Chapter 27: What kind of shitty world is this???

The corridor above the hall was too silent, as if each step of the stairs had left behind the murmur of courtesans, the music, and the warmth of the drink. Damon followed behind the courtesan in the black kimono, each step firm and measured, almost solemn. The tension in his shoulders increased with every meter he covered, and the echo of his own boots sounded like drumbeats in his mind.

But it wasn’t just the silence that weighed on him. It was what he had heard before he climbed:

’The Demon Phoenix of the Celestial Demon Cult.’

Those words echoed endlessly, like a spell that refused to lift.

Damon’s throat felt dry, and it wasn’t from the liquor.

’Demonic Phoenix? Celestial Demon Cult?’

He didn’t even know where to begin. In truth, it felt as if someone had ripped away what little he thought he understood about this world and thrown it to the floor. The mere title sounded absurd, and at the same time… dangerous.

He had been reincarnated less than a month ago. Less. And until now, everything he’d seen had led him to believe this world was just an alternate version of Victorian Europe mixed with imperial feudal traits and magic, or rather, cultivation, from what he’d read in his Status Sheets. At least from what he’d observed, with Countess Elizabeth…

But now… now someone was throwing him into a universe that seemed straight out of one of those cultivation novels he’d read in his previous life.

“Celestial Demonic Cult”… “Demonic Phoenix”…

“Fuck, what does this mean?” he thought, a knot of frustration forming in his chest. “Is this supposed to be a world of balls, counts, and emperors, or a world of cultivators who fly and cut through mountains?”

Damon discreetly rubbed his temple with his fingertips. He felt like he was going crazy.

Until now, nothing—absolutely nothing—had suggested that sects, cults, or mystical factions existed in this world. Elizabeth and Esther were imposing figures, yes, but they still behaved within the confines of aristocracy, not like immortal cultivators spitting fire from their eyes.

Or maybe… I just haven’t been paying enough attention.

This possibility made him even more uneasy.

He tried to organize his thoughts.

He had seen the city with its late-Victorian architecture, filled with lanterns, carriages, and sophisticated markets. The Empire ruled vast territories through nobles and counties, maintaining a feudal system reminiscent of old Europe. This was the public face. The visible stage.

But if what he had heard about Lin Yue was true, then… the Empire wasn’t everything. It was just the surface.

This only applies to the Imperial Territory… Outside the Empire… Was this a Victorian Murin?… What the hell was this combination?

Damon swallowed, feeling his throat scratchy.

“I need to learn about this world, really fast, I know nothing about anything!”

That was what irritated him the most. Having been thrown into this world without a manual, without instructions beyond his “system,” which, until now, had only given him strange missions. He didn’t know who his enemies were, who his allies were, or even what it meant to “cultivate” here. He had read stories about it on Earth, yes, but this world didn’t seem to follow any specific logic.

Perhaps there were cultivators hidden behind the silk curtains, masked among nobles, merchants, and courtesans. Perhaps the Empire knew and pretended not to see. Perhaps that was precisely the reason everything seemed so stable on the surface.

“I need to learn more about this world. I must be overthinking and creating countless unrealistic scenarios that don’t even add up…”

“You’re restless.” The voice of the courtesan in the black kimono guiding him broke through the whirlwind of thoughts. Damon looked up and stared at her for a moment, surprised. Until now, she had remained completely silent.

“Restless?” he repeated, trying to hide it. “I wouldn’t say that. Just… curious.”

She didn’t answer right away. She just continued walking down the long corridor, lined with gently flickering paper lanterns. Finally, she said:

“It’s not the first time I’ve seen curiosity kill someone. Here, especially.”

Damon arched an eyebrow. “And you… are you trying to scare me?”

A brief silence. Then she replied, almost emotionlessly:

“I’m just reminding you that fear is sometimes a gift. And that Lady Yue doesn’t appreciate fools who mistake courage for recklessness.”

Damon pressed his lips together, not responding.

“Courage or recklessness?” He himself wasn’t sure which category he fell into.

They continued walking. The corridor seemed to stretch on forever, until it turned right and opened into a new space: a narrow, darker hall, its walls adorned with black tapestries embroidered with silver threads that formed the design of birds—phoenixes—in various positions, always surrounded by flames.

The air there was heavier, almost suffocating. Damon felt his skin crawl, as if each piece of embroidery was silently observing him.

He swallowed again.

“Could this be spiritual energy? Qi? I don’t know what they call it here…”

The problem was, he had no parameters. He couldn’t tell if it was just his imagination, nervousness playing with his mind, or if there really was some kind of hidden power in that hallway.

But one thing was certain: he was entering unfamiliar territory.

The hall ended before a dark wooden double door with gold-carved details. The central image was, again, of a phoenix in flight, its wings spread as if embracing the entire world. The golden flames surrounding the bird seemed to come to life in the flickering light of the lanterns, creating the illusion of movement.

The courtesan stopped a few steps from the door. She turned to Damon and bowed deeply again.

“We are here.”

He took a deep breath, feeling his heart pound.

“And… what should I expect?”

She lifted her face and stared at him for a moment. Her eyes were dark, serious, and for the first time, they seemed to reflect a trace of human hesitation.

“Nothing you imagine. And everything you fear.”

Damon gave a short, almost nervous laugh. “Good… I love surprises.”

She didn’t smile. She simply straightened and knocked twice on the door, the sound echoing through the hall. Then she took a step back and lowered her head, as if retreating from something sacred.

The silence that followed was crushing. Damon felt a cold sweat trickle down the back of his neck.

“Okay… breathe. You know nothing about this world, but you can’t show weakness either. This woman may be a goddess or a demon, but in the end… she’s just another living being.” And living things bleed.

This thought gave him a modicum of relief, though it didn’t dispel his anxiety.

He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to center himself. The image of the phoenix, the memory of the courtesans’ words, and the confusion about the world swirled through his mind like a storm.

But when he opened his eyes, he stared at the door.

It wasn’t just wood and gold. It was a threshold. A portal that separated everything he thought he understood from the absolute unknown.

And Damon knew, with absolute certainty, that nothing would be the same after he crossed it.

The golden doorknob gleamed in the lantern light.

He took a deep breath, bracing himself.

His heart beat like war drums.

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