The Empress’s embrace was warm and soft and smelled of phoenix feathers and sacred incense.
When she finally pulled back, she cupped Tian’s face in her hands—her fingers were slender and cool, tipped with nails painted the deep crimson of a setting sun—and pressed a lingering kiss to his cheek.
“There,” she murmured, her voice carrying the warmth of aged wine.
“Now you’ve been properly welcomed.” Tian looked up at her, and even after thirteen years of being surrounded by the most beautiful women in the Primordial Realm, he had to admit: the Empress was breathtaking.
Xia Qingwu was forty-three years old, young by cultivation standards, and she was the kind of woman who made the word “Empress” feel insufficient.
Her hair was a cascade of pure white—not the white of age, but the white of fresh snow under moonlight, the white of phoenix down, the white that only appeared in bloodlines touched by the divine.
It fell past her hips in waves that shimmered with a faint, internal luminescence, and it was crowned with the most magnificent headpiece Tian had ever seen.
The Phoenix Crown was a masterpiece of immortal craftsmanship.
Forged from gold that had been bathed in the heart of a dying star, it rose in elegant curves that mimicked the wings of a phoenix in flight.
Nine phoenixes, each one no larger than a thumb, perched along its arches, their bodies formed from crystallized sunfire that glowed with a warm, eternal light.
Their eyes were tiny rubies that seemed to watch the world with ancient wisdom.
Between them, strands of spirit pearls—each one harvested from a ten-thousand-year-old clam at the bottom of the Starlight Sea—draped in delicate loops, catching the light and throwing it back in rainbows.
At the crown’s peak, a single feather from an actual phoenix had been preserved in amber, and it pulsed with a gentle, living warmth.
Her eyes were the most striking feature of all—Phoenix Eyes, the mark of the Xia bloodline’s supreme physique.
They were a deep, mesmerizing purple, the color of twilight just before the stars emerge, with slit pupils that seemed to hold the heat of a thousand suns.
They were cold and commanding when she sat on her throne, but when she looked at Tian, they melted into something warm and soft and utterly, completely devoted.
Her face was a study in mature beauty—high cheekbones, a straight nose, lips painted with a deep purple pigment that matched her eyes.
A small beauty mark sat just below the corner of her left eye, adding a touch of allure to an already devastating face.
Her skin was flawless porcelain, and her expression, usually cold and imperial, was currently soft with affection.
Her body was the body of a woman in her absolute prime.
Full breasts strained against the bodice of her imperial robes, their shape generous and proud.
Her waist was narrow, cinched with a belt of woven phoenix leather.
Her hips flared wide, promising the curves of a true empress.
She moved with the fluid grace of a cultivator who had reached the Quasi-Great Emperor realm, every step a poem, every gesture a command.
Her robes were the Imperial Phoenix Raiment, a garment that had been passed down through the Xia Dynasty for three hundred thousand years.
The fabric was crimson silk so deep it seemed to drink the light, embroidered with gold thread in patterns of phoenixes soaring through clouds.
The sleeves were wide and flowing, lined with gold.
The train stretched ten feet behind her, held aloft by two attending maids.
A sash of pure gold cinched her waist, and from it hung the Imperial Seal of the Xia Dynasty—a jade phoenix the size of a palm.
She was, in short, the most beautiful Empress Tian had ever seen.
And she was looking at him like he was the only person in the world.
“Come, Tian,” she said, her voice warm as she took his hand.
“Let’s not keep everyone waiting.” She led him toward the throne, and the ministers and generals bowed as one.
“Young Master Tian!” Their voices rang out in perfect unison, and Tian felt a familiar warmth spread through his chest.
He raised his free hand in a gentle gesture.
“You don’t have to bow, everyone.
Please, rise.” The Maiden Calamity Body pulsed.
It was subtle—a shift in the air, a warmth that spread through the throne room like the first rays of spring sunshine.
The ministers and generals felt it in their chests.
They looked at the young man before them—his gentle smile, his kind eyes, his face that seemed to have been sculpted by the heavens themselves—and their hearts fluttered.
“He’s so charming…” “That smile—” “Such a gentle young master—” “Ah!” One of the ministers, a beautiful woman with chestnut hair and curves that strained against her formal robes, lost her balance.
Her heel had caught on the hem of her dress, and she pitched forward with a startled gasp.
