His words scraped out like a dying ember.
"I won't let you leave alive…"
I watched him—really watched him—as he said it.
His eyes weren't just furious anymore.They were hollowing… sinking… losing the shine that made them human.
But even as life drained out of him, his resolve didn't waver.
He lunged again.
The fan descended in a jagged arc toward my throat—sloppy, telegraphed, powered by nothing but the last remnants of who he used to be.
I shifted one step to the side.
The strike missed completely.
The momentum nearly threw him to his knees.
A wet, choking noise escaped him as his ribs protested the movement, bone grinding against bone. Blood dripped from his lips in a slow, steady line. His breathing rasped like dying embers being stepped on.
Still…
He wheeled around and came at me again.
Another strike.Wild.Misaligned.Hopeless.
I let him hit my guard this time.
The moment our weapons touched, his entire body jolted like lightning had torn up his spine. His knees buckled. His free hand hit the ground to keep himself upright.
Yet his eyes never left mine.
Not once.
His fan slipped in his weakening grip.
But he dragged himself upright again, teeth clenched so hard I heard something in his jaw crack. He swayed, nearly collapsing, yet somehow forced his body to obey. He raised his fan one last time — the movement shaking, uneven, full of stubbornness rather than strength.
Behind him, Luo Xianling exhaled softly.
A sigh.Quiet.Accepting.
Not sorrow — acceptance that he would fail, and that she would let him try anyway.
Her gaze sharpened slightly, as though preparing to intervene if I attempted to erase him completely. She did not want him dead.Not truly.But she would allow him to bleed for her, because he chose to.
Because he belonged to her.
I tilted my head.
"You can still stop," I said quietly.
He laughed — a broken, delirious sound, half-sob, half-madness.
"I can't… not after he died screaming in your fire…"
He lifted the fan.
His arm trembled violently. The weapon barely rose.
But he lifted it anyway.
"One more strike…" he whispered. "I still have… one more…"
He stepped forward.
And I met him.
He swung his fan, and spiritual petals burst out in a jagged, chaotic spray — raw emotion, not technique. They carved cracks into the glowing floor and tore ripples through the edge of the domain.
He attacked with every last scrap of himself.
I stepped in.
Our weapons collided — fan against blade — and the impact sent a shock of agony through his ruined body. His arm twitched, threatening to give out entirely.
But he kept going.
"You took him from me!" he screamed. "You took—!"
I cut him off.
My palm slammed into his chest — not enough to kill, just enough to rip away the last bit of footing he had. He stumbled backwards, collapsing to one knee. The fan slipped from his hand and skittered across the shining floor.
Blood dripped from his mouth in slow, heavy drops.
But he forced himself back up again.
Shaking.Swaying.Barely breathing.
And he tried.
He actually tried.
He lunged forward, slipping past my defence for the briefest instant, his fan grazing my shoulder in a weak, desperate swing. I let him hit me — a strike that had no weight left behind it.
Then I kicked his feet out from under him.
He hit the floor hard, breath torn from his lungs. Slowly, painfully, he lifted his head and glared up at me, hatred burning so fiercely it almost masked the grief.
"Why couldn't you spare him…?" he choked. "Why…?"
I looked down at him.
"Would he have spared me?"
He froze.
"No," I said. "He would've killed me without a second thought. And you know it."
He stared, torn between rage and truth.
"You only care because I killed your lover," I continued. "Not because of justice. Not because of honour. Your heartbreak means nothing to me."
His expression twisted — pain, fury, denial all tangled into one.
"I'm here to win," I said. "And Luo Xianling sent him to his death. You all knew the consequences."
I stopped speaking.A waste of air.
He tried to raise his fan again — a pathetic, trembling lift, more instinct than intention.
I didn't wait.
I drove my blade into his stomach.
The sound he made was small — a broken exhale, wet and weak. His body jerked once, then sagged forward, blood bubbling on his lips as he struggled to breathe.
His eyes locked onto mine — filled with grief, hatred, disbelief.
