The Noble Consort's Overture
Li Ye gently skimmed the foam from his tea with the lid and took a shallow sip.
"Li Zhangsi, two new pairs of silk stockings are ready," the little eunuch attending him said deferentially, eyes lowered.
"Got it. Just leave them there for now." Li Ye set down his teacup unhurriedly and picked up the latest Da Zhou Monthly Report.
As a transmigrator who'd ended up a eunuch in this world, this was about the only pastime he had.
The front-page headline leaped out at him: Di List Update: Sword Immortal Emerges.
Big news. Li Ye hurriedly flipped to the Kyushu Di List rankings. The top nine unchanged; tenth place had switched from "Blood Slaughter Old Demon" to "Ice Soul Sword Immortal."
The Blood Slaughter Old Demon—a top-ten Di List powerhouse, sixth-realm grandmaster—dead just like that?
This world divided cultivation into six paths and nine realms: Immortal, Martial, Confucian, Demon, Ghost, and Yao. Each path had nine realms; above the sixth, they hid from the mortal world. The sixth realm was already the pinnacle of mortal might.
"Ice Soul Sword Immortal—a new powerhouse?" Li Ye muttered to himself, a flicker of envy and bitterness in his eyes.
He shook his head to clear the tangled thoughts and kept reading. The Da Zhou Monthly Report brimmed with all sorts of trivia; even the silk stockings and cheongsams he'd offered up had gotten a mention for catching on in the Da Zhou Imperial Palace—no small thing, though his name went uncredited. A mere eunuch didn't rate that.
For a transmigrator to cling to life by peddling silk stockings and cheongsams... pathetic.
But having crossed over body and soul, he'd had no say from the start. Waking bewildered in a forest, scraped up by rescuers only to get sold to traffickers, then to the palace. Not even a teenager yet, and bam—eunuch.
If he hadn't heard there were ways to restore the body, Li Ye might've tested if dying again shot him home.
He set the report aside and eyed the little eunuch bowed before him. Li Zhangsi drawled lazily, "All right, hand over the silk stockings."
The little eunuch hesitated. "Liu Guiren's been hounding us several times already. Shouldn't we..."
Liu Guiren? Who the hell?
Li Ye knew damn well how he'd snagged head of the Zhen Gong Ju. He shot the boy a glare and cleared his throat. "What's that supposed to mean? I'm off to Xingqing Palace. Tell Liu Guiren to hold her horses."
Silk stockings were dime-a-dozen in his old life, but here in Kyushu? Luxury woven from water-fire mystic silkworm silk. They went straight to his patron, naturally.
Xingqing Palace, residence of Noble Consort Xue.
The current emperor had no heirs; Noble Consort Xue ruled the six palaces. Xue Yunrong by name, she basked in the emperor's endless favor, their passion unflagging for years.
Prime ass-kissing material—Li Ye couldn't give a damn about guirens.
After the announcement, he entered Xingqing Palace and laid eyes on Xue Yunrong. Eunuch or not, he stared, mesmerized. Small wonder the emperor doted on her so.
Brows like inked willows, figure slender and honed, skin snow-white as jade. Her gaze rippled with allure, seductive charm wafting before she even spoke.
Xue Yunrong played leaf cards with a palace maid, flicking a sidelong glance at the kneeling Li Ye before pushing a tile without turning. "Eunuch Li, perfect timing. His Majesty shredded several of my bustiers. Send more—variety this time."
Bustiers, meaning bras. Xue Yunrong's generous bosom made every day a chore; she treasured his invention. It had lifted him from cannon-fodder eunuch to head of Zhen Gong Ju.
"This slave obeys. The bureau rushed two new pairs of silk stockings today, brought specially for Your Ladyship." Li Ye bowed low. Her beauty beguiled, but he'd seen plenty in his past life—enough to keep steady.
She set her cards down at that, turning with a radiant smile. "This palace hears Liu Guiren waited ages without a pair. Yet here you are, delivering to me."
"This slave owes all to Your Ladyship's favor. How could I forget your grace?" No secrets in this palace, Li Ye griped inwardly.
Pleased, Xue Yunrong rose with graceful steps, drawing near. In his downcast view, her jade feet gleamed, sheathed in silk. She chuckled softly. "So thoughtful. This palace hardly knows how to reward you."
Li Ye's heart skipped. Past tips were casual silver tosses; this felt... different.
Unsure, he shuffled back and knelt deeper, face inches from her exquisite silk-clad foot. Shoving aside the stirring fantasies, he said deferentially, "A slave's duty, Your Ladyship. I dare not crave reward."
No surprise at his cringing caution. Five years in the palace: he'd seen oceans of blood. Eunuchs were chattel; a whim meant death. A piddly zhangsi post counted for squat here.
Xue Yunrong gazed down at Li Ye prostrated at her feet and chuckled, poised to soothe—when a tickle hit her sole, hot breath grazing her toes, stirring her core.
From on high, she eyed the face so near her foot. A thrill of conquest bubbled up.
The emperor fondled her feet aplenty but never kissed... filthy for His Majesty, anyway. She tamped the rogue thoughts and coughed lightly. "Ahem~ This palace rewards as it pleases—no more words. Speak: what do you desire?"
Pie from the heavens? Li Ye couldn't read her, but opportunity knocked. He blurted his long-coveted prize. "Grateful for Your Ladyship's boundless grace—if convenient, might this slave visit the Huang Gong Mi Cang?"