Before she could hit the ground, Tian was there.
He caught her with one arm around her waist, his other hand steadying her shoulder.
She was soft and warm against him, her generous chest pressing against his, and when she looked up at him with wide, startled eyes, his gentle smile was the first thing she saw.
“Are you alright?” he asked.
The minister’s face went from pale to crimson in the space of a heartbeat.
“Y-Young Master!
I—this minister—I’m so sorry—” “There’s nothing to apologize for.
Be more careful, alright?” He released her gently, making sure she was steady on her feet before stepping back.
The minister pressed her hands to her burning cheeks, her heart pounding so loudly she was certain everyone could hear it.
‘So gentle…
so charming…
how can a thirteen-year-old boy make my heart race like this?!’ Around her, the other ministers and generals were having similar thoughts.
They gazed at Tian with stars in their eyes, their cheeks flushed, their professional composure completely shattered.
‘This is the true effect of the Maiden Calamity Body,’ Tian thought, watching the room full of powerful women turn into blushing maidens.
‘It may not have the raw combat power of the Primordial Dragon Body or the divine might of the God Bones.
It can’t shatter mountains or command demons.
But against women…
against women, it is the most terrifying weapon in existence.
No holy art can block it.
No cultivation realm can resist it.
It doesn’t force them to feel anything—it simply makes them see me in the best possible light, and from there, their own hearts do the rest.’ He smiled, and three more ministers nearly swooned.
‘Almost no woman can resist it.
And those who fall…
they fall hopelessly, completely, and forever.’ “Ahem.” The sound cut through the throne room like a blade.
The Empress was still standing beside the throne, her arms crossed beneath her generous chest, her purple phoenix eyes fixed on the blushing ministers with an expression that could only be described as…
sour.
“How charming our Tian is,” she said, her voice carrying a distinct edge of jealousy.
“Making all my ministers forget themselves with a single smile.” The ministers quickly straightened, their faces still flushed.
“E-Empress!
We weren’t—” “Hmph.” Xia Qingwu pouted.
The mighty Empress, the ruler of the Xia Dynasty, the woman who had obliterated a Holy Land master with a single palm strike—pouted like a jealous maiden.
Tian looked at her.
Then, very deliberately, he reached out and pinched her rear.
“Ah!” The Empress yelped.
Her purple eyes went wide.
Her pale cheeks flooded with crimson.
The ministers and generals froze.
Their Empress—their cold, noble, untouchable Empress—had just let out a sound that was decidedly not imperial.
And the young master had— “Did he just—?” “He pinched the Empress’s—” “The Empress’s—” “I’m dreaming.
I must be dreaming.” Xia Qingwu turned to Tian, her blush spreading down her neck.
“T-Tian!
In front of everyone—!” Tian, completely unrepentant, rubbed the spot he had pinched with gentle, soothing circles.
“Are you hurt?” The Empress’s breath caught.
His hand was warm through the silk of her robes.
His touch was gentle.
His eyes, as he looked up at her, held nothing but affection.
‘I can’t even be jealous,’ she thought, her heart fluttering like a caged bird.
‘My little husband has me completely in the palm of his hand.
He won’t even allow me to be upset.
How did I become so hopelessly wrapped around his finger?’ “No,” she whispered, her voice soft.
“I’m not hurt.” “Good.” Tian smiled.
“Now stop pouting.
You’re an Empress.” “I’m YOUR Empress.” “That’s even more reason not to pout.” She laughed—a warm, genuine sound that transformed her cold beauty into something radiant.
“Fine, fine.
You win.
You always win.” “Of course I do.
Now, didn’t you promise me lunch?” “You and your stomach.” “My stomach is a faithful servant.” She laughed again and took his hand, leading him toward the private dining hall.
“Come, then.
The chefs have been preparing your favorites for days.” As they disappeared through the side doors, the throne room erupted.
The ministers and generals, who had been holding their composure by the thinnest of threads, immediately flocked together like excited schoolgirls.
And at the center of the storm was the most powerful military figure in the entire Xia Dynasty.
Grand General Li Xueyan was a woman who commanded armies and shattered empires.
She was a Great Emperor, the strongest of all the generals, and the Empress’s most trusted friend and confidante.
Her hair was black as a starless night, cut short to her shoulders in a warrior’s style that framed a face of heroic, mature beauty.
