The imperial palace, once a nest of vipers, had been cleansed.
The corrupt ministers and generals rotted in the Heavenly Prison, their cultivation sealed, their fates sealed alongside them.
But an Empress’s work was never done, and Xia Qingwu had one final order to give.
She stood on the raised dais of the throne room, no longer wearing the blood-stained robes of a hunted princess but the full imperial regalia of the Phoenix Throne.
The Imperial Phoenix Raiment blazed crimson and gold in the morning light.
The Phoenix Crown sat upon her white hair like a mantle of fire.
Her purple eyes, cold and commanding, swept across the assembled Royal Guards with the weight of absolute authority.
“Listen well,” she said, her voice carrying through the silent hall.
“You will go to the estates of every minister and general currently imprisoned in the Heavenly Prison.
You will surround their compounds.
You will seal all exits.
And then…” She paused.
When she spoke again, her voice was ice.
“You will execute every male.
Leave no one behind.
From the oldest ancestor to the youngest infant.
I want the bloodlines of these traitors erased from the realm.” The guards slammed their fists against their armored chests in salute.
“We hear and obey, Empress!” “But.” The single word froze them in place.
“The female relatives.
The wives, the daughters, the concubines, the mistresses.
Even the female ancestors, if they are beautiful.
You will capture them alive.
Unharmed.
Bring them to me.” Her purple eyes gleamed.
“They will serve a new purpose.” Xia Yurou and Li Xueyan stepped forward, bowing deeply.
“Empress, allow us to lead this operation.” Xia Qingwu nodded.
“Go.
Show no mercy to the men.
Show no harm to the women.
This is my decree.” The two women saluted and departed, the Royal Guards marching in perfect formation behind them.
The sound of their armored boots echoed through the palace corridors like the drums of an execution.
— The sky over the Imperial Capital darkened.
It was not clouds that blocked the sun, but something heavier.
Something that pressed down on the countless mortal and cultivator citizens alike with an invisible weight.
The spiritual energy of the city—usually bright and vibrant—had grown still and cold.
Something was happening.
The Imperial Capital of the Great Xia Dynasty was not merely a city.
It was a megacity that stretched for billions of miles, a sprawling metropolis of towering spires and floating gardens, of marble plazas and spirit stone markets, of ancient family compounds and imperial administrative halls.
It was the largest city in the entire dynasty, home to trillions of souls.
And every single one of them felt the shift in the atmosphere.
In the estate of the Minister of Personnel—the same corpulent official who had suggested harvesting Xia Qingwu’s Supreme Bones—an elder of the Supreme Realm stood on his balcony, frowning at the sky.
He was a majestic figure, his white beard flowing in the breeze, his aura radiating the power of a Heavenly Being.
He could destroy continents with a single palm strike.
He could live for hundreds of thousands of years.
He had never known fear.
Until now.
“Why are there guards surrounding our estate?” he demanded, his voice carrying the authority of his realm.
Below, the iron gates of the compound were being pushed open.
Imperial guards poured through like a tide of crimson and gold.
Their armor gleamed.
Their weapons were drawn.
And their eyes—their eyes were the eyes of men who had been ordered to kill and would not stop until the order was complete.
The captain of the guard, a Quasi-Great Emperor whose aura made the Supreme Realm elder feel like a child, raised a golden scroll.
The Empress’s decree.
“By order of Her Imperial Majesty, Empress Xia Qingwu,” the captain declared, his voice ringing out across the entire estate, “the Wei Clan is charged with high treason, conspiracy to harvest imperial bloodline treasures, embezzlement of military funds, bribery, corruption, and conspiracy to usurp the throne.
The sentence is Clan Extermination.” The elder’s knees buckled.
Clan Extermination.
The words echoed in his mind like a death knell.
He knew—he knew—what his clan’s patriarch had done.
The Minister of Personnel had thrown his support behind the Crown Prince.
He had promised to help harvest the Crown Princess’s Supreme Bones.
