Immortal Paladin

135 Blushes and Bewilderment

The first thing Lu Gao felt was the warm sway of something beneath him, rocking gently like a cradle. His eyes cracked open to a world painted gold… dunes stretching far in all directions, glittering under the merciless sun. Above him fluttered a canopy of silk dyed orange and crimson, shielding him from the harsh light.

He blinked, dazed. The last thing he remembered was screaming at the top of his lungs, purple flames, and… a contract with a skull?

“Oh, you woke up.”

A melodic voice greeted him, and Lu Gao turned his head groggily. A woman leaned over him, elegant, poised, and dressed in fine desert robes that clung like water to her figure. She wore translucent silks embroidered with golden thread, a veil tied loosely around her neck instead of over her face. Her almond eyes sparkled with mischief, and her smile promised both danger and delight.

Lu Gao’s throat dried all over again.

There were more of them. Four, maybe five other women lounged nearby atop the giant sand beast… an enormous creature with scales like polished amber and a thick, slow-moving tail that left deep trails in the dunes. The caravan was traveling through the desert at a casual pace, pulled by the beast’s plodding gait and surrounded by sleek wagons filled with ornate goods.

“Oh my heavens,” another woman whispered playfully, brushing hair from his face, “You got the look of a lost puppy.”

Lu Gao scrambled to sit up, heart pounding. The silk cushions under him rustled as he tried to move without touching anyone, which proved impossible. An arm grazed him. Then a soft thigh. Then a brush of a hip.

“I… uh… I’m sorry. I didn’t…”

“Easy there,” the first woman cooed, her fingers brushing his shoulder. “You’ve been asleep for two days. We thought you might not wake up at all.” She giggled and added, “But now that you have, perhaps you can repay us properly?”

Her voice dripped with teasing. A lock of her hair bounced against her cheek as she leaned forward, and Lu Gao’s eyes darted away, only for them to catch a flash of side boob glancing his knuckles.

“W-We’re moving?” he stammered, eyes wide.

“We just arrived,” she said with a wink. “Perfect timing. We’re entering the gates of the City of Healing Garden as we speak.”

Behind her, the sandstone walls of a desert city came into view: high and ancient, like they’d grown from the earth itself. Pillars flanked the arched gates, adorned with banners fluttering in the hot breeze. Watchtowers stood tall with guards peering down, their armor reflecting sunlight like bronze mirrors.

Lu Gao’s heart was racing. His dream, his nightmare, with Mistress Aili Si, the demon, the contract… was it all real?

He lifted his arm. His veins shimmered faintly beneath his skin with a purple hue, as if fire still burned in his blood.

“Still shaken?” one of the women asked softly, pressing a clay cup into his hand. “Drink. It’s sweetwater with lotus honey.”

Lu Gao accepted it with trembling fingers, taking a small sip. Coolness spread across his tongue. The sweetness made his eyes water.

“Aww, she’s blushing again,” one of the girls teased, leaning in close enough for Lu Gao to smell jasmine oil in her hair.

“I… I’m not used to this!” he blurted, voice cracking. “Wait a sec… she?”

"You’re just too cute," one of the women said, leaning close with a teasing grin. “And with such a mature body, too. You must be killing all the girls back home, sister.”

Lu Gao froze.

…Sister?

He turned to look at her, lips parting to say something, anything… but his voice caught in his throat. Slowly, cautiously, as if fearing the truth, he looked down at his hands.

They were slender. Smooth. Feminine.

“…No,” he whispered, raising them further into the light. His fingers trembled as he rotated them, stared at his wrists, his arms, until finally, finally, he looked down at his chest.

His eye twitched.

“…No.”

Soft.

Definitely not muscle.

Definitely not his.

Lu Gao slapped his hands over his chest and screamed internally.

“That fucking skull!” he hissed under his breath, face twisting in a mix of betrayal and horror. “I knew he was planning something. I knew it!”

