Chapter 131: “Immortal Path” Airs
Song Chengwang: ?
Song Chengwang: [Image] Hah, mystery solved—it turns out they only came to me after you turned them down.
Xiang Yueting: …In the end, my feelings were misplaced! [Image]
…
Ning Sinian: So I was actually the last one [Image]
Shen Xiu stepped out of his study to feed the cat and took a moment to open WeChat, habitually checking the group chat messages.
From 6 p.m. to 9 p.m., he saw the group members one by one post about how they had been invited by Pall and had all tacitly rejected the offer.
Shen Xiu belatedly asked the system: [Did Pall send me an invitation too, among the earlier brand offers?]
System: [Yes.]
After reading the chat messages, the system sent Shen Xiu a screenshot of its chat with Pall’s staff.
Shen Xiu forwarded it to the group chat.
[Group Chat]
Shen Xiu: [Image]
Xia Wenhao: Mystery solved—we were all just stand-ins for Captain Xiu. Suddenly I’m not even mad anymore.
Xiang Yueting: Serves Pall right for getting rejected! Damn them. Luckily I saw the messages in our group chat, or I would’ve been fooled.
Mu Zhenchu: Exactly! Their staff even said I was their “first choice”—hah!
Shang Yu: “Everyone is equal.”
Zhuang Yi: Equally… used as stand-ins for Captain Xiu? Getting burned by Pall?
Jiang Yanxi: Hahaha, expose them hard!
After carefully reading through everyone’s messages, Shen Xiu frowned slightly and said to the system, “From now on, reject all events or invitations from Pall.”
How could they lie like that? And not just once—they tried to reel in the entire The Galaxy team. Totally out of line.
System: [OK!]
—
Pall’s staff contacted every single member of The Galaxy, only to be shocked when they discovered that not a single one of the remaining eight members—aside from Shen Xiu—was willing to accept their invitation either.
With no other choice, Pall had to turn to someone else.
Earlier, the Xiuologists had seen Pall hinting that Shen Xiu would be attending their event and were eagerly anticipating his appearance.
Following those hints, Pall’s confident social media interactions only reinforced the fans’ belief that Shen Xiu would indeed collaborate with the brand.
Because of that, many well-off Xiuologists had driven a significant number of sales for Pall.
But when Pall made their official announcement, neither the promotional images nor the tags included Shen Xiu—or any member of The Galaxy. The Xiuologists were stunned.
They flooded the comments under Pall’s official post:
— What’s going on? I don’t get it. Didn’t you guys say in the comments earlier that the invited guest was a super popular member of The Galaxy? If not Shen Xiu, I really can’t think of anyone else.
— +111 Even if it wasn’t Shen Xiu, it should’ve been someone else from the group. I’d happily support any of them. I feel tricked—I boosted your sales and engagement for nothing. I’m so mad right now.
— This move is disgusting. Are you playing us for fools?
An artist who had been invited by Pall to attend the show saw the backlash in the comments and finally understood what had happened.
Relieved that the fans weren’t directing their anger at him personally, he immediately had his agent contact Pall’s staff to terminate the collaboration.
Less than half an hour after Pall’s official announcement, the invited celebrity publicly announced the end of their partnership, giving the Xiuologists a huge sense of satisfaction and vindication.
The artist who had been unknowingly dragged into the collaboration wasn’t very famous and didn’t have many fans, but the ones they did have were fiercely loyal. Once they realized their idol had been played, they stormed Pall’s official Weibo account to vent their anger.
With the support of The Galaxy’s fans, the backlash pushed Pall onto the trending topics list—accompanied by heavy mockery.
Pall’s PR team was furious at how things had spiraled out of control.
They blamed everything on Shen Xiu’s refusal, believing he was the root of all their trouble. In a fit of frustration, someone from Pall used a burner account to post shady complaints about Shen Xiu under the trending hashtag.
@ReachingTheTop: Heh, team “b*llying” much? Not letting other members take the offers he doesn’t want—disgusting. No wonder his fans are the same, always b*llying others.
@ReachingTheTop: Wasn’t it exam week recently? Maybe he was too busy chasing money to study, and bombed his finals, so now he’s hiding from the public eye?
Amid the sea of comments criticizing Pall, these two posts—obviously fake-supporting Pall in a sarcastic tone—caught fans’ attention. Irritated, they deliberately boosted the posts with likes to make them more visible at the top of the comment section.
