The wake of scandal swept through the Outer Disciple quarters like incense smoke pushed by a sudden breeze—soft, persistent, impossible to ignore. Whispers trailed Li Wei wherever he went: the kiss. The slap. The strange defensive technique that looked scandalous and worked like a charm. The name he would never admit aloud yet could not stop thinking of—Perverted Immortal—seemed to hover behind his back like a curious shadow.
Morning sunlight spilled into the training hall as if the world itself were trying to act innocent. Li Wei arrived with his cheek still tinged pale from Xue Lian's slap and his heart a mess of wired electricity. The elder's decree hung heavy on him: one week of supervised training under Master Han, no social privileges, public apology the next morning. The words were punishment, but they also meant a schedule—and for Li Wei, a schedule was an opportunity.
He had to be careful now; attention could be dangerous. But the system was an even stranger danger, one that rewarded risqué audacity. It didn't punish him for being shameless—it amplified it. The first rule of surviving a perverted system, Li Wei thought as he bowed to Master Han: use its logic. Learn its rhythm. Then step on every rhythm and dance.
Master Han's training yard was an open expanse of stone and earth, ringed by pines and low roofs. The elder moved with slow, precise economy; his voice, when it cut through the crisp air, was like a whetstone sharpening each disciple's resolve.
"Qi is a river," Master Han said, hands folded behind his back. "The fool damns it. The wise channels it. Beginners listen; fools show off. We are not here for show."
Li Wei listened. He listened well because the system insisted on responsiveness. The tiny blue orb hovering at the corner of his vision—visible only to him—flickered with each phrase, translating rules into opportunities.
[Daily Notice]
Host: Li Wei
Status: Audacious Heart (Rank D)
Week Assignment: Intensive Training with Master Han (7 days).
Primary Objective: Raise base Qi by 15% via sanctioned training.
Secondary Objectives:
• Complete at least two Charm Quests without being publicly reprimanded.
• Practice Heavenly Groping Hand in combat under supervision.
Li Wei's grin was quiet but wide. Sanctioned training—perfect cover for exploration.
The first day became rhythm: breathing, postures, and the tiny, intimate instruction Master Han gave about the pulse points that anchored a cultivator's body. The exercises were basic—microcirculation, small flame breathing, palm-circles that concatenated inner streams—but in the intervals between drills, Li Wei found ways to twist them into something the system adored.
At midday, Master Han grouped the outer disciples for paired practice. Pairings were random, but fate—or the system—seemed to have an odd sense of humor. When Li Wei's name echoed, Mei Ling's hand found his sleeve before they could move away from each other. Her cheeks were still tender with the embarrassment of previous nights; she moved like water softened by sunlight. The proximity was a promise the system had already logged.
"Work on synchronizing breath," Master Han instructed. "Two by two. Focus on matching pulse and movement."
Li Wei and Mei Ling sat facing each other, palms almost touching on the mat between them. The teacher's words were a metronome; their breaths sank into cadence. For the first two cycles, Li Wei concentrated on technique—the microcosmic orbit, the clockwise and counterclockwise channels. The Qi that rose felt different from ordinary cultivation: warm, liquidity like honey melting on the tongue. He let it hum along the outer lines of his hands, watching Mei Ling's pupils dilate as the warmth met her own center.
A single, soft smile from her was enough. The system chimed.
[Side Quest Triggered: Comfort Mei Ling — Initiate a consensual contact to stabilize her recovery.]
Options: hand-hold / forehead touch / gentle kiss.
Reward: +50 Qi; Playful Dao (+10 Charm).
Li Wei's brain performed a tiny, efficient calculation: risk low, reward high, sanctionable if obvious. He chose the second option—forehead contact. It was intimate and plausible as medicinal comfort. He leaned forward, resting his forehead gently against hers.
Their breaths collided—warm, small. The world shrunk to the width of their collars. For a suspended second the system's rawness melted into something else: Mei Ling's quiet trust. Li Wei felt something like a protective tenderness fold over him, and the system rewarded with a clean sweep of Qi that threaded into his microcosmic orbit.
She drew back slightly, cheeks washed in peach light. The look she gave him was not the wide, startled one of the night before; it was softer, threaded with something else—curiosity, a small blossoming affection. Around them, a few senior disciples glanced his way. Xue Lian was not among them; she prowled the perimeter like winter herself.