Her eyes were steel grey, sharp and commanding, the eyes of a woman who had seen a thousand battlefields and never once flinched.
Her body was a warrior’s body—broad shoulders, muscular arms, full breasts contained by practical armor of black and silver, a narrow waist, and powerful legs that could crush stone.
She was beautiful in the way a legendary sword is beautiful—deadly, elegant, and utterly awe-inspiring.
And currently, she was being mobbed by her colleagues.
“Sister Li!
You must tell us!” “How did the Empress meet the Young Master?!” “Why does she dote on him so much?!” “We know he’s the young master of the five forbidden forces, but even so—!” Li Xueyan held up her hands, a rare smile crossing her stoic face.
“Calm down, all of you.
One question at a time.” The Minister of Rites, a voluptuous woman with auburn hair, leaned forward eagerly.
“We’ve seen the Empress destroy a Holy Land master with a single palm strike.
She didn’t even blink.
Her eyes were cold as the void!
But with the Young Master…
she’s like a completely different woman!” “She pouted,” the Minister of Revenue whispered, still in shock.
“Our Empress.
Pouted.” “And he pinched her—” The Minister of War couldn’t even finish the sentence.
Li Xueyan’s smile grew.
“You want to know why the Empress loves him so much?” “YES!” the entire room chorused.
The Grand General settled into a chair, her armor creaking softly.
“Then I’ll tell you.
But what I’m about to say does not leave this room.
Understood?” Everyone nodded eagerly.
“It happened four years ago.” — Four Years Earlier The Great Xia Dynasty was vast beyond mortal comprehension—a territory that stretched across hundreds of billions of miles, encompassing mountains that scraped the stars and valleys that plunged into the earth’s molten heart.
Its cities were jewels of civilization, its wilds were untamed and dangerous, and its people numbered in the trillions.
And somewhere in the middle of all that vastness, a nine-year-old boy was sulking.
“This is unfair,” Tian declared, his arms crossed, his expression the picture of childish indignation.
“I want wine.” “Young Master, you’re nine,” Long Jin said, her voice gentle but firm.
“So?” “So you’re too young for wine.” “I’m the young master of five forbidden forces.
I have six Immortal Physiques.
I’ve charmed assassins and goddesses and demon queens.
And I can’t have WINE?” “Young Master,” Long Rui said, her amber-gold eyes carrying a hint of amusement, “your arguments are very impressive, but the answer is still no.” Tian flopped back against the spiritual blanket they had spread across the grass, his expression one of profound suffering.
The wilderness around them was beautiful—rolling hills covered in silver grass that rippled like water in the breeze, ancient trees with leaves of copper and gold, a crystal-clear stream that sang as it flowed over polished stones.
The sky above was a perfect blue, dotted with clouds that looked like cotton.
None of this improved Tian’s mood.
“System,” he thought, ‘I’m sad.’ [The Host is experiencing the profound tragedy of being denied alcohol at age nine.] ‘Exactly!
You understand!’ [This system understands that the Host is being dramatic.] ‘I’m not dramatic.
I’m suffering.’ The beautiful, mature voice in his mind laughed—a warm, honeyed sound that always made Tian’s spine tingle.
[There, there, little Host.
When you’re older, you can drink all the wine in the Primordial Realm.
But for now…] ‘For now I have to drink SPIRIT JUICE like a BABY.’ [The Host IS a baby.] ‘I’m nine!’ [A nine-year-old baby.] ‘You’re impossible.’ Long Jin, seeing her young master’s distress, scooped him up and settled him into her lap.
His head came to rest against her generous chest, and the soft warmth immediately began to soothe his grumpiness.
“There, there, Young Master,” she murmured, stroking his hair.
“Would you like some more grapes?” “I want wine.” “Grapes are almost wine.” “Grapes are NOT almost wine.” “They’re wine ingredients.
That counts.” “It absolutely does not count.” Long Rui knelt beside them and offered a slice of spiritual peach.
“Young Master, this peach is very sweet.” Tian sulked but opened his mouth.
Long Rui fed him the peach with the precision of someone who had been doing this for years.
The fruit was, indeed, very sweet.
‘…Fine.
This is acceptable.’ [The Host is easily placated.] ‘Shut up.’ He chewed the peach and gazed up at the perfect blue sky.
A thought struck him, and a mischievous smile crossed his lips.
