Chapter 55

Ling Qingxiao’s fingers were cool, carrying a crisp chill like fresh snow. Luo Han stared, momentarily dazed.
She wasn’t wearing a veil today, and her lips—naturally rosy, their shape finely sculpted—looked as though they had been meticulously painted. Against them, Ling Qingxiao’s pale fingers stood out starkly, like white snow resting on red plum blossoms.
He had acted on instinct, silencing her the moment he saw movement. Only now did he realize that sound from inside the private room wouldn’t carry outside—Luo Han speaking wouldn’t have mattered.
His fingers brushed against her lips—warm, impossibly soft. Ling Qingxiao had never paid attention to his own lips before, but now, after feeling hers, he was struck by how delicate they were.
A sudden heat bloomed at the point of contact.
Doing his best to appear composed, Ling Qingxiao withdrew his hand. “Apologies. It was an impulsive mistake.”
“It’s fine,” Luo Han said quickly, eager to dispel the awkwardness. “Look, they’re leaving. Let’s go.”
“Alright.”
Tonight, the demon lord had arrived with a few subordinates to indulge in pleasure. Everyone here knew what they were after. After a few drinks, some of them were already eyeing the women, itching to drag one away.
But out of respect for their leader, they didn’t dare move first.
The demon lord was a burly man with a long scar running from his forehead down to the opposite side of his face, nearly splitting it in half. His presence was menacing, his gaze predatory as he scanned the stage, making the performers tremble under his scrutiny.
Then, after the sultry strip dance, he finally stood.
To everyone’s surprise, he didn’t choose one of the nearly bare dancers on stage but instead grabbed the lead feather dancer from the previous performance.
The woman in white startled, instinctively trying to pull away, but the scarred demon easily slung her over his shoulder and strode toward the upper floors.
This establishment’s second and third floors were lined with private rooms—what happened there went without saying.
No one dared stop him. The hall fell silent except for the faint sounds of the feather dancer’s struggle and the crude laughter of the demon subordinates.
Once their boss had left, his men no longer held back. They eagerly fanned out, each selecting a woman of their choice.
As the demons dispersed, normal chatter resumed in the hall. Two young hostesses working on the main floor huddled together, whispering complaints.
“I hate serving these demons the most. They’re so crude, and they have no sense of restraint. Last time, Sister Caiyue had to entertain a demon guest—she couldn’t get out of bed for three days afterward. When I went to check on her, she was covered in bruises.”
"Exactly! With them around, I don’t even dare to bring tea over. The guests from the Immortal Clan are much better—generous with their spirit stones and easy to talk to. Far more respectable than those from the Demon or Beast Clans."
"If they were truly respectable, would they be here?" another young demoness giggled. "I swear, you've read too many romance scrolls, always fantasizing about those aloof Immortal Lords. Think about it—if they were really high-ranking cultivators from the Immortal Realm, why would they set foot in a pleasure house? Even if they did, they’d never take someone with them. It's all just an act."
"Nonsense! I just saw a guest in one of the private rooms—he didn’t call for any companions. And he looked incredible, far more handsome than any of those storybook illustrations!"
"Really? Which room? I need to take a look for myself."
The young demoness playfully shoved her companion, laughing. "And you say you’re not interested? Clearly, you like those cold and untouchable Immortal Lords just as much as the rest of us. It's only natural—everyone is drawn to purity and radiance. The Beast Clan adores Immortal Lords, and the Demon Clan chases after Immortal Maidens. Even that terrifying demon just now—he still chose the feathered spirit girl who looked most like an immortal!"
Before she could finish speaking, the two demonesses, lost in their teasing, nearly collided with someone.
Startled, they quickly turned around—only to find themselves face-to-face with the very Immortal they had been whispering about.
Ling Qingxiao smoothly pulled Luo Han aside, nodding slightly. "Excuse us."
The two young demonesses were struck speechless. They stood frozen as the Immortals passed, unable to believe their eyes. Luo Han offered a reassuring smile to one of them, while Ling Qingxiao simply murmured, "Thank you," before leading her away without a second glance.
