Chapter 1

Deep within the secluded Fang Clan village, hidden away in a valley veiled by perpetual mist and the towering embrace of ancient pines, the dim glow of lanterns cast flickering shadows against the lacquered wooden walls of a silent chamber, where a boy who appeared to be around fourteen or fifteen admired his own reflection in an ancient silver mirror. The mirror's intricate frame bore the unmistakable elegance of classical Chinese craftsmanship. His sharp green eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he ran a hand through his long, jet-black hair, which cascaded down to his lower back. His face-flawless, ethereal, some would say-and could easily be mistaken for that of a celestial being. Yet it was, in truth, a refined mask crafted from his own skin, ensuring his youthful appearance remained untouched by time.

"That dream pattern shit actually worked! It wasn't just some random internet pasta after all~"

The boy, or rather, the soul within him, named Oliver-someone not of this world. Excitement shone in his expression as he fully absorbed twenty years' worth of memories belonging to Fang Lee, the prodigious future heir of the Fang Clan. A genius among cultivators and the wielder of the Hundred Ends and Rebirth Body, a heavenly physique bestowed by fate itself. This divine gift granted him an unparalleled growth rate in both physical and qi cultivation, along with an even more terrifying ability-the power to reverse his injuries and even resurrect three days after death.

A smirk curled on Fang Lee's lips.

"First Cousin Mei~ The Fang Clan's heavenly treasures, self-human face mask refinement, bone-punching techniques, the Hundred Ends and Rebirth Body, the clan's Ten Sacred Swords technique, and the Immortal Sovereigns… I truly am living a wuxia wet dream, aren't I?"

His words carried a mix of amusement and exhilaration. He glanced once more at his reflection, savoring the sight of his ideal self—handsome, powerful, and carrying a hidden depth that no one else would suspect. A young cultivator destined for greatness.

But, of course, power was only half the fun.

'Who should I bang first~?'

The thought came instantly as he turned away from the mirror, already contemplating how best to indulge in this vivid, life-like dream. After all, he had been on a dry streak for two whole years. Even if this world wasn't real, he was more than willing to enjoy everything it had to offer.

Knock, knock.

"Hm?"

Fang Lee halted mid-step, his sharp ears picking up the soft yet oddly familiar knock at his door.

"Young master, it's time for your medicine bath—"

The voice belonged to a woman dressed in a flowing blue hanfu, its fabric hugging her curves in just the right places. However, she barely had time to finish her sentence before—

Swish.

The door slid open, revealing Fang Lee's piercing green eyes and his intrigued expression.

A translucent panel flickered before his gaze.

{Task: Take your Medicine Bath}

He barely spared it a glance before recalling what his friends had once told him about the Dream Pattern; a strange mix of symbols and colors circulating among the otaku community. The rumor claimed that by focusing on the pattern before sleeping, one could trigger lucid dreams on an entirely different level.

Which led to Oliver's current predicament—a closet otaku with far too much free time, especially after losing access to the internet and any semblance of a social life for the past two years. All because his stepfather had uncovered his collection of deepfakes—crafted with unsettling precision—of his own stepsister. The revelation had been nothing short of catastrophic, resulting in his immediate expulsion from the family home.

If not for his mother's relentless pleading, he wouldn't even have a roof over his head, let alone the luxury of dreaming. In the end, she had managed to change her husband's mind—but not without conditions. Oliver was allowed back, but under strict restrictions. No internet and no electronics. 

Trapped in a dull, tech-starved existence, he had been left with nothing but his own imagination—until he stumbled upon the Dream Pattern.

'Oh yeah…Ren and Akari did mention that the pattern would subconsciously generate tasks to make the dream more immersive… but right now, I don't need any extra excitement to liven things up~'

A wicked grin spread across his lips as he stepped toward the woman before him, already plotting how best to experience this dream to the fullest.