“System,” he thought, ‘I want the sky to throw me a beautiful woman.’ […The Host wants what?] ‘A beautiful woman.
From the sky.
Right now.’ [The Host is aware that women do not typically fall from the sky.] ‘But I have the Maiden Calamity Body!
And the Immortal Luck Body!
Shouldn’t beautiful women just…
fall into my lap?’ [That is not how—] ‘No, wait.
I want MANY beautiful women to fall from the sky.
At least four.’ […Four.] ‘Four sounds good.
Four beautiful women, falling from the sky, right into my—’ The system’s laugh was bright and genuine.
[The Host is being childish.] ‘I’m nine.
I’m ALLOWED to be childish.’ [Fair point.
But the universe does not simply drop women from the—] A crack appeared in the sky.
Tian’s eyes went wide.
His maids looked up in alarm.
And four women fell through the rift.
— At the exact same moment, in a part of the wilderness that was decidedly less peaceful, hell was breaking loose.
Xia Qingwu—though she was not yet Empress—ran through the forest with blood dripping from a wound on her side.
Her white hair, that same cascade of snow-white silk, was matted with sweat and grime.
Her purple phoenix eyes, usually so cold and commanding, were wide with desperation.
She was thirty-nine years old, a Quasi-Great Emperor, the number one prodigy of the Xia Dynasty—and she was running for her life.
Behind her, three women ran with equal desperation. This chapter is updated first at g.com.
Xia Yurou—younger, not yet the captain of the Phoenix Guard—had an arrow lodged in her shoulder.
Her face was pale, but her jaw was set with determination.
Li Xueyan—not yet the Grand General, but already a formidable warrior—had a gash across her forehead that bled into her eyes.
She blinked the blood away and kept running.
And the fourth woman.
The one who was protecting them all.
Xia Ziyan was a mature beauty with hair of deep purple—the color of twilight—that fell in waves past her hips.
Her eyes were molten gold, striking and fierce, and her lips were painted with purple lipstick that matched her hair.
Her body was generous and voluptuous, with full breasts and wide hips, but it was currently covered in wounds.
She was a Quasi-Great Emperor, the same realm as the crown princess she protected, but she had been fighting a running battle against overwhelming odds for hours, and her strength was nearly spent.
“They’re gaining on us!” Li Xueyan shouted.
“I know!” Ziyan’s golden eyes scanned the terrain ahead.
“We need to—” She stopped.
The forest had ended.
Before them stretched a cliff—a sheer drop into a misty abyss.
There was nowhere left to run.
“Dead end,” Xia Qingwu breathed.
“A dead end.” Shadows flickered.
Figures materialized from the trees, surrounding them in a tightening circle.
Dozens of experts.
Three Quasi-Great Emperors.
And behind them, dozens more.
The Shadow Guards of the Xia Dynasty.
Their faces were covered by masks of black iron.
Their bodies were wrapped in dark armor that absorbed light.
They moved with the precision of elite killers, and their auras pressed against the four women like a suffocating weight.
Xia Qingwu straightened, despite her wounds.
Her purple eyes fixed on the masked men with cold fury.
“You are the Shadow Guards of the Xia Dynasty,” she said, her voice steady despite her panting.
“Sworn to protect the imperial family.
And yet here you are, hunting the Crown Princess.” The masked men exchanged glances.
Then the commander stepped forward and removed his mask.
His face was weathered and sharp, the face of a man who had killed more times than he could count.
But his eyes held a flicker of something that might have been respect.
“As expected of the Crown Princess,” he said.
“The number one prodigy of the Xia Dynasty.
Your perception is flawless, even in such dire circumstances.” The four women couldn’t smile at the compliment.
They were too heavily injured.
Blood dripped onto the grass.
Breath came in ragged gasps.
Xia Qingwu’s voice turned icy.
“Did my elder brother and younger brother send you all?” The commander said nothing.
But he didn’t need to.
The air rippled.
A spatial portal opened, and four figures stepped through.
The first was a handsome man in golden robes, his face bearing a resemblance to Xia Qingwu but lacking her refinement.
His eyes were cold and calculating.
This was Xia Tianyang, the Crown Prince, the eldest of the three siblings.
The second was younger, with a face that might have been pleasant if not for the sneer that twisted his features.
Xia Tianwei, the Third Prince, the youngest of the three siblings.