He had laughed at the idea of a woman ruling the dynasty.
And now his entire clan would pay the price.
“Can…” The elder’s voice cracked.
“Can the innocent be spared?
The children?
The women who had no part in this?” The captain did not answer.
He simply tightened his grip on his weapon.
The elder understood.
He threw back his head and laughed—a mad, broken sound that echoed across the estate.
His aura erupted.
Supreme Realm power blazed forth, enough to destroy millions of miles of the Imperial Capital, enough to slaughter Great Saint Realm cultivators like ants.
“CHARGE!” he roared.
“MEMBERS OF THE WEI CLAN, CHARGE!
WE WILL NOT DIE SUCH PATHETIC DEATHS!
FIGHT!
FIGHT FOR YOUR—” He thrust his palm forward.
A strike capable of annihilating continents shot toward the guards.
And fizzled into nothing.
The Great Emperor Grade formation that protected the Imperial Capital pulsed once.
The elder’s cultivation was suppressed instantly, crushed down to nothing by the overwhelming power of the formation’s arrays.
His palm strike evaporated like a drop of water on a hot skillet.
He stared at his hand.
Empty.
Powerless.
The ancestors didn’t come out, he realized.
They knew.
They knew the moment those guards arrived.
There was never any hope.
Despair filled his eyes.
Xia Yurou and Li Xueyan stepped through the gates.
Their faces were cold.
Their eyes held no pity.
“Kill all the males,” Li Xueyan ordered, her voice flat.
“Capture the females.
Only the beautiful ones.
The rest can join their men.” The guards charged.
And the screaming began.
— The sounds of slaughter echoed through the Wei Clan’s estate.
Steel bit into flesh.
Bones cracked under armored boots.
Blood sprayed across marble floors and silk tapestries and ancestral altars.
Men screamed and begged and tried to run, but there was nowhere to run.
The formation sealed the compound.
The guards killed without hesitation.
Heads rolled.
Bodies crumpled.
The once-proud halls of a noble family became a charnel house.
In one chamber, a young man—barely older than Tian—tried to shield his mother and sister.
A guard’s blade took off his head before he could even speak.
His blood splattered across his sister’s face.
She screamed.
The guard grabbed her by the arm and dragged her away.
“You’re beautiful enough,” he said coldly.
“You’ll live.” In the ancestral hall, three Supreme Realm elders made their last stand.
They fought with the desperation of cornered beasts, their techniques shaking the very foundations of the compound.
But their cultivation was suppressed by the formation.
They were reduced to Body Tempering Realm power at best.
The guards cut them down like wheat before a scythe.
One elder, his torso split open, his organs spilling onto the floor, crawled toward the ancestral tablets.
He reached for them with a bloody, trembling hand.
“The Wei Clan…” he rasped.
“Ten thousand years of history…
ended…
like this…” A guard’s boot crushed his skull.
The women were gathered in the central courtyard.
Wives.
Daughters.
Concubines.
Mistresses.
A few female ancestors—beautiful despite their millions of years, their cultivation sealed, their faces blank with shock.
They knelt on the blood-slicked stones, surrounded by the corpses of their husbands and sons and brothers.
They did not weep.
Weeping would come later, in the dark hours of the night when they could still smell the blood.
For now, they were simply…
hollow.
Xia Yurou looked at them with cold satisfaction.
“Take them to the palace.
The Empress is waiting.” — Across the Imperial Capital, similar scenes played out.
At the estate of the Minister of War, guards breached the gates and slaughtered every male from the ancient ancestor to the youngest infant.
The women were rounded up and taken away.
At the estate of the Grand General of the Eastern Armies, the soldiers who had once served under him were now the ones cutting down his sons.
His wives and concubines watched with empty eyes.
At the estates of seventeen lesser ministers, the same tragedy unfolded.
Blood ran in rivers through the gutters of the noble districts.
The bodies were piled high and burned with spiritual fire until nothing remained but ash.