The women around him didn’t notice the growing storm inside his soul. No, they were too busy giggling and gossiping, practically treating him like a new favorite doll.

Before Lu Gao could launch into a full-blown existential crisis, a voice barked from one of the wagons ahead.

“We’re here!” called one of the guards, a short woman in sand-colored armor, her long hair tied back and half her face covered with a scarf. “City of the Healing Garden! Get your things ready!”

Lu Gao peeked past the canopy. Through the heat-haze shimmer, he saw it: a city carved from rose-tinted stone, surrounded by lush greenery that had no right to exist in the desert. Water flowed in carefully sculpted aqueducts between buildings. Statues of serene figures stood watch at the gates. Even the air here felt cooler, infused with mist and the faint scent of lotus flowers.

The wagon rocked as the caravan slowed, sand shifting beneath the beast’s feet. Lu Gao gripped the side for balance as another figure stepped up beside the cart. She was tall, tanned, and weathered like worn leather. A scar ran from her cheek to her ear, and her eyes held the calm weight of someone who’d seen far too much.

“I’ll escort you lot until Purple Blossom,” she said, voice raspy. “After that, you’re someone else’s problem.”

“Much appreciated, Sister Jin,” one of the women replied cheerfully, waving.

As the beast stopped, a pair of delicate hands wrapped around Lu Gao’s own. He flinched, his skin still felt too wrong, but didn’t pull away.

“You’ve got a great figure,” the woman said, her voice low and sultry. “With a bit of training, you could be a real heart-stealer in Purple Blossom.”

Lu Gao blinked. “P-Purple Blossom?”

“It’s a pleasure house,” she said with a wink. “But we don’t just sell our bodies, darling… we sell poetry, dance, art, fantasy. You’ve got the kind of mystery that rich nobles love.”

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Lu Gao paled.

He tried to say I’m a man, but all that came out was a high-pitched squeak. His own voice betrayed him.

He wasn’t sure what was worse anymore: the fact he had been cursed into a woman’s body by that damned skull, or the fact that, in some twisted way… he did have the kind of grace they were looking for.

“I’m going to kill that skull,” he muttered under his breath.

And from somewhere, he swore, he heard distant laughter echo in the wind.

A few days had passed since Lu Gao arrived in the City of the Healing Garden, and each one had been a special kind of torment.

Not the kind where sand scoured your skin or your throat cracked from thirst. No, this was psychological. Slow. Humiliating.

He sat at the edge of a lotus pond in the Purple Blossom’s inner courtyard, dressed in flowing silks and clutching a tray with trembling hands. The fragrant scent of incense curled in the air, drifting over murals of dancing immortals and perfumed courtesans.

Lu Gao wore makeup.

He’d lost count of how many times he’d cursed his life in the past three days.

The worst part?

He was in debt.

"Apparently, that medicine we gave you wasn't cheap, sweetheart," one of the matriarchs of the house had said with a silky tone and a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. "We couldn’t just leave you rotting on the back of the sand beast, could we? We're a house of beauty and healing, after all."

And so, Lu Gao… one of Da Wei’s disciples, wielder of powerful arts, cultivator of considerable standing… was now a waitress.

Not a courtesan.

He’d made that absolutely clear.

The first time someone even suggested it, he’d nearly smashed a vase and tried to bolt through the window in his borrowed dress.

"If I ever become a courtesan, I’ll wish myself dead," Lu Gao had muttered, clutching a broom with shaking hands as if it were a weapon. “I’m a warrior, damn it!”

It was… embarrassing. The skirts. The soft shoes. The daily etiquette lessons from a retired dancer who insisted his walk lacked grace. And worse, much worse, was how his body still refused to revert.

He had tried meditating. Circulating his qi. Slapping himself. Screaming into pillows.

His cultivation kept sputtering like a broken artifact… one moment present, the next flickering into nothing. No breakthroughs, no clarity, no strength to break whatever curse had been laid upon him.