The day slid on and Li Wei kept pressing against the edges of instruction. In blocking drills, he adapted the Heavenly Groping Hand into a defensive cushion. When a burly trainee—Bo Feng—charged deliberately, Li Wei met him with a hollowed palm that bloomed with qi like a padded pillow. Bo Feng collapsed on his backside, more embarrassed than hurt. There were laughs; there were those small, grudging nods from others who could see technique, not the humor behind it.
Master Han's eyes, however, never quite laughed.
"Technique that repels and wields charm is dangerous if left to a rash student," he murmured later, eyes narrowed. "The Dao is not merely for the body's pleasure. It is law and ladder."
Li Wei stored the words. He needed Master Han satisfied; suspicion was not something a perverted system tolerated for long.
Evenings in the dorms were the actual laboratory. The curfew was strict, and the rule forbidding intimate exchanges had been stated plainly by Elder Ji. But the system loved creative compliance. Secret, soft moments could be framed as recuperative exercises. Li Wei learned wording like a magician learning his illusions.
On the second night, Mei Ling found him practicing breathwork beneath a willow while the moon carved silver shadows across the ground. Instead of reporting him, she asked to sit by his side. For the next hour their breaths braided together; the exchange was slow, respectful, and—according to the system—thick with possibility.
"You're different from the tales," Mei Ling whispered once, voice trembling. "Li Wei… in those stories, the protagonist is bold in ways we fear. But you—you are kind, sometimes."
Kindness? The label softened something inside of him Li Wei hadn't expected. The system rewarded sincerity as well as shamelessness; an honest action—however small—seemed to yield a denser, cleaner Qi. Mei Ling's shy fingers entwined with his on the mat, and this time, when their lips brushed in a quick, accidental peck intended to steady their breathing, the system roared approval.
[Dual Cultivation Attempt Initiated.]
Outcome: Gentle Exchange Completed.
Reward: +300 Qi, Yin Affinity +10, Temporary Charm Surge +20 (1 hour).
Warning: Note visible to elders may increase; concealment recommended.
The reward pushed Li Wei into dizzy vertigo. Three hundred Qi in one delicate action was more than several days of honest training. The system's calculus was obvious: intimacy accelerated the Dao in ways ordinary practice could not.
And with every gain, attention tightened.
On the third morning, the courtyard hummed with murmurs and the edge of accusation. Elder Ji's presence had become more than ceremonial; his hawkish gaze swept over the outer disciples as if measuring the weight of their offenses. Xue Lian closed her mouth into a colder line each time she met Li Wei's eyes; it was a look that said she was watching, and not merely with anger.
"You have one week," Master Han had warned earlier, speaking privately as Li Wei cleaned his training sword. "Mastery of technique requires discipline and humility. You will do both. Or the consequences will not be for me to bear."
Li Wei nodded and bowed, lips pressed in a line. He felt the echo of his past life—the easy arrogance, the stupid, half-formed plans—shave against the harder edge of necessity. If the system gave him power through intimacy, he would temper the exposure with cunning. The name Perverted Immortal could be leveraged into legend—if he kept the elders' ire from reaching a furnace.
The week's middle days turned into a covert choreography of lessons and small transgressions. He learned how to make a healer think that forehead touches sped recovery. He learned which senior disciples were soft to a compliment and which would report him at once. He learned that Xue Lian—icy, unreadable Xue Lian—had habits and small weaknesses: she tied her braid in a special knot to steady her focus during cultivation, and no one seemed to know how to undo or retie it properly. He learned these things by observation, by carefully orchestrated accidents like a soft breeze that plucked at her braid during sword forms, necessitating a quick, illusion-protected reach from him to help.
That reach earned a reprimand from Xue Lian and a blush that almost split her exterior though she would never admit it.
Halfway through the week, Master Han announced a new exercise: a sparring demonstration for all outer disciples. It was not a tournament, but a display intended to measure quick judgment in combat. Participants would be judged not only on strength but on creativity under pressure. Each outer disciple would face a random senior disciple for a short bout.
When Li Wei's name was called, he felt the blue orb vibrate in anticipation.
[Event Triggered: Training Display]
Objective: Demonstrate Heavenly Groping Hand in a regulated bout.