The powerful families of the Great Xia Dynasty—the ones who had not been implicated—watched from their own compounds with cold sweat on their brows.
Their ancestors, ancient beings who had lived for millions of years, felt the disturbance and stirred from their seclusion.
“What is happening?” they demanded of their descendants.
“The Empress,” came the answer.
“She is purging the corrupt officials.
Clan extermination for all who supported the Crown Prince.” The ancestors were silent for a long moment.
Then: “We must go to the palace.
We must speak with this new Empress.
Such slaughter…
it will destabilize the dynasty.” And so they went—dozens of ancient beings from the dynasty’s most powerful families, their auras pressing against the sky, their faces grim with purpose.
They entered the throne room without permission, their pride as Great Emperors making them forget that they were addressing an Empress.
Xia Qingwu sat on the Dragon Throne, her white hair gleaming, her purple eyes cold.
Tian sat on a smaller throne beside her—a chair that had not existed two days ago but had been custom-crafted overnight at the Empress’s personal order.
“Ancestors of the Great Families,” Xia Qingwu said, her voice ice, “what brings you to my court uninvited?” The oldest among them, a man who looked to be in his sixties but had lived for over eight million years, stepped forward.
“Empress, we have come to request that you show mercy to the families of the corrupt officials.
The automatic alliance between noble families has always been the foundation of the dynasty’s stability.
If you slaughter them all, you may find yourself without support when—” “Dissatisfied?” Tian asked the air.
The ancestors froze.
Tian smiled.
“Aunties, they seem dissatisfied with Sister Qingwu.
Can you explain to them why they’re wrong?” The pressure descended.
Not one.
Not ten.
Dozens of Great Emperor auras pressed down on the assembled ancestors.
The temperature in the throne room plummeted.
The marble floor cracked under the sheer weight of spiritual pressure.
The ancestors—these ancient, proud beings who had not known fear in millions of years—felt their knees buckle.
A woman appeared.
She stepped out of nothingness like a goddess descending from the heavens.
Her hair was silver-white, cascading past her hips.
Her eyes were the pale blue of a frozen lake.
Her face was the face of a mature beauty who had long since transcended such mortal concerns as age.
Her body was voluptuous and commanding, wrapped in robes of silver and white.
She was a Great Emperor of the Peak stage.
One of the Qin family’s elders.
One of the “aunties” who had protected Tian since his birth.
“Are you dissatisfied?” she asked.
Her voice was soft.
Almost gentle.
And utterly terrifying.
“N-No!
We are satisfied!
Completely satisfied!
We will always support the Empress!
We are loyal subjects!” “Good.” The Qin elder smiled.
“Then why are you still here?” The ancestors ran.
It was not a dignified retreat.
It was not a strategic withdrawal.
It was running—the desperate, shameful flight of beings who had just realized how close they had come to annihilation.
They flew from the throne room with the speed of Great Emperors, which meant they were gone in the space between heartbeats.
Male and female alike.
No one looked back.
The Qin elder turned to Tian, and her cold expression melted into doting warmth.
She patted his head gently.
“Don’t worry, little Tian.
Your aunties will make sure your little Empress friend’s rule is as stable as an unshakeable mountain.” She glanced at Xia Qingwu with a meaningful look.
The Empress’s pale cheeks flushed crimson.
“I…
thank you, Senior,” Xia Qingwu managed.
The Qin elder’s smile widened knowingly.
Then she stepped back into the void and vanished, rejoining the other hidden protectors who watched over Tian from the shadows.
Tian looked between the spot where the elder had disappeared and the Empress’s blushing face.
“What was that look about?” “Nothing,” Xia Qingwu said, far too quickly.
“Nothing?” “Nothing at all.” “You’re blushing.” “I am NOT blushing.” “Your ears are red.” “Tian.” “Your entire face is the color of your phoenix robes.” “Tian.” — The ancestors of the Great Families returned to their compounds with their pride in tatters and their hearts hammering with residual terror.
