Chapter One Hundred Twenty-Three: My Surname Is Lu, Lu Qinglian

A delicate and beautiful face appeared before Zhao Wenshang, its skin as smooth as congealed fat, as if it would break at the slightest touch. Her brows were like arched smoke, appearing both frowning and yet not, while her pair of expressive eyes seemed to hold both joy and sorrow.

Lianhua bit her lip gently, her beautiful eyes fixed intently on Zhao Wenshang, yet she could say nothing, feeling utterly lonely and helpless.

Zhao Wenshang stared blankly at the beauty before him. Although his experience with countless women had told him she was a stunner, he realized he had still underestimated her beauty.

"Ha, haha! What a beauty! I've struck gold this time, truly struck gold!" Zhao Wenshang laughed heartily. Ignoring her look of disgust, he ordered his two men to drag her toward the bed.

"Let me go! Is there anyone there? Help!" As the pipa fell to the ground once more, Lianhua’s cries for help were faint and desperate.

"Go ahead and scream. This is a brothel; do you really think anyone will come to save you? How naive." Zhao Wenshang shed his outer garments, shaking his head in mockery.

The vitality gradually drained from Lianhua’s stunning face, leaving it abnormally pale. As she bit her lip, she looked truly pitiable, her elegant and simple aura only serving to incite a greater desire in him to possess and protect her.

Seeing this, Zhao Wenshang became even more excited. The thought of such a beauty writhing under him made his blood race, and a lecherous glint deepened in his eyes.

"Why, why is this happening? Can someone save me? Please, save me." On the bed, Lianhua clutched her fair, slender legs and wept softly. She had no choice. She could not break free from the control of three men at once; she could only pin her hopes on someone hearing her cries.

But as Zhao Wenshang had said, this was a brothel, where a woman’s voice was the least significant thing of all. Such squalid things happened here constantly; no one cared to meddle in the affairs of others.

For some reason, in this moment of utter helplessness, the girl, crying like rain-drenched pear blossoms, thought of the man next door who seemed like an exiled immortal. It was a ridiculous thought, given they had only just met.

"Um, although my master said not to meddle in others' business, I feel that we practitioners of the Dao should stand up for justice," a somewhat embarrassed voice reached Lianhua's ears.

Lianhua slowly lifted her head. Through tear-filled eyes, she saw exactly what she had imagined: the handsome, extraordinarily refined young man.

"Um, miss, if it’s alright, may I be the one to save you?" Baili Mo scratched his head, offering a sheepish smile.

"Pfft." Seeing this, Lianhua felt a sudden sense of relief. The heart that had been pounding in her chest finally settled, and she couldn't help but laugh at Baili Mo’s silly demeanor.

"Who is he! When did he get in here!" Zhao Wenshang was shocked to find a person suddenly appearing on his bed—and an extraordinarily handsome man at that. Infuriated, he barked at the two guards.

"Master, calm your anger. We will throw him out immediately and ensure he doesn't disturb your pleasure." One of the black-clad guards, startled by the intruder, called to his companion and headed toward Baili Mo.

"My master said that getting too involved in the worldly dust is bad for one's cultivation, but he also said that when a friend is in trouble, one must go through fire and water. So, would you like to be my friend?" Baili Mo smiled foolishly.

He felt a strange sense of peace whenever he was near this woman. Even though it was their first meeting, he knew he would never forget her. Besides, with his strength, he had no need to fear the two black-clad guards.

"Pfft... I... my surname is Lu, Lu Qinglian. My childhood name is Lianhua. I suppose we’re acquainted now," Lu Qinglian said with a soft smile, her panic fading.

Hearing this, Baili Mo seemed overjoyed; his mouth nearly stretched to his ears as he hopped off the bed. "I... I’m called Baili Mo. 'Baili' as in the vast landscape, and 'Mo' as in quiet and unknown!" He laughed, smoothing his clothes, unsure of where to place his hands.

In a special moment, meeting a special person—whether by chance or destiny, they had finally met. Love does not know where it begins, yet it grows deep.

"Insolent! Simply insolent! You ignore me completely! You two, throw him out!" Zhao Wenshang roared in frustration.

"So noisy! My master said... wait, no, he didn't say that. But I, Baili Mo, say this: anyone who harms my dear friend shall face death!" Baili Mo turned, his sword-like brows lifting. His expression was serious, and a faint, shimmering spiritual energy began to swirl around him.

"Spiritual energy?" Sensing the pressure, Zhao Wenshang calmed slightly. His mind, previously governed by his lower instincts, grew clear. Looking closer at the youth's cyan Daoist robes and the aura radiating from him, he realized this must be a disciple from some sect.

"You brat! So what if you are a practitioner? My Zhao estate has guest cultivators of its own! If you leave now, I can pretend none of this happened!" Zhao Wenshang said coldly, though his confidence faltered.

After all, while the Zhao estate had cultivators, he was a mere mortal. The gap between immortals and mortals was vast; even a low-level cultivator was an unreachable figure to him. His family’s guest cultivators were arrogant, obeyed only his father, and wouldn't even glance at his petty affairs. Yet, he had to invoke the Zhao estate to pressure this boy, hoping he would retreat.

"Oh, I don't know them. I only know that three men are bullying a defenseless woman. How truly shameful!" Baili Mo said calmly. His spiritual energy surged, creating a breeze in the small room that made the curtains flutter.

"Who... who are you calling a small man!" Zhao Wenshang raged.

"Tch, what a chatterbox." Baili Mo curled his lip. With a wave of his right hand, a gust of spiritual energy swept forth. The two guards were sent flying; they smashed through the wooden window and plummeted from the second floor, landing with a thud in the main hall below, drawing gasps from the crowd.

"Still want to talk?" Baili Mo looked at the now bloodless, trembling Zhao Wenshang.

Lu Qinglian covered her mouth in shock. Although she knew the youth was no ordinary person, she had never expected him to be one of the legendary immortals. To mortals, anyone who practiced the Dao, cultivated immortality, or wielded magic was an "immortal." They were not true immortals, but they possessed power far beyond that of a common man, earning them the adoration and reverence of the masses.

"Young Master Baili, he is the son of Zhao Yuan, a great general under the Lord of Chang'an. I fear..." Lu Qinglian stopped, worried for Baili Mo’s safety.

"Y-yes, that’s right! I am the son of General Zhao Yuan! You can't do anything to me, or you’ll face the judgment of an entire army!" Zhao Wenshang regained his bravado and threatened him.

"Oh, right. My master also said that before a battle, if the opponent declares their name, one must respond in kind. That is the way of a true cultivator." Baili Mo ignored the threat entirely, mentioning his master again—though one wonders what that Daoist would think of this.

"Baili Mo, disciple of Jinxuanzi, one of the Twelve Profound Immortals of the Nanxuan Sect in the Southern Domain of the Heavenly Realm!" Baili Mo said softly, unaware of the sensation his words would cause among those listening.