The wind in the Silent Valley didn't just blow; it bit. It gnawed at exposed skin like thousands of invisible, icy ants, seeking to freeze the blood within the veins.
"Huff... huff..."
Li Chen stumbled, his aged foot catching on a protruding root. He slammed into the harsh, rocky earth, the taste of iron filling his mouth. He spat, and the saliva was thick with bright red blood.
He was dying.
It wasn't a philosophical realisation or a vague fear. It was a cold fact.
Li Chen, the Patriarch of the prestigious Li Family, a powerhouse at the peak of the Foundation Building realm, was crawling through the dirt like a common dog.
His long hair, once a dignified silver mane that commanded respect in the mortal cities, was now matted with mud and dried gore, hanging in ragged clumps around his withered face.
How did it come to this?
He clutched his lower abdomen. There, where his dantian—the seat of his power—resided a throbbing agony radiated outward. It felt as though shattered glass was grinding inside his gut with every breath.
"Wang Yu..." he rasped, the name tasting like bile. "You ungrateful... treacherous... cur."
He had ventured into the Silent Valley, a forbidden zone teeming with beasts, for one reason: survival. His lifespan was reaching its limit.
One hundred and fifty years. That was the ceiling for a Foundation Building cultivator. He had felt the cold embrace of old age creeping up his spine, the stiffness in his joints, the dimming of his spirit.
He needed to break through. He needed to form his Golden Core.
He had found the perfect spiritual vein. He had the pills. He had the accumulation of a lifetime. He was _so close_.
A single push was all that remained to condense his liquid spiritual energy into a solid, immortal core.
And in that critical moment of vulnerability, his most trusted disciple, the orphan he had raised like a son, had struck him from behind.
"Master, your time is over. The Li family needs a young leader, not a dying old man. Your resources... I will put them to better use."
The strike hadn't killed him, but it had cracked his dantian. His cultivation was leaking out like water from a smashed jar.
He had burned his blood essence to escape, fleeing deep into the valley, but the scent of his leaking spiritual energy had attracted predators.
Snap. Crunch.
Li Chen froze. Behind him, from the shadows of the twisted trees, three pairs of glowing green eyes emerged.
Netherclaw Wolves.
They were massive, standing as tall as a man at the shoulder, their fur the color of dried blood. They were mid-stage Foundation Building beasts. In his prime, Li Chen could have slaughtered them with a wave of his sleeve.
Now? They looked like reapers sent by the King of Hell.
"Get back!" Li Chen roared, trying to summon his Qi.
But instead of a surge of power, a sharp pain lanced through his gut. He fell to his knees, coughing violently.
The lead wolf snarled, a low, vibrating sound that rattled Li Chen's ribs. It stepped closer, drool dripping from jaws capable of snapping steel swords.
"Is this it?" Li Chen looked up at the grey, overcast sky. "To escape the death of old age, only to become excrement for a beast? Is this my Dao?"
He closed his eyes, his heart filled with bitter resignation. He waited for the tearing of flesh. He waited for the end.
But the bite never came.
Instead, the wind shifted. A strange scent drifted past his nose—not the rot of the forest or the musk of the wolves, but something faint... something clean?
Li Chen opened his eyes. His gaze drifted past the wolves, up the treacherous incline of the cliff face he had been backed against.
There, at the very peak of the jagged mountain, defying all logic and architectural sense, stood a building.
It was a three-story structure, pristine and elegant, standing stark against the gloom of the Silent Valley. It didn't look like a fortress or a cave dwelling. It looked... civilized. Warm light spilled from its windows, piercing the eternal fog of the valley.
Li Chen blinked, rubbing his blood-crusted eyes. Was he hallucinating?
"Who dares?" he whispered, his voice hoarse. "Who dares to build such a residence in the heart of the Silent Valley?"
The implications hit him like a lightning bolt.
The Silent Valley was a death trap for anyone under the Nascent soul realm. Even Core Formation experts treaded lightly here. To build a house? To live here openly, with lights blazing?
That required power. Absolute, tyrannical power.
A spark of hope ignited in the ashes of his despair.
An expert. It must be a secluded expert. A Nascent Soul master? Or perhaps even higher?
If he could reach them... if he could beg for asylum...