Immediately, they summoned their descendants—every branch family leader, every elder, every promising junior—and delivered the same message.
“Do not ever provoke the child who sits beside the Empress.
Do not ever disobey the Empress’s orders.
Do not ever even think about scheming against her.” Their descendants were shocked.
“But Ancestor, surely—” “You don’t understand.” The ancestor’s voice was hollow.
“Great Emperors.
Dozens of them.
Protecting a single child.
Do you know what kind of force can command such power?” Their descendants fell silent.
“The five forbidden forces,” the ancestor continued.
“That child is the young master of the five forbidden clans.
The first male ever born to them.
The one with five Immortal Physiques.
He could erase our entire family with a single word.
He could erase the dynasty with a single word.
The only reason the Empress rules is because he decided she should.
Understand?” “…Yes, Ancestor.” “Now go.
And pray we never have cause to meet that child again.” — The spoils of the purges were brought to the imperial palace in a procession that took three full days to complete.
There were mountains of spirit stones.
Not piles.
Mountains.
Top-grade spirit stones by the hundreds of thousands.
High-grade and medium-grade in quantities too vast to count.
Low-grade spirit stones were so numerous they had to be stored in separate spatial rings just to fit them all.
There were weapons.
Hundreds of Supreme Grade artifacts.
Dozens of Quasi-Great Emperor Grade weapons.
And—most shocking of all—two genuine Great Emperor Grade weapons and one suit of Great Emperor Grade armor.
Treasures that should have been the foundation of a supreme clan’s armory, hidden away in corrupt officials’ private vaults.
There were pills.
Thousands of them.
Every grade from Saint to Emperor.
Dozens of Emperor Grade pills—rare beyond measure, worth more than entire cities—had been found in secret chambers, hoarded by officials who had grown rich on bribes while the imperial treasury languished.
There were cultivation techniques.
Mountains of scrolls and jade slips.
Most were Earth Grade or Heaven Grade, but four were Emperor Grade cultivation manuals—techniques that could elevate a clan from mediocrity to supremacy.
And there were Dao Treasures.
A handful of Saint Grade artifacts that had been stolen from the imperial family centuries ago and hidden away.
Xia Qingwu stood before the mountain of treasures, her purple eyes growing colder with every item cataloged.
“The imperial treasury does not possess two-tenths of this,” she said, her voice flat.
“These traitors grew fat on the dynasty’s wealth while our armies went under-equipped and our people suffered.” She turned to Xia Ziyan.
“Sort everything.
Spirit stones and pills to the treasury.
Weapons and armor to the Imperial Armory.
Techniques to the Imperial Library.
I want every item accounted for.” “Yes, Empress.” note: You may be wondering why the Empress didn’t offer any of this vast wealth to Qin Tian.
After all, he was the one who enabled her victory.
He was the one who summoned the aunties.
He was the one who exposed the corruption.
Surely he deserves a share of the spoils?
The answer is simple: Xia Qingwu has already decided to give herself to him.
Completely.
Utterly.
Forever.
And if she belongs to him, then everything she owns—the dynasty, the treasury, the armory, the very throne she sits upon—belongs to him as well.
Why offer him a portion when he already owns the whole?
This is the logic of a woman in love.
It is not rational.
It is not political.
It is absolute, and it is final.
— Xia Yurou and Li Xueyan returned with the prisoners.
They were brought into the throne room in chains—hundreds of women, from young maidens of fifteen to ancient ancestors who had lived for millions of years.
Their cultivation was sealed.
Their robes were torn.
Their faces were streaked with tears and ash and the dried blood of their murdered families.
They knelt before the Empress, their heads bowed, their bodies trembling.
Even the Quasi-Great Emperor ancestors—women who could have shattered continents with a gesture—knelt like lambs before the slaughter.
Their cultivation was sealed.
Their power was gone.
They had seen their male relatives dragged through the streets like dogs and butchered in their own ancestral halls.