As soon as they disappeared down the hall, the two demonesses’ faces flushed red, and they nearly jumped with excitement.
"Was that really them? That Immortal actually smiled at me! I swear, I’ve never seen anyone so breathtaking in my life!"
"How do you know they were from the Immortal Clan?"
"Are you serious? Just look at them! Their faces, their aura—of course they are!"
Meanwhile, Luo Han and Ling Qingxiao left their private room, taking the most inconspicuous route as they moved swiftly in pursuit of the scarred man. As they ascended the stairs, Luo Han leaned in and whispered, "That scarred demon doesn’t seem easy to deal with. If we keep our focus on him, won’t we miss other targets?"
"The Demon Clan is extremely competitive when it comes to gaining merit. Their leaders never share crucial intelligence with lower ranks," Ling Qingxiao replied calmly. "He knows the most. The others, even combined, wouldn’t have as much valuable information. There’s no need to spread our efforts thin—we only need to follow him."
"Understood."
They ascended to the next floor, only to be met with a thick, intoxicating fragrance—an overwhelming scent of incense, laced with something even more decadent. The air was heavy with indulgence, filled with the remnants of pleasure.
They had only been a few steps behind, but somehow, the scarred demon had already vanished. Luo Han tensed. Lowering her voice, she asked, "Where did he go?"
Ling Qingxiao paused at the stairway, carefully scanning his surroundings before pointing toward a corridor. "This way."
Moving quickly, they followed the path, and soon enough, a dark figure came into view—a demon with a feathered spirit girl draped weakly over his arm. The girl looked delicate and terrified, her body trembling involuntarily.
Before they even reached a room, the demon could no longer contain himself. Right there in the hallway, he tore at the girl's clothing.
She let out a sharp cry, curling into herself, wrapping her arms protectively around her shoulders.
The commotion caught the attention of nearby guests, who hesitated and turned to look.
An older demoness, clearly the matron of the establishment, hurried over with a forced smile. "My lord, this young lady is still new. Please, have mercy. Though we are of the Beast Clan, we are still women. And here, in the hallway, with so many guests coming and going—perhaps it would be best to move inside…?"
The scarred demon clicked his tongue impatiently. With a swift motion, he drew his blade, pressing it against the matron’s throat.
She gasped, paling in fright. The surrounding guests also recoiled, scrambling to flee.
The fourth floor of the pleasure house was a dazzling display of red silk and golden lanterns, creating an illusion of timeless revelry. But in an instant, the mood shifted. The chaos on the balcony above sent ripples of alarm through the lower floors. Patrons drinking below glanced up, puzzled by the sudden commotion.
The matron, trembling, forced another smile and quickly apologized. It took everything to persuade the demon to lower his blade. But after that, she dared not intervene any further. She cast the feathered spirit girl a helpless look, silently telling her to fend for herself.
In the dim glow of red lanterns, the scarred demon caught a flicker of movement from the corner of his eye.
Years of living on the edge, licking blood from his blade, had sharpened his instincts to a razor’s edge. And now, they screamed at him—someone was lurking just around the corner.
He sheathed his weapon, but only partially. Narrowing his eyes, he slowly advanced toward the corridor.
Behind a carved pillar, Ling Qingxiao and Luo Han pressed against the wall. The sound of approaching footsteps sent a chill down Luo Han’s spine. Without realizing it, she clenched her fists.
They were on the fourth floor, with a grand, circular stage below and the fifth floor’s guests moving above. There were too many eyes on them. Even if they wanted to escape, flying out would be impossible.
To make things worse, neither of them were wearing masks. If the demon reached them, they’d be exposed—and possibly ruin everything.
Luo Han was already bracing herself for a direct confrontation when Ling Qingxiao suddenly turned to her.
Without hesitation, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close as he pushed open a door. With a swift flick of his sleeve, he slipped them inside, closing the door behind them in utter silence.
The room was already occupied.
Luo Han’s eyes widened, immediately pointing toward the back.
