Time softened.
Weeks slipped by like warm mist over still water, unhurried and indulgent. The estate no longer felt like a residence, it breathed like a living organism, slow and steady, saturated with yin fragrance and quiet laughter.
Thirteen women now shared this space with me: Xiaoting's sharp wit cutting through idle afternoons, Yaolin's gentle composure, Xueyin and Xueyang like mirrored moons, one cool, one blazing, Fenghua's teasing glances, Meiyun's lingering smiles, Lingyu and Lingxue moving in near-perfect harmony, Qingwu's grace, Qingying's softness, and Yinqing, Yinxuan, Yinyin… three notes of the same seductive melody, each resonating differently within my meridians.
And also my five daughters.
Wuqing, Wumei, Wuxiang, Wurou, Wuyan.
They were barely six months old, tiny bundles of warmth and quiet miracles, often sleeping together in the sunlight like a scattered clutch of jade talismans. Their cries had already become familiar music; their laughter, rare and sudden, could melt even the hardest knot of qi in my chest. When I held them, the world stilled. No cultivation insight, no memory fragment, no ambition could compare.
Life moved slowly here. Deliberately so.
Mornings bled into afternoons scented with tea and incense. Evenings dissolved into shared meals, soft conversations, silk brushing silk. Nights… nights belonged to dual cultivation.
I dual cultivated every day. Without fail.
Sometimes it was one-on-one, bodies aligned, breaths entangled, yin and yang flowing like tides guided by instinct rather than technique. Other times, it was many, curved forms arranged like a living formation, laughter fading into low sighs as spiritual energy thickened the air. No haste, no frenzy. Just endurance, rhythm, and surrender. Desire became discipline; pleasure became Dao.
Countless hours passed like this. Flesh tempering spirit. Spirit refining flesh.
And one dawn, as pale light slipped through the lattice windows, something clicked.
My dantian steadied. The turbulence I had long ignored, compressed, polished, then shattered like thin ice. Qi surged, no longer scattered, no longer wild. It settled into structure, into weight.
Foundation Establishment.
First Stage.
I felt no triumph. No elation.
Only a deep, satisfied calm.
Cultivation had come not from obsession, nor from desperate striving, but from abundance. From being surrounded, grounded, wanted. My wives felt it too. Smiles lingered longer that day. Touches carried subtle reverence. They knew, even without words.
As for my past…
This body, these fragmented memories, I regarded them with detached curiosity at best. They felt like borrowed clothes, already molded to my shape. If there was a former self, he no longer mattered. I lived now.
The Wang Family still reached out from time to time. Courteous letters. Polite concern. Obligations performed at arm's length. I answered when appropriate, ignored when not.
Yet my thoughts had begun to wander.
Wanyue. Lingwan.
They had visited often enough, familiar with the rhythms of my household, unshaken by the number of women who shared my bed and table. Their gazes lingered longer now. Their conversations softened, edged with unspoken things. In ancient times, marriage between distant cousins was hardly taboo, merely practical.
And then there were their mothers.
Widows. Composed. Lonely in that particular way only those long accustomed to restraint could be. The idea crept in uninvited, unwelcome, and yet, once present, refused to leave. My mind played scenes without shame, weaving silk-thin fantasies of inclusion, of warmth, of bringing them into this ever-expanding circle.
Dirty thoughts, perhaps.
But cultivation itself was born of desire.
I smiled to myself, watching the courtyard where my daughters slept and my wives moved like petals caught in a lazy breeze.
If the Dao wished to test my restraint… it was taking its time.
Anyway, today a whisper reached my ears.
A gathering of heroes.
Zhenhe City.
The name alone carried weight. Two months from now, noble families, ancient clans, wandering cultivators, and sect representatives would converge like converging currents. Alliances would be tested, grudges stirred, fortunes rewritten in a single night of careless words or decisive strikes.
Zhenhe City sat like a steel nail driven into the bank of the Great Jinyu River. That river was no mere waterway, it was an artery of the world itself, stretching from the mountain veins of the western continent all the way to the eastern sea, swallowing trade, blood, and ambition along its course. Seven days by river ship, smooth and steady if the currents behaved.
Because of that river, the city was rich. And because it was rich, it was dangerous.
A heavy military presence guarded its walls day and night. Armored cultivators patrolled alongside mortal soldiers, banners snapping in the wind, eyes always watching the docks. Trade flowed in from the northern and eastern continents, rare ores, spirit herbs hardened by cold lands, foreign techniques warped by alien philosophies. Everything passed through Zhenhe eventually.
I leaned back, fingers idly tracing the grain of the table, and let my thoughts wander.
Opportunities.
They always hid where people gathered in excess.
New martial arts manuals, incomplete yet profound. Artifacts whose origins were deliberately obscured. Pills that skirted the edge of taboo. And, of course… people. Talents yet unpolished. Beauty wrapped in pride or desperation. Women who didn't yet know where they belonged.