They had no fight left.
“Look at me,” Xia Qingwu commanded.
The women raised their heads.
Their eyes were empty.
Broken.
Hopeless.
“Do you know your crimes?” “Yes, Empress,” they chorused, their voices hollow.
“Our families conspired against you.
Our families supported the Crown Prince.
Our families sought to harvest your Supreme Bones.” “And do you understand the punishment for such crimes?” “Death, Empress.” They did not beg for mercy.
They knew it was useless.
They had watched Quasi-Great Emperors be dragged to the execution ground and beheaded like common criminals.
What hope did they have?
But some of them—the mothers—clutched their daughters tighter.
“Empress,” one woman whispered, her voice cracking, “please…
spare my daughter.
She is only fifteen.
She knew nothing of her father’s schemes.
Kill me if you must, but spare her.
Please.” Another woman, an ancient ancestor with silver hair and a face that still held traces of breathtaking beauty, prostrated herself.
“Empress, I have lived for five million years.
My life is forfeit.
But my descendants—the young ones—they are innocent.
Take my head.
Let them live.” Xia Qingwu raised her hand.
“Silence.” The women fell quiet immediately.
“I should execute you all,” the Empress said, her voice cold and absolute.
“Your families betrayed the dynasty.
Your families sought to cripple me.
Your families laughed at the idea of a woman on the throne.
By all rights, your bloodlines should be erased from history.” The women trembled.
Some wept silently.
Others closed their eyes and waited for death.
“But.” The single word hung in the air like a blade.
“You can be spared.” Heads snapped up.
Eyes widened with desperate, fragile hope.
“You will be branded with a Slave Seal.
It will be carved into your minds, your souls, your very Dao.
You will belong—body, mind, and spirit—to one person.
You will serve him with absolute loyalty for the rest of your lives.
You will have no will but his.
No desire but his.
No purpose but his.” The women’s hope flickered.
A Slave Seal was a fate worse than death for many cultivators.
It meant eternal servitude.
It meant giving up everything—pride, freedom, identity—to become another’s property.
“And that person,” Xia Qingwu continued, pointing to the smaller throne beside her, “is him.” The women turned to look.
They expected to see an old man.
A lecherous monster.
A cruel tyrant who would use them as playthings and discard them when he grew bored.
They had heard stories of such men—emperors and patriarchs who collected beautiful women like trophies and treated them like furniture.
Instead, they saw a boy.
He was young—thirteen at most.
His face was not the face of a tyrant.
It was the face of a heavenly doll, so beautiful and perfect that it seemed sculpted by the gods themselves.
His eyes were deep and bright and held a warmth that made their bruised hearts flutter.
His expression was not cruel.
It was curious, slightly surprised, and undeniably…
cute.
‘This child?’ the women thought simultaneously.
‘THIS is our new master?’ The ancient ancestor blinked.
The mother who had begged for her daughter’s life stared.
The fifteen-year-old girl, still trembling with fear, felt her cheeks grow inexplicably warm.
‘He’s…
he’s adorable.’ ‘Much better than an old monster.’ ‘If I have to be a slave…
serving a cute child like him…
that’s not so bad, is it?’ ‘What am I thinking?!
I just lost my husband!
My sons!
How can I think such things?!’ But the thoughts would not leave.
The Maiden Calamity Body pulsed, and the Yin-Yang energy that suffused Tian’s being reached out to every woman in the room.
They felt it—a warmth, a pull, a sense that this child was someone they could love.
Someone they could serve not out of fear, but out of genuine devotion.
Tian, meanwhile, was staring at the hundreds of kneeling women with his mind spinning.
‘Good grief.
I have slaves now.
Actual, literal slaves.’ He looked at the women more closely.
The mature ones with their voluptuous curves and their tear-streaked faces.
The young maidens with their trembling lips and their hopeful eyes.
The ancient ancestors with their silver hair and their timeless beauty.
‘They’re all beautiful,’ he thought.