I was just about to kill him—my blade already buried in his chest, halfway to taking his head as I had done with the other three. But Luo Xianling stepped between us, her hand closing around my arm and halting the strike. I stared at her with dead, hollow eyes. She met my gaze with the same cold, unflinching calm.
"Enough, Shen," she said. "I want this one alive. He's useful to me—and he's one of my favourites. I sent someone else; he was never meant to face you."
I did not listen.
I completed the strike regardless, severing his head in one clean motion. I caught it before it touched the ground, erased his soul until not even a memory could cling to the air, and then pressed the severed head into her hand. She looked at me in disbelief—as if she had only now realised what kind of man she had chosen.
"Don't expect me to behave like your other husbands," I told her quietly. "I won't answer your every whim or bend to your beck and call. We simply have to tolerate each other. I'm marrying you out of convenience. And you're marrying me for my bloodline."
She slapped me—hard. I let her. She was in the Divine Realm, far ahead in cultivation, and I still appeared to be nothing more than a Demigod. The blow barely shifted my stance.
"You're lucky I like you, Shen," she hissed. "And lucky your bloodline is tied to Emperor Genesis, the creator of our realm."
"You still believe that?" I asked.
"Even if I'm wrong," she said, eyes narrowing as she studied me, "I can tell you're strong. Very strong. Stronger than you let on."
Her gaze flicked to the bodies at our feet.
"I can bring these two back. It would be costly… but possible." Then her lips curved, a thin, cold smile. "Or perhaps I should simply use you instead. You're stronger than four of my dead husbands—combined."
She crushed the severed head in her palm, bone and flesh collapsing into nothing under her fingers. Then, without even a glance at the mess, she looked past me—already searching for another "husband" to throw into the slaughter.
"Why look for another to die?" I asked. "We both know how this ends. Any of your husbands you send here will just die by my hand. Either way, you're sending them to their deaths."
She paused.
Then she stepped closer and placed her hand on my face—gently, almost tender. A faint shimmer of water qi glistened on her fingertips, soothing and healing the spot where she had struck me.
"Much better, Shen," she murmured. "If you did happen to kill the rest of the ones stationed here… I'd find you even more desirable than you already are."
Her thumb brushed my cheek as she examined me with that cool, amused judgment she favoured.
"To me, I'm curious what our children will turn out like. Hopefully they inherit my looks, not yours." She gave a quiet, teasing hum. "You have such a plain face. Strange, isn't it? Emperor Genesis's portraits show him as absurdly handsome." Her gaze roamed over my features with clinical interest. "Sadly, you didn't inherit his good looks. But you did inherit his height, didn't you?"
I stood over thirteen feet tall.
She, barefoot, reached only nine-foot-three.
She had to tilt her head back to meet my gaze.
"I must admit," she said, tilting her head back, "it hurts my neck. Why don't you shrink down a bit? You can do that, can't you?"
Her fingers traced my jaw again, water-qi dancing lightly over my skin, softening every lingering ache as if she were sculpting my face with her touch.
I pushed her hand away.
"Send another," I said, turning from her. "Eventually you'll have no choice but to call all your husbands here. Because the ones left will die by my hand. I promise you that."
She only smiled.
A lazy, delighted little curve of her lips.She turned, searching for another husband to drag forward—
—but before she could call for him, two figures rushed into the shimmering light of her domain.
"Mother!"
Luo Yeling, her eldest daughter, stepped in first.Luo Zhenhai, the youngest son, followed close behind.
Both dropped to one knee before her.
"Stop this," Luo Yeling pleaded. "He's proven himself already."
"Please," Zhenhai added, breathless. "We beg you."
Luo Xianling's gaze drifted over her children.
Her youngest—the boy—was the son of her third husband, the one burned to ash and wiped from existence.Her eldest daughter had been born of the fourth husband… the one whose head still stained her palm a moment ago.
They had felt the disturbance.They had seen the deaths.And now they stood before her—terrified, pleading—while the luminous domain trembled around us.
She raised an eyebrow at them, calm as the eye of a storm.