'Time to make the most of it~'

Fang Lee's lips curled into a knowing smirk as he stepped toward the young maid before him, his sharp green eyes locking onto her timid gaze.

"Meng~ Just in time. I was in need of your assistance," he murmured, his voice smooth and teasing as his hands found her shoulders.

The girl stiffened beneath his touch, her dark lashes fluttering as uncertainty flickered across her expression.

Fang Lee chuckled. "Don't be like that, Meng~ I know you'll enjoy this."

His fingers traced a slow path down her arms, barely grazing her skin as he reached for her hands. Before she could react, he gently pulled her into his chamber, sliding the door shut behind them with a soft click.

Meng swallowed hard, her breath shallow as she tried to process what was happening. "Young master..." she started, hesitating as she met his piercing gaze.

The air between them grew thick with unspoken tension.

Fang Lee didn't respond right away. Instead, he let his aura unfurl—subtle but potent, a mere whisper of his Qi Condensation Realm cultivation. It wasn't meant to intimidate her, but she felt it nonetheless, a warmth that curled around her like an invisible embrace.

She trembled—not out of fear, but something else entirely.

"Meng" he said, tilting her chin up with a single finger. "Do you really want to stop me?"

Her lips parted, but no words came out. Her fingers curled slightly against his robe, unsure whether to push him away or pull him closer.

Fang Lee exhaled, softer this time, his thumb brushing across her cheek. "I would never hurt you~ you know that right? " he assured her, his voice low and enticing.

Meng's heartbeat drummed in her ears. The rational part of her told her this was improper, that she should protest—but another part of her, the part that had always felt drawn to the young master, made her hesitate.

The moment stretched between them.

Slowly, almost tentatively, Fang Lee's fingers moved to the sash at her waist. He paused, watching her carefully for any sign of refusal.

Meng swallowed again, her cheeks flushed. And then, with a breathless whisper, she shifted—just enough to let him continue.

A victorious glint flashed in his eyes.

"Good girl" he murmured, leaning in as her restraint melted away.

Meng's cheeks burned as Fang Lee's fingers deftly worked at the knots of her garment, his movements slow and deliberate. The triangular sash that had been wrapped around her waist loosened under his touch, and for a moment, he let it slip from his hands as he stepped behind her.

His breath was warm against her ear.

"Just one more tie, and this piece is gone~" Fang Lee murmured, his voice smooth like silk as he slid his arms beneath hers, fingertips grazing the fabric's final knot.

A shiver ran down Meng's spine as she felt the press of his body behind her, the unmistakable heat of him through the layers of clothing.

"Mmm!?"

A soft sound escaped her lips before she could stop it, and before she even realized what she was doing, she shifted—pressing herself back ever so slightly against him. As soon as she registered her own boldness, embarrassment crashed over her like a tidal wave.

Her hands gripped the front of her garment instinctively. "P-Please… s-stop this, Young Master Lee…" she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper, yet her body remained frozen in place, betraying her own hesitation.

Fang Lee chuckled, the deep, knowing sound sending another tremor through her.

"Stop?" he mused, easily undoing the last tie before stepping back, leaving a frustrating emptiness where his warmth had been.

Meng's breath hitched, a strange mix of relief and disappointment swirling inside her as he peeled away the upper layer of her garment and let it fall to the floor behind them.

Fang Lee took a slow step to the side, his sharp green eyes trailing over her figure with an appreciative gaze.

"Let's see what we're working with~" he murmured, tilting his head as he admired the soft curves still hidden beneath the thin white fabric of her second layer.

His hands found her waist as he moved behind her once more, fingers grazing the silk that still clung to her skin. Then, without hesitation, he slid his hands upward, cupping her full breasts through the remaining layer.

A quiet gasp left Meng's lips as his warm palms kneaded the soft flesh, exploring her shape with teasing precision.

"Your body is breathtaking," Fang Lee whispered, his fingers pressing in just enough to make her squirm.

"E-Eeck!"