‘Really, really beautiful.
And they’re going to be mine.’ The Cao Thief spirit within him—that part of him that appreciated mature women and forbidden fruits—stirred from its slumber.
note: “Cao Thief” is a term used in certain cultivation circles to describe a man who prefers mature women, particularly those who are already married or attached to others.
The term literally translates to something akin to “one who steals that which belongs to another’s garden.” Qin Tian, a former Earth man who had read countless webnovels, was intimately familiar with this archetype.
And as he looked at the beautiful wives and concubines and female ancestors of the men who had tried to kill his Empress, he felt that archetype awaken within him with the force of a thunderbolt.
‘I am absolutely, definitely, one hundred percent okay with this,’ Tian thought.
“Do you agree?” the Empress asked, her cold voice cutting through the silence.
“Or should I execute you all instead?” The women nodded frantically.
“We agree!
We agree!” They were terrified of death, yes.
But more than that—they were looking at Tian with expressions that were rapidly shifting from fear to something softer.
Something that might have been the first stirrings of genuine affection.
‘I will be his slave,’ the ancient ancestor thought, her silver eyes fixed on Tian’s face.
‘I am five million years old.
And yet this child…
this child makes my heart stir in a way I thought impossible.
Perhaps this is not a punishment.
Perhaps this is…
a blessing.’ The mother clutched her daughter and thought, ‘He will protect us.
I can see it in his eyes.
He is not cruel.
He will treat us well.
We will be safe.’ And her daughter, the fifteen-year-old girl, was thinking something far simpler: ‘He’s so handsome…’ “Open your mind seas,” the Empress commanded.
The women obeyed.
Their mental defenses—already shattered by grief and terror—lowered completely.
Their mind seas lay exposed, vulnerable, waiting.
Tian extended his divine sense.
The Slave Seal was a technique his mothers had taught him—a formation of spiritual energy that would bind the women’s souls to his will.
He touched each woman’s mind sea gently, delicately, and placed the seal.
It was not painful.
It was not cruel.
It was almost…
warm.
Like a gentle hand taking theirs in the darkness.
One by one, the women felt the seal settle into their souls.
They felt a connection form—a thread of golden light that linked them to the boy on the throne.
And through that thread, they felt him.
His warmth.
His kindness.
His unspoken promise that he would care for them.
‘Master,’ they thought, and the word no longer felt like a curse.
“It is done,” Tian said.
The women bowed—deep, reverent bows that pressed their foreheads to the cold marble floor.
“We greet our Master.” Xia Qingwu nodded with satisfaction.
“Guards, take them to the bath chambers.
Clean them.
Clothe them.
Feed them.
They will be given quarters in the Imperial Harem.
From this day forward, they serve Young Master Qin.” As the women were led away, the Empress turned to Tian.
Her cold expression melted into warmth.
She knelt beside his throne—the mighty Empress kneeling like a maiden before her beloved—and took his hand.
“Are you happy?” she asked, her voice soft and gentle.
Tian smiled.
“I am.” note: And so Qin Tian acquired his first slaves.
Five hundred and seventy-three beautiful women, ranging from teenage maidens to ancient ancestors, all branded with his Slave Seal and bound to his will.
Their husbands and sons and brothers were dead.
Their old lives were ash.
Their only future was him.
But as they would soon discover, being the property of Qin Tian was far from the worst fate in the Primordial Realm.
In fact, for many of them, it would turn out to be the greatest blessing they had ever received.
— [Fu fu fu~] The system’s charming, honeyed voice echoed in Tian’s mind.
There was laughter in it—warm and teasing and just a little wicked.
[The Host has certainly acquired a female villain as a future wife.] Tian, who was watching the last of the slaves being escorted out of the throne room, blinked.
‘Female villain?’ [Yes, Host.
The Empress Xia Qingwu.
She is not a Daughter of Destiny.
She is something far more interesting.] ‘Show me her status.’ A translucent panel appeared in his mind’s eye.
