue Ying, this reason is perfectly valid, yet Cangwu bursts into laughter, nearly choking. Ignoring her protests, he ruffles her messy hair, coaxing and teasing her.
“There’s a fugitive loose in the demon realm—the mastermind behind the upheaval in the four realms back then. Even your master lost to her. I’m tied up at the moment. Interested?”
Xue Ying’s eyes immediately light up. “Yes!”
“Good.” Cangwu is pleased. He pulls out a handful of spirit stones from his sleeve and instructs Xue Ying to stay overnight at Heaven on Earth.
*Eat, drink, and… well, the latter two aren’t encouraged.*
According to Cangwu, the fugitive has a taste for fine food and lavish attire. By staying at Heaven on Earth, Xue Ying can lie in wait and capture her. Though the method might seem unorthodox, the outcome would still lead to a thrilling battle. After feasting to her heart’s content, Xue Ying slaps the bed enthusiastically. “Little sister, are you sleepy?”
Courtesan: *Get out! I sell art, not my body!*
Regardless of the courtesan’s feelings, Xue Ying is the one who’s paid for her time.
After the lights go out, the courtesan lies on the cold floor, regretting her earlier refusal. After some hesitation, she speaks coyly, “Guest… I’m feeling a bit cold.”
Xue Ying tugs her blanket tighter, drawing from her vast experience. “Then drink more hot water.”
Courtesan: “…”
*Are you a sword cultivator or what?*
Days pass without Xue Ying returning. Upon learning she’s been indulging at Heaven on Earth, Du Yizhou’s killing intent flares. He storms over with his disciples in tow, only to find Xue Ying squatting on the doorstep, casually holding a large bowl as she praises the courtesan. “Little sister, your cooking keeps getting better.”
The courtesan, worn out from days of Xue Ying’s antics, looks haggard, as if she’s forgotten she’s supposed to be an ethereal beauty untouched by menial labor and instead embraced her role as a humble minced-noodle vendor.
Du Yizhou exhales slightly in relief, dragging Xue Ying inside and shutting the door on the nosy disciples. “What’s going on with you?” he demands.
Xue Ying doesn’t hide anything, recounting Cangwu’s instructions. Du Yizhou’s expression darkens.
“It’s the Demonic Phoenix.”
As Du Yizhou explains, no one knows her real name—she’s simply called the Demonic Phoenix. A monstrous being of unparalleled evil, her origins and motives are unknown. The moment she appeared, she wreaked havoc, inciting the upheaval in the four realms. It took the combined efforts of the sect master, Cangwu, and Yuhengzi to subdue and imprison her beneath a nameless volcano in the demon realm. Now, she’s escaped.
“Why would the valley master send you alone?” Du Yizhou disapproves. The martial competition isn’t even over yet, and she’s already being sent to capture a fugitive. First, it disrespects the tournament. Second, what if she gets hurt?
*Three elders had to join forces to suppress that demon. How could Xue Ying possibly handle her alone?*
“The finals are still a while away,” Xue Ying says. “And Senior Cangwu said she’s strong.”
She doesn’t get to finish before Du Yizhou lectures her for half an hour. Finally, he rubs his stomach. “Got anything to eat?”
Xue Ying nods, calling out to the courtesan. “Little sister, a bowl of minced noodles, please. And some soy milk—my senior brother likes it sweet.”
The courtesan, looking even more dead inside: “…”
Under Du Yizhou’s insistence, he books the room next to Xue Ying’s, claiming he’ll help stake out the Demonic Phoenix. Without explaining to his disciples, rumors quickly spread. By the time it reaches Lin Jiu Jiu’s ears, it’s twisted into: *Senior Sister Xue Ying is indulging in pleasure and won’t listen to reason, so Senior Brother Du joined her instead.*
*If you can’t beat them, join them—how tragically human.*
The courtesan is thrilled by Du Yizhou’s arrival. *Look at that face, that waist—who’s taking advantage of whom in bed?* After some backdoor dealings with her sisters, she sashays into Du Yizhou’s room in sheer gauze, batting her lashes. “Taoist Master… I’m so cold.”
Du Yizhou unsheathes his sword, his expression frosty. “Put on more clothes.”
*She’s not a Taichu Sect disciple—why should he care?*
Courtesan: “…”
*You’re not a sword cultivator either?!*
On Du Yizhou’s second day, a group of stunningly wealthy individuals arrives at Heaven on Earth. Dressed in red robes and feathered garments, their faces like peach blossoms and lips like cinnabar, they outshine even the courtesans. Most importantly, they spend lavishly.
*Like a pack of walking moneybags.*
But wealthy patrons are common here. The only oddity is an entire family visiting a brothel—hardly worth raising eyebrows over.
Xue Ying leans over the railing to watch the commotion. Before long, a shout rings out from below. “Xue Ying! Get your ass down here!”
Peering down, she sees Ao Fugui, the man whose wife ran away, leading a small army to capture her.
Xue Ying is about to engage when Du Yizhou stops her, pointing downward.
In that short time, Ao Fugui has redirected his fury—toward the group in red.
