My Arch-Nemesis is the R-Rated Male Lead - Chapter 1

In March, the Xuan Yang Sect overflowed with spring blossoms, filled with the lively chatter of birdsong.

“I heard Venerable Jian* is about to ascend.”

(TL’s note: 剑尊 (Jiàn Zūn)—Sword Venerable)

“If that’s true, he’ll be the first in our sect’s history—and the youngest ascendant in the entire cultivation world!”

“He really is a genius among geniuses. I wish I could see his face just once…”

Lu Rong, lugging her heavy scroll, happened to pass by. She snorted. “Ugly.”

The three junior sisters stared at the suddenly appearing young lady of the sect, dazzled by her exquisite beauty. Belatedly, they bowed. “Senior Sister.”

With a face utterly wrecked from pulling all-nighters, Lu Rong gave a weak grunt of acknowledgment. She tossed each of them a loquat, then mustered enough strength to declare firmly, “And Zhou Li will never ascend! Never!”

She staggered off. The three junior sisters exchanged looks and whispered, “Our senior sister really is the Venerable Jian’s arch-nemesis…”

“Of course! Ever since we apprenticed, Senior Sister has sworn she hates Venerable Jian the most. Looks like she hates him even more now.”

The three were laughing when they suddenly noticed Senior Sister Lu Rong looming above them, dark circles under her eyes, half-squinting as she pointed at her own eyes.

“I’m watching you.”

The three junior sisters scattered instantly.

Lu Rong curled her lip, too lazy to bother with these clueless little juniors.

After all, as the sect leader’s only daughter, bickering with them would just make her look petty.

And honestly, they weren’t wrong—she was Zhou Li’s sworn enemy.

They had entered an apprenticeship together at age six, and more than a decade had passed since. Zhou Li had been brought back from outside the mountains, already recognized as a once-in-a-generation genius. He joined the sect starting at the Golden Core stage and could comprehend the Dao at any moment. During those years, the random thunder and lightning that kept striking the sect? All his doing.

Most terrifying of all, he defeated the Xuan Yang Sect’s only powerhouse, the Chiyang Sword Venerable, at the age of ten. From then on, the title of Venerable Jian landed squarely on him. No one has managed to beat him since, but his defeated challengers are scattered across the world.

The sect’s plaque was constantly being sliced in half by these people in their attempts, to the point where the sect leader simply gave up re-hanging it.

With a genius like that around, it was only natural for everyone else to end up as background scenery.

Lu Rong, with her mediocre talent, was the ultimate background character. Her father was always whispering in her ear, “Rong’er, look at Zhou Li… now look at you.”

“Yesterday, Zhou Li mastered an ancient sword technique in the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, and you still can’t remember the incantation for guiding qi into your body.”

For an ordinary child, those words would be utterly crushing, so six-year-old Lu Rong pointed at Zhou Li and declared, “I hate you,” before bursting into tears.

And while she was crying her heart out, that bastard Zhou Li calmly advanced to another level of enlightenment!

The thunder that day was enormous—and terrifying.

Even after growing up and discovering she was from another world, Lu Rong still treated him as her mortal enemy.

The kind of enemy she’d hold onto for a lifetime, no matter the world!

Lu Rong yawned. She hadn’t slept for two nights while trying to finish the painting in her hands. She was completely spaced out now, just wanting to turn it in quickly and then go back to sleep.

The scroll in her hand was a life-size portrait, a full two-point-two meters long and one meter wide. Its contents are absolutely unfit for the public eye.

Which was why she had to deliver it to her customer in person.

The customer who had thrown a fortune at her for it was a disciple of the Xuan Yang Sect, but all of her clients purchased anonymously. She only needed to drop the portraits off at the designated spot.

The two would never meet, just to avoid mutually dying of embarrassment.

Lu Rong pulled out her jade token. Xuan Yang Sect tokens didn’t just represent identity. They could store jade inscriptions and be used for direct communication.

Her little side business was painting ‘fragrant rice’* portraits for those who needed them, and most of these works were quite restrictive.