The city would be thick with them.
The idea stirred something lazy and amused in my chest.
I began to gather information quietly. Nothing flashy. Merchants who talked too much after wine. River hands who heard things dockside. Old acquaintances who owed me favors they pretended to forget until reminded. Bit by bit, a picture formed, auction houses preparing special inventories, sect envoys arriving early, private banquets rumored to last for days behind sealed formations.
At the same time, I prepared.
This trip would be mine alone.
My wives would remain at the Harem Estate. Not because I doubted their strength, but because some things were worth protecting with excess caution. The children needed stability, familiar arms, familiar voices. My women understood without argument; trust had long replaced insecurity between us.
Besides, the estate was safer than most minor sects.
Hidden beneath its serene surface were layers of quiet brutality. Over a hundred puppets lay dormant across the grounds, some crude, some refined, each bound to simple but absolute commands. A handful stood above the rest: high-tier constructs with cores dense enough to rival Foundation Establishment cultivators. Together, they formed a silent army that did not sleep, did not tire, and did not hesitate.
Anyone foolish enough to test our walls would learn that peace did not mean weakness.
As dusk settled, I stood alone in the courtyard, listening to the distant laughter of my wives inside, the soft breathing of my daughters carried on the breeze. The river was far away, but I could already feel its pull slow, inevitable.
Zhenhe City awaited.
And whatever fate intended to place in my path there…I had every intention of taking my time with it.
I took stock of my household with a calm, methodical eye.
Xiaoting, Yaolin, Xueyin, Xueyang, Fenghua, Meiyun, Lingyu, and Lingxue had all stabilized at the 7th Stage of Qi Condensation, their foundations smooth, their circulation refined by long familiarity with my rhythm. Qingwu, Qingying, Yinqing, Yinxuan, and Yinyin stood slightly higher, already touching the 8th Stage of Qi Condensation, their yin qi dense and obedient, responding to the faintest pull of my presence.
They were steady, but not yet complete.
So I helped them.
Dual cultivation had long shed any sense of novelty. It had become ritual, intimate, reverent, intoxicating. Skin met skin without barrier, warmth blooming as bodies pressed close, slick with shared sweat and quiet heat. Breaths tangled, shallow and slow, mouths hovering near ears, necks, collarbones, exchanging more than air. Palms slid over bare backs and settled at waists, fingers sinking in just enough to anchor, to claim.
Yin seeped out in languid waves, dense and fragrant, and my yang answered instinctively, pouring back in measured currents. Desire was always there, thick and pulsing beneath the surface, but never allowed to run wild, restrained, guided, stretched until it hummed.
Each session was tuned to the woman beneath my hands: unhurried, lingering touches for those consolidating; firmer grips, deeper alignment for those pushing higher. I drew them right to the edge, where bodies softened and spirits opened, then stopped, letting their cultivation seal perfectly. Foundations mattered. Pleasure could wait; solidity could not.
Outside the inner chambers, the twenty maids moved like a quiet current through the estate. Their bodies had been tempered thoroughly, most already at the 8th to 9th Stage of Body Tempering. Muscles were lean, bones dense, breaths long. They trained with the sword daily, learning simple but practical forms: cuts meant to kill, not to dazzle.
They bowed when they passed me, eyes lowered but steady.
Taken together, the Harem Estate was no longer a private retreat. It was a force, small, perhaps, but sharp. Unless an imperial army descended upon us, few would dare provoke it.
As for me…
I set my goal clearly: 2nd Stage of Foundation Establishment within one month.
At gatherings like Zhenhe City, most sect disciples hovered between the 7th and 9th Stage of Qi Condensation. A handful would have broken through to the early stages of Foundation Establishment. Only true prodigies, those drowned in resources and backed by ancient lineages, could reach the peak of that realm.
I did not need dominance.
I needed survival.
With my talismans, my puppets, my escape formations, I already held more insurance than most wandering elders. Everything remained within calculation. Still, cultivation was the surest anchor.
So I increased the intensity.
Thirteen wives. Twenty maids. Yin was abundant, thick as mist at dawn. Nights stretched long, bodies warming the air, spiritual energy layering upon itself until even the formations carved into the walls hummed faintly. If things went exceptionally well… even the 3rd Stage of Foundation Establishment might not be out of reach.
Between these closed-door periods, I returned to old habits.
I wandered the surrounding forests and mountains as I once had near Sanlu Town. The land remembered me. Spirit herbs hid beneath mossy stone, beast tracks traced faint paths through the undergrowth. I gathered quietly, efficiently.
When I returned, I worked.
Pills first, stable, reliable batches. Then talismans, each stroke deliberate. Puppets followed, joints refined, cores balanced. Occasionally, I forged low to mid grade artifacts, nothing flashy, but solid enough to sell without questions.
