Chapter 117.1: Filming Immortal Path
Being asked a question and refusing to answer wasn’t just impolite — maintaining eye contact in silence was even more awkward.
To avoid either scenario, Shen Xiu instinctively spoke up. “Your acting…”
At that moment, he suddenly recalled a rule from a guide to workplace etiquette: when dealing with colleagues you’ll be spending a lot of time with, it’s best not to be too blunt when problems arise — being too direct could affect future collaboration. It’s better to be tactful.
He, Fang Chengxing, and Liang Cheng were all part of the Immortal Path production. Rounded up, that made them temporary coworkers.
So Shen Xiu hesitated and chose his words carefully. “It’s… a tiny bit poisonous.”
A tiny bit… That was tactful enough, right?
Poisonous?!
Fang Chengxing blinked, staring at Shen Xiu’s cool, emotionless face. Shen Xiu’s eyes were lowered, his tone detached and ruthless. Instantly, Fang Chengxing was reminded of the time Shen Xiu spoke at the drama’s kick-off ceremony — a thunderbolt on a clear day. His face darkened at the memory.
Shen Xiu was seriously cold and merciless!
Fang Chengxing already knew that he was essentially replicating the formulaic acting he’d learned back in school. He hadn’t acted much, sure, but it was still more than Shen Xiu. So hearing Shen Xiu, of all people, call his performance poisonous in such an unfeeling way left him more than a little irritated.
And to say it in front of so many people? How was that any different from a public execution? Fang Chengxing was even more upset.
Seeing Fang Chengxing remain silent, Shen Xiu continued nervously, “Don’t be nervous. You and I… we’re about the same.”
Fang Chengxing: “…Alright.”
That was clearly another jab. He wasn’t happy, but he knew where he stood — there was no way he was on the same level as Shen Xiu!
In Fang Chengxing’s mind, Shen Xiu wasn’t just a supporting actor — he also had ties to the investors. Even if he was unhappy, it wasn’t worth making an enemy of him. So he squeezed out a dry one-word reply.
Although Shen Xiu had warned them during the opening ceremony to mentally prepare themselves, Fang Chengxing realized — now that he was actually on the receiving end of that sharp tongue — that his psychological defenses weren’t nearly strong enough.
Nearby, Liang Cheng and several crew members who had heard the entire exchange fell silent: “……”
They had all noticed Fang Chengxing’s acting issues. His performance was stiff, lifeless. Even when the character was supposed to laugh freely like a bright, carefree youth, the smile never quite reached his eyes. Still, many actors in the industry were like that — and usually, people just said something nice and moved on.
But someone who dared to call it out so bluntly? Only Shen Xiu.
Everyone had the same unspoken thought: As expected of the Demon King Xiu — when it comes to saving face, he really doesn’t give a damn!
And yet… why did they all admire him for it?
That line — “Don’t be nervous. You and I are about the same.” — delivered in such a calm, cool tone while looking down at Fang Chengxing… it had to be pure, unfiltered shade.
After all—
This was Shen Xiu they were talking about. The guy could do everything. Who could possibly be “about the same” as him?
Meanwhile, the last scene had just finished filming. Director Xuan Ji was reviewing the footage and hadn’t noticed the interaction between Shen Xiu and Fang Chengxing.
Once he finished reviewing and found no major issues, he looked up and saw the two still standing face to face. He called out in confusion, “Chengxing, go get ready.”
To Fang Chengxing, the director’s voice was like a lifeline pulling him out of the terrifying territory ruled by Demon King Xiu. He answered immediately, “Got it!”
His voice was a little too loud, betraying his excitement.
Then he turned and bolted without even looking back.
Hearing the obvious difference between Fang Chengxing’s cheerful response to the director and how he’d just spoken to him, Shen Xiu thought to himself: “…”
‘Great. I probably wasn’t tactful enough after all.’
Shen Xiu silently watched Fang Chengxing’s retreating back, feeling genuinely sorry for not having been tactful enough. Worried that Fang Chengxing might come ask for feedback again after his next scene, Shen Xiu began mentally searching for even gentler ways to phrase his critique.
But… was there anything more tactful than “a tiny bit”?
As he thought, his brow furrowed unconsciously.
The crew members and Liang Cheng, who had just finished feasting on the drama unfolding before them, caught sight of Shen Xiu frowning as he stared at Fang Chengxing’s fleeing figure. They all sucked in a quiet breath, a chill running down their spines — the tension was real. It felt like the air itself had thickened.
‘Demon King Xiu must be mad at Fang Chengxing,’ they all thought. When they film their scene together, are they going to fight on set?
These crew members, seasoned from working on countless productions, felt a secret thrill stir in their hearts.
After seeing so many productions coddle their leads — even when the acting was clearly mediocre — and still push forward with praise and flattery, it was finally time. Time to witness a glorious moment where bad acting didn’t get a pass but got publicly dragged instead.
As for Director Xuan, it was his first time directing. He still wasn’t quite sure what counted as “good” or “bad” acting. But Demon King Xiu? He was solid. His eye for quality — and his tongue — were as sharp and precise as ever!
Knowing the next scene was his, Shen Xiu made his way to the lakeside filming location.
Because his upper body was fully styled — with prosthetics glued to his shoulders, arms, and sides to mimic jagged, icicle-like spikes — Shen Xiu was extremely careful with his movements. He didn’t want to dislodge any of the makeup and risk delaying the shoot.
