My Xianxia Harem Life

And indeed, that was exactly what Riley did.

Once his wives had shown him the intoxicating pleasure of taking all of them at once—limbs entangled, bodies glistening, voices overlapping in waves of ecstasy—something inside him had snapped.

Or perhaps awakened. He was no longer a man merely indulging in desire; he was a force of nature, unbound and insatiable.

Every night, he returned to them like a storm rolling in—unpredictable, all-consuming, and impossible to resist.

"Ahhhh…"

"Ohhh gods…"

"Mmmhh—Riley!"

His ten wives moaned with abandon, their voices echoing like a symphony of bliss throughout the palace chambers.

Sheets tangled, skin flushed, and the scent of passion hung thick in the air as Riley moved from one woman to the next with relentless hunger.

He showed no favoritism—every wife, whether shy and gentle or wild and bold, received his full, undivided attention.

He worshipped their bodies and ravished their souls, never stopping until they were utterly spent.

Riley's stamina was inhuman. Where most men would have faltered, he only grew more ravenous.

His touch was fire, his rhythm like a drumbeat of war, and when he came—deep, hard, without restraint—it was like a declaration of victory.

Not a single one of them was left unsatisfied. No moan was unheard. No climax was left unfinished.

And still… they begged for more.

He had become their addiction, just as they were his.

They shared whispered confessions beneath silken sheets, arms entwined, eyes glassy from pleasure. It wasn't just lust—it was devotion.

Even the most reserved among them found themselves offering their bodies, minds, and hearts completely to the man who ruled their nights like a god of passion.

Whispers of his nightly conquests spread quickly through the realm.

Some dismissed them as exaggeration—surely no man could pleasure ten wives and still leave them craving more.

But those who had seen the glow in the wives' eyes, the way they limped with soft smiles the next morning, knew the truth.

Riley's legend grew with every whispered moan behind closed doors.

Women from all corners of the empire vied for a place in his harem.

Noble daughters, powerful cultivators, even genius maidens sent veiled letters and gifts, hoping to catch his eye.

They didn't want his gold, his influence, or even his protection—they wanted him.

One such woman was Daoist Gentle Dream who had been with him for a time already.

But Riley saw through her from the start. Beneath her demure gaze and honeyed words was a serpent's ambition.

She didn't crave him—she wanted to control him, or at the very least, bind herself to his rising star.

He rejected her with a cold smile.

"I already have ten stars in my sky," he mused inside. "And I don't need another trying to eclipse the rest."

It wasn't lust that guided his choices. Riley may have been a lover of women, but he was not a fool.

Loyalty, sincerity, and shared flame—that was what bound his harem to him. Not seduction. Not schemes.

So night after night, he returned to the ones who had given him everything, and in turn, he gave them a kind of pleasure no other man could ever hope to match.

And with each passing night, Riley Oakley's legend only grew.

This peaceful life continued undisturbed—until it was shattered exactly one month later.

Boom!

A deafening explosion rocked the heavens. Waves surged violently across the coastline.

Thunder cracked through the clouds as a massive flying ship erupted from the depths of the Abyss Ocean.

The waters churned with unnatural force, the sky darkening as if the sea itself had given birth to a beast.

The ship rose high into the sky, trailing a storm of sea mist and glowing energy.

It was immense—twice the size of any known war vessel on the Nine Cauldrons Continent, carved with runes that pulsed with unfamiliar power and lined with materials no native craftsman could name.

The sea where it emerged boiled for miles in every direction, an ominous fog rolling inland as if heralding its arrival.

The shock of its emergence sent a ripple across the entire continent.

Within seconds, divine senses—sharp, ancient, and mighty—swept across the air like an invisible net, converging on the ship from every corner of the land.

Sect leaders, solitary cultivators, ancient recluses, and curious skyward clans—none could resist the urge to investigate.

Some tried to peer into the ship itself. They were met with blinding resistance—an ancient barrier that not only repelled their divine sense but struck back with enough force to make a few experts stagger in pain.

"What… what is that?" gasped a core elder from the Golden Cloud Pavilion, eyes wide with disbelief.