And her half-brother at that.
Behind them came two old men.
One looked to be about sixty, his hair grey and his face lined.
The other was middle-aged, his expression cold and arrogant.
Both of them radiated the aura of peak quasi Great Emperors.
“Little sister,” Xia Tianyang said, his voice smooth as oil, “you’ve led us on quite a chase.” “Why?” Xia Qingwu’s voice cracked.
“Why would you do this?
I’m your SISTER.” The Crown Prince’s expression didn’t change.
“You are a threat.
You have two Supreme Bones.
You are the number one prodigy.
If you wanted the throne, the ancestors would support you without question.
Father would name you heir without hesitation.” His voice grew cold.
“I am the eldest son.
The throne is mine by right.
I will not let you take it.” Xia Tianwei sneered.
“And those Supreme Bones…
Big Sister, why don’t you share?
Give one to me.
Consider it a parting gift.” “Despicable!” Li Xueyan spat, blood dripping from her forehead.
“You would cripple your own sister for your greed?!” Xia Yurou, clutching her wounded shoulder, added, “The ancestors will never forgive this!” The Crown Prince laughed.
It was not a pleasant sound.
“The ancestors?” He turned and bowed respectfully toward the open air.
“Ancestors.
Please.” The two old men stepped forward.
Xia Qingwu’s heart clenched.
“You two,” she breathed, her voice hollow.
“The Fourth and Fifth Ancestors.” The 90 year old looking ancestor sighed.
“Qingwu.
You are a prodigy.
A monstrous prodigy.
With your two Supreme Bones, you could one day become a Heavenly Emperor—perhaps even brush against Immortal.” “Then WHY?” “But your brothers,” the middle-aged ancestor cut in, his voice cold, “also have Dao Rank bodies.
If each of them received one of your Supreme Bones, the Xia Dynasty would have TWO Heavenly Emperor level prodigies instead of one.
One supreme prodigy is a blessing.
Two is a dynastys future foundation .” Xia Qingwu’s hands trembled.
“So you would sacrifice me…
for a calculation?” “Don’t make it sound so cruel,” the Fourth Ancestor said, not meeting her eyes.
“This is for the good of the dynasty.” A bitter smile crossed the Crown Princess’s lips.
“Do the other two ancestors know about this?” Silence.
Xia Tianyang laughed.
“Of course not.
The First and Second Ancestors—those two old women—they’ve always favored you.
If they knew, they would stop us.
But after you’re dead…
even if they’re angry, what can they do?
They’ll have no choice but to accept it.
We will be the only heirs left.” “The female ancestors would never—” “They will endure it.
For the dynasty.” Xia Qingwu closed her eyes.
‘So this is how it ends.
Betrayed by my own brothers.
Sacrificed by my own ancestors.
I never even…
I never even got to…’ Beside her, Xia Ziyan’s golden eyes blazed with fury.
Her hand closed around a hidden talisman—a Boundary Breaking Talisman, one of the few remaining treasures she had kept in reserve.
“Princess,” she whispered.
“When I activate this, run.
All of you.
Don’t look back.” “But—” “There’s no time!” She crushed the talisman.
Space shattered.
Light engulfed the four women.
And before the Crown Prince or the ancestors could react, they were gone—teleported across the wilderness in a desperate, last-ditch escape.
The Crown Prince stared at the empty space where his sister had been.
Then he smiled.
“Impressive.
She had a Boundary Breaking Talisman.” “Can you track them?” Xia Tianwei demanded.
The Fifth Ancestor snorted coldly.
“Disrespectful brat.
Running away instead of obediently handing over the Supreme Bones.
But no matter.” He produced a compass—a Saint Rank Dao Treasure, the Tracking Compass of the Xia Dynasty.
Its needle spun wildly for a moment, then locked onto a direction.
“They’re not far,” the Fourth Ancestor said.
“Open a spatial rift.
We’ll finish this quickly.” The Fifth Ancestor tore open space with a casual gesture.
The Shadow Guards poured through.
The princes followed.
The two Great Emperors brought up the rear.
And on the other side of the rift, a nine-year-old boy was staring up at the sky with his mouth hanging open.
— ‘I was JOKING,’ Tian thought, his eyes wide as dinner plates.
‘I was absolutely, completely, one hundred percent JOKING.’ Four women fell from the crack in the sky.
