Proud Immortal Demon Way is a harem novel in which the protagonist rises to power across all three realms, brings suffering upon those who dared to wrong him, and amasses a harem of hundreds of women, becoming the most powerful of all. That’s not right. Proud Immortal Demon Way is a danmei novel in which the protagonist suffers strife after strife, breaking his heart time and time again, only to finally by the end have it patched up by his kind and loving shizun who never truly wanted to hurt him, only misunderstood him. It’s the tale of a beautiful romance with many ups and downs. No, stillnot right. Let me try again.

Proud Immortal Demon Way is a novel in which the protagonist gets so badly abused and sent so many mixed signals that he develops unshakable complexes, leading to his teacher and arguable (accidental) groomer having no choice but to cave to his whims in fear of all he holds dear being destroyed, despite whatever love story “Great Master” Mo Xiang Tong Xiu may try to sell you.

And that’s… really not a bad thing.

I’d say let’s start with a plot summary, but that’s a very tall task considering the official English release is over 1000 pages and took me around a month to complete. To put it simply, it’s the story of a man who is such a massive hater that the world itself punished him for it. That one description is what drew me into it as someone who—despite being a bisexual man—does not regularly read gay romance. Or xianxia. Or isekai. So take this with a grain of salt.

Shen Yuan is a chronically online young adult from a rich enough family that he plans to, in his words, “idle [it] away” comfortably while his family keeps him happy and supported. This goes awry one day when–after leaving yet another scathing comment on his favorite trashy webnovel to hate on, Proud Immortal Demon Way–he dies suddenly. He’s then isekaied into the book he loathes so much as to read to completion, but uh oh! He’s been isekaied into the body of one of the villains–the protagonist’s evil teacher, Shen Qingqiu! Beating the protagonist, killing those who should be close to him, coming onto a young girl–there’s nothing this wretched beast wouldn’t do. In order to avoid his original fate of being strung up and having his limbs torn off, he must rise to the occasion and grovel before the protagonist.

Basically, imagine it as the evil yaoi twin to those “reincarnated as the villainess” anime.

Shen Qingqiu, Shen Yuan, whatever you want to call him, is an absolutely fascinating protagonist. His inner monologue is witty, lending itself well to the best part of the novel: the satire. He’s stubborn, plays it cool despite his inner monologue being in a constant state of panic, argues with the narrative, and won’t stop bitching about how poorly everything is written even years after switching lives. It’s pathetic. It’s funny. It works very well, and I enjoyed reading from his perspective. He’s entertaining enough to hold you back from realizing just how disturbing Luo Binghe’s development really is.

Which, speaking of, sends us over to our… I want to say other protagonist, but for most of the story he really acts as more of an antagonist, so we’ll go with love interest: the in-universe main character, Luo Binghe. He’s a far more tragic character than the narrative presents him. Of course, while it does still view him with a certain level of tragedy, it never truly acknowledges just how fucked up his situation is. Two dead mothers, a father who’s never been in his life, and a shizun (teacher) who beats him and allows the other disciples to do the same all show that he doesn’t have a good, solid adult figure in his life. This is only made worse when his cold hearted shizun starts giving off mixed signals, showing signs of warmth, and eventually becoming truly kind, only to chew it up and spit it back in his face when he suddenly turns cold and cruel once again, throwing him into the Demon Realm. When he does come back, he believes that no matter what he does, he’ll only ever be seen as a monster. In that regard, it’s no wonder he decides there’s no point in behaving, and he should just (try to) take what he wants anyway. “What he wants” being sex. With his shizun. Who raised him. Are you seeing the issue here?

So, let’s unpack the power dynamics, why don’t we?

Shen Qingqiu is older, a teacher, and has an immense level of influence over not just Luo Binghe, but all his loved ones due to his high status and the respect his elders, peers, and subordinates all carry for him. However, he’s also at the whims of the System, which is essentially a guide that offers rewards for doing well and pushing the story forward, and punishments for doing poorly. Along with the System, he’s tied by the constraints of the plot. No matter what differences arise, it always moves towards the same general plot beats, and there are some basic facts of the world that cannot change–such as Luo Binghe being unable to be killed. While this gives him a leg up with his genre awareness, it also gives him a massive amount of WRONG genre awareness. It contributes to the mixed signals he gives off and makes him act in ways that we, as the audience of a danmei novel, know are just making things worse. For example, after Luo Binghe (reminder, the love interest) returns from the Demon Realm, instead of sticking around to talk things out, he just keeps running away from him in fear of his own life.