*Or perhaps it’s destiny, the fated rivalry between sworn enemies.*
Ao Fugui abandons his earlier rage over his wife, flicking open a fan to launch a verbal assault. “If it isn’t the lofty Phoenix Clan. Finally crawled down from your bird nests to strut around like common chickens?”
Feng Yuemian, the leader of the group, can’t stay seated. His striking face twists with malice. “And who do we have here? The loser of the last battle. Need me to remind you how the Dragon Clan was driven out of the demon realm?”
*Few words are needed between enemies.* In moments, tensions escalate. Du Yizhou crosses his arms, explaining to Xue Ying, “The Dragon and Phoenix Clans are ancient lineages vying for the title of Demon Emperor. Their feud devastated the demon realm. Eventually, Valley Master Cangwu allied with the Phoenix Clan to expel the dragons. Both sides suffered heavy losses—the phoenixes retreated to recuperate, while the dragons settled in the Eastern Sea, withdrawing from worldly affairs.”
Du Yizhou scoffs at this history. *Two fools fighting to mutual ruin, only for Cangwu’s Taigu Valley to reap the benefits.* Outwardly, they’re mighty demon clans—in truth, just a pair of idiots.
*Why couldn’t they learn from the Taichu Sect and Taixuan Gate? Split into two factions, feign infighting, and dominate the Daoist realm together.*
*Taixuan Gate for sword cultivators, Taichu Sect for spellcasters. (Unless you’re into hybrid cultivation—then no one cares.)*
By the time Du Yizhou finishes, the two groups are already trading insults as they move outside. Xue Ying’s fingers itch with excitement, tugging Du Yizhou along to watch.
Unlike ordinary cultivator brawls, the dragon-phoenix clash is primal—talons shredding scales, roars clashing with cries, plasma cannons versus sonic attacks. A free, 3D fantasy spectacle.
Ao Fugui loses. The battlefield is littered with charred seafood, his dragon form half-cooked in midair, scales torn and horns shattered. The phoenixes aren’t faring much better—Feng Yuemian’s face is a bloody mess, bone visible beneath.
Finally, Ao Fugui snarls, “Just you wait. I’m calling my dad.”
With that, he flees into the horizon, abandoning even his own subordinates.
The onlookers murmur but don’t intervene. *Better them than me—or as the saying goes, ‘Not my clan, not my problem.’*
*If you’re eager for a family reunion in the afterlife, try being a double agent for dragons and phoenixes. Guaranteed a spectacular demise.*
As the crowd disperses, Feng Yuemian’s expression is dark. Repeated attempts to heal his wounds fail—the lingering dragon qi resists.
*Impressive for a juvenile dragon.*
He turns to his followers, clutching his face. “Any news on the Demonic Phoenix?”
“None, my king. The trail’s gone cold. With the martial competition in Yunmengze, the crowds make it impossible to track her aura.”
Another suggests, “My king, I have a plan. The Demonic Phoenix is gluttonous and lazy. We could set a trap with delicacies to lure her in.”
This sparks debate. “I vote for braised noodles!”
“Nonsense! Dan dan noodles are our tradition!”
“The Demonic Phoenix always craves minced noodles. That’s the way to go!”
The argument escalates—ingredients, techniques, presentation. “Chewy noodles, rich broth, spicy and tangy—minced noodles are the best!”
“Minced noodles aren’t even native to the old capital! You traitor, just like the Demonic Phoenix! *Peck him!*”
“*Cluck-cluck!*”
Feng Yuemian stands silently before picking up a piece of seafood. *This shrimp’s good—just needs soy sauce.*
“All valid points,” he says after swallowing. “Split up and stake out the city gates. Report any sightings immediately. And *get a food permit first.*”
“Yes, my king!”
With the plan set, Feng Yuemian absentmindedly touches the feather in his pocket, his gaze determined. *With this, the Phoenix Clan will endure.*
*Wait—where’s the family treasure?!*
After a frantic search, Feng Yuemian stands in just his underwear, face ashen. *Gone.*
*We’re doomed…*
On the way back, Xue Ying gathers a handful of phoenix feathers. Du Yizhou wrinkles his nose. “Throw those away.”
*Who knows if the phoenixes will come demanding them back?*
Xue Ying counts the feathers—plucked from the forest, picked up along the road. “Su Yu gave me a feather before. I thought I’d return the favor.”
With no better gift in mind, she crafts a shuttlecock from the feathers, making several. She even offers one to the courtesan who helped.
Xue Ying distributes them to everyone she knows. When Lin Jiu Jiu receives hers, she nearly hyperventilates.
“Senior Sister…”
*These are phoenix feathers—not chicken plumes, and certainly not shuttlecock material!*
Remembering Lin Jiu Jiu’s fondness for trinkets, Xue Ying pulls out the remaining feathers. “I saved the best one for you.”
Lin Jiu Jiu spots the phoenix feather among them, her hands trembling as she picks it up. Sloppily split and glued back together, the still-wet paste gives way—the other half drops onto the table.
*Her heart shatters.*
Worse, Xue Ying adds, “These feathers are tricky. I ruined a few before getting it right.”
Lin Jiu Jiu gasps. “*Ruined how many?*”
“Five or six? Don’t worry—I tossed the practice ones. Only the best for you.”
Lin Jiu Jiu: *Where’s the trash can?!*
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