[…The Host’s Luck Body appears to have taken his request literally.] ‘SYSTEM!
Is this the Maiden Calamity Body?!
Is it THIS outrageous?!’ [No.
But the Host also possesses the Immortal Luck Dao Body.
Between the two of them…
the universe seems inclined to grant the Host’s desires.
Even the joking ones.] ‘I—what—how—’ [The Host should perhaps stop gaping and order his maids to catch them.
They appear to be heavily injured.] Tian snapped out of his shock.
“Jin!
Rui!
Catch them!” The dragon twins were already moving.
In a blur of motion, they intercepted the four falling women before they could hit the ground, cradling them gently despite their speed.
Tian rushed over.
The four women were in terrible condition—covered in wounds, their robes soaked with blood, their faces pale from blood loss.
One of them, a mature beauty with purple hair, had a gash across her chest that was still bleeding.
Another, a white-haired woman with striking purple eyes, was coughing up blood.
“They’re heavily injured,” he said, frowning.
“Lin!
Mei!
The Saint Rank healing pills.
Now.” The maids moved with practiced efficiency.
Saint Rank healing pills—treasures that could regrow limbs and restore shattered meridians—were placed between the women’s lips.
Within seconds, color returned to their faces.
Wounds closed.
Blood stopped flowing.
The purple-haired woman’s eyes fluttered open.
She saw Tian first.
‘What a cute little brother,’ she thought hazily.
‘Such a handsome face…
wait.
Where am I?
What happened?’ The other three women stirred, their injuries completely healed.
The white-haired woman sat up, her purple eyes wide with confusion.
Then, with a jolt, she remembered.
“The enemies!
They’re still—you need to run!” She grabbed Tian’s arm, her voice desperate.
“Thank you for saving us, but you have to leave now!
There are Great Emperors chasing us!
Run!” Tian looked at her hand on his arm.
Then at her face—beautiful, desperate, genuinely concerned for his safety despite her own danger.
‘She’s warning me.
Even though she’s being hunted, even though she needs help, her first thought is to protect me.’ His maids exchanged glances.
Long Jin’s gentle eyes held approval.
Before Tian could respond, the sky cracked open again.
A massive spatial rift tore through the air, and through it poured dozens of black-armored soldiers.
Behind them came two men in golden robes—one handsome and cold, the other sneering—and behind them, two old men whose auras radiated the terrifying pressure of Great Emperors.
The Shadow Guards spread out, surrounding the small group.
The Crown Prince stepped forward, his cold eyes sweeping across the scene.
They paused on Tian’s maids—forty women, all Supreme Realm, all breathtakingly beautiful.
His eyes narrowed.
‘Whose young master is this?’ he thought.
‘Such beautiful maids…
and all of them at the Supreme Realm.
This child must be from a powerful force.
But which one?’ The Third Prince, Xia Tianwei, had a different reaction.
He looked at Tian—at the boy’s perfect face, his luminous skin, his eyes that seemed to hold the depths of eternity—and felt a surge of irrational rage.
‘Why does he look like THAT?!’ the Third Prince fumed internally.
‘I’m supposed to be handsome!
But standing next to this brat, I look like a diseased rat!’ He opened his mouth to snarl something, but the Crown Prince silenced him with a raised hand.
“Little brother,” Xia Tianyang murmured, “look at the maids.
Their cultivation.
Their beauty.
This child has a background.
Don’t act rashly.” The Fourth Ancestor stepped forward, his weathered face impassive.
“Boy,” he said, his voice carrying the weight of a Great Emperor’s authority, “hand over those four women.
They are criminals of the Xia Dynasty.
Do this, and we will owe you a favor.” He did not attack immediately.
None of them did.
They were wary.
A child with forty Supreme Realm maids was not an ordinary child.
Behind him was undoubtedly a force that could even make the Xia Dynasty fearful .
Better to be cautious.
Tian looked at the old man.
Then at the army surrounding him.
Then at the four women behind him—the white-haired woman who had tried to warn him, the purple-haired beauty who had shielded the others, the two younger women who were glaring at their pursuers with desperate fury.
He smiled.
It was not a nice smile.
“You ugly old men,” he said cheerfully.
“Go away.
Or I’ll make sure you’re not left alive today.” Silence.
Absolute, ringing silence.