Spirit stones flowed in steadily.
Enough for the journey. Enough for the household. Enough that I no longer bothered counting each one.
Preparation, cultivation, production.
The days passed in a slow, indulgent rhythm, every step leading inevitably toward the river, and the city waiting beyond it.
At the same time, I hadn't forgotten about the spirit beast egg.
It had been with me for months now, resting quietly within a layered formation, absorbing spiritual energy little by little. I fed it patiently, never forceful, never greedy, allowing my qi to seep in like a steady tide. It never reacted before. Not once.
Until recently.
Over the past few days, its glow had changed. Not brighter, but deeper, like moonlight seen through water. When I placed my palm against the shell and sent in another gentle stream of spiritual energy, the response came immediately.
A sound.
Soft. Subtle.
Crack.
The surface shuddered, faint fissures spreading like frost across glass. I withdrew my hand instinctively as the shell split apart, not violently, but with deliberate grace. The cocoon peeled open, fragments dissolving into pure light before they even touched the ground.
Three serpents emerged.
Long, elegant bodies coiled in the air, scales gleaming like polished jade. One was white, pristine and luminous. One green, vibrant and alive. The last blue, deep and tranquil like an endless sky reflected on water. Wind and water qi spiraled around them, yin energy dense but smooth, carrying a natural, seductive chill.
Then, before my eyes, their forms shifted.
Scales flowed into skin. Coils unraveled into slender limbs. In the space of a breath, three young women stood where the serpents had been, barefoot on the stone floor, robes woven from condensed spiritual energy draping their bodies like mist.
The woman in white stepped forward first. Her presence was calm, almost sacred, snow-pale skin, a soft fullness to her figure, eyes gentle yet heavy-lidded, as if permanently steeped in moonlight.
"I am Yueli," she said softly. "A Pearl Yin Serpent."
The woman in green followed, her smile subtle, lips naturally curved as though she was perpetually amused. Her body was supple and ripe with vitality, every movement fluid, every breath faintly scented with life.
"I am Yuerou," she said. "An Emerald Yin Serpent."
Last came the woman in blue. Her gaze was sharp despite her languid posture, eyes bright and alert, her beauty striking rather than soft. There was an unmistakable spark to her, mischief restrained by discipline.
"Yueye," she introduced herself. "An Azure Yin Serpent."
I activated my Perception Eyes.
Their physiques were flawless, each shaped differently, yet all undeniably alluring. Yueli carried a dignified softness, serene curves balanced by composure. Yuerou was lush and flexible, her body seeming to invite closeness without ever asking. Yueye was sleek and radiant, every line sharp enough to cut, every glance bold enough to linger.
Golden Core. Second Stage.
Yueli spoke again, her voice steady as she explained. She was the eldest, Yuerou the middle sister, Yueye the youngest.
A century ago, they had entered a shared metamorphosis, merging their powers and sealing themselves within a cocoon for a long hibernation, refining their cultivation in silence so that one day they could shed their scales and assume human form. Over time, that cocoon hardened, eventually mistaken for a spirit beast egg.
They were already capable of assuming human form, yet the transformation was not fully anchored. Once their cultivation stabilized further, likely upon reaching the mid stages of the Golden Core Realm, their human bodies would become far more stable, enduring, and nearly permanent rather than something that required constant effort to maintain.
They also told me something else.
Because I had fed them spiritual energy for so long and patiently, without intent to dominate, their instincts held no hostility toward me. On the contrary, they were willing to follow.
I nodded.
"Good," I said simply. "More strength is always welcome."
I showed them the spirit beast ring, explaining that it could house them safely in their true forms, providing rest and protection. While they walked as humans, I would supply cultivation materials suited to yin-aligned spirit beasts.
As for dual cultivation…
That could wait.
I had no intention of risking instability mid-cycle, certainly not with three women who might suddenly shed skin and coils at the worst possible moment.
Once everything was settled, I called my household together.
Xiaoting, Yaolin, Xueyin, Xueyang, Fenghua, Meiyun, Lingyu, Lingxue, Qingwu, Qingying, Yinqing, Yinxuan, and Yinyin.
Introductions were made calmly, curiosity flowing freely on both sides. The atmosphere remained relaxed, until faint tremors rippled through the three newcomers. Their human forms flickered, spiritual energy wavering.
I didn't hesitate.
"Rest," I told them.
With a flash of light, I guided them into the spirit beast ring. Their presence vanished, leaving behind only a lingering trace of cool yin energy.
Just like that, three new members had joined my growing family.
Not lovers. Not yet.
But perhaps… in the future.
With preparations complete, cultivation advancing, and Zhenhe City drawing ever closer, I closed my eyes that night with a quiet certainty.
Everything was moving exactly as it should.