— STATUS WINDOW: Xia Qingwu Title: Empress of the Great Xia Dynasty Age: 39 (ascended at 39) Cultivation Realm: Quasi-Great Emperor Physique: Dual Supreme Bones (Phoenix Bone of Annihilation + Phoenix Bone of Rebirth) Luck Value: Red (Female Villain) Fate: Villain’s Consort Affection: 100/100 (Absolute Love — Irreversible) — Tian stared at the panel.
Red Luck.
Villain’s Fate.
Absolute Love.
‘As expected of me,’ he thought, a smile tugging at his lips.
‘I am truly destined to be the bane of all male protagonists.
Even my future wives are villains.’ [Yes, Host.
You are.] ‘Good.’ — The next day, the executions began.
The corrupt officials—hundreds of them, from ministers to generals to palace advisors—were dragged to the public square before the imperial palace.
Their cultivation was sealed.
Their robes were torn.
Their faces were pale with terror.
The two princes—Xia Tianyang and Xia Tianwei—were brought out last.
The Crown Prince’s handsome face was twisted with despair.
The Third Prince was already weeping, his legs too weak to support him.
The sentence was death by Lingchi—the death of a thousand cuts.
The executioner was a master of his art.
His blade moved with surgical precision, slicing flesh from bone with the care of a butcher preparing choice cuts of meat.
The officials screamed.
They begged.
They wailed.
They cursed.
They soiled themselves.
The Crown Prince’s composure shattered with the first cut.
By the hundredth, he was no longer screaming words—just animal sounds, high and wet and utterly without dignity.
The Third Prince passed out from pain and was revived with spiritual energy so he could suffer more.
Xia Qingwu watched from her throne on the execution platform.
Her face was cold.
Her eyes were ice.
She did not flinch when blood sprayed across the stones.
She did not look away when the princes—her own brothers—were reduced to screaming skeletons and then to nothing at all.
They tried to harvest my Supreme Bones, she thought.
They would have left me a crippled husk while they grew strong on my stolen power.
They laughed at my pain.
They mocked my existence.
Now they are dead, and I am Empress, and the world is as it should be.
When the executions were finally over, she rose and walked back to the palace without a backward glance.
— While the executions were taking place, Tian was elsewhere.
He lay on a divan of cloud-silk in the private chambers of the First and Second Ancestors, being thoroughly pampered.
Xia Ruyan, the First Ancestor, sat at the head of the divan with Tian’s head resting in her lap.
Her crimson hair cascaded around him like a curtain of silk.
Her amber eyes were soft with affection.
Her voluptuous body—full breasts, narrow waist, wide hips—was warm against his back.
“You’re so tense, little Tian,” she murmured, her fingers working through his hair.
“Are you sure you don’t want to stay another week?
Or month?
Or year?” “I have other families to visit, Aunt Ruyan.” “Other families.” She pouted.
“We’re your family too.” “You know what I mean.” Xia Lengyue, the Second Ancestor, sat beside them with a cup of spirit tea in her delicate hands.
Her silver-white bob framed her cold, aristocratic face.
Her slender body—small breasts, narrow hips, the build of a swordswoman—was relaxed in a way it never was in public.
“Ruyan, stop clinging to the boy.
You’re five million years old.” “And?
He’s comfortable.” “You’re going to smother him.” “He’s not complaining.” Tian, whose face was indeed pressed against Xia Ruyan’s generous chest, gave a thumbs up.
“See?” Xia Ruyan said triumphantly.
Xia Lengyue sighed, but a small smile tugged at her pale lips.
“Impossible.
Both of you.” — A week passed.
The dynasty stabilized.
The new officials—loyal men and women but mostly woman were promoted from the ranks of the uncorrupted—took their positions.
The executions ended.
The blood was washed from the streets.
And Tian prepared to leave.
He stood at the base of the Harmony of Five, his maids already aboard, his departure imminent.