Meng let out an involuntary squeak as she felt the heat of him pulse against the back of her skirt, his touch leaving a trail of tingling warmth across her skin.

Her breath came faster, her thoughts hazy as his hands continued their slow, deliberate exploration.

'This dream feels unbelievably real… If this really is the work of that Dream Pattern Jin and May found, then I owe them big time.'

Fang Lee's thoughts drifted as his fingers lazily traced over Meng's soft, warm skin. The sensation, the weight of her body against him—it was all so vivid. If this was truly just a dream, then he intended to indulge in every second of it.

'I should get them something as thanks… That damn pedo Akari has been nagging me to be her plus-one for that new Tokyo water park. Maybe I'll grab a few tickets so she can gawk at all those princesses she keeps obsessing over. As for Ren? Hah, a couple of magazines will do—he's easy to please.'

A smirk tugged at his lips as he let his hands drift lower, sliding down from Meng's supple chest and tracing along the curve of her waist.

She squirmed slightly beneath his touch, her breath coming in soft, uneven puffs.

"Relax, Meng~" he murmured, his voice dripping with amusement.

With deliberate slowness, he found one of the ties at her skirt and pulled, letting the fabric loosen as it began to unravel around her trembling form.

"Aren't you a cautious one~" Fang Lee mused, amusement lacing his tone as he took in the sight before him.

Beneath the layers he had so teasingly unraveled, Meng still had a pair of modest white pants hidden under her skirt—a final barrier between him and the treasure he sought.

Meng mumbled something under her breath, but her words were too soft to make out, likely swallowed by embarrassment. Her face burned a deep shade of red as she instinctively pressed her thighs together, hands rising to shield her expression.

Fang Lee chuckled, thoroughly entertained by her reaction.

"Come with me~" he said smoothly, his voice coaxing yet laced with undeniable intent.

Meng hesitantly peeked between her fingers, her eyes flickering to Fang Lee, who was already making his way toward his wooden bed. Without hesitation, he began undoing his hanfu, the smooth fabric slipping from his shoulders as he cast a knowing glance in her direction.

The tension in the room thickened as anticipation hung in the air.

*Meng's POV*

Meng's heart pounded against her ribcage, a frantic rhythm she couldn't control. Her hands trembled as she hesitantly lowered them from her flushed face, eyes drawn—almost against her will—to Fang Lee.

He stood near the bed, his fingers moving deftly over the fastenings of his hanfu. With effortless grace, he slipped the fabric from his shoulders, exposing lean muscle and smooth, pale skin beneath the soft candlelight.

Her breath caught in her throat.

'Why is he so…' Meng clenched her fingers into the fabric of her pants, willing herself to look away—but she couldn't.

The robe slid further, pooling at his waist, revealing more of his toned frame. He wasn't built like the older warriors of the Fang Clan, all bulk and battle scars. No, Fang Lee was different—his body held the sharpness of a blade still being honed, a mix of elegance and quiet strength.

A wave of heat crawled up her neck

'This is wrong… isn't it?'

And yet, her feet moved of their own accord, following his unspoken command as she stepped toward the bed. Every inch of space between them seemed to hum with something she couldn't name.

Fang Lee tilted his head, a smirk tugging at his lips as he watched her approach.

"Hesitating?" His voice was smooth, teasing—but beneath it was something deeper, something knowing.

Meng swallowed hard, her fingers still gripping the hem of her upper garment. She could still turn back, still find a reason to leave—

But she didn't.

Her legs felt weak as she climbed onto the bed, her movements careful, uncertain. The scent of him—something faintly herbal, mixed with warmth—wrapped around her as she sat, knees pressing together as she looked anywhere but at him.

The space between them was small. Too small.

And yet, when he reached out, fingers grazing her chin, Meng didn't pull away.

And yet, when he reached out, fingers grazing her chin, Meng didn't pull away.

Her pulse raced.

'What have I gotten myself into?'