"So," she said softly, "you came all this way just to stop me?"
Luo Xianling's gaze shifted to Luo Zhenhai.
"Why are you even here?" she snapped. "You should have married that Zhang girl by now. Why haven't you? Don't annoy me, boy. You're talented—a genius in cultivation. Stop wasting time and marry the girl. Your ancestor demands it."
A pulse of pressure rolled from her, forcing him to his knees.He folded instantly, trembling.
"M-mother… please," he begged. "I ask only that you spare the others. They may not be my blood, but they're still your husbands. They're still—"
"I do what I like, when I please," she cut in, voice cold and smooth. "Your father knew this. He was loyal to me."
She grasped his chin and lifted his face to hers, forcing him to meet the icy sharpness of her eyes.
"And you, my dear, loveable son—you made me happy when you listened to me before. When you escorted Shen here for me. That obedience was precious. But now…"
Her fingers tightened.
"…now you're disappointing me."
Zhenhai's breath stuttered, panic flickering across his features.
"Mother—please—I'm only asking—"
"Your father," she continued, ignoring his plea, "was one of my favourites. And now he's dead. I am still mourning him. Do you understand that?"
Tears welled in Zhenhai's eyes as her grip dug into his jaw.
"How," she whispered, soft and venomous, "could you be so cruel to your own mother?"
Luo Yeling stepped forward, eyes sharp with anger and grief.
"Please, Mother," she said, placing herself between Luo Zhenhai and Luo Xianling. "He lost his father too. Show him some empathy. I also lost mine."
Her gaze flicked briefly to me, then back to her mother.
"I understand your husbands were loyal to you, but—"
"Daughter. Be silent."
Luo Xianling's voice sliced through her words like a blade.
"You two may be my favourite children, but that won't stop me. Shen is special. His bloodline is linked to the creator of our realm. I need to test him. He will likely become the strongest husband in my arsenal—perhaps even one of my favourites."
But Yeling didn't back down.
"You don't even know that for certain, Mother. How can you be so blind? So obsessed with him?" Her voice trembled with frustration. "You chase shadows and stories—"
SLAP.
Xianling struck her across the face, the crack echoing through the domain.
"Show your mother and your ancestor some respect!" she hissed. "Honestly, where did you get this attitude from?"
Yeling's cheek reddened, but she lifted her chin, glaring defiantly.
"From you, Mother."
Luo Xianling stared at her daughter with a rare, solemn expression.
Then—suddenly—she began to laugh.
Soft giggles at first, swelling into a melodic, unsettling laugh that made both her children stiffen. She reached down, lifted Yeling from her knees with one graceful motion, and brushed her fingers over the red mark she'd left.
A soft glow formed, healing the sting of the slap.
"You truly remind me of myself," Xianling said warmly. "Back when I was calm and placid like a still lake."
The warmth vanished.
"But I grew up. And so should you. Consider that advice from your mother."
Her words were gentle in tone but sharpened deliberately to cut. Then she turned her gaze to me—slow, assessing—before flicking back to her daughter.
"If I'm honest," she said casually, "he will probably become my top favourite husband. What do you think of that, daughter? Shen is fascinating. Difficult. Defiant. Like you. And he plays hard to catch."
Yeling's jaw clenched so tight I heard the faint crack of her teeth grinding.
"What about Father?" she snapped. "I understand he was one of your favourites… but to place this man—someone you barely know—above him, just to be cruel… it's ridiculous. And cold."
Luo Xianling tilted her head, smiling the way a predator smiles at prey that forgot it was prey.
"Oh, daughter… cruelty has nothing to do with it. Strength does."
"That is still cruel, Mother," Yeling whispered, voice trembling.
Luo Xianling didn't let her continue.
"Your father was strong," she said coolly, "but compared to Shen, he was weak. But don't worry—I am mourning him… in my own way."
Her eyes slid briefly to her son.
"I loved your father as well. Both of them. They loved me. Never forget that."
Then her gaze sharpened and turned to me.
"Shen," she said with a smile far too calm, "kill them for me."