The Fourth Ancestor’s weathered face went pale, then red, then purple.
The Fifth Ancestor’s cold expression cracked with fury.
The Shadow Guards shifted uneasily.
The Crown Prince’s eyes widened.
“You—” the Fourth Ancestor sputtered.
“You insolent little—” “How dare you!” the Fifth Ancestor roared.
“I don’t care what force backs you!
I’ll teach you a lesson you won’t forget!” He raised his hand.
The sky darkened.
A massive palm, formed from pure destruction, materialized above them—a strike that would crush Tian’s maids to paste if it landed.
Tian’s eyes went cold.
For the first time in his new life, true killing intent flickered in the depths of his gaze.
His maids—HIS maids—were in danger.
Women who had served him faithfully for years.
Women who had fed him grapes and braided his hair and played hide-and-seek with him.
Women who had made his life a paradise.
And this old man wanted to kill them?
“Auntie,” he said, his voice soft but carrying through the sudden stillness, “I want them to suffer.
How dare they try to hurt my maids.” For a moment, nothing happened.
Then a voice—doting, warm, and utterly terrifying—echoed from the void.
“Okay, little Tian.
Don’t worry.” Another voice, equally affectionate.
“Auntie will make them suffer.” A sword strike lanced down from the heavens.
It was not a large strike.
It was not flashy or dramatic.
It was simply a line of silver light that descended with the inevitability of a falling star.
It met the descending palm and sliced through it like a hot knife through butter.
The palm disintegrated.
The Fifth Ancestor screamed as his arm was severed at the shoulder.
And then the auras descended.
Not one.
Not ten.
At least THIRTY Great Emperor auras pressed down on the Xia Dynasty’s forces.
The Shadow Guards collapsed, their bodies giving out under the sheer weight of the pressure.
The Quasi-Great Emperor commanders fainted.
The Fifth Ancestor fell to his knees, clutching his bleeding shoulder.
The Fourth Ancestor trembled, his weathered face ashen.
They all felt it.
The cold sweat that broke out across their bodies.
The primal terror that gripped their hearts.
Female voices.
All of them.
And enough Great Emperors to rival a Supreme-level top grade force.
Then they remembered.
The rumors.
The stories.
The miracle birth that had shaken the Primordial Realm thirteen years ago.
“The child of the five clans…” the Fourth Ancestor whispered, his voice trembling.
“The first male.
The one with five Immortal Physiques.” “The five forbidden forces,” the Fifth Ancestor gasped.
“We…
we attacked the young master of the five forbidden forces.” The Crown Prince’s handsome face went white.
The Third Prince’s legs gave out, and he fell to his knees, a dark stain spreading across his golden robes.
They wanted to beg for mercy.
But before they could, a cold snort echoed from the void.
The Fourth and Fifth Ancestors screamed.
Blood exploded from their mouths as their internal organs were rattled by the force of that single dismissive sound.
They collapsed, their cultivation foundations cracking.
“A Heavenly Emperor…” the Fourth Ancestor choked out.
“The strongest below the Immortals…” The Shadow Guards died without a sound.
One moment they were there.
The next, they were motes of light drifting on the breeze.
The Quasi-Great Emperor commanders followed.
Only the two princes and the two ancestors remained alive—barely.
And then the air split, and two more figures emerged.
The first was a petite young woman who looked no older than eighteen.
Her hair was silver-white, cut short to her shoulders in a bob that framed a face of cold, aristocratic beauty.
Her eyes were the pale grey of winter ice, and they held the chill of someone who had lived for millions of years and had long since stopped being impressed by anything.
Her body was slender and delicate, with small breasts and a narrow waist, but the aura she radiated was anything but delicate.
She was a Great Emperor of the Peak stage, and her expression was utterly cold.
This was Xia Lengyue, the Second Ancestor of the Xia Dynasty.
The second woman was a mature beauty with hair of deep crimson that fell in waves to her ankles.
Her eyes were warm amber, and her face carried the gentle smile of a woman who had seen everything and chosen to respond with kindness rather than coldness.
Her body was voluptuous—full breasts, a narrow waist, wide hips—and she moved with the serene grace of an ancient tree swaying in a gentle breeze.
Her temperament was charming, approachable, and utterly disarming.
This was Xia Ruyan, the First Ancestor of the Xia Dynasty.