(*TL’s note: 香香飯(xiāngxiāng fàn)—is slang for erotic drawings)

To maintain her image as the sect leader’s young lady, she kept two jade tokens: one personal and one solely for taking commissions.

She took out her work token and glanced at a message from her big-spending client.

Major Client: Grass Color God, please place the portrait inside the pavilion in the South Garden.

‘Grass Color’ was the alias Lu Rong used for drawing erotic art.

Grass Color: Alright, I’ll let you know once it’s dropped off.

On her sixteenth birthday, Lu Rong regained the memories of her previous life. Back then, she’d been an artist who drew erotic fan art for all kinds of CPs.

Now she was right back to her old trade, especially since her cultivation had stayed the same for more than ten years, and testing had confirmed she had a useless spiritual root. She had completely abandoned the path of cultivation and devoted herself to making money through adult art.

After all, nothing was more fragrant than money.

To reach the South Garden, she had to pass through Qianji Pavilion, the residence of her father, Lu Wen, who was also the head of the Xuan Yang Sect.

She glanced at the freshly picked loquats in her pocket, planning to give them to her father to butter him up. With luck, in a few days, she’d get permission to go down the mountain and attend the Spring Banquet, famous for being full of handsome men.

Though Qianji Pavilion was surrounded by barriers, Lu Rong was never affected by any of them. She simply carried the portrait up to the tightly closed door.

Just as she was about to call out, she heard her father’s voice from inside. Instinctively, she used the heavenly-rank spiritual artifact he’d given her to hide her aura and quietly listened in.

“Lately, I’ve noticed fluctuations in your sword aura. What’s going on?” It was her father’s voice.

A long silence hung in the room before another clear, cool voice finally emerged: “Nothing.”

“But your mind seems unstable,” Lu Wen said, worry creeping into his tone. Zhou Li was an unparalleled genius of the Xuan Yang Sect, and he had placed great hopes on him.

“Master, must one undergo tribulation before ascension?” Zhou Li’s chilly voice had deepened.

“Most likely.” Lu Wen’s cultivation hadn’t reached that realm.

“Perhaps… I’m about to undergo tribulation.” Lately, Zhou Li had been dreaming of a woman wrapped in mist, her face and voice indistinct, yet she clung to him day and night. At times, he couldn’t even tell dream from reality.

Zhou Li’s brow tightened slightly. His fingertips moved.

His sword shot out with the force of heaven and earth, blasting through the window with unstoppable momentum.

Lu Rong knew Zhou Li’s sword aura all too well. Sensing danger, she bolted.

“Someone’s there?” Lu Wen pushed open the window and looked down, but saw no one, only a long scroll lying forlornly on the ground.

Zhou Li’s sword, having recognized the aura as familiar, had already returned. He caught a whiff of something he knew well, the sweet scent of peaches.

Only Lu Rong loved peaches.

“It’s probably Rong’er. That child was eavesdropping.” Lu Wen was amused and exasperated. “I’ll teach her a lesson.”

“No need.” Zhou Li reached for the scroll outside the window, intending to hand it back to Lu Wen.

But the scroll was too large and not tied properly, and a section slipped from his palm.

A cold, ethereal face came into view, pale lips biting a red ribbon, the expression filled with desire and longing. Snow-white skin was dotted with red marks from the Adam’s apple down to the firm chest, and the red ribbon wound from the lips to the chest, covering the spring-colored points beneath.

Zhou Li: “…” My face?

Lu Wen: “???” My daughter painted this? Or did she buy it?!

“Give me that!” Halfway down the path, Lu Rong touched her chest and realized she’d forgotten her painting. She rushed back, snatched the scroll from Zhou Li’s hand, and clutched it to her chest.

Her fingertips brushed against his palm.

In that instant, Lu Rong felt something awaken in her mind, and a mechanical voice began to speak in broken fragments.