Both children froze.
Yeling's breath hitched.Zhenhai stiffened, eyes wide.
Xianling waved a hand dismissively.
"Do not fear. He won't actually listen. He never does—"
She didn't finish the sentence.
Because I moved.
The air fractured with a sharp crack.
Two perfect afterimages burst from me—racing past Xianling with blinding speed, silently sliding behind her children.
A heartbeat later—
Cold steel touched the backs of their necks.
One blade poised at Yeling's nape.Another at Zhenhai's.
Both blades angled downward, ready to cleave straight through, from the back of their neck down through their chests—an execution that would have ended them before they could even scream.
Luo Xianling's eyes widened—not in fear, but in sheer, startled disbelief.
Her divine power surged instinctively, ready to tear space apart—
But the blades stopped.
Not cutting.Not even pressing.Just resting there… a whisper from death.
The afterimages dissolved like mist.
The real me stood between all three of them, blade lowered now, but the echo of killing intent still choking the air.
The two siblings staggered forward, trembling, hands clutching their throats.
I looked directly at Xianling.
"Be more careful with your wishes, Luo Xianling," I said softly. The threat in my tone was unmistakable. "You may regret them."
Silence flooded the domain.
Then I stepped back, indifferent.
"Now," I said, voice cold, "will you send the fifth husband… or not?"
Xianling stared at me with a bright, ravenous fascination—like a woman discovering a priceless relic she thought lost to history.
A slow smile spread across her lips.
"We'll discuss this later," she said to her children. "Leave. Sit down, since you've already forced yourselves into my domain."
The siblings backed away, still shaken.
A soft cough drifted across the hall, thinning the tension but not dispelling it.
A man stepped forward.
Tall. Elegant. Princely.And carrying the exhausted dignity of someone who had been married into this family for far, far too long.
The fifth husband.
His robes—silver and pale blue—were immaculate.His expression, however, betrayed him.He had witnessed everything, and desperately wished he hadn't.
He bowed stiffly to Luo Xianling.
"Beloved wife. You summoned me?"
He didn't look at her children.He certainly didn't look at me.
He moved like a man who knew that any misstep might get him killed in three different ways.
Luo Xianling waved a hand, graceful and lazy.
"Get ready to fight Shen. Do try to survive."She reclined on her throne again, sipping her tea as though the world were perfectly peaceful.
The instant her attention drifted, Yeling seized her brother's sleeve and pulled him several steps back.
Her voice was barely audible.
"He would have killed us."
Zhenhai swallowed hard, face pale.
"He didn't even… hesitate. Sister, I didn't see him move. Not even a blur."
"That isn't the first time Mother has said such things," Yeling whispered, glancing warily at Xianling. "But we always assumed she was being dramatic. If he hadn't stopped—"
"He would have taken both our heads in one swing."
Both siblings shuddered.
For the first time in their lives, they understood something chilling:
Their mother—Luo Xianling, deity-ancestor of the Luo Clan, one of the nine fallen families of the Genesis Empire, feared by those who opposed her and those who didn't, mistress of this domain—had genuinely been prepared to tear space apart to save them.
And still…
They weren't sure she would have been fast enough.
I stood a short distance away, sharpening my blade, lost briefly in thought.
I really ought to hold back more. I can't show her too much. I've already broken her rules inside her own domain… I took control of it myself.
Nagini's voice slipped into my mind, quiet and urgent.
"Ren, be careful. Please. I applaud you, but she must not suspect even a little of the truth—that you are Emperor Genesis himself. If she realises… she will never let you go. I can see it. She is far more possessive than even I am with you. She will make certain she has you to herself."
I glanced at Nagini. To others, she appeared calm as she drank her tea.
But in her eyes, jealousy simmered.
Luo Xianling, meanwhile, stared at me with that cool, detached serenity she always wore.
But inside?
Her mind was far from calm.
He moved faster inside my own domain. Faster than my senses. Faster than space itself could react.
Shen's quiet threat echoed through her thoughts:
"Be more careful with your words."