As he followed a crew member toward the lake, Shen Xiu couldn’t help but notice all the eyes on him.
With this kind of costume, it made sense for people to look. It was only natural to attract attention. Shen Xiu, though nervous, could accept that.
Once he disappeared from view, the crew members still at the last shooting spot couldn’t help themselves — they started talking.
“Did you all see that just now? All I can say is — as expected of Shen Xiu. Even the way he walks is elegant. It’s like Li Yang from Immortal Path tore through the dimensional wall and stepped into real life.”
“I was just thinking how Shen Xiu’s whole vibe while walking felt completely different from everyone else. But now that you mention it, it makes sense — they’re not even in the same dimension. Of course he stands out.”
“Tall, handsome, noble, aloof — he’s got the whole cold and refined demeanor down. Now I just wonder how his acting holds up.”
“Pfft. He had the nerve to criticize Fang Chengxing to his face — do you really think his acting would be bad?”
—
Five minutes later, Shen Xiu arrived at the lakeside — the location for his upcoming scene with Fang Chengxing.
Most of Immortal Path was being filmed in a studio complex, which had sets for all kinds of environments — including lakes and oceans. Director Xuan Ji had looked over both the lake and ocean options and ultimately chose the lake to simulate the deep pool described in Li Yang’s scene from the script.
Once the equipment was set and the set construction finished, Xuan Ji turned to Shen Xiu. “You can go in now.”
The lake’s water wasn’t particularly clear — a murky green that, unintentionally, looked remarkably similar to the eerie, deep pool described in Immortal Path.
Hearing the director, a few crew members exchanged uneasy glances — first at Shen Xiu, then at Xuan Ji.
This director really is a rookie, they thought. He clearly doesn’t know the unspoken rules of a film crew.
Never mind Shen Xiu’s personal background — just his complicated connection to the investors through Immortal Path should’ve been enough for the director to use a stand-in. But Xuan Ji just told him to go into that icy-cold water like it was nothing.
Would Shen Xiu actually—
Before they could finish that thought, Shen Xiu had already stepped into the water without the slightest hesitation.
He moved to the spot Xuan Ji had marked — the one best suited for post-production effects — and stood still, then raised a hand to flash an “OK” gesture toward the director, just as they’d agreed in rehearsal.
The crew: “……”
Wait—he just went in? That easily? No coaxing? No negotiating?
Had they been too shallow?
Then again, who could blame them for overthinking? In most productions, actors who were merely “placed” by investors — even without being truly supported — were still treated like royalty.
If someone like that actually went into freezing water for a scene, it was usually just for post-production PR. “Look how dedicated the actor is!” That sort of thing.
“Actors who aren’t fussy like this… you barely see them anymore.”
“Right? Just riding a horse without a stunt double or posing with a sword gets them trending for days with heaps of praise. Forget going into cold water — they’d be flooding the hot search crying about how miserable it was.”
“Hmm… I mean, is it possible that actors are supposed to serve the script, and doing this kind of thing is just… part of the job?”
Everyone turned to the one brave soul who dared to speak the truth.
In unison: “…You’re way too honest. People like you don’t last long in this industry. If a popular actor heard that, you’d be fired by the end of the day — and they’d find some excuse for it.”
Action!
With the director’s call, the first confrontation scene between Shen Xiu and Fang Chengxing officially began.
The crew watched as Shen Xiu, without hesitation, followed the script direction and submerged himself underwater, holding his breath.
At the right cue from Director Xuan, Shen Xiu burst from the water like a dragon surfacing from the sea. Water splashed high all around him. The dark lake reached up to Li Yang’s waist, and the sunlight hitting his figure caused the scaled patterns on his skin to shimmer with an eerie glint.
His eyes — a frosty blue laced with pale white — held a mix of arrogance, amusement, and dangerous malice. Without saying a word, he looked toward the young noble Gong Zihen, who was still kneeling on the shore in prayer, as though he were a pitiful ant whose fate rested entirely on his whim.
That chillingly cold expression — his face as divine as a god yet intimidating enough to send shivers down one’s spine — combined with the long white hair billowing in the wind, seemed to meld seamlessly into the dark, icy waters of the lake.
Just one glance, and it was clear what true, bone-deep cold meant — a murderous chill radiating from his very gaze, like the scent of blood clinging to frost.
Hearing the splash of water, Fang Chengxing, as scripted, knelt on the ground, his thin frame trembling.
Then, he slowly lifted his gaze, eyes filled with fear as he looked toward the man who had raised him — his master, now terrifying and cruel, whose merciless actions had left a mark of instinctive dread.
The way Li Yang stared at him — like someone who might, in the very next second, snap his neck just because he was in a bad mood — was utterly deranged.
Under that violent, blood-scented pressure emanating from Li Yang’s cold, indifferent eyes, Fang Chengxing swallowed hard and immediately dropped his head again in terror. His heart pounded wildly, his mind went completely blank.
Seconds passed — more than enough time for Gong Zihen to deliver his line.
Shen Xiu: “……”
Did he forget his line?
Shen Xiu was puzzled, but since Director Xuan hadn’t called “cut,” he remained in character, keeping Li Yang’s threatening stillness perfectly intact.