[The current world is an 18+ restricted novel world. Zhou Li is the male lead, and you can use him to break through your cultivation bottleneck…]

She shook her head uncomfortably, but before she could finish listening, a cool fingertip pressed between her brows.

“Calm down,” Zhou Li’s cool, detached voice came.

The familiar voice made her jump. She stepped back, her small face tipped up, her bright, clear black eyes flashing with panic before turning into angry embarrassment. “Y-you—what are you doing!”

The voice in her mind had already vanished. Lu Rong angrily rubbed the spot Zhou Li had touched.

Just as she thought she was done, she saw Zhou Li rub the fingertip that had touched her, his brows lifting as if he found it distasteful.

Fuming, she shoved her forehead against her father’s shoulder and scrubbed hard. Only when it turned red did she feel she’d cleaned herself better than Zhou Li had.

“Hey, Rong’er, you child,” Father Lu sighed, giving her head a light pat, half amused and half exasperated.

Zhou Li’s lips didn’t move. He only lowered his gaze, his fingertips brushing the hilt of his sword, his peripheral vision drifting again to the abdomen revealed on the half-unrolled scroll—eight-pack abs drawn taut and glistening faintly with sweat.

Lu Rong noticed his gaze and quickly rolled up the painting. “What are you looking at!”

Zhou Li didn’t answer. He only lifted his chin slightly, his cool gaze settling on her face as if silently asking: No explanation?

“Th-this is…” Lu Rong was internally losing her mind. What could be more mortifying than drawing her mortal enemy’s face to draw a half-naked full-body portrait, only for him to see it?

She bit her lip, screaming inside: Say something, you stupid mouth!

“This is… something I confiscated! Those junior sisters somehow got hold of these obscene things! I was planning to burn them all!” Lu Rong felt her explanation was absolutely flawless.

“Oh.” Zhou Li replied, his gaze not shifting from her face.

“Oh, what? Do you think I drew this? I wouldn’t draw someone I can’t stand.” Lu Rong snorted and tossed the scroll at him. “If you don’t believe me, burn it yourself, so you won’t keep thinking it’s mine.”

Zhou Li summoned a small flame at his fingertip, bringing it toward the scroll.

A crying voice suddenly burst into his mind.

[Waaaaah, my painting, a painting worth 30,000 gold, please don’t burn it, please!]

His fingertips paused slightly, and he looked up at Lu Rong again. Her face was indifferent.

But he knew the voice in his mind was Lu Rong’s.

Her voice was very distinctive, crisp and sweet, like the tinkling of bells in the wind.

He wasn’t sure if he’d been hallucinating, and the flames moved closer to the scroll.

[No! No! Those full pectoral muscles, that taut sexual tension, those eight-pack abs with bite marks—they’re all so hard to paint.]

Zhou Li: “?” How could he suddenly hear her thoughts?

The flames on his fingertips extinguished, and he held the scroll in his hand. Calmly, he said, “Master, since there’s one painting like this, there must be others. Allow me to take it back and trace its origin to settle this once and for all.”

Lu Rong: “???” Cut off my source of income?!

“Excellent, excellent! Such things must indeed be eradicated.” Lu’s father looked at Lu Rong, who was grinding her teeth. “Rong’er, what’s wrong?”

Zhou Li deliberately glanced her way. “What do you think?”

Lu Rong smiled and gave a thumbs-up. “You’re truly a talent.”

[Zhou Li, I’m going to kill you! Kill you!]

Zhou Li raised an eyebrow, picked up the scroll, and left—aloof and proud, sword in hand.

Lu Rong, utterly dejected, sprawled in her father’s room. Unable to hold back her anger, she finally stomped her foot. “Ah! Zhou Li, I’ll never forgive you!”

But Zhou Li had already flown away on the wind.

Lu Rong, dark circles under her eyes and tears shimmering, felt heartsick for the painting she’d spent seven days on; her big client had commissioned it for 30,000 gold.

She sat up abruptly, wiping the corners of her eyes hard with her sleeve until they were red, feeling utterly wronged.

No—she had to find a way to get the painting back!