Before him stood the Empress, Xia Ziyan, Xia Yurou, Li Xueyan, and the two ancestors, Xia Ruyan and Xia Lengyue.
Their expressions ranged from reluctant to openly mournful.
“Do you have to go?” Xia Qingwu asked, her voice smaller than any Empress’s voice should be.
“I’ll visit again soon,” Tian promised.
“I always do.” “I know.
I just…” “I know.” He handed Xia Ziyan a spatial ring.
“I left something for all of you.
Open it after I’m gone.” The National Teacher nodded, her golden eyes suspiciously bright.
Tian boarded the ship.
The gangplank rose.
The Harmony of Five lifted into the sky, its phoenix-shaped prow cutting through the clouds.
The women on the ground watched until the ship was nothing but a speck in the distance.
Then, slowly, Xia Ziyan opened the spatial ring.
And gasped.
“Ziyan?” Li Xueyan stepped closer.
“What is it?
What did he leave?” Xia Ziyan didn’t answer.
She simply tilted the ring and let its contents spill out onto the marble platform.
Countless Saint Grade fruits tumbled forth, their spiritual energy filling the air with a rainbow of light.
Emperor Grade fruits—hundreds of them—rolled across the stones, each one a treasure that could trigger breakthroughs and extend lifespans.
Dao Leaves of Enlightenment—at least thirty of them—drifted down like sacred confetti.
Enlightenment Fruits by the dozen.
Pills that were priceless even to Great Emperors.
And at the center of it all, a single jade container.
Xia Ziyan picked it up with trembling hands.
She opened it.
Water from the Lake of Vitality.
The Primordial Chaos Dao Treasure.
The liquid that could extend a Great Emperor’s lifespan by a million years.
Xia Ruyan and Xia Lengyue stared at the container.
Their eyes—ancient eyes that had seen civilizations rise and fall—filled with tears.
“We mentioned it to him once,” Xia Ruyan whispered.
“Just once.
The other ancestors…
the ones who couldn’t come out of seclusion because their lifespans are nearly spent…
our sisters who are dying of old age…” “He remembered,” Xia Lengyue breathed.
“He remembered, and he gave us this.” Xia Qingwu stared at the mountain of treasures—enough wealth to make a supreme force wage war, left behind as casually as a farewell gift—and felt the tears spill down her cheeks.
Her mother had died when she was born.
Her father had never loved her.
Her brothers had wanted her dead.
Her only support had been three friends and two ancestors who had done what they could against the tide of the dynasty’s corruption.
And then a nine-year-old boy had fallen from the sky—or rather, she had fallen from the sky and landed at his feet—and everything had changed.
He had saved her life.
He had given her a throne.
He had purged her enemies.
He had made her dynasty stable.
He had given her friends strength and her ancestors hope.
And now, as a parting gift, he had left behind treasures that could make a Holy Land weep with envy.
He never asked for anything in return, she thought.
He never demanded payment or gratitude or loyalty.
He simply…
gave.
And gave.
And gave.
How could I not fall in love with him?
She looked at the horizon where the Harmony of Five had disappeared, and her purple eyes burned with a love so fierce it was almost painful.
I am yours, Qin Tian.
Completely.
Utterly.
Forever.
Even if the heavens themselves come for you, I will stand at your side.
Even if the entire world becomes your enemy, I will be your shield.
Even if you take a hundred wives and a thousand concubines, I will love you just the same.
Because you were the first person in my entire life who loved me without wanting anything in return.
Xia Ziyan knelt and began gathering the treasures with reverent hands.
Xia Ruyan and Xia Lengyue held the container of Lake of Vitality water between them, tears streaming down their ancient faces.
Xia Yurou and Li Xueyan bowed their heads toward the distant horizon.
And Xia Qingwu, Empress of the Great Xia Dynasty, the woman who had executed her own brothers without flinching, wept tears of joy and love for the boy who had saved her.
The hero her hero .
Her Qin Tian.
— END OF CHAPTER 12