There were people here.
The effects of the Beast Clan’s pleasure incense were truly potent. Inside, a pair of entangled figures had already collapsed in exhaustion, completely unaware of the intrusion.
Ling Qingxiao moved his fingers slightly, sending a ripple of spiritual energy through the air. The heavy silk drapes around the bed quietly fell into place, enclosing the occupants.
From outside, no one would be able to see what lay beyond the thick curtains.
At that moment, the scarred demon reached the corridor outside.
He scanned the space, his brow furrowing. No one was there.
His expression darkened as he prowled back and forth, checking each corner.
Inside the room, Luo Han barely dared to breathe.
Ling Qingxiao must have taken the risk after hearing no movement from the room behind him. And he had gambled correctly—the owner of the room was already asleep. His movements were light as a feather, his landing silent, not disturbing the owner in the slightest.
Luo Han hid inside a room thick with the scent of hehuan incense. Behind her was an unfamiliar man and woman who had just finished their battle. Outside, the demons were searching for them. And in front of her—was Ling Qingxiao’s breathtakingly ethereal face.
She held her breath without realizing it. Just then, the footsteps outside grew closer, stopping right in front of their room.
Sensing danger, Ling Qingxiao immediately pushed Luo Han down onto the desk behind her. He pulled the jade hairpin from his head, letting his long hair cascade like a waterfall over his shoulders, partially veiling both Luo Han and half of his own face.
Almost at the same moment, the window let out a creak. The scar-faced man pushed it open slightly, his hawk-like eyes scanning the room.
Luo Han lay on her back on the desk, completely frozen. Ling Qingxiao was so close that in order to conceal her face with his hair, he had to press down further—their noses were practically touching.
Luo Han stared wide-eyed at the scene before her. The cold and elegant beauty before her had unbound hair, fragrant strands falling across her face. His face was nearly pressed against hers, their eyes locked, breaths mingling.
She saw with her own eyes that Ling Qingxiao’s ears turned red. His gaze flickered uneasily before finally settling on her earlobe, avoiding direct eye contact.
His lips moved, silently forming words: "Forgive the offense. Please endure for now."
The scar-faced man pushed the window open wider. A thick wave of hehuan incense hit him in the face. Judging by the intensity, it hadn’t just been lit. His sharp eyes swept the room, though the angle made it hard to see clearly. Inside, the furniture was overturned, the place in complete disarray. Through a sheer curtain, he could vaguely make out a man pressing a woman down against the desk—an intimate, dominating posture. Their robes were disheveled, trailing on the ground, their long hair in a chaotic mess, obscuring their faces.
Even with only their silhouettes visible, the man’s youthful figure was unmistakable. The scar-faced man smirked knowingly. Ah, young people. No wonder he was so reckless—wrecking the room, unable to even wait for the bed, directly using the desk instead.
The madam, noticing the delay, mustered her courage and approached. Seeing the scar-faced man standing outside a room, peering in, her heart pounded. She quickly put on a smile and stepped forward. "Lord Mo, what are you doing? The girls are still waiting for you at the front."
The scar-faced man had no interest in watching others enjoy themselves—he had his own desires to satisfy. Taking two steps back, he asked, "When was this room booked?"
"It was booked long ago. Master Liu brought a girl in about half an hour ago."
Hearing this, the scar-faced man completely relaxed. The timing matched the scene inside. The people in the room had entered before he did, and the madam had personally witnessed them. With all these factors considered, there was no way they had been following him.
Seems I was overthinking things.
Finding the situation uninteresting, the scar-faced man strode away. The madam hurriedly followed, fawning. "And what about Miss Yu…?"
"Send her to my room."
The madam was overjoyed. The demon realm didn’t concern itself with chastity; to them, sex was as natural as eating or drinking, nothing to be ashamed of. Had it been any other demon, the scar-faced man could have taken her right there in the hallway without issue. But the Feather Demon Clan was different.
Because they resembled the celestial race, they had also adopted some of their habits. Compared to the proper celestials of the Thirty-Six Heavens, Feather Demons were far more sensual and alluring. Yet among demons, they were still considered too reserved.