Some spectators, enjoying the drama, even tagged The Galaxy members in the replies:
— Really? Did Shen Xiu ever mention his grades to you guys? @Shang Yu @Xia Wenhao @Mu Zhenchu @Song Chengwang…
— I don’t believe it—there’s no way Boss Xiu would have bad grades.
— Just curious—were you guys “b*llied”? Did Shen Xiu really not let you accept the offers he turned down? @Ning Sinian @Zhuang Yi @Jiang Yanxi…
— Huh, look at this account’s follow list… Tsk. Isn’t it full of Pall executives? Could this be a case of a salty Pall staffer smearing Shen Xiu after the collab fell through?
There were a lot of members tagged in the @TheGalaxy mentions. Although everyone was busy with their own schedules, it was a habit among them—whenever even one of them saw something relevant, they’d screenshot or forward the link to their group chat.
As a result, quite a few of them saw those shady comments.
Song Chengwang and Xia Wenhao scrolled back through the group chat to find the earlier discussion, took screenshots, and posted them to their Weibo accounts. The other members followed suit by reposting.
@Xia Wenhao: Are you sick?!
@Song Chengwang: And seriously unwell. //@Xia Wenhao: Are you sick?!
@Shang Yu: Stop talking, you’re embarrassing yourself. //@Song Chengwang: Seriously unwell
@Xiang Yueting: Prepare to get wrecked. //@Shang Yu: Stop talking, you’re embarrassing yourself
…
After everyone had shared their responses, Shen Xiu finally saw the messages in the group chat.
He opened his long-unused Weibo account, found the most complete version of the repost thread, and joined in.
While editing the repost, Shen Xiu read through his teammates’ comments one by one. Realizing they had already said everything that needed to be said, he found himself at a loss for words. Finally, he just typed a single character:
@Shen Xiu: Mn //@Jiang Yanxi: Don’t forget your meds…
After posting that, Shen Xiu opened his laptop, entered his student ID and password, and pulled up his grades for the semester. He took a screenshot and posted it to Weibo.
@Shen Xiu: [Image]
Before today, Shen Xiu hadn’t posted anything on Weibo for a long time.
Today, he suddenly posted twice—one was a rare group interaction with the rest of The Galaxy, and the other was a direct clapback to the sarcastic jabs likely coming from a Pall staffer. For the Xiuologists who had been so irritated by Pall, this was like sweet, satisfying justice.
— Heh, bet you didn’t see that coming. There’s no “b*llying” here—our Galaxy boys are tight-knit. Stay jealous~
— Hahaha, Xiu-baby himself gave his approval! Pall is really beyond saving at this point—might as well just give up. Secretly contacting the members of The Galaxy one by one? That’s just plain shady. Trying to get them to backstab each other? Keep dreaming!
— Even though I already knew Xiu-baby was amazing, when I saw that grade screenshot, I still had to ask—how on earth did he pull it off?!
— Even if they don’t interact publicly… wait a sec, sisters, I just realized something important: even though the boys don’t engage with each other much on social media, they’re super active privately! Their group chat is full of back-and-forth!
— LMAO, congratulations to Pall for being crowned the weirdest brand of the year!
— That’s my Xiu-baby! Every single grade has a crazy high GPA!
— Stay calm. This is just business as usual for our Overachiever King Xiu. (hands on hips)
Pall’s staff had never imagined that the members of The Galaxy would be so close behind the scenes.
The evidence of Pall privately contacting each member one by one was solid and undeniable. They had no choice but to delete those shady Weibo posts and resign themselves to the public ridicule.
After posting his Weibo updates, Shen Xiu saw a few comments praising him. He felt secretly pleased—but too embarrassed to keep reading—so he quickly closed the app.
Switching back to WeChat, he saw the others chatting casually in the group about what they’d been up to. So, he decided to share his own plans too.
[Group Chat]
Shen Xiu: I’m planning to take on an acting role over summer break. Still picking a script.
Mu Zhenchu: ! What a coincidence.
Ning Sinian: Me too…
Xiang Yueting: ? Not gonna lie, I already accepted one.
Shang Yu: …It’s summer. I guess it’s time I took a role too.
Song Chengwang: Then… me too?
Seeing the messages fly by in the group, Shen Xiu assumed they were just teasing him, not being serious.
After chatting with everyone a little longer, Shen Xiu’s scheduled break time came to an end. He said goodbye to the group and returned to his study to continue reading through scripts.
—
One week later, Shen Xiu finally finished reading all the scripts.
System: Which one? Which one?!
The system had been waiting eagerly all this time and was dying to know Shen Xiu’s choice.
