Floating Cloud City, Drunken Fragrance Tower.

On the stage, seven gorgeous dancers swayed their slim waists and moved like drifting petals.

Everett Blackwell lay slack in a beauty’s arms, drunk enough for his eyes to blur. A veil of pale violet gauze brushed lightly across his cheek. The faint scent of powder and rouge slipped into his nose, clean and soft, enough to make a man’s bones go loose.

A small fair hand trailed gently across his face.

“Master Huo, the dance you arranged is truly lovely,” the girl said with a sweet laugh. She pinched up a grape, placed it between her lips, then slowly lowered her head and fed it into Everett’s mouth.

Another girl got jealous at once. “Master Huo, you can’t favor one and neglect the rest.”

She dropped to her knees on the soft cushion, leaned over, and brought the wine cup to his lips.

Everett narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth. Wine ran down the corner of his lips. Then he suddenly sat up, threw an arm around each of the girls beside him, and rubbed his nose against their faces, one after the other.

A moment later, he caught hold of a little foot. The skin was pale and smooth, with faint blue veins barely showing beneath it. Her rounded toes looked like pearls laid on white jade.

“Hahaha! Master Huo, don’t! It tickles!”

The girl twisted and writhed in his hands. Everett laughed and hauled her into his arms.

Right then, he truly understood what it meant to lie drunk on a beauty’s lap.

He had crossed into a world of immortals and martial wonders, become the Sect Master of Bashan Sect, and now he had warm, fragrant women in his arms too.

Everett Blackwell had slogged like a beast of burden for half his life. At last, heaven had shown him a scrap of mercy. Feeling that soft body pressed against him, what was there left to say?

Bliss like this made a man forget every road home.

Then, all at once, a shrill voice tore the mood to pieces.

“Sect Master, bad news!”

The newcomer slammed the door open, caught his foot on the threshold, and tumbled headlong in. His round body rolled twice across the floor before stopping right in front of Everett.

“Sect Master, Lucius Greystone has brought a group of inner sect disciples and gathered outside the main hall. They’re forcing the palace—they mean to force you to abdicate!”

Everett’s brow tightened. He swayed to his feet, the drunken haze on his face thinning at once.

“Lucius Greystone?” His expression sank. “What the hell does he want?”

The man leaned in and dropped his voice. “I heard Lucius Greystone wants you to step down…”

Everett Blackwell’s face changed on the spot. Half his drunken haze vanished. He shook his head hard and started cursing.

“That old bastard… damn him. Quick. We’re going back.”

The shapely girls sprang up at once, one on each side, clinging to his arms.

“Master Huo, don’t go. Let the music play, let the dance go on.”

“Next time… next time for sure.”

“Then it’s a promise, Master Huo. Next time, you still have to teach us sisters ‘Subject Three.’”

“Easy, easy.”

He walked out of Zuixiang Tower reeking of rouge and perfume, climbed into the carriage, and by then most of the wine had burned out of his head.

The carriage tore down the road.

Inside, Everett Blackwell propped his chin on one hand and fell into thought.

This was his second month in this world.

In his last life, he had been a somewhat known game streamer. Young, tough, thought his body could take anything. So he streamed for forty straight hours and then… well, that was that.

When he opened his eyes again, he had become the young sect master of Bashing Sect, a second-rate sect.

At first, he had been worried sick that someone would see through him.

In the end, before he even had time to panic, the original body’s sect master father dropped dead that very day.

Before the old sect master died, he shoved Bashing Sect into Everett Blackwell’s hands and left behind one last line—

“My son, Huo Hai, bears the makings of a Great Emperor!”

Everett Blackwell had been completely at a loss.

Then, out of nowhere, he got bound to the [Shared Branches System].

[Congratulations, Host, on taking over Bashing Sect. From this day onward, if Bashing Sect prospers, Host will gain Luck Value, which can be used to raise cultivation and receive mastered martial arts through direct infusion.]

[If Bashing Sect declines from this point on, Host will unlock the ‘After Extreme Misfortune Comes Fortune’ achievement, prove the Dao of the Emperor Realm, and return to Blue Star.]

A chance to rise in one step and reach the heavens—only an idiot would choose to work himself to the bone.

Besides, Bashing Sect was already a rotten mess.

Everett Blackwell knew his own limits. Asking him to build Bashing Sect into something great?

That was pure lunacy.

So for two whole months, he had done nothing but squander and drift, drinking, feasting, chasing pleasure every day, never once bothering with sect affairs.

In the fine craft of squandering a family fortune, Everett Blackwell could be called tireless. Diligent, even.

And now someone wanted to kick him off the Sect Master’s seat.

“No... no way.”

“That seat stays with me.”

“No one in this whole mountain knows how to burn through a sect’s foundations better than I do.”

“What if the next Sect Master actually has some skill?”