I Pose as a Noble Young Master of an Imperial Clan in the Cultivation World

[Reimagined traditional mythology + no saintly heroine + mind games + no System + slow burn + gradual rise in power]

I transmigrated into the body of the cultivation world’s top con artist, and from the start, I pretended to be a noble young master of the Imperial Clan.

Sure, my clothes came from a street stall, my cultivation level was in the negatives, and all I had was a glowing agate dzi bead.

But the entire sect knelt before me and called me “Young Master.”

To stay alive, I had no choice but to put on an epic performance:

For the sect leader, I acted aloof and impatient, like, “You think that trashy technique of yours is worthy of my attention?”

For the Holy Maiden, I acted deeply devoted and domineering, like, “Keep staring, and I’ll take you home as my wife.”

I pulled off one performance after another, all thanks to the palace dramas and workplace survival guides I’d watched in my previous life.

It wasn’t until a killer stabbed me during volcano training that I realized someone really wanted me, this “Imperial Clan” member, dead!

It wasn’t until, on a snowy night, a mysterious masked woman froze a fatal attack and softly asked me, “Are you… sick too?”

It wasn’t until I used that busted bead to master a forbidden technique that required absorbing “baleful energy,” enduring agony as I grew unbelievably powerful.

Only then did I slowly begin to sense that something was off.

The Imperial Clan they all worshipped seemed to be the result of some earth-shattering misunderstanding.

The technique I practiced seemed connected to an ancient taboo.

And perhaps the hand trying to erase me feared not the “identity” I was pretending to have…

But the greatest truth and lie in this cultivation world, which I was about to tear open with my own hands.