She had ruled gods, emperors, spirits, monsters.She had crushed armies, taken lovers, raised and dismantled dynasties.
But Shen…
Shen did not fit any category she understood.
He obeys no laws but his own. Even my domain bends around him rather than restrains him.
She watched me resheath my blade—unbothered, unrepentant, indifferent to the chaos that had nearly unfolded.
A small shiver ran down her spine.Not fear.
Something rarer.
How dangerous are you truly, Shen?
And more unsettling:
Why do I find it… enticing?
She concealed the thought with a perfectly measured smile.
"Well then," she said, voice smooth as calm water. "Shall we continue?"
But privately, deep beneath all her control, Luo Xianling admitted to herself:
She had glimpsed only the surface of the truth—and she wanted to see more.
The hall grew still as the fifth husband finally stepped forward.
He carried himself with the disciplined grace of a man who had spent centuries calculating how to survive a marriage to Luo Xianling. His aura was steady—neither weak nor overwhelming—the kind of strength forged through patience rather than ambition.
He looked at me once.
Once.
And immediately looked away, as though that single glance had been a mistake.
Xianling rested her cheek against her knuckles, eyes gleaming like polished ice.
"Well, my dear husband," she drawled, "try not to die too quickly."
He bowed to her.Then bowed to me.
There was resignation in it.
He drew his sword and settled into a refined, elegant stance—perfect in its precision, yet utterly unsuited for the opponent he faced.
I didn't even bother to move.
He came at me with a cutting arc of silvery light—a strike capable of slicing mountains cleanly in half. But just before it reached me, I stepped aside.
One step.
A simple movement.
But to him, it might as well have been teleportation.
His blade cleaved through empty air.
The shock struck him before I ever laid a finger on him. His eyes widened. His breath caught. His balance shattered.
A light tap of my blade against his wrist—just enough to ensure he lived, but still strong enough to disarm him—sent his sword spinning across the hall.
He staggered back and dropped to one knee, staring at me as though I had just rewritten the laws of reality before his eyes.
"Stand," I said.
He tried.
Truly.
But the moment he rose halfway, I appeared behind him, my blade resting at the back of his neck.
"Too slow."
He didn't stop. With a desperate twist, he rolled away and flipped backwards, trying to reclaim distance and dignity at once.
I walked toward him unhurriedly.
Dark flames unfurled around me—black fire swallowing the entire domain, burning brighter and hotter with every heartbeat. My killing intent surged, rising like a tide determined to drown the world.
He responded in kind.
His aura sharpened—disciplined, calculating, forged through endless self-control.
But mine…
Mine was pure dominance.
I let Emperor Shadow bleed out—just a fraction, nothing more. Enough to overwhelm him. Enough to intimidate Xianling's entire domain. Enough to serve as strategy.
But not enough to lose control.
Across the hall, Luo Xianling watched with her legs crossed, chin resting delicately on her palm.
But her eyes…
Her eyes were hungry.
Not for blood.Not for victory.
For understanding.
For me.
He bends my domain without effort. He moves like a creature not bound by space. He is stronger than any man I have ever taken.
She hid the thought behind a soft, pleased smile.
But her fingers tightened around her cup.
She wasn't bored anymore.She wasn't irritated.She wasn't amused.
She was fascinated.
Dangerously so.
Xianling reclined on her throne, one leg elegantly crossed over the other."Hmm," she murmured. "I had hoped he would at least force you to take a second step."
Her fifth husband flinched at the cruel ease in her voice, yet he fought with everything he had. His blade met my black dragon sword with surprising precision. Since I still had to restrain myself, I allowed him a few openings—out of courtesy, not necessity—but even so, he was genuinely impressive.
I glanced at Luo Xianling.
She wasn't watching him.
Not once.
Her gaze was fixed entirely on me.
So… he must be one of her least favoured husbands. She wouldn't risk sending one she actually valued—not a third time.This was a test. A test of me.
He struck my jaw with a clean, disciplined punch. I returned the blow just as sharply and, with a swift cut, severed his arm. He didn't scream. He only bit down on his lip, sweat beading along his brow as he forced himself back into the clash.