Bonus Objective: Achieve a non-lethal subdual using charm-technique variation.
Reward: +150 Qi if successful; increased notoriety if creative.
His opponent was not an obvious brute; she was a willowy senior with a reputation for speed and precision—Lan Yue, who moved like a ripple and struck like a sharp reed. Li Wei's plan had three parts: avoid head-to-head strength, bait an overcommit, and use the Groping Hand as a disruptive pad. He also carried a subtler plan—use charm to unsettle without breaking rules.
When the bout began, Lan Yue's form blurred. She vaulted, a blade of light. Li Wei let himself be pushed back, then twisted into a low sweep. The Heavenly Groping Hand bloomed—this time, not as a crude joke but as a qi cushion that snared the momentum of Lan Yue's footwork. The move looked like a reach and a clumsy feint; it looked scandalous and elegant at once. Lan Yue lost balance, and Li Wei leaned in, offering a low bow that included a gentle, theatrically respectful touch to her wrist as if apologizing for the misstep.
She stumbled, not from pain but from the surprise of being touched with a shock of warmth and attention; the judges' murmurs rose and then fell into stunned hush. The crowd's eyes were a riot—some laughed, some disapproved, some were captivated. Master Han's expression unreadable, suddenly a shadow of interest crossed his features.
The official call came: Li Wei's method was unorthodox—yet effective. He earned the reward. The system flashed:
[Training Display Complete — Bonus +150 Qi awarded.]
He left the field to a storm of opinions. Some chattered about his shamelessness; others nodded to the efficiency. Xue Lian's eyes on him seemed less like icicles now and more like a measuring tide.
That night, as Li Wei lay beneath the slats of the dorm window watching constellations smear by, the system whispered another possibility:
[Long-term Quest Unlocked: Participate in the Sect's Internal Tournament (preliminary).]
Hint: Public displays of cultivation often precede invitations. Grow your renown and remain within acceptable bounds—your harem's social ties will matter.
A tournament. The thought pulsed through Li Wei's blood. Tournaments meant audiences, challenge, and the possibility of climbing the sect's ladder faster than any other path. More importantly, it meant adversaries to outmaneuver and beauties to dazzle in front of witnesses.
He rolled the prospect like a stone in his mouth and tasted opportunity. The perverted Dao had given him an elevator built of charm; to ride it higher he would need to become more careful, more polished. He could be shrewd and shameless simultaneously. It was a small, delicious paradox—and Li Wei liked paradoxes.
The week ended with a morning assembly. Li Wei stood in front of the gathered disciples and delivered his public apology. His voice did not tremble. He was contrite enough to satisfy the elders and performative enough to entertain the whisperers. He bowed, accepted Master Han's final words, and when he turned, Mei Ling's hand slipped into his, almost unnoticed. Her fingers pressed hard for a second and released—the badge of something shared.
As the assembly dispersed, a new friction entered the air: a shadowy stranger observing from the edge of the courtyard. Wrapped in a white robe, face hidden under a hood, the figure's presence was a punctuation to an already crowded week. For the first time since he'd arrived, Li Wei felt a prickle that had nothing to do with blushes or the system's prompts. This was the mark of real intrigue.
He would meet that stranger soon enough; the system's latest whisper promised a summons the next day—an invitation to ascend from outer to inner circles if he performed certain tasks. It was risky, a step toward the kind of dangerous power that could either carve his name into legend or erase him from this world entirely.
Li Wei closed his eyes and, for once, made a promise to himself that wasn't about kisses or points. Win smarter. Protect the ones who trust me. Use my audacity like armor, not like a reckless blade.
Beneath that, another truth pulsed: he looked forward to Mei Ling's small smile. He looked forward to the way Xue Lian's silence hit him like snow in the mouth. He looked forward—greedily, joyfully—to every tiny conquest that doubled as progress.
The path was messy. The Dao was stranger than the stories. And somewhere between a kiss and a battle, Li Wei was discovering that becoming an immortal—especially a perverted one—was a craft of both heart and cunning.
Tomorrow, the sect's shadowed corridors would move him forward. Tonight, there would be warmth in a bed he'd come to call his own: a thin mattress, a traded secret, and the humming blue orb that promised more mischief than morality.
He smiled in the dark. The Perverted Immortal's journey had only just begun.
End of chapter 2