On the other hand, we have Luo Binghe. Abused, loved, feared, loved again, abandoned, loved yet again; it’s a never ending cycle with him. It has been his whole life. Really, it’s no wonder he imprinted on his shizun. He’s been suffering under the cycle of abuse longer than he can even remember. After being thrown away one too many times, he becomes a clingy mess. His heart lies solely on his shizun’s shoulders, and is that really fair to either of them? He spirals further and further, to the point of murder, dubcon, and the apocalypse. It really could’ve been biting commentary on the cycle of abuse if presented in another story of another genre.

And the power dynamics don’t make it bad, or even questionable—I found them absolutely fascinating. I was so intrigued and enthralled every time a new layer was added to the complex dynamics. What made it questionable was simply authorial intent. It’s meant to be romantic. It could be a successful story focusing around the cycle of abuse, but instead it’s a failed romance. I don’t think I’ve ever been less excited about a couple getting together at the end of the will-they-won’t-they and riding off into the sunset together, because I didn’t want them to get together. It’s not good for either of them, and yet the narrative treats it as if they’re soulmates. I was disturbed by the lax view of the dynamics–almost as disturbed as I was witnessing the dynamics being formed in the first place.

But that raises the question of how important authorial intent really is, doesn’t it? If what I got was a psychosexual thriller exploring themes of abuse, then would it be wrong for me to judge it as such–even if the original intent was to be a romance? I can’t quite say. I want to judge it on the merit I saw, because when reading it with the intent of a thorough character analysis, I had some of the most fun reading I’ve had in years. But is it right for me to, when the intended reading horrifies me?

And therein lies the mixed feelings. Discussing this book has me split between the part of me that believes in death of the author and the part of me that believes it’s still worthwhile to care for the intended reading. This book could range anywhere from a 2/10 all the way up to a 8/10, but I don’t think it lies in the middle. I think it has to be on one end of the spectrum, and those are scores for two entirely different readings of the same text. If nothing else, it’s a fascinating case study.

I want to lean towards a higher score though. While I do think a low score would be warranted, there’s enough good aspects to make up for it being someone’s horrifying (to me, not kink shaming) fetish. For one, there’s the writing. I’ve already mentioned how witty and snappy it is, which brings with it a need to keep pushing to the next page. While I found the pace a bit too hectic and the sheer volume of exposition made it hard to keep my characters and locations straight, it did keep the action going. I do wish it slowed down to let the reader take it all in a bit more though. The prose was well done.

For another, the characters. I’ve already talked about the main couple, but I’d like to discuss other highlights.

Ming Fan and Ning Yingying are the two major disciples, other than Luo Binghe of course, who study under Shen Qingqiu. While they don’t show up much, I found the ways they subverted their original roles (Shen Qingqiu’s right hand man in the abuse of Luo Binghe and another enemy to be taken out by him, and a little sister type for the harem respectively) to be refreshing. My only real critique is that I wish we got to see more of them, and I wish it went a bit further with Ming Fan’s crush on Ning Yingying; I believe it could’ve added to the subversion of the harem and added a good comedy bit, but I do also understand why it didn’t go in that direction, since a side romance would inherently require them to have more screen time; the members of their sect were meant to avoid earthly desires, so an extra romance would’ve caused more drama, and thus a longer story.

Another one I’d like to point out is Yue Qingyuan, who I ended up liking more than I initially expected to. While he seemed flat at first, in a world of snark and solving problems with violence, I really appreciated having a character who was so kind, purely loyal, and could not solve all his problems by drawing his sword. On the opposite end, there’s Liu Qingge, who solves all his problems with his sword. Being a warlord, this is no wonder. His snark around both Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe, albeit for different reasons, was entertaining and gave him more of a personality than I had initially expected from his introductory scenes. They were meant to die in the original Proud Immortal Demon Way, both at the fault of Shen Qingqiu, and Shen Qinqiu saving them was pivotal to changing the plot. Despite never actually seeing them die in the story we get, it felt almost fix-it-fic to see them alive and well at the end of the novel. It felt more feel-good than the main romance at least.