The Huang Gong Mi Cang hoarded the realm's cultivation manuals. No match for Confucian or Daoist libraries, but top-shelf all the same.
Xue Yunrong bristled inwardly—this wretch so bold? The archive demanded the emperor's personal writ; outsiders needed monumental merit.
Refusal on her lips, she paused. True favor demanded real stakes—a few sweet words to the emperor, nothing more.
Her smile bloomed afresh. "You seek cultivation?"
"Yes."
No flat no—Li Ye's heart soared. Right thigh to hug. Without imperial intimacy or epic deeds, impossible for most; for her, child's play.
"Shangshu Jian's manuals not enough?"
Shangshu Jian stocked eunuch-maid fare: third realm ceiling, fourth-realm breakthroughs scarce. Body remolding? Seventh-realm stuff.
"This slave craves advancement, to serve Your Ladyship better."
"Advancement?" Xue Yunrong savored the word, eyeing him at her feet. Kinless, her sole patron, and loyal—if molded into a powerhouse, useful. Her guards were the emperor's, not hers. She smiled. "Ambitious. Very well—this palace will whisper to His Majesty on your behalf."
"This slave thanks Your Ladyship's vast grace. I shall never forget."
Li Ye beamed inwardly. Goal nabbed so easy. Cultivation itself? Outside scraps sufficed till upgrades.
But eunuch tales from day one: restoration paths.
Prime: seventh realm, remold flesh flawless.
Or Li Yang Yin? No—Tianyang Spiritual Marrow, sky-patching stone's essence, mending heaven's rents and body's lacks alike.
One: vanished mortal pinnacle. Other: ninth-realm treasure. Transmigrator grit aside, timelines unknown. But that old eunuch dropped a third.
"Forget those pipe dreams. Tianmo Palace's Tianmo Jiuxiang—first realm restores the body full. It's in the Huang Gong Mi Cang. Serve masters right, chance awaits; learn it, earn outer-court release..."
The words echoed. Access secured—pure ecstasy.
Sensing his thrill, Xue Yunrong smiled faintly, gliding back to the table and her cards. "Don't count chickens—His Majesty might say no."
She'd only float it if sure.
"Success or failure, your grace etched in this slave's soul."
"Enough. Rise." She slid a tile.
"Thanks, Your Ladyship." Li Ye loathed kneeling—no help for it. He stood, heart aflutter, yearning to seize his fate.
Xue Yunrong toyed with tiles, offhand: "Oh—some Shangqing Sword Sect immortal took a shine to your silk stockings. Couple days, someone'll escort you there."
Shangqing Sword Sect: immortal holy land, whispers of seventh-realm+.
Silk stockings... Shangqing? Link?
Stunned, then inspiration: "Any commands, Your Ladyship?"
She halted play. "Word is Shangqing brews Zhen Yan Dan: eternal youth, ageless bloom. Tales only—never seen."
A maid piped up: "This slave heard too. Life-prolonging, even."
Li Ye winced inwardly. Zhen Yan Dan? News to him—life-extender rarer still.
Sub-upper-three-realms lifespan: century hard cap. Such elixirs? Priceless.
Her drift crystal: reward tendered, now quid pro quo. Balk? Dead meat.
Thirty now, fresh faces flooding in—like that Liu Guiren... No forever-eighteen woman; always new eighteens. She played cool, but panic gnawed.
Desperate times, Li Ye figured. Silk stockings for Shangqing? Absurd.
Lightning thoughts; refusal suicide. "Chance given, this slave fetches your Zhen Yan Dan—death no bar."
She dropped cards, gaze piercing. "Truly?"
"Nine deaths, zero regrets."
Visibly touched, she: "Clear the room."
Others dismissed, she sighed faint. "Don't think me cruel."
Seductress poise evaporated; sorrow swelled. In a blink, alluring palace-toppler became fragile waif.
Pity-stirring beauty. Li Ye marveled silent: emperor-slayer acting chops.
Palace years honed his chops too. Feigning shock: "Graced beyond measure—such thoughts profane."
His delivery iffy? She shook head, confiding: "Slim odds, I know. No choice. Beauty serves; beauty fades, love flees... Lately, His Majesty's affections... wander."
Sudden stare, hand seizing his, eyes welling plea: "You—you're my sole hope."
Li Ye played entranced, gaping as the noble consort clutched him, stammering fervor: "I-I—I'll bring it back."
Inward sneer: Right—mistress clings to power, we slaves bleed for it.
"Thank you." Tear-glazed eyes shone gratitude.
"I—I—" Half-lost in the act, he quivered, then "caught" himself: "This slave unworthy."
"As it should be." Gentle headshake; then earnest: "Return alive—no heroics. My men await at the sect gates for backup. Safe back, you're chief eunuch of Xingqing Palace."
"Good tidings soon, Your Ladyship." Li Ye, the picture of devotion.
Exiting Xingqing, he shook the spell. That vixen... lethal.
Eunuch near-breaking; imagine a real man. But theater's theater—lure to doom. "Gate backup"? Snatch the pill, more like.
Fresh off crossing, he'd have charged blood-hot. But honeyed knives, fresh corpses: palace illusions shattered.
Her doggedness spelled trouble sans results.
Li Ye fretted, then circled to source: Shangqing fancies silk stockings? Too phony.