"How can anyone cross the Abyss Ocean? That place is a death trap! Isn't it supposed to be impossible?" asked one Void Tribulation expert, voice laced with genuine fear.

"It was impossible," murmured another, standing high atop a sword peak, his long beard swaying in the wind.

"But clearly… not anymore. These are no ordinary travelers. We have visitors from beyond the oceans."

The gathering cultivators went quiet, a cold wind sweeping across their hearts.

It wasn't just fear of the unknown—it was dread born of experience. The Abyss Ocean wasn't just wide and treacherous. It was alive.

An ancient, sentient graveyard. All who had ever attempted to cross it vanished—devoured by storms, crushed by waves, swallowed by leviathans whose scales could shatter sect-protecting arrays.

Even the mightiest sects of the Nine Cauldrons Continent had long since given up trying to explore its depths.

Their losses had been too great—grand elders lost, divine treasures swallowed, entire fleets sunk without leaving behind so much as a ripple.

They had all reached the same grim conclusion: the Abyss was not meant to be crossed.

And yet here it was. A ship not only crossing—but emerging.

"What should we do?" one anxious voice asked amid a gathering of elders.

"Should we intercept them? Or send emissaries to greet them?"

"No," replied another void tribulation powerhouse.

"We know nothing of their strength, their intentions, or their origin. If they could cross the Abyss, then they are not to be underestimated. Let us not provoke what we don't yet understand."

A thoughtful silence followed his words, and one by one, the others nodded. Even the most prideful sects chose to heed this wisdom.

No one wanted to be the first to challenge a force from the unknown.

All eyes turned skyward, watching the foreign vessel as it glided smoothly across the horizon. Its hull shimmered with ghostly colors, as though layered between realms.

Strange glyphs, unlike any known script, danced along its surface—alive and shifting like flowing water.

Even the air around it seemed to bend, warping sound and sight. It was a ship built with knowledge lost to this continent.

They watched in silent anticipation as the vessel finally began to descend, slow and deliberate, toward one of the great mountain ranges of the central continent—specifically, the domain of the strongest and then further beyond its reaches.

Hearts skipped. Faces paled.

"Where are they going?" someone whispered.

"We're going to find out sooner or later. Be patient, fellow daoists." another muttered.

Everyone had questions but no one had answers.

The leaders of all sects and their disciples on the path of this flying boat had themselves stood atop their main peak, watching the sky with narrowed eyes.

Their protective formations had already been raised, their disciples evacuated to the inner halls.

Elders floated in mid-air, weapons ready but not yet drawn, trying to gauge the threat level of their unexpected guests.

And still, the ship came.

Its descent was graceful, quiet—eerily so, considering the violent nature of its arrival.

It did not land with force but hovered just above one particular sect's central platform, casting an enormous shadow over the entire mountain.

Then—silence.

No doors opened. No figures emerged.

Only the quiet hum of energy radiated from the ship, growing louder with each passing second, like a heartbeat from another world.

The continent held its breath.

Whatever was coming next…

Would mark the beginning of a new chapter in the Nine Cauldrons Continent—one written not by those who had ruled it for millennia, but by strangers from beyond the abyss.

"That's…"

"Yes," another elder confirmed grimly. "Stone Mountain Sect."

A murmur spread through the gathered cultivators. Eyes narrowed. Faces turned solemn.

"Hmm… this is going to be interesting," one Void Tribulation realm expert muttered, arms crossed as his divine sense remained locked on the distant scene. His tone held a mix of intrigue and caution.

No one moved. No one dared act—yet.

It was the wisest course. Until the true strength and intentions of these mysterious visitors were fully understood, any rash action could lead to disaster.

These weren't mere wanderers or lost cultivators—they had crossed the Abyss Ocean, a feat that no one on the Nine Cauldrons Continent had ever accomplished.

To provoke them without understanding their power… would be courting destruction at the very least.

And so, the great cultivators and old fogeys of the land continued to watch in silence, their hearts heavy with speculation, and their instincts screaming that the world was on the brink of change.