And the Skull? The one responsible for all this?

Nowhere to be found.

That damnable floating skull, so proud and boastful before, had vanished the moment the contract was sealed. Not a whisper, not a smirk, not a mocking laugh.

“I swear… if I ever see him again…” Lu Gao muttered as he placed cups of flower tea before three noble ladies who were far too interested in ‘her’ hips swaying when she walked away.

He returned to the kitchen and slammed the tray on the counter, nearly upending a pot of lotus stew.

"Careful, darling. You're not paid enough to break things," said Mei Xue, one of the older courtesans, her eyes lined with kohl as she lazily sipped tea in the corner. “You know, if you just embraced it a little more, you'd have enough admirers to buy back your freedom in a week.”

“I’d rather sell my soul to a demon,” Lu Gao grumbled.

"You already did, didn’t you?" she chuckled.

Lu Gao stiffened. Technically, she was not wrong.

“...Tch.”

At night, in the privacy of the small room they’d given him, filled with floral cushions and perfume he didn’t ask for, he would stare at the mirror, willing his face to become familiar again. His fingers would clutch at the edges of his robe, and he’d whisper:

“Just hold on. Master will find me… or I’ll find him. I won’t stay like this. I refuse.”

But the mirror only showed the soft curves and sad eyes of someone caught in a joke they didn’t understand, wearing clothes that never fit their soul.

It had been a terrible ordeal.

And it wasn’t over yet.

While Lu Gao did long to see his Master again, if only to complain, beg, and possibly throw a sandal at him, he also knew deep in his shriveling, bitter heart that being found here, of all places, would be the absolute end of him.

Not even Da Wei’s strange sense of humor could salvage it.

He imagined it now… his Master walking into Purple Blossom, smirking while sipping tea, seeing him dolled up in makeup and serving fruit slices. Lu Gao could already hear the jokes.

“Is that you, Lu Gao?” Da Wei would say, pretending not to laugh. “I didn’t know my disciple had such… potential.”

That thought alone was enough to push Lu Gao toward insanity.

“I have to get out of here,” he muttered, sitting cross-legged on a balcony overlooking the bustling bazaar. “Maybe hunting beast cores... If I sell a few mid-grade ones, I can pay the debt, buy some real clothes, and…” He paused, looking down at his hands. “…figure out what the hell this body even is anymore.”

It wasn’t a great plan, but it was a plan.

Until the next morning came, and with it, chaos.

“Lu Ling!” called one of the senior hostesses.

Lu Gao winced. That damned alias again...

“Yes, I’m here,” he replied flatly, descending from the upper floor while fixing the sash of his pale violet robe.

He was met at the inner hall by Madam Yun, the house matriarch, who stood dressed in her formal layers, every pin and comb in place like a general readying for war.

“We’ve received a writ,” she announced, waving a golden document with the seal of a blooming flower encircled by three swords. “A client under direct patronage of Her Majesty the Queen of the Promised Dunes.”

That got everyone’s attention.

The chatter stopped. A fan dropped. One of the courtesans gasped.

Lu Gao, who was planning to sneak out that night, felt his stomach twist. “That’s... not just nobility,” he whispered to himself. “That’s royalty.”

“A VVIP,” said Madam Yun, eyes sweeping across them all. “He has requested our finest. Everyone is to be present. Everyone will receive three times their daily pay, plus a bonus if selected for individual attendance.”

Lu Gao opened his mouth. Closed it. Then hesitantly raised a hand.

“Yes?” Madam Yun asked, already bracing herself.

“Does this include me?” Lu Gao asked with the caution of a man poking a spirit beast with a stick.

“You’ve been resting on our coin, drinking our medicine, and wearing our robes,” she replied sweetly. “Yes, dear. Especially you.”

He wanted to scream, but the words three times the pay echoed in his head like divine scripture.

