Shameless Immortal: Emperor of Ten Thousand Beauties

The silence at the gates was absolute, a vacuum created by the sheer impossibility of the sight before them. It lasted only a heartbeat before the dam broke, and a torrent of whispers flooded the courtyard like a rushing tide.

"Is that truly Li Qiu? The wife of that demonic monster?" one merchant whispered, his eyes wide with a mix of fear and disbelief.

"Look at her... she doesn’t look like a prisoner at all," a noblewoman from a minor clan murmured, fanning herself rapidly to hide her trembling lips.

"She looks composed. Reborn. How is it possible for someone to find such grace after their world has turned to ash?"

An elderly cultivator in the crowd, a man who had seen decades of clan warfare, shook his head in genuine awe. His voice was thick with reverence as he addressed those around him.

"As expected of the Golden Paragon of the Silver Moon. He didn’t just stop at giving the innocent survivors a roof, he has given the wife of that bastard Peng Kai a reason to hold her head up again. To grant such a position of trust to the kin of his enemy... he truly is a holy saint walking among us."

"Indeed," another added, watching as Li Qiu adjusted the ledger with a calm, focused grace.

"She is no longer a remnant of a fallen house to be spat upon by the mobs. She is now a person of the Golden Paragon. Who would dare insult her now and risk his wrath? His mercy is as vast as the heavens."

Shen Yu heard it all. Behind his mask of serene, saintly indifference, he felt a surge of cold satisfaction.

The seed of his "holiness" was sprouting exactly as planned, taking root in the very hearts of the people who would later serve as his footstools. He didn’t need to speak, the public was writing his legend for him, painting his every calculated move with the brush of divinity.

"Welcome, welcome! A thousand welcomes!" a familiar, booming voice broke through the chatter.

The Wu Clan Elder who had delivered the invitation hurried down the marble steps, his face glowing with a mix of relief and genuine hospitality.

He bowed lower than protocol strictly required, his spine bending in acknowledgment of the sheer power radiating from the group.

"Matriarch Tang, Young Master Tang! We are honored by your presence," the Elder said, his eyes lingering for a fraction of a second on Li Qiu with visible shock before he professionally masked it.

"The City Lord has been eagerly awaiting your arrival. Please, allow me to escort you personally."

As they were led through the towering obsidian doors, the true scale of the event became clear. The Great Hall of the Wu Manor was a sea of shifting silk, shimmering jewelry, and the intoxicating aroma of spirit-wine.

Small and middle-level clans rubbed shoulders with the city’s most influential merchant guilds, their representatives clutching wine cups and talking in hushed, urgent tones.

Renowned rogue cultivators, men who usually disdained the politics of clans, stood in the shadows with their arms crossed, their sharp gazes scanning the room with newfound caution.

Every head turned as Shen Yu’s group entered. The atmosphere shifted instantly, laughter died mid-breath, and a path opened naturally before them as if the crowd were nothing more than grass parting for a predator.

At the far end of the grand hall, seated upon a throne of masterfully carved spirit-jade, sat the City Lord, Wu Shan. He was a man who seemed to be forged from mountain granite, stern, imposing, and radiating the thick, suffocating pressure of an Early-stage Nascent Soul expert.

As the Tang Clan entourage approached, Wu Shan rose to his feet. While his royal bloodline and superior cultivation gave him an inherent sense of loftiness, he was a master of statecraft.

He knew that politics was a game of logic and rational calculation, not unchecked ego. To ignore the rising sun of the Tang Clan would be a tactical error; therefore, he greeted them with a practiced, diplomatic enthusiasm.

"Matriarch Tang," the City Lord began, his voice carrying the low, resonant rumble of distant thunder. "First, I must offer my sincerest apologies for the lapse in security that allowed such a cowardly attack upon your estate. It is a shadow upon my administration."

"Second, I offer my heartfelt congratulations; to see you not only recovered but standing with such renewed vigor is a testament to your resilience."

His sharp, grey eyes then pivoted toward Shen Yu. They narrowed into thin slits, attempting to pierce through the "saintly" shroud that veiled the young man’s soul, searching for the true depth of the power hidden beneath.

"And you... Young Master Tang. The ’Golden Paragon,’" Wu Shan continued, his tone carrying a weighted curiosity.

"The tales of your heroism and your... extraordinary mercy... have reached even my inner chambers. I must admit, seeing you in person, your presence is far more profound and enigmatic than the rumors ever suggested."

Shen Yu offered a perfect, humble bow, a masterclass in poise that displayed impeccable respect without yielding a single inch of his own burgeoning authority. He stood before the Nascent Soul expert not as a subordinate, but as a sovereign force cloaked in modesty.

"The City Lord overpraises this junior," Shen Yu replied. His voice was calm and crystalline, echoing through the cavernous hall with the steady resonance of a temple bell.

"I simply acted as any person of conscience would. Peace is the bedrock of prosperity, and I consider myself merely a humble servant of that peace. If my actions have helped steady the foundations of this city, then that is reward enough for me."

The City Lord’s eyes twinkled with a mix of appraisal and genuine amusement.

"Hahaha! Well said, Young Master Tang! Truly well said!" Wu Shan’s laughter boomed, breaking the tension that had gripped the room.

"A heart that seeks no reward is often the one that deserves it most. Come, let us not waste the evening on formalities. Sit, and enjoy the banquet that has been prepared in your honor."

With a sweeping gesture of his silken sleeve, the City Lord personally led them toward the head table, a position of prestige that placed the Tang Clan at the very heart of the city’s power. As they walked, the eyes of every merchant, elder, and cultivator followed them.