If the scar-faced man had chosen to take her by force tonight, the esteemed lead dancer of the Feather Demon Clan would likely be ruined. She had been painstakingly cultivated into a top attraction, and the madam wasn’t quite ready to lose her.
She quickly responded, "Ah, of course! Lord Mo, your room is 4-B, Third Wing…"
The voices outside gradually faded.
Luo Han remained sprawled on the desk, her waist suspended in the air, caught in an awkward position. She had no idea where to place her hands. Ling Qingxiao’s long hair draped over her ear, his hand resting near her shoulder. His sleeve had fallen over her wrist, partially covering her, leaving her entirely enveloped beneath him.
Even with no experience, Luo Han could tell this position wasn’t ideal. She turned her head slightly and gave a small cough. "He’s gone."
Ling Qingxiao, equally mortified, couldn’t meet her eyes. He immediately straightened and turned his back to her. "Apologies. The situation was urgent—I meant no offense."
"I know." Luo Han, finally regaining strength in her limbs, pushed herself up and took a deep breath. "It was an emergency. I understand."
Ling Qingxiao was about to respond when his sharp hearing picked up something—someone inside the bed curtains was stirring.
His expression changed instantly. There was no time to dwell on embarrassment—he turned swiftly and motioned for Luo Han to leave. But she hadn’t yet recovered fully, her movements sluggish. The person inside was already lifting the curtain.
With no time to think, Ling Qingxiao scooped Luo Han into his arms and, in one swift motion, pushed open the back window and leapt out.
The man in the bed groggily pulled back the curtain, rubbing his head. "Did I close this before I fell asleep? Huh? Why’s the back window open? No wonder it’s so cold—someone left the window open…"
Meanwhile, Ling Qingxiao glided soundlessly through the night, stepping lightly onto the window ledge before soaring across the rooftops. Despite holding someone in his arms, his movements remained impossibly graceful—like a startling swan in flight, swift and weightless.
Luo Han was cradled against him, her back completely unsupported. Instinctively fearing a fall, she clutched at his shoulder. "Where are we going?"
"To the scar-faced demon’s room."
"You know where he’s staying?"
"He said it himself before leaving— Room 4-B, Third Wing."
As he spoke, Ling Qingxiao landed on a railing, tapped the back window lightly with his fingertips, then flipped inside with practiced ease.
This sequence of actions was so smooth, so seamless, that it stunned Luo Han.
She couldn't help but murmur under her breath, "Isn't this a little too skilled...Could this be some sort of racial talent?"
Ling Qingxiao flew in from the outside along a straight path, arriving ahead of the scarred man. At this moment, the room was still empty. Once he landed, he quickly began searching for a suitable hiding spot, finally settling on a curtain.
The curtain was wedged between a pillar and a wardrobe, long enough to touch the ground, creating a small, enclosed space that was difficult to see from the outside. Moreover, it was close to the back window, so if anything unexpected happened, they could break the window and escape at any time.
Ling Qingxiao pushed Luo Han behind the curtain. Upon hearing her words, he helplessly replied, "What racial talent? Stop saying such things."
"If it's not racial talent, then is it just practice makes perfect?" Luo Han raised an eyebrow and asked in a low voice, "Look at how skilled you are at prying open doors, climbing through windows, and hiding. If I didn't know your background, I’d almost suspect you're just putting on a show and are actually a seasoned player in the romance game."
"No." Ling Qingxiao's expression was serious as he earnestly rebutted, "It's just basic movement techniques."
Luo Han had intended to tease him, but his earnest explanation made her feel too embarrassed to continue. If she kept going, she'd feel guilty for bullying an honest person.
After tidying up the area, Ling Qingxiao lowered the curtain. As it fell, the light dimmed significantly, and the two of them could hear even the sound of their own breathing.