They took in the scene in a single glance: the remaining Shadow Guards dead, the Fourth and Fifth Ancestors bleeding on the ground, the Crown Prince trembling, the Third Prince sitting in his own piss, and four injured women huddled behind a nine-year-old boy with cold eyes.
“What,” Xia Lengyue said, her voice as cold as her name, “is the meaning of this?” The Fourth Ancestor looked up at her, his face twisted with desperation.
“Sister!
Help us!
This brat—this child—he attacked us without provocation!
He—” Xia Ruyan’s gentle smile didn’t waver.
“Fourth Brother.
I have lived for six million years.
I know when I am being lied to.” She turned to Xia Qingwu, who was staring at the two female ancestors with tears streaming down her face.
“Qingwu.
Tell us what happened.” And Xia Qingwu, the Crown Princess who had been betrayed by her own brothers and hunted by her own ancestors, opened her mouth and told them everything.
— Present Day The ministers and generals stared at Li Xueyan, their faces pale.
The Grand General’s voice had been steady throughout the tale, but her hands—resting on her knees—were clenched into fists.
“The Fourth and Fifth Ancestors were stripped of their cultivation and imprisoned in the deepest dungeon beneath the imperial palace,” Li Xueyan said.
“The Crown Prince and the Third Prince were executed by the First Ancestor herself.
The Shadow Guards were disbanded and rebuilt from scratch.
And the Crown Princess…” She smiled.
“The Crown Princess ascended the throne within a month.
The old Emperor, her father, had been manipulated by the Fourth and fifth Ancestors into favoring the princes.
When the truth came out, he abdicated in shame.
And Xia Qingwu became the Empress.” “And the Young Master?” the Minister of Rites breathed.
Li Xueyan’s smile grew.
“What do you think?
He saved her life.
He saved all our lives.
He called upon the might of five forbidden forces to protect four strangers.
And when the dust settled, he looked at our Empress—this cold, powerful woman who had never shown interest in anyone—and smiled at her.” She laughed softly.
“She was doomed from that moment.” “So that’s why…” the Minister of Revenue whispered.
“That’s why she dotes on him so much.” “That’s why she calls him her little husband,” the Minister of War added.
“That’s why she pouts when he charms other women,” the Minister of Rites finished.
Li Xueyan nodded.
“The Empress loves him.
Completely.
Utterly.
Hopelessly.
He is the best husband she could ever ask for—even if he’s only thirteen.” — In the private dining hall, Xia Qingwu was feeding Tian a piece of phoenix cake with her own chopsticks.
Her purple eyes were soft.
Her smile was warm.
“Was it good?” she asked.
“Delicious,” Tian said, his mouth full.
“I had the chefs prepare it specially for you.” “You’re spoiling me.” “Good.” She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his forehead.
“I’ll always spoil you, Tian.
You know why?” “Because I’m adorable?” “Because you saved my life.
Because you gave me a reason to be more than just a cold Empress.
Because you…” Her voice caught.
“Because you’re my little husband.
And I love you.” Tian swallowed the cake.
Then he reached up and patted her head.
“You’re so dramatic,” he said.
“You make me dramatic.” “I’m a terrible influence.” “The worst.” She laughed and pulled him into another hug, his face pressed against her generous chest, and Tian thought—not for the first time—that being a villain was absolutely, definitely, without question the best thing that had ever happened to him.
‘Best husband, huh?’ he thought.
‘I’m thirteen and I’m already the best husband.
When I’m actually old enough to get married, what am I going to be?
The Supreme Husband?’ [The Host’s titles continue to multiply.] ‘System, you’re supposed to be a villain system.
Not a marriage counselor.’ [A supreme villain must have supreme relationships.
This system is merely ensuring the Host’s foundation is solid.] ‘You’re definitely making this up as you go along.’ [The Host’s accusation is noted and ignored.] Tian laughed internally, sinking deeper into the Empress’s embrace.
Outside, the sun was setting over the Xia Dynasty’s capital, painting the sky in shades of gold and crimson.
The ministers had finally stopped gossiping.
The Phoenix Guards had resumed their patrols.
And somewhere in the vast wilderness beyond, the world continued to turn—unaware that a thirteen-year-old boy was slowly, inexorably, becoming the most beloved villain in history.
— END OF CHAPTER 10 if you like this give it a 5 star review.