One month had passed since Tian’s visit to the Shadow Pavilion, and the morning of his departure had arrived with a sky painted in the soft golds and pinks of early dawn.
The perpetual twilight of the Pavilion’s realm had been temporarily lifted to see him off—a rare honor that the assassins granted to no one else.
Tian stood at the base of the Shadow Pavilion’s main spire, surrounded by a crowd of black-clad women who had abandoned all pretense of professionalism.
Their veils did nothing to hide the moisture gathering in their eyes.
“Little prince, you’ll visit again soon, won’t you?” “It won’t be the same without you!” “Sister Yu is already planning the next schedule—” “I am NOT crying.
This is…
atmospheric moisture.” Tian turned to the two women who mattered most here.
Mo Qingwu stood with her arms crossed beneath her magnificent chest, her purple eyes soft with something that might have been maternal pride.
Beside her, Mo Yurou waited with the patient stillness of a shadow.
He approached the Mistress first.
“Aunt Mo, thank you for having me.” Mo Qingwu’s lazy smile curved her lips.
“Little prince, you know the Pavilion is always yours.” She bent down—a motion that did interesting things to the neckline of her gown—and pressed a warm kiss to his forehead.
“Travel safely.
My assassins would be inconsolable if anything happened to you.” “I will.” “And Yurou would kill everyone responsible and then herself, so do be careful.” “Mother!” Mo Yurou’s veiled voice cracked with embarrassment.
“What?
It’s true.” Tian turned to his fiancée.
Mo Yurou’s purple eyes were steady, but her fingers were clenched at her sides.
He stepped close and rose on his tiptoes.
She understood immediately and knelt, bringing her veiled face to his level.
“You’ll come back,” she said.
It was not a question.
“I’ll always come back.” He kissed her cheek—soft, warm, lingering just a moment longer than necessary.
Her skin flushed above her veil, and several assassins behind them let out barely audible squeals.
“I will miss you, little husband,” Mo Yurou whispered.
“I’ll miss you too.” Then he turned to the crowd of assassins—his self-proclaimed “big sisters” of the shadow—and bowed with the polished grace of a young prince.
“Thank you for taking care of me, sisters.
I’ll return soon.” The crowd surged forward.
Tian found himself buried in a tide of black silk and soft bodies as dozens of assassins pressed kisses to his cheeks, his forehead, his hair.
Sister Yu got three kisses in before Sister Mei pulled her back.
Sister Chen—the scary one—actually smiled.
“Enough, enough!” Mo Qingwu called, her husky voice carrying laughter.
“Return him in one piece or his mothers will declare war.” The assassins reluctantly parted, and Tian, slightly rumpled and covered in lip prints, made his way toward the vessel waiting at the edge of the compound.
— The ship was not merely a ship.
It was a floating palace, a spirit vessel of such staggering size and grandeur that it blotted out the sky above it.
Its hull was carved from immortal-grade spirit wood harvested from trees that had grown since the era of the first ancestors, each plank inlaid with formations that shimmered with soft golden light.
The wood was a deep, rich amber, polished to such a mirror sheen that the clouds above reflected perfectly on its surface.
The vessel stretched over a thousand feet from bow to stern.
Its prow was shaped like a soaring phoenix, wings spread wide, beak open in an eternal cry of triumph.
The phoenix’s eyes were massive gemstones—rubies the size of boulders—that glowed with internal fire.
Its feathers had been carved in such exquisite detail that they seemed to ripple in the wind.
Five masts rose from the deck, each one a towering pillar of white jade wrapped in sails woven from cloud-silk.
The sails shimmered with colors that shifted as the light hit them—now silver, now gold, now the soft pink of sunrise.
Formation arrays pulsed along their edges, ready to propel the vessel across billions of miles at speeds that defied physics.
The deck was not a mere platform but a garden.
Immortal trees with leaves of jade and trunks of silver lined the railings.
Fountains of liquid spiritual energy burbled in marble basins.
Pavilions of moonstone offered shade.
A swimming pool filled with water from the Lake of Vitality itself glittered amidships, its surface reflecting the sky.
But the true palace was the structure rising from the center of the deck—a mansion of white jade and gold, seven stories tall, its roofs curved in the traditional style of the forbidden forces.
Each floor was wrapped in balconies where one could stand and watch the clouds roll past.
The windows were massive panels of crystal so clear they were nearly invisible.
Banners bearing the combined sigils of the five allied clans—the Qin eye, the Long dragon, the Zhou demon horn, the Ling star, and the Su coin—fluttered from every corner.
This was the Harmony of Five, Tian’s personal vessel, a gift from his five mothers on his fifth birthday.
It had taken three years to build and required the combined resources of five forbidden forces.
Great Emperors had personally carved its formation arrays.
Immortal-grade treasures had been melted down to gild its railings.
It was, without question, the most luxurious ship ever built for a seven-year-old.
Tian walked up the gangplank—a ramp of solid starlight that extended to meet him—and the moment his feet touched the deck, a chorus of voices greeted him.
“Welcome back, Young Master!” The maids had assembled in two neat lines, and they were, to put it mildly, a sight that would have driven any mortal man insane with desire.
There were at least forty of them, and every single one was a breathtaking beauