The Fourth Wife, Su Moqing, had been broken in spirit by her forced marriage. Her body, though seeded, had been a mere afterthought in that act of ultimate dominance. But to the Ancestor, a resource was a resource. Her age, her former status as a Matriarch, her deep-seated shame—these were not obstacles. They were unique flavors to be cultivated. If Chu Ling was to be his sharp Left Hand, then Su Moqing would become his softest, most decadent indulgence. She would be remade not into a weapon, but into furniture. Living, breathing decor.
He began with a new nutritional and alchemical regimen, administered by the ever-obedient Lin Xian'er under his direct supervision. The potions were not designed for cultivation or battle, but for specific, grotesque physiological changes. Her meals were infused with hormones and qi-rich fats, all engineered to redirect her body's energy towards two primary functions: lactation and the amplification of her secondary sexual characteristics.
The changes were swift and humiliating. The once stern and elegant Matriarch began to swell. Her breasts, which had nourished only one child a lifetime ago, became heavy and prodigious, straining against the silk of her robes, their weight a constant, pulling reminder of her new purpose. Her hips widened, her body softening into a caricature of fertility. The Ancestor would have her stand before him as he assessed her progress with the cold eye of a rancher evaluating a prize heifer.
"The body accepts its purpose," he noted with satisfaction. "Now, the mind must follow."
He moved her from her sparse chambers to a specially designed suite adjacent to his private menagerie. It was not a room, but a padded, tiled stable, lush with soft hay and perpetually warm. There was no bed, only a large, cushioned platform. There were no chairs. The air smelled of sweet alfalfa and calming incense.
Her robes were taken away. In their place, she was fitted with garments of the finest, softest suede, designed not for modesty but for access and comfort. They were the color of rich cream, accentuating her new form.
The psychological conditioning was relentless. He forbade her from speaking, communicating only with a series of bells—a soft chime for thirst, a deeper tone for hunger. He renamed her not Su Moqing, nor 'Silken Matron,' but Niu—a simple, bovine designation that stripped her of the last vestige of her identity.
Her days became a routine of serene degradation. She was milked not by a machine, but by silent, masked attendants trained by Lin Xian'er. The nutrient-rich milk, infused with her latent cultivation base and the Ancestor's alchemical regime, was a potent elixir, reserved for his table and for strengthening the Crown Prince. She was bathed, brushed, and paraded before him in the evenings as he took his wine.
"See, my Phoenix," he said to Su Wan one evening, as Niu stood passively in the center of the room, her head bowed. "Even the stubbornest weed can be grafted to bear sweet fruit. She has found her true calling. She provides sustenance for our Dynasty. Is that not a nobler purpose than leading a doomed clan?"
Su Wan, her own will submerged, could only nod, her eyes avoiding those of the mother she now had to call a sister-wife and see as livestock.
The final step was her public presentation. The Ancestor hosted a small, exclusive gathering for his most loyal lords. After a feast, instead of dancers, Niu was led into the hall by Chu Ling, now the impeccably cruel Mistress of the Crucible.
"This," the Ancestor announced to the stunned, silent crowd, "is the pinnacle of the Dynasty's bounty. From the highest Matriarch to the most productive of assets. Her yield strengthens my heir. Her compliance is absolute. This is the future for those who serve well—a life of peaceful, purposeful contribution. And for those who defy…" He let the sentence hang, the implication clear. This could be anyone's fate.
The lords applauded, their faces masks of fear and forced admiration.
After the guests departed, the Ancestor approached Niu. He did not strike her or command her. He simply placed a hand on her head, petting her hair as one would a favored animal.
"You have pleased me, Niu," he said, his voice a low murmur. "Your existence is a poem of absolute submission. There is a beauty in that. A peace."
And in a horrifying, final victory, he saw a flicker of that very peace in her eyes. The fight was gone. The shame had been eroded by routine and psychological torpor. The constant, milky fullness in her breasts and the simple, Pavlovian responses required of her had created a hollow, placid calm. She nuzzled against his hand, a soft, low sound escaping her throat.
The System chimed.
[Asset 'Su Moqing' successfully re-designated: 'Niu'.]
[Physiological Reprogramming: 98% complete. Psychological Reconditioning: 99% complete.] [Status: Optimal Producer. Qi-Lactation Yield: Excellent. Stability: High.]
[Passive Bonus: 'Content Herd' effect. Lowers anxiety and defiance in other harem members by 5%.]
The Ancestor smiled. The garden was truly diverse. He had flowers of every kind: a regal Phoenix, a cunning Blade, a docile Lily, and now, his perfect, contented Human Cattle. Each served a purpose. Each belonged to him. And the harvest, in all its forms, was eternally plentiful.