I’ll try not to say too much about late arrival spoilers Tianlang-Jun and Zhuzhi-Lang, Luo Binghe’s (debatably) evil father and (even more debatably) evil cousin. Despite being characters who were originally cut from the in-universe novel for being a spotlight stealing squad, here I wish they got a little more spotlight. Zhuzhi-Lang was endearing to me, being a doormat with undying loyalty but questionable ways of showing it. Although, not THAT kind of questionable–none of Luo Binghe’s sexual violence, surprisingly; guess it doesn’t run in the family. It was cute, in a lost puppy left all alone in the rain sort of way. Mistreated and loyal to a fault when he finally receives a speck of kindness, he adds to the themes of the cycle of abuse and how people cope with it. On a similar note, Tianlang-Jun being a lover of cultural exchange who was targeted for no reason other than fantasy racism and turning this unfair treatment into violence and anger also contributes to the themes, though I found it to be to a less interesting extent than Zhuzhi-Lang since Luo Binghe already had “anger at the world as a response to abuse” covered. Also, while I had initial fears of an incest plotline, those were entierly unwarranted. Thank God.

Speaking of spoilers, Shang Qinghua is impossible to talk about without spoiling the plot twist that he was another person isekaied in. But he’s not just anyone who was isekaied in, he’s the original author of the in-universe novel: one Mr. “Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky.” Outside of Shen Qingqiu, he’s one of the funnier characters, and his banter with Shen Qingqiu adds on to both of their characterizations. That’s not even going into the idea of a male power fantasy harem author getting together with his special little OC being hilarious. I would have read a whole novel about just him; it’s no wonder he got a chunk of extras dedicated just to him. His original life as a sell-out author makes me wonder just how much of a parody he is of people Mo Xiang Tong Xiu has actually met online.

As much as I enjoyed their presence, the side characters didn’t quite get enough time to shine. Though I think this has less to do with too much focus on the main couple, and more to do with the pacing being too fast, which lead to the feeling of rushing through everyone else’s arcs and development. It didn’t help that for a lot of their development, either the most interesting part was shown all at once and not given more time to develop (in the case of Liu Qingge), or it was almost entirely shown off screen due to time skips (in the cases of Ming Fan and Ning Yingying). In other cases, such as with Yue Qingyuan, they didn’t develop over the course of the story at all, and only had interesting parts of their backstory revealed to explain how they ended up this way. This isn’t inherently a bad thing, and it didn’t really drag it down all that much, it was just a little disappointing to have a cool, colorful cast that didn’t get utilized as much as they could have been.

But enough of the characters that were done well (though they needed a little more time to shine), there were also the characters who weren’t as enjoyable, though through no fault of their own. One of these is Gongyi Xiao, a disciple under a different jurisdiction from Shen Qingqiu who developed something of a friendship with him anyway. His death was ultimately just a way to shoo him out of the story—what a cheap reason to kill off a character. At the very least it should have been on screen to give it more weight. But the blase treatment of his death still can’t catch up to the genre’s standard pitfall in terms of questionable content: the treatment of the female characters. The Little Palace Mistress was a woman scorned, Qiu Haitang was treated like a monster for doing nothing about abuse she wasn’t even aware was occuring, Su Xiyan–Luo Binge’s birth mother–and Luo Binghe’s adoptive mother are dead before the story even begins, Sha Hualing has almost no bearing on the plot, and Qi Qingqi and Liu Mingyan have even less. While better than my expectations going in (due to the usual treatment of women in danmei and yaoi), that doesn’t make it above criticism. The women are almost entirely treated as lesser characters or as purely bitter people with nothing else going for them, outside of (arguably) Ning Yingying. With so many plot relevant, positive roles to fill, there’s no reason at least one of the major ones couldn’t have been filled by a woman.

Overall, the side characters were fun highlights with strong voices and witty banter, but they’re not immune to the pitfalls of the genre and the whims of plot convenient deaths–despite both plot convenient deaths and poor treatment of women in harem fiction being called out, subverted, and satirized within the novel itself; it demonstrates a shocking lack of self awareness.

Another highlight was the comedy. It was consistently a funny, witty, tightly written book–with props to English translators Faelicy and Lily, both taken directly from the most popular fan translation, which I appreciate seeing. While I’m sure they had good source material to work with, Mandarin is not an easy language to translate to English and they did a very good job keeping the tight writing I assume was always present. The two best bits were: 1) Shen Yuan being a chronically online loser who’s faking his cool composition in order to look badass and 2) Shen Yuan being such a hater that even after living as Shen Qingqiu for years, even after warping the story into an entirely new genre, even in the face of danger, even after meeting the author as Shang Qinghua, he will not shut up about how much he hates the book and hates the author. You’d think that one or both of these may get tiring by the end, since they’re traits he never really works through, but they show up just enough and in creative enough ways that I never found myself growing tired of either. Notice how both of the best bits focused around the main character, which contributed to him being such a fun person to read about. For as much as he complains about Luo Binghe being whiny, he’s not much better himself; he’s just better at covering for it.