"If they help me," Li Chen thought, his knuckles whitening as he gripped a jagged rock, "my Li family will be eternally thankful. I will offer the entire treasury. I will offer my servitude."
The lead wolf lunged.
Li Chen didn't fight back. He threw himself backward, rolling down a small ravine to his left, narrowly avoiding the snapping jaws.
He hit the bottom with a bone-jarring thud, but the adrenaline of hope dulled the pain.
He scrambled up the rocky path leading toward the peak. It was a suicidal climb for a man in his condition, but the alternative was being eaten alive.
"Running prey is tastier!" the wolf seemed to mock him with its howl.
Li Chen clawed his way up, his fingernails tearing, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
He could hear the claws of the wolves scraping against the stone behind him. They were toying with him, enjoying the hunt.
Ten minutes. It felt like ten years.
He crested the final ridge and collapsed onto a flat, paved plateau.
He wheezed, rolling onto his back, expecting the wolves to pounce. He squeezed his eyes shut.
Nothing.
Silence.
Li Chen cracked one eye open.
The three Netherclaw Wolves were standing at the edge of the plateau, their hackles raised.
They were growling, pacing back and forth, but they refused to step onto the paved stone.
They looked terrified. They whimpered, tails tucking between their legs, and then turned and fled back into the darkness of the woods.
Li Chen let out a shuddering breath. "They... they fear this place."
It confirmed his theory. A supreme expert lived here. The mere aura of this place deterred Foundation Building monsters.
He dragged his broken body upright, dusting off his ruined robes. He had to look presentable. He had to show respect.
He turned toward the building. Up close, it was even more bizarre. The architecture was unlike anything in the Great Zhou Empire. It had large, clear glass windows—glass so pure it looked like solidified water.
Above the grand double doors hung a wooden sign. The calligraphy was bold, fluid, and contained a strange, enchanting intent.
Li Chen squinted, reading the characters.
[The Pleasure House]
Li Chen froze. His jaw went slack.
"...A brothel?"
He rubbed his eyes again. He read it again.
[The Pleasure House]
"I... what?"
He looked around the desolate, monster-infested peak. He looked back at the sign.
Confusion warred with his awe. Was this some sort of demonic trap? A Succubus's lair? Or was this an expert with a very... eccentric sense of humor?
But the safety was real. The wolves were gone. His dantian throbbed, a sharp reminder that he had no time for moralizing. Trap or not, brothel or temple, it was the only shelter he had.
"Please... let the master of this house be merciful," he prayed silently.
He stepped forward. His hand trembled as he reached for the handle.
Before he could touch it, the door swung inward smoothly.
Ding-Dong.
A melodic, mechanical chime echoed, a sound Li Chen had never heard before.
Warmth rushed out to meet him. It wasn't just heat; it was a wave of pure, rich spiritual energy mixed with the scent of jasmine and something sweet and intoxicating.
Just breathing it in made the pain in his gut subside by a fraction.
He stepped across the threshold, his dirty boots staining the pristine floor.
The interior was brightly lit by strange, glowing orbs on the ceiling. There were tables, soft chairs, and a counter that looked like it was made of black jade.
But Li Chen saw none of that.
His eyes were glued to the figure standing behind the counter.
She looked up as he entered.
Li Chen had lived for a century and a half. He had seen the princesses of the Imperial Court, the saintesses of the righteous sects, and the seductresses of the demonic clans. He thought he knew what beauty was.
He was wrong.
The woman before him wore a robe of pale lavender that seemed to shimmer like moonlight.
It was modest yet scandalous, hinting at curves that defied the heavens. Her skin was like white jade, flawless and glowing with vitality. Her eyes were deep pools that seemed to contain the mysteries of the stars.
She smiled at him.
It was a simple, professional smile, but to Li Chen, it felt like the sun breaking through a storm.
"Welcome," she said, her voice like a melodious zither.
Li Chen's breath caught in his throat. His mouth hung open, his words of greeting dying on his tongue.
He stood there, a bloodied, muddy, dying old man, staring wide-eyed at the mad woman who ran a brothel at the edge of the world.
For a moment, he forgot his cracked dantian. He forgot the traitorous disciple. He even forgot he was dying.
All he could think was: Is this an goddess?