Shameless Immortal: Emperor of Ten Thousand Beauties

Shen Yu strolled through the bustling, wide thoroughfares of Crimson Iron City.

The air here was vastly different from the Thousand Waves City, it was heavy with the scent of burning charcoal, ozone from active arrays, and the distinct, metallic tang of iron smelting.

Weapon smithies and artifact shops lined every street, their chimneys belching thin plumes of dark smoke into the reddish sky.

After wandering through the commercial district for a short while, his gaze caught a multi-storied wooden structure tucked away from the chaotic main road.

A hanging banner made of spiritual silk swayed gently near the entrance, embroidered with the characters for the "Crimson Iron Teahouse."

Stepping over the threshold, Shen Yu scanned the room. The first floor was relatively crowded, filled with mercenary squads, independent rogue cultivators, and local merchants, all sitting around low tables.

He climbed the stairs to the second floor, choosing a secluded corner table near a window that provided an unobstructed view of the street below, while still placing him within earshot of the room's center.

A young waiter, sensing the subtly leaked, heavy pressure radiating from Shen Yu's slender, green-haired form, rushed over with a deep bow, his forehead sweating.

"Senior, welcome! What can this humble servant get for you?"

"A pot of your finest, freshly brewed spiritual tea," Shen Yu replied, his voice carrying a slightly detached, smooth tone entirely different from Shen Yu's native, dominant baritone.

"Right away, Senior!" the waiter squeaked, bowing frantically before scurrying off.

While Shen Yu waited for his beverage, he leaned back against the wooden chair, resting his chin on his knuckles.

Though he had a comprehensive master plan mapped out for the conquest of Crimson Iron City, he knew that paper strategies were useless without real-time intelligence.

He needed to grasp the actual, shifting currents of the city, the hidden friction between local powers, recent resource discoveries, or political vulnerabilities.

Closing his eyes slightly, he activated a minor sensory-enhancing technique, letting his consciousness expand subtly across the second floor.

The ambient chatter of the cultivators around him, previously a jumble of background noise, began to separate into distinct, clear threads of information as they discussed the current, volatile situation gripping the city.

"Have you heard?" a scarred rogue cultivator at a nearby table lowered his voice, leaning in toward his companions.

"The price of low-tier Blood-Replenishing Pills and Iron-Skin Elixirs has spiked by another twenty percent this week. The mining districts are bleeding out cash just trying to keep the labor force alive."

"It's ridiculous," his partner groaned, slamming a heavy earthenware cup onto the table.

"This is a mining city, for heaven's sake! Our underground veins are overflowing with crimson iron and raw spiritual ores, but what good is mineral wealth when the miners are dropping dead from spiritual iron-dust poisoning?"

"We have the materials, but we don't have the medicine. Every independent furnace in the outer ring is backed up for months. The local alchemists just can't keep up with the demand of the deeper excavation sites."

"And it's only going to get worse," a third man chimed in, shaking his head. "The Golden Cauldron Merchant Union tried to intervene to stabilize the market, but their latest gamble completely blew up in their faces. I heard Lady Bai Ruolan failed again last night."

The mention of the name caused a ripple of murmurs to pass through the surrounding tables.

"Lady Bai Ruolan? The chief alchemist of the Golden Cauldron Merchant Union? Again?"

"Aye. She shut herself in the refining chambers for three whole days, trying to merge the local crimson-iron ore essence with Wood-attributed spiritual herbs to create a unique Tier 3 pill, the Iron-Cleansing Hearth Pill."

"If she succeeded, it would completely immunize the miners against the underground toxins and unlock the deepest, richest veins. But the elemental clash between the harsh, volatile metal fire and the fragile wood herbs was too unstable."

"The cauldron detonated, destroying thousands of spiritual stones worth of rare ingredients. That's her third consecutive failure this month."

Listening from his secluded corner, Shen Yu's lips curled into a slow, thoroughly amused smirk. Behind his masked gaze, his mind clicked the pieces together perfectly.

He didn't need to ask who she was, he had already thoroughly memorized her profile before leaving Thousand Waves City. Mu Ruolan, the proud, exceptionally talented, yet currently desperate alchemy master of the Golden Cauldron Merchant Union.

She was the exact piece he needed to wedge his influence into the city's economic throat.

Right on cue, the trembling waiter returned, carefully placing a steaming jade pot and a single cup on the table.

"Y-Your tea, Senior. Freshly brewed Cloud-Mist Spiritual Leaf."

"Leave it," Shen Yu murmured smoothly.

He poured the pale green liquid into the cup. A fragrant, revitalizing steam rose into the air. Lifting the cup to his lips, he took a slow, quiet sip.

The high-purity spiritual energy of the tea washed down his throat, instantly dissolving the lingering physical fatigue of his continuous, two-day sprint through the harsh terrain of the Mist Cloud Forest.

He took his time, savoring the fragrant warmth of the tea as it worked through his meridians, finalizing the ruthless sequence of his next move.

Once the jade pot was completely empty, Shen Yu casually tossed a low-grade spiritual stone onto the table, an amount that vastly overpaid the humble bill, and stood up without a word. His slender, green-haired form glided effortlessly down the wooden stairs, stepping back out into the chaotic, iron-scented streets of the city.

Activating the Phantom Void Mirage Step, his presence seamlessly dissolved into the bustling crowd, turning him into nothing more than a passing whisper amidst the heavy traffic of the thoroughfare.

Moving with a fluid, predatory grace, he walked directly toward the massive, multi-tiered pavilion anchoring the commercial district: the headquarters of the Golden Cauldron Merchant Union.

He smiled darkly beneath his disguise. It was time to pay a little visit to the great, currently desperate alchemist, Bai Ruolan.