The Imperial Harem was a symphony of quiet industry, each woman moving through her duties with a placid efficiency that masked the profound subjugation beneath. The four wives—Empress, Chief Maid, Verdant Lily, and Silken Matron—were now all seeded, their wombs serving the Dynasty's future. But the Ancestor's gaze, ever restless, turned to the secondary tier of his garden: the captured heroines, now serving as personal attendants.
They were exquisite flowers, each unique, each possessing a spark of the destiny that had once been meant for his enemy. To leave them fallow was an aesthetic and strategic oversight. They were resources, and every resource in his domain existed to be optimized.
He did not summon them to his sanctum. He came to them in the heart of their new world: the Harem's central conservatory, a place of breathtaking beauty where rare, sentient spirit blossoms unfurled under artificial suns. The four attendants—Bai Wei, Lin Xian'er, Elder Sister Lian, and Luo Ying—were tending to the plants under the watchful eye of a senior stewardess.
The air changed when he entered. The very light seemed to bow. The stewardess dropped into a deep kowtow and scurried away, leaving the four women alone with their master.
They turned, their expressions a blend of fear, defiance, and numb acceptance. They had seen the fate of their friends. They knew the power of the man who stood before them.
"Your service to my wives is noted," the Ancestor began, his voice a soft, chilling melody in the humid air. "But you misunderstand your primary function. You do not merely serve the branches of the tree. You are blossoms upon it. And every blossom exists to be pollinated."
His gaze, those ancient, glowing green eyes, swept over them, and they felt utterly exposed, as if he could see the very core of their spirits.
"You have been preserved," he stated. "Your bodies, your talents, your… purity. These are not your possessions. They are assets of the throne. And it is time for the throne to claim its dividends."
He pointed a single, imperious finger at Bai Wei. The proud swordswoman, now a arms-instructor to a docile wife, stiffened.
"You first. The fierce spirit must be the first to be tamed."
Bai Wei was led not to a bedroom, but to a private, open-air pavilion adjacent to the conservatory. The Ancestor did not speak. His will alone pressed her down over a polished obsidian rail, her front facing the breathtaking, terrifying view of the Citadel's spires. Her servant's robes were parted.
This was not an act of passion. It was a geological process. An inevitable claiming.
The Ancestor took her from behind, his entry a swift, unforgiving conquest of her rear virginity. Bai Wei bit her lip until it bled, a single, stifled cry escaping her throat as a wave of sharp, shocking pain and profound violation washed over her. She, who had faced legendary beasts in the secret realm, was broken by this intimate invasion.
But he was not finished. After spending her rear, he turned her over, her body pliant with shock. He then claimed her front, the final sanctuary of her autonomy, with the same relentless, impersonal efficiency. The fierce sword intent in her eyes was extinguished, replaced by a well of silent, shameful tears. She was mapped, charted, and conquered. Every part of her was now his.
He moved on.
Lin Xian'er was next. The healer was laid upon a bed of soft, glowing moss. The Ancestor handled her not with force, but with a terrifying, clinical precision, as if she were a rare specimen. Her whimpers were met with a shushing sound, a perverse mockery of comfort. He took her rear with a slow, deliberate pressure that made her gasp, then her front with a deep, penetrating thrust that seemed to seek out the very source of her healing energy, claiming it as his own. Her body, so attuned to nurturing life, was forced to accept a violation that felt like a spiritual poison.
Elder Sister Lian was pressed against the cool trunk of a massive, ancient spirit tree. Her connection to the moon offered no solace here, under the artificial suns. Her quiet dignity was stripped away as he took her from behind, her choked sob lost against the bark. When he turned her to claim her front, she stared past him at the fake sky, her spirit retreating to some inner, inaccessible sanctuary. The lunar priestess was desecrated, her rituals replaced by a single, brutal sacrament of ownership.
Finally, it was Luo Ying's turn. The mistress of space was trapped not by walls, but by his overwhelming aura. He bent her over a fountain of liquid starlight. Her spatial senses, usually so acute, were overwhelmed by the visceral, shocking reality of his possession. He breached her rear, and she felt a dislocation more profound than any spatial tear. When he took her front, it was with a finality that seemed to collapse all possible futures into this single, horrifying present. Her ability to navigate space meant nothing; there was no escape from this point.
When it was done, the four women lay or knelt where he had left them, their bodies aching, their spirits shattered in a new and fundamental way. They were no longer captives, no longer attendants. They were claimed territory.
The Ancestor stood amidst them, adjusting his robes, his expression one of serene satisfaction. The System chimed softly in his mind, not with a cultivation boost, but with a notification of complete acquisition.
[Ding! Virginities of Assets 'Bai Wei', 'Lin Xian'er', 'Lian', 'Luo Ying' successfully claimed. Integration into Harem Hierarchy complete.]
[Status upgraded from 'Attendants' to 'Secondary Concubines'.] [New Directive: Add to breeding rotation following next successful harvest from primary wives.]
He looked down at his new concubines, his possessions.
"Your service to the Dynasty has now truly begun," he stated, his voice devoid of warmth. "Tend to your duties. Heal your bodies. Prepare yourselves. Your purpose, like all things here, is to bear fruit for your Emperor."
He left them then, in the beautiful conservatory, surrounded by blooming flowers. They were now just like those flowers: beautiful, owned, and existing solely for the pleasure and use of the master of the garden. Every blossom had been plucked, every petal unfolded, and every ounce of nectar claimed. The harvest was truly comprehensive.