Shameless Immortal: Emperor of Ten Thousand Beauties

The transition from the stale, dead air of the underground ruin to the surface was jarring.

Shen Yu clawed his way out of the hidden fissure, his fingernails digging into the wet moss. He pulled himself up, gasping as the humid, verdant air of the Mist Cloud Forest rushed into his lungs. It tasted of pine needles, rain, and life, a stark contrast to the copper scent of blood he was used to.

He pulled his torso over the ledge and rolled onto the soft earth. The climb had been fifty meters of sheer, slippery rock, a feat that would have left an ordinary scholar gasping for air and trembling with fatigue.

But Shen Yu’s breathing settled instantly. His heart rate slowed to a calm, rhythmic thud within seconds.

He stood up, brushing the grave-dirt from his sodden robes, and flexed his hands.

’Solid,’ he thought, a satisfied smirk curling his lips.

The memories flowed through his mind, explaining the resilience. He saw the years of the original Shen Yu waking up before dawn. He saw the miles run with weighted sandbags tied to his legs. He felt the phantom burn of thousands of spear thrusts practiced in the courtyard of the Jade Lotus Herb Hall.

The boy had known he couldn’t cultivate Qi, so he had obsessively tempered his flesh, refusing to be weak even if he was destined to be mortal.

"You prepared this vessel well," Xu murmured, acknowledging the lingering will of the original soul. "You forged the iron; now I will infuse the magic."

He tilted his head back, looking at the sky.

It was night, three moons hung high in the obsidian sky. One large and pale white, flanked by two smaller satellites, one violet, one crimson. They filtered through the dense canopy of ancient ironwood trees, casting a kaleidoscope of eerie, dappled shadows on the forest floor. 𝐟𝗿𝐞𝚎𝚠𝐞𝚋𝕟𝐨𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝕔𝕠𝚖

Xu froze. His golden eyes narrowed.

"Three moons..." he whispered.

In his second life, in the world where he became the Blood-Hand Grandmaster, there had been only one moon.

"I didn’t just move bodies," he realized, a shiver running down his spine that had nothing to do with the cold. "I moved worlds. This is a different plane entirely."

This realization didn’t bring fear; it brought relief. No old enemies. No sects that knew him. A fresh board for him to dominate.

He closed his eyes, inhaling the cold night air to steady his racing heart.

Thousand Waves City. The location surfaced from Shen Yu’s memories like a map unfurling in his mind. It was one hundred li to the South, the home of Mei Yilan and his fiancée, Mei Lixue.

When his eyes snapped open, they didn’t just reflect the light; they pierced the darkness with a golden, predatory luminosity.

He didn’t look back. He simply began to walk.

He was still on the outskirts of the forest, the danger relatively low, but he did not get careless. Though his meridians were broken and his Dantian punctured, the muscle memory of a four-hundred-year-old combat veteran remained etched into his soul.

He moved like a phantom. His breathing synced with the rustling of the wind. His footsteps rolled from heel to toe, silent on the damp leaves. He was a tiger hiding in the skin of a lamb.

After an hour of silent trekking, he emerged onto a beaten dirt path, the Old Trade Road.

The journey had been unnervingly quiet. He hadn’t encountered a single wild animal, let alone a Spirit Beast. For a danger zone like the Mist Cloud Forest, such emptiness was usually a bad omen, a sign that a high-level beast was nearby, scaring everything else into hiding.

Shen Yu paused, his golden eyes scanning the dense, dark undergrowth.

’Suspicious,’ he thought. ’But the air is calm.’

Even though he was now trapped in a mortal boy’s broken body, the survival instincts of the Blood-Hand Grandmaster remained sharp. If there were killing intent directed at him, he would have felt the phantom prickle on the back of his neck.

Sensing no immediate danger, he trusted his gut and stepped onto the road.

The path was wide, packed down by centuries of wagon wheels. Bordering the dirt were ancient, moss-covered stones etched with fading Repelling Runes, a crude, low-grade formation, but enough to keep the weaker beasts at bay.

’Better to walk in the open,’ he decided. ’The beasts here fear the road more than the brush.’

He adjusted his pace, adopting the weary, limping gait of a refugee, just in case he was spotted. The Primordial Yin-Yang Scripture within him was dormant, but the hunger was growing. His body felt heavy, his limbs leaden. He needed fuel.

Two hours later, the rhythmic thunder of heavy hooves shattered the silence of the ancient road.

Shen Yu stepped onto the grassy shoulder, pulling his hood low to shadow his face. He made himself small, projecting the aura of a frightened traveler avoiding the path of the strong.

A carriage swept past him. It was a mobile fortress crafted from ancient Black-Iron Wood, its surface etched with defensive arrays that pulsed with a low, menacing hum. It radiated an undeniable aura of wealth and untouchable power. Shen Yu expected it to thunder past; high-level cultivators rarely stopped to acknowledge ants on the roadside.

But then, the air grew heavy.

A cold, invasive pressure swept over his body.

Spirit Sense.

It didn’t just scan him; it violated him. It washed over him like a bucket of ice water, stripping away his privacy, tasting his skin, and probing his very bones. It lingered on his face beneath the hood, possessive and arrogant.

’A Golden Core Cultivator,’ Shen Yu realized, his muscles tensing instinctively even as he kept his posture slumped. ’And a powerful one.’

With a deep, resonant groan of Black-Iron Wood and the aggressive snort of spirit beasts, the carriage didn’t just pass—it claimed the space. It ground to a halt twenty meters ahead, carving a wide, arrogant arc through the dirt to sever his path.

Shen Yu’s gaze locked onto the driver’s bench.

Anchored deep within his soul, bypassing his fractured dantian entirely, the Primordial Yin-Yang Scripture stirred. It wasn’t a roar, but a distinct, greedy pulse, a hunger acknowledging a source of Yin Qi.

The driver hopped down, landing with a silent, heavy thud. She was a stunning contrast to the gloom of the forest, a warrior in her prime, moving with the casual, explosive grace of a hunting leopard. Her skin was a rich, sun-kissed bronze, glowing with the vibrant, heat-radiating vitality of a woman who lived by the blade rather than the needle.

She wore tight-fitting indigo martial robes that left little to the imagination. The fabric strained against a chest that was firm and high, defying gravity with proud arrogance. As she landed, the high split in her skirt fluttered, revealing powerful, sinewy thighs capable of crushing a man’s skull.

She carried an aura sharp enough to cut skin. Her eyes were cold, assessing him not as a man, but as potential prey.

’Middle-Stage Foundation Establishment,’ Shen Yu noted, his eyes narrowing in the shadows. ’A high-quality guard dog. Spicy.’

The driver ignored him completely, turning instead to the carriage door. Her demeanor shifted instantly from arrogance to absolute servitude. She bowed low, gripping the handle.

"Mistress."

The door clicked open.

A scent drifted out, not of the forest, but of rare orchids and blood.

A single leg stepped out first.

It was long, shapely, and milky white, a shocking brightness against the gloom of the woods. A crimson robe, dark as fresh arterial blood, was slit dangerously high, riding up that porcelain thigh to tease the shadow of what lay above.

The foot touched the dirt. A red-soled shoe, embroidered with gold thread.

Shen Yu watched, his breath held in his chest, as the owner of that leg slowly descended. The air temperature dropped ten degrees. The birds in the forest went silent.

She didn’t just step out of the carriage; she descended upon the world. And even before he saw her face, Shen Yu felt the weight of her gaze land squarely on him.