Shen Xiu, now very familiar with the process, opened the list on his computer and quickly cross-referenced the screen time of each role offered to him. Without hesitation, he said:
“Storm.”
System: …
The system was stunned.
Although it didn’t fully understand the complex emotions conveyed in the scripts, as the one that helped organize and categorize all of them, it knew very well—“Storm” was a movie!!!
And Shen Xiu—who had only acted once before, and only as a supporting character—was now choosing a film, and not just any role, but a major villain, the second male lead, with significant screen time.
If this news got out, wouldn’t people say Shen Xiu was being way too arrogant?
After Shen Xiu spoke, the system fell silent, prompting Shen Xiu to ask curiously, “What’s wrong?”
Was there something wrong with his choice?
His eyes scanned the list again. The timeline for Storm fit perfectly—it could be filmed and wrapped before the end of his summer break.
The system scanned the list one more time and finally understood why Shen Xiu chose Storm.
System: …Never mind. As long as you’re happy.
System: So… should I go ahead and confirm with the production team of “Storm”?
Shen Xiu replied, “Yes.”
The other scripts were either too long, offered him forgettable roles that didn’t resonate, or had character arcs that fell apart by the end.
When reading the scripts—and even diving into the original novels behind them—Shen Xiu found some characters’ transformations so abrupt and inconsistent, he couldn’t even imagine how to portray them convincingly.
Compared to the others, Shen Xiu still preferred the second male lead in Storm. The script, though original, had one big advantage: from start to finish, the character’s personality and motivations remained consistent—there was no character collapse at all.
Upon receiving Shen Xiu’s confirmation, the screenwriter of Storm immediately accelerated efforts to contact the rest of the desired cast. After all, the actual filming window was only two months long, and Shen Xiu’s summer break was about three months. Time was tight—every step had to be quick.
The day after Shen Xiu confirmed he would play the second male lead in the modern film Storm, the production team wasted no time. They sent someone to Yulin Banxia to sign the contract with him—as if they feared that even a one-second delay might cause him to change his mind.
Screenwriter Lu Wen, who was responsible for signing the deal, closed his copy of the contract and stood up, reaching out a hand to Shen Xiu.
“Looking forward to working with you.”
Shen Xiu also rose and reached out to shake his hand.
“Looking forward to working with you.”
Besides signing Shen Xiu, Lu Wen had to rush off to meet other actors, so he didn’t linger. After wrapping up the contract, he politely said goodbye.
Shen Xiu escorted Lu Wen to the elevator. Just as the doors were about to close, Lu Wen suddenly said:
“Shen Xiu, thank you for choosing my script, Storm. There’ll be a surprise waiting for you at the launch ceremony.”
Shen Xiu: “?”
Would it really be a surprise? Or a scare?
Shen Xiu could only wonder anxiously in his heart. Out loud, he awkwardly replied,
“Thank you.”
With the contract signed, Shen Xiu’s role in Storm was officially locked in. The production announced that the launch ceremony would be held in ten days, and filming would begin immediately after. Over the next two-plus months, they would travel across several countries for location shoots.
As Shen Xiu immersed himself in studying the script, he started to worry about Lucky.
The system volunteered: Don’t worry—I’ll take care of Lucky!
Shen Xiu asked a very realistic question: “Can you clean Lucky’s litter box?”
Suddenly, the system went dead silent—so silent it was deafening.
Shen Xiu made a decision: “I’ll hire a housekeeper.”
—
In the third week of summer vacation, Immortal Path officially aired on Fruit TV.
Just as Zhao Heng had predicted, thanks to Xuan Ji’s previous stunt, the number of people who pre-subscribed to the show on the platform was very high even before it premiered.
On the first day of airing, Immortal Path’s view count skyrocketed straight to number one on Fruit TV.
With high viewership came scrutiny. Naturally, the more people watched, the more nitpicking and harsh criticism it attracted.
Some fans of rival actors—especially those envious of Immortal Path’s popularity—tuned in specifically to find flaws.
The fans of the main and major supporting cast were incredibly nervous, anxiously scouring social media to see if the show was being dragged or ridiculed.
But after the first two episodes aired, they were surprised to find that the criticism wasn’t nearly as bad as they had feared.
In fact, many people on the barrage comments started off complaining… only to end up too captivated to keep complaining.
[Barrage Comments]
[Faint dragon-scale patterns, those majestic twisting horns, glowing dark-blue markings on his arms and waist… Aaaah! Demon King Xiu, you’re killing me!]