Our blades collided again and again, sparks skittering across the marbled floor. He spotted an opening—one born solely from my restraint—and he seized it.
His sword cut clean through my arm.
Gasps rippled across the hall.Shock. Awe. A flicker of fear.
He was doing far better than any of the husbands before him. Luo Xianling had severely underestimated this one.
Across the hall, Nagini nearly lost her composure. Her killing intent slipped like a crack in the air—sharp and venomous—though she suppressed it quickly. Only Luo Xianling and Madam Yuelin noticed.
Xianling turned her head slightly towards Nagini.
A small smile curved her lips—soft, knowing, faintly mocking.
Madam Yuelin offered Nagini a gentle, knowing expression as she poured her another cup of tea. Nagini accepted it with rigid fingers, her grip tight enough to strain the porcelain. She drank slowly—deliberately—forcing the anger and worry twisting inside her back under control.
Luo Xianling's gaze drifted away from Nagini and returned to her fifth husband.
She had misjudged him.The realisation irritated her—not because his performance impressed her, but because she loathed being wrong. She would have to pay him a little more attention from now on.Perhaps even grant him a sliver of favour.
But then her eyes returned to me.
And the irritation dissolved into something darker… deeper… frighteningly intent.
Why are you still holding back? her eyes demanded.Why won't you show me more?
Hunger flickered there.Curiosity.Desire.Obsession sharpening like a blade's edge.
Her husband fought desperately for his life—bleeding, breathless, grimly determined.
But Xianling… Xianling watched only me.
We clashed again, both of us fighting with a single arm—his right, my left. Our weapons met in brutal, bone-shaking impacts that echoed through the hall. He tried to twist his blade, attempting to disarm me, but I stopped him with effortless ease.
I simply released my weapon.
His eyes widened as the perfect opening appeared. He lunged immediately, driving his sword straight through my chest.
For a heartbeat, he froze—staring at me in a tangled mix of confusion, triumph, and disbelief.
Then I moved.
With my free hand, I summoned my blade back into my grasp and severed his head in one smooth, decisive stroke. No hesitation. No mercy.
Nagini's hands tightened around her teacup, claws trembling. She held herself together only through sheer force of will.
Madam Yuelin noticed and gently poured her more tea, as though none of this were even remotely unusual.
Luo Xianling leaned back, propping her chin on her knuckles. Her gaze slid from the head resting against her thigh… back to me.
"You let him strike you," she said softly.
A statement, not a question.
"You let him cut off your arm."Her eyes lowered to the sword still buried in my chest."And now this."
I plucked the blade out. The wound sealed shut before the steel fully left my flesh.
Her lips curved—slowly, dangerously.
Not in amusement.
In rising, fervent interest.
"Unnecessary," she whispered. "All of it."
The hall seemed to shrink around us as she studied me with open, predatory fascination.
"Interesting…" Her voice softened further. "You're far more interesting than I anticipated."
She reached down, idly brushing her fingers across the severed head still resting beside her, as though testing its texture. Then, with that same careless motion, she nudged it off her lap. It rolled once and struck the marble floor with a dull thud.
"I suppose," she sighed, "I'll have to prepare a sixth."
The hall tightened with silent dread.
Then she smiled—slow, intent, hungry.
"Unless," she murmured, eyes locking onto mine, "you're willing to face me yourself."
Nagini froze.Madam Yuelin stopped mid-pour, the stream of hot tea trembling before settling.Every husband in the hall went rigid.
Her children—the ones who had lost their fathers today—stood in clear view, watching everything with sharp, burning eyes. Grief, rage, and the thirst for vengeance stirred in them, yet none dared step forward. Luo Yeling, the eldest daughter, leaned forward slightly, unease flickering beneath her composed expression.Luo Zhenhai, the youngest son, stood tense beside her; both siblings shared the same sinking feeling. They had seen a glimpse of what I could do within their mother's own god-domain, and that memory made this moment feel far more dangerous than the others realised.