He bowed instead. “Understood, Matriarch.”

—

Later, after being forcefully bathed, powdered, perfumed, and shoved into a new outfit with sheer sleeves and a silken sash that clung a little too well to his waist, Lu Gao stood stiffly among the rows of beauties.

They were strategically arranged across the reception hall… by skin tone, height, even the way their hair caught the candlelight. He was placed near the center, somewhere between “exotic elegance” and “mysterious and quiet.”

“Smile more,” one of the girls beside him whispered. “You’ll draw more attention.”

“I don’t want attention,” he hissed.

She giggled. “That’s what makes you so charming.”

Lu Gao glared at the wide bronze doors at the end of the chamber, already dreading whoever stepped through them. If his Master walked in right now, he'd fake a coma on the spot. If the Skull returned, he’d strangle him with a hair ribbon.

And if this VVIP turned out to be a total creep?

Well…

He’d smile, pour some tea, and pray no one recognized him before he regained his cultivation.

The air in the grand hall was thick with perfumes and expectation. Long silk banners swayed gently overhead while incense burned from dragon-mouthed censers. Lu Gao stood among the painted blossoms of Purple Blossom Pavilion, a reluctant flower in full bloom.

His eye twitched.

Then came the announcement.

“Presenting the honored guests, holders of the Queen’s Writ!” declared Jin, the scar-faced mercenary woman who had escorted them through the dunes. Today, she wore formal clothes: sturdy, ceremonial armor laced with royal purple and copper-thread embroidery. Even she had been made to look presentable, like a bronze statue freshly polished and given a courtly sheen.

Lu Gao’s eyes narrowed as she opened the great doors.

In stepped an elderly man, hunched but regal, with a large war fan slung over his back. His face was carved by the desert winds, every wrinkle a scar of war and time. His eyes, however, were sharp. Calculating.

Lu Gao blinked. “That man… I’ve seen him before.” But no matter how hard he tried, the name danced just out of reach in his mind.

Then he came.

Emerald jade robes. Black hair. A calm, unbothered walk as if the world belonged to him and no one had told him otherwise. He bore no weapons, only a killer smile that would have made any lady weak in their legs.

His smile was suave. Effortless.

Lu Gao’s heart dropped into his stomach.

“What the fuck?!”

He hiccupped, accidentally drawing the attention of the sister behind him.

“Shhh!” she hissed, elbowing him gently in the ribs. “Look pretty! You’re up front, idiot!”

Lu Gao straightened his spine on instinct, but his soul had already fled. His jaw clenched. Sweat beaded on his brow despite the cool air of the pavilion.

His Master… Da Wei the Unpredictable, Da Wei the Eccentric, Da Wei the Why-Is-He-Here-Of-All-Places… was strolling through the lines of women like a tourist admiring silk paintings.

As Da Wei passed, courtesans offered playful glances, graceful bows, and subtle fans of their sleeves.

“My Lord looks tired. Would you like a shoulder to lean on?” cooed one.

“I have a song prepared just for someone with your eyes,” said another.

Da Wei smiled at them all with practiced ease, nodding kindly, offering the faintest compliments in return.

“Oh no,” Lu Gao whispered, praying he would go unnoticed. “Keep walking. Don’t look. Just go. Please, go.”

But Da Wei paused.

His gaze swept toward the central arrangement of hostesses.

And his eyes fell directly on Lu Gao.

There was a moment… brief, silent, but immense… where student and master locked eyes.

Da Wei’s eyebrow lifted.

Lu Gao’s soul died.

“Hmm,” Da Wei murmured aloud, tapping his chin theatrically. “Now this one looks familiar…”

Lu Gao smiled.

It was the kind of smile one gave before being executed.

The sister behind him whispered, “He noticed you! Lucky!”

“Lucky my ass,” Lu Gao screamed in his heart. “If I die here, bury me face-down so I don’t have to look at him ever again!”