[What garbage effects, what trash design, my poor eyes… I’m so annoyed—wait, didn’t I say I wasn’t going to watch this crap? Li Yang is literally too hot. Who sent me this clip—have you no shame?! (Ahem. I was only referring to the first part, don’t get me wrong.)]
[This editing is crap, the male lead is garbage, he’s like a parasite, why does he—ugh… but he’s actually so tragic. Master, why are you targeting Gong Zihen? If you’ve got guts, target me instead (blushing, full of anticipation).]
[I’m willing to share the pain he suffered from his master—Gong Zihen, let me bear it for you.]
[LOL! Gu Yueying cracked me up. This editing is so smooth—not that chaotic spinning-and-jumping-with-my-eyes-closed nonsense with blaring BGM. It’s snappy and clean, and I loved watching it!]
[The Demon King Xiu has arrived! Make way, all of you! If you don’t, well… just look at what happened to Gong Zihen—his hand got chopped off! Waaah, so scary!]
Amid nearly wall-to-wall praise on both the barrage and social media, the only complaint netizens had was about the lack of advance episodes—there were only two episodes and a teaser for the next two.
The limited number of episodes became the only black mark against Immortal Path.
[Tonight, we assemble to assassinate whoever approved this release schedule!]
[Count me in!]
[I don’t get it. Other shows release 4 or even 6 episodes at once. Why did you only give us 2? What are you guys even doing? @Immortal Path]
[This editing… you can tell it hasn’t been corrupted by Xuan Ji’s chaos, LOL!]
The editing team behind Immortal Path saw these comments… and didn’t dare respond.
The audience didn’t realize that Immortal Path had actually premiered ahead of schedule.
The show originally slated to air before them had been abruptly pulled because the lead actor was involved in illegal activities. The network needed a replacement fast, and Immortal Path had to air suddenly to fill the gap.
This meant a lot of their preparations weren’t complete, and several episodes hadn’t yet been finalized. The team had no choice but to release fewer episodes at first, buying time to finish polishing the rest and avoid disaster under intense scrutiny.
They had seen how Xuan Ji had been torn apart by the public—and they wanted no part of that.
In an effort to ease tension, the Immortal Path production team decided to temporarily open individual Weibo accounts for the three major characters: Gu Yueying, Gong Zihen, and Li Yang.
All three character accounts would be personally managed by the actors themselves.
When the three of them were added to the same group chat, Shen Xiu listened to the production team’s instructions and immediately understood.
Staring at the words on the screen, Shen Xiu murmured to himself with a nod: “Roleplaying. Got it.”
After receiving the account info, Shen Xiu logged in.
Seeing the character-themed banner set by the production team, Shen Xiu was overwhelmed with secondhand embarrassment. He pretended not to notice it and clicked on the “Edit Post” interface, fingers hovering above the keyboard.
After a few minutes of writing, deleting, and rewriting, Shen Xiu was still unsure of what to post.
In that moment, he finally understood the saying:
“Understanding something is one thing. Doing it is another entirely.”
He asked the system for help: “As Li Yang, what should my first post be?”
The staff had suggested he interact with Gong Zihen, who, in the story, was Li Yang’s disciple.
But Shen Xiu thought about Li Yang’s personality…
There was no way Li Yang would affectionately call someone “my disciple” online. He’d sooner chop them up and toss them aside.
The system offered a suggestion: “How about… go see what the others posted?”
Shen Xiu had an epiphany: “Got it. Time to learn by imitation!”
He returned to the main page and searched for the character accounts of Gu Yueying and Gong Zihen, intending to steal some ideas.
The moment he clicked on Gong Zihen’s page, he saw a clip of him miserably picking up his severed hand.
Shen Xiu: “……”
When he’d acted the scene, it didn’t feel like much.
But now, watching it as an outsider—he had to admit: Li Yang was kind of a psycho, and Gong Zihen was way too pitiful.
Silently, Shen Xiu opened Gu Yueying’s account instead.
Seeing Gu Yueying’s post, he finally sighed in relief.
Even during filming, he’d always felt Gong Zihen and Li Yang didn’t match well at all.
If anyone deserved to be Li Yang’s disciple, it was Gu Yueying.
So without even checking what the post was, Shen Xiu immediately hit repost.
@Li Yang: “Not bad!”
After reading Li Yang’s comment and then watching the video Gu Yueying had posted, netizens burst out laughing.
— No wonder the master is so ruthless!
— Seriously, no one cares if you live or die anymore haha, you’re so pitiful, man @GongZihen