With so many compliments thrown towards it, I think it’s time to unpack something I didn’t find effectively done at all. Let’s talk about the sex scene.

Not counting for any extras, there’s only one full fledged sex scene. And it’s…not good. Full disclosure, I’m not into dubcon or noncon, so I’m not the target demographic by any means. However, to compensate, I sent it to my friend and editor who gave it a full review from the perspective of someone who really is into dubcon. Their thoughts can be summarized as too much pain, not enough pleasure. If you’re going to make it dubcon instead of opting for full on rape, you should make the victimized party experience some enjoyment; the consent is dubious and not absent for a reason. You could even add in some guilt over enjoying it if you’re feeling bold. Personally, as someone really turned off by blood play, the constant mentions of blood made an already not great or enjoyable sex scene that much more difficult to stomach, but your mileage may vary.

“Too much pain, not enough pleasure” may as well be a full review of this book in of itself. It’s just a constant beatdown with moments of levity here and there, which is fine in theory, but when you write one of the main characters as a surprisingly apt take on abuse victims who turn into abusers themselves, it just muddles your message. It’s written as if it’s supposed to be drama with moments to breathe, but it comes off more as breaks in the abuse. And that’s what it is, that’s the elephant in the room, The Scum Villain’s Self Saving System is a story of abuse. And it is absolutely, without a doubt, fascinating. I am a person who loves character analysis and gray situations in media; I love to imagine and unpack the inner psyches of characters, and this book is absolutely amazing for that. Luo Binghe especially has so, so much wrong with him. When the aforementioned editor asked about what his deal is, I was able to give a whole list. This is a major flaw if read as a romcom, because I’m rooting for his endgame partner to be therapy and not, you know, his teacher, but if you read this instead as a comedy thriller then it’s a major upside. He didn’t have to turn out this way, but bad choice after bad choice led to abandonment issues so severe he would burn everything down to make sure it didn’t happen again. I just wish I could believe this was an intentional writing decision and not just a parody of whump used to push a romcom.

Another highlight was, while specific to me reading the English release, the artwork done by Xiao Tong Kong–a prominent fanartist prior to being hired for the English release. I enjoy reading fine, but light novels—which is the medium the English translation was released in—are more digestible than regular ones and I always find the artwork to be a good way to break it up. It’s clean and well done, and as I said about the translators, I always appreciate seeing prominent fan creators elevated. It shows an appreciation for fandom, which is especially relevant in a book where the POV character is a guy so entrenched in fandom he regularly uses common fandom terminology, fangirls over moments and characters he didn’t aggressively hate, and even throws in a subtle TV Tropes reference at one point–though I assume that one was added in localization. It shows awareness from the author and her team. On a similar note of things specific to the official English release, I’m always a fan of translator’s notes so I appreciated those, but what I appreciated even more was the glossary. As someone who, as stated before, does not regularly read danmei, xianxia, or really engage much Chinese media in general, it was unbelievably helpful–very succinct and easy to read. The glossary explains fandom terminology (OOC, moe, fudanshi), general Chinese cultural terminology (the five elements, incense time, rank titles), and terminology relevant to xianxia media (cultivation, inedia, cores). As someone who only recognized the fandom third, this was extremely helpful in my ability to follow the plot. I would’ve read the glossary on its own, just for fun.

All in all, for all its faults and failures in its intended genre, The Scum Villain’s Self Saving System was a wild ride that I cannot bring myself to hate. There was so much to enjoy, so much to analyze; I even bonded with people over it. I do not regret reading it, but I’m not quite sure I can recommend it to anyone else. It’s not a good romance so romance fans aren’t a target, and it’s treated as too much of a romance to recommend to people who want to read about the cycle of abuse so I’d be hard-pressed to recommend it to thriller fans either. Who am I meant to recommend this to? I enjoyed it enough that I want to, but I can’t. I’m really at a loss. I really, truly believe this is the most mixed I’ve ever been on a book.

Do you think if I die after posting this review, the universe is going to make me fix the story?