Luo Han suddenly felt awkward. She stepped back, trying to increase the distance between them, but didn't notice the small step behind her. She tripped and almost fell. In the limited space between the curtains, she lost her balance and her head was about to collide with the wall. Just as it was about to happen, a hand reached out from behind her, steadying her between her head and the wall.
Ling Qingxiao’s arms encircled her, his long sleeves brushing over her. Luo Han found herself trapped in an enclosed space, surrounded by him. The dim light behind the curtain cast an intimate shadow over them, and he looked down at her, his captivating eyes soft yet intense. "Be careful."
Luo Han leaned against the wall, with him in front of her and his hand behind her. She had no idea where to put her hands. Finally, she cleared her throat and asked, "Why haven't they come yet? Are we sure we didn't enter the wrong room?"
"This is definitely Room 4-B," Ling Qingxiao frowned slightly and said, "Maybe they were delayed. Let’s wait a bit longer."
Unknowingly, as Ling Qingxiao thought seriously, his face grew more solemn, and his focused gaze was extremely alluring.
Luo Han quickly averted her eyes, trying to shrink herself a little, and asked, "So...what should we do once they arrive?"
"I read about a secret technique in ancient texts, called Dream Heart Pull," Ling Qingxiao said, clearing his throat awkwardly after speaking, "This technique has been lost for a long time, and not many people know about it. You only need to perform Dream Heart Pull when a person's guard is down. It can control their mind for a short time, allowing you to ask them anything, and they won’t lie. Once the technique ends, the person will just think they had a dream, with no suspicion afterward."
Luo Han understood right away—it was the celestial version of truth serum. She thought about it for a moment, and something felt off: "When you say 'when their guard is down,' does that mean what I think it means?"
Ling Qingxiao's face visibly turned awkward, "…Yes."
Luo Han clicked her tongue and looked at him with a newfound perspective: "You really hide it well. Who would've thought you know something like this."
"I read about it in books. It wasn't something I was specifically looking for."
"Then how come I can't find these kinds of books?" Luo Han teased him on purpose. "You said the library only contains official texts, with nothing like the seductive demons or other evil sects. Why, then, does it have Dream Heart Pull?"
"It wasn't in the library," Ling Qingxiao knew she was teasing him but had no way to counter her. "When you read a lot, you inevitably come across these things."
Luo Han was taken aback by the close call. She was about to say something when suddenly Ling Qingxiao reached up and pressed his hand over her lips. "Shh, they're coming."
Luo Han immediately fell silent. After a moment, footsteps were heard outside, and suddenly the door was forcefully pushed open. Luo Han finally understood why the scarred man had taken so long—he had brought two women with him.
Tsk tsk, the Demon Realm was indeed very open-minded. Just moments ago in the corridor, there was only one woman, but now, in the blink of an eye, he was with two.
Fortunately, the scarred man didn’t seem interested in flirting and went straight to the point. Luo Han was debating whether to block out the sound for a moment when she suddenly saw Ling Qingxiao raise his hand and cover her ears.
Luo Han looked up at him in surprise. Ling Qingxiao was completely calm, gesturing to her to look at the communication token.
This token was issued by the Heavenly Army, with top-tier secrecy. It didn’t emit any energy fluctuations, so even if used at close range, no one would notice. Luo Han looked down at the message, where Ling Qingxiao had written: "Don't listen to anything improper."
Luo Han, grinding her teeth, replied without hesitation: "Business is business, and private matters are private. Please separate them, and don't let it interfere with my mission."
Ling Qingxiao had no choice but to free one hand to reply: "I will use Dream Heart Pull at the right moment. Don’t worry about the mission."
"You can listen, but I can't?"
"I’m not listening."
Luo Han was unusually angry: "How do you know when he reaches that point if you’re not listening?"
Before Ling Qingxiao could reply, the women's moans outside abruptly stopped, and the two, who had been arguing about who would keep watch, were suddenly shocked.
Luo Han instinctively read his lips: "So soon?"
Ling Qingxiao understood her lip movements and shot her a glare.
What was she even saying? Who says "so soon" about this kind of thing?
Though he, too, thought it was a bit...quick.