My Xianxia Harem Life

Riley chuckled as he stepped out of the carriage, helping Eve down gently. "Did you all miss me that much?"

"No," one wife said with mock seriousness. "We missed the peace and quiet."

The group burst into laughter again, warm and familiar.

Eve was pulled into a dozen hugs at once, kissed on the cheeks, her hair ruffled, her shoulders squeezed.

There was no resentment—only joy. She had earned her place, and they were happy to have her.

"You look different," one wife said softly as they sat together in the garden later that evening. "Brighter. Stronger."

"I feel different," Eve admitted, her hand resting over her heart. "He gave me everything. And I gave it all back."

The other wives nodded in understanding.

It wasn't always easy, loving the same man.

But when that man was Riley—when he gave his heart so completely to each of them—it wasn't a burden. It was a blessing.

And Eve, once just a hopeful girl waiting in the background, was now a shining part of that blessing.

A grand feast erupted in Riley's estate upon his return, the likes of which hadn't been seen in years.

Joy and celebration filled every hall and courtyard, music rang from enchanted flutes, and fireworks streaked across the sky, painting brilliant trails of gold and red that made even the stars seem to blink in awe.

Tables groaned under the weight of luxurious dishes—roasted phoenix fowl, glazed spirit-boar, rice steamed in lotus leaves, and sweetened fruits infused with spiritual energy.

Wine poured endlessly from jade pitchers, glistening like liquid rubies, and laughter echoed through the estate like wind through silver chimes.

Everyone had a reason to celebrate: their master had returned, triumphant and clearly renewed.

He was more than just their lord—he was a symbol of power, a protector, a beacon.

Wives, disciples, guards, and guests raised their goblets in his name.

"To Lord Riley!"

"To the young master!"

"Long may he live!"

As the celebration reached its peak—dancers spinning in silk veils, musicians plucking lively tunes from guqins and flutes, servants weaving between the revelers with silver trays—none noticed Riley's subtle absence.

He had been there moments before, smiling gently, sharing soft words with Eve, resting his arm lazily on the table while sipping from a crystal goblet.

But that Riley… wasn't the real one.

Unseen by even the most keen-eyed cultivators in the room, a clone had taken his place.

The illusion was perfect. The clone spoke with his voice, carried his presence, and moved with his signature grace.

Not even his closest wives could tell the difference.

Meanwhile, far from the mansion, the real Riley moved through the void.

He stood high in the night sky, silent and still, his robes fluttering around him.

The stars blinked above, and moonlight painted silver lines across his sharp features.

Then, in a smooth motion, he began his descent—slowly, purposefully—toward a city nestled deep in the mountains.

The wind stirred restlessly as his aura brushed against the land.

Down below, a farmer tending to his late harvest glanced up and dropped his hoe. His eyes widened.

"L-Look… in the sky!"

A ripple of astonishment spread as more eyes turned upward.

"Is that…?"

"That's young master Riley!"

"No… it can't be… Why would he come here? Why now?"

Within moments, the entire district had turned into chaos.

Lanterns were lit, bells rang out across rooftops, and dozens of people scrambled toward the city lord's manor to report the impossible news: Riley, the renowned heir of the celestial clan, had descended from the sky.

"Inform the city lord!"

"Prepare the honor guard!"

"Clean the inner plaza! He must not see dust!"

Women clutched their children close while kneeling in prayer. Elders bowed deeply.

Even cultivators with some standing felt their legs weaken.

He had not come in a carriage. He had not ridden a beast.

He descended like a god from the heavens.

And gods did not descend for nothing.

As Riley touched the ground just outside the northern gate, silence fell across the city like a wave.

His boots met stone. The wind ceased.

Every torch in the nearby walls flickered once—then stabilized, as if the world itself held its breath.

A hush followed. Men removed their helmets and dropped to one knee.

Women bowed, heads pressed to the earth. Children stared in wide-eyed wonder.

The city lord himself came running from his estate, robes fluttering behind him as he fell to his knees, not daring to raise his head.

"Y-Young Master Riley…" he stammered. "We did not know you would grace us with your presence… Please, forgive our unworthiness…"

But Riley didn't speak immediately.

He looked around the darkened city, eyes scanning rooftops, towers, and alleyways with the focus of a man seeking something—or someone.

His gaze held power, the kind that made even seasoned cultivators sweat without knowing why.

He stepped forward once. The ground beneath his feet shimmered faintly from the suppressed force of his spiritual energy.

Finally, he spoke—his voice soft, but echoing like thunder in the stillness.

"I've come for a reason. Please be at ease. I'm just here to see my clan."

Another grand feast took place in Green Field City—one that outshone even the previous celebrations.

Lanterns floated into the sky like glowing petals, casting soft light over the cobblestone streets.

From the noble districts to the humble alleys, the entire city came alive in honor of Riley Mason, the young cultivator whose strength and fame had elevated not just his family, but the entire city itself.

Musicians played through the night. Dancers whirled in silks.

Children carried painted masks of Riley's face, giggling as they ran through the crowd.

Merchants hung banners declaring: "Home of the Great Mason Clan!" and even the city lord personally attended the gathering to toast to Riley's glory.

But amid all the music and praise, Riley stood off to the side, watching with a faint smile and a weary heart.

He shook his head gently.

"So many distractions," he murmured to himself. "All for what I see as mundane matters."

He didn't care for the ceremonies, the applause, or the shallow flattery.

Power and recognition had never been his goals—they were merely consequences of the path he walked.

And yet, he didn't hate it all.

Because in the crowd, at the center of the attention, were two people who mattered more to him than any sect, kingdom, or realm.

His parents.

His mother beamed with joy as townsfolk greeted her warmly.

She had aged gracefully, her gentle features still radiant under the lantern light.

His father, a man of quiet pride, stood beside her in simple robes, looking awkward in the attention but smiling nonetheless.

They had once lived in obscurity. No talent for cultivation. No great lineage.

Just a humble couple who loved their only son with all their hearts.

Now, thanks to Riley, they were honored and revered.

The feast lasted three full days.

And when it finally ended, when the crowds faded and the music died down, Riley returned to the old family courtyard—a place untouched by grandeur.

The same weathered stones. The same old table under the peach tree.

The same faint scent of soil and tea that reminded him of childhood.

His parents were there, sitting quietly and sipping from clay cups as if the world hadn't changed at all.

He joined them without a word, letting the silence stretch until it felt natural again.

Then he spoke.

"Mom, Dad," he began, his voice low and steady, "I'm planning to leave."

They looked at him, neither shocked nor surprised—just listening.

"Somewhere far," he continued. "Beyond this continent. Beyond this world. It's a place only high-level cultivators can reach, and the journey might take decades. Centuries, even."

His father raised an eyebrow. "That far, huh?"

Riley nodded. "If you want, I can take you with me. I've already prepared a home—peaceful, beautiful, untouched by time. You'll be safe and cared for."

He paused, then placed two glowing jade bottles on the table. "If not, I've brought these. Longevity pills. If taken properly, you'll live for five thousand years in good health. You won't age. You'll never fall sick. Even if I'm gone for a hundred years, I'll still see you again."

There was silence for a long time.

The wind rustled the peach blossoms. One petal floated down and landed in his mother's cup.

She looked at it for a moment, then smiled.

"We're proud of you, Riley," she said gently. "But we can't go."

His father placed a hand over hers, nodding in agreement. "This is our home, son. These streets, these people… this is where we belong."

"But the world outside is so much more," Riley said, almost pleading. "You could see floating cities, gardens made of light, oceans of spirit fire, even time-bending realms. You wouldn't have to worry about anything—"

"We're not afraid," his mother interrupted kindly. "We just don't want it. The noise, the wonder… it's not for us. We've lived long enough to know what we treasure. Simplicity. Familiarity. A quiet morning and a warm afternoon. We don't need more than that."