My Xianxia Harem Life

Dinner passed in a blur—food he didn't even fully taste, conversation he only half-listened to. His thoughts were already drifting toward what came after the meal. Toward what he had already come to think of as his rounds.

By the time the moon rose fully, Riley was no longer alone.

The soft creak of a wooden door.

The rustle of silk robes falling to the floor.

The breathy sigh of a woman leaning in, baring her neck like a flower unfolding in the night.

"Ahhh…"

"Ohhh…"

"Ughhh…"

The walls of the summit, as always, could not contain the pleasure that echoed within. The air itself seemed to shimmer with warmth, with need, with indulgence. He didn't rush. Riley took his time with each woman, touching, teasing, and claiming, as if reminding them—and perhaps even himself—that this life he lived was real.

At present, he had ten women in his harem, each stunning in her own right. Disciples, elders, former rivals, even cold-hearted beauties who once swore they'd never kneel to a man—now all warmed his bed. They opened their arms and legs for him willingly, eagerly. No command needed. Just the flicker of his gaze was enough.

Some whispered his name between gasps. Others clung to him like they'd melt if he let go. Their bodies were different—soft in different places, fierce in others—but all had one thing in common: they belonged to him.

Room by room, pleasure by pleasure, the night stretched long. And Riley, ever tireless, embraced it all.

By the time he returned to the outer balcony, the stars were at their brightest. His body was warm, his mind hazy with satisfaction. He held a cup of chilled wine and stared into the sky, letting silence settle around him.

Ten women. Endless desire. The respect of the sect. The envy of every man. The devotion of the most beautiful ones.

What more could he ask for?

Riley chuckled to himself, low and lazy, the kind of laugh that came from someone who knew they had already won.

Life… life couldn't possibly get any better than this.

And yet, somewhere in the back of his mind, a spark flickered. A whisper of boredom. A subtle question: What if there's still more?

But that was a thought for another night.

Tonight, he was king.

***

A few quiet months had passed in the Stone Mountain Sect—months filled with calm cultivation, routine affairs, and the usual inter-elder bickering—but that peace was about to be disrupted once again.

The season had returned. That time of year when the gates of the sect would open wide, welcoming a new generation of dreamers and strivers.

Boys and girls, all around fifteen years old, had begun arriving in droves, their eyes burning with hope and ambition. Each of them came with the same desire—to join the legendary Stone Mountain Sect and begin their path toward immortality.

Unlike the modest turnouts of previous years, this time was different. Much different. Where once there had only been hundreds of hopefuls gathered outside the outer gates, there were now thousands.

The mountain path that led up to the sect's entrance was packed with carriages, tents, and lines of youths waiting for their turn. Entire families camped at the base of the mountain, praying for their child to be accepted into the sect's ranks.

The elders observed this flood of new recruits with wide eyes and hidden smiles. This unprecedented turnout wasn't some miracle—it was the Riley effect.

There was no doubt about it. The name "Elder Riley" now carried weight beyond the walls of the sect. After all, he was the one who had taught the Stone Mountain Sect Disciples and won the Seven Swords Grand Meet in front of thousands.

He was the one who had risen through the cultivation ranks and become the peak powerhouse in the continent as a Void Tribulation Realm cultivator.

He was the one who had made Stone Mountain rise in prestige almost overnight. The world had taken notice. And so, it was only natural that countless youths, inspired by stories of his power and fame, now viewed the sect as their gateway to glory.

In the crowd, several boys argued passionately, their voices raised despite the dusty wind and bustle of noise.

"I'm telling you, I'll be chosen as Elder Riley's disciple!" one boy declared proudly, puffing out his chest. His hair was tied back in a short warrior's knot, and his eyes gleamed with fierce determination.

"Idiot," scoffed another. "Elder Riley doesn't even take disciples. Don't you know that?"

"You're the idiot!" the first boy shot back. "He has one! Her name's Bianca—I heard she's incredibly talented and was handpicked by him personally!"

"Pfft." A third youth laughed and elbowed his friend. "That so-called disciple? Everyone knows she's his woman now. You think he picked her for her talent? Please."

Gasps and nervous laughter broke out around them. The first boy blushed furiously but refused to back down. "Shut up! That's just a rumor."

"Sure, sure. A 'rumor.'" The third youth grinned wickedly. "So, what's your plan? Bend over and offer your backside too? Maybe that'll catch the great Elder Riley's attention!"

Several boys burst into laughter, some trying to muffle it with their hands while others shook their heads in mock sympathy.

Despite the crude jokes and competitive bravado, one thing was clear—every last one of them dreamed of rising to greatness.

For them, this selection was not just an exam; it was the first step into a world of spirit energy, martial glory, and eternal fame.

And becoming a disciple of a powerful elder was the shortcut everyone hoped for.

Meanwhile, the center of all this buzz, Elder Riley himself, remained completely unaware—and utterly unconcerned.

At that very moment, he was buried beneath silken sheets, nestled between two breathtakingly beautiful women who clung to him like kittens to a warm hearth. His breathing was slow and steady, lips curved faintly in a smile that could melt hearts. Whatever dreams occupied his mind, they were clearly far more pleasant than the noisy chaos unfolding at the gates of his sect.

He had long grown used to being talked about. Years ago, he might've cared—might've stormed out demanding silence or challenged every rumor to a duel.

But now? Gossip was just background noise, unworthy of his attention. He had bigger concerns, greater goals, and... much softer priorities at the moment.

The sun continued to rise above Stone Mountain, casting its golden light on a day full of dreams, delusions, and destiny. For the hopefuls below, their trials were just beginning.

***

Time, as always, moved quietly and relentlessly forward. Seasons came and went like brushstrokes on a scroll, painting the years with warmth, color, and the subtle grace of change.

Before he realized it, Riley had reached thirty in this new world.

Thirty.

It wasn't particularly old, not in the grand scheme of cultivation and the long lives they could attain. But for him, it was a milestone. A quiet reminder.

He had spent nearly a decade here, far from the modern world he had once known—its noise, its speed, its complications. In contrast, life here had unfolded in a gentler rhythm, filled with cultivation, adventure, and the comforting presence of the women who stood by him through it all.

He loved them.

Each one of them.

And they had stayed—without conditions, without doubt, without ever asking for more than what he was ready to give.

It was early morning when it hit him. He lay in bed, sunlight bleeding softly through the embroidered curtains, his arm wrapped around one of his wives as she slept peacefully beside him. Something stirred within him, not a spark of desire or restlessness, but a kind of longing—an ache, warm and heavy, nestled deep in his chest.

He stared at the ceiling for a moment and let out a long breath.

"I'm getting old in this world," he muttered, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Thirty already. I guess it's high time I finally do it."

The idea wasn't new. He'd thought about marriage before—many times, in fact. But there had always been something holding him back.

Perhaps it was the ghost of his former self, the man shaped by modern Earth, where marriage was often tangled in legal red tape, cold paperwork, and distant ceremonies.

But this world was different.

Here, marriage wasn't a contract. It was a sacred vow. A spiritual bond. A shared path walked together.

And it was time.

Riley began his preparations in secret, determined to surprise them. He called upon the sect's finest artisans and decorators, working for weeks to craft the perfect setting.

He personally oversaw every detail—he chose the flowers that lined the hallways, handpicked the silk gowns they would wear, even instructed the musicians on which songs to play.

The hall he selected was the most beautiful on the mountain, perched on a cliffside that overlooked a sea of clouds.

At twilight, it would be bathed in golden light, as if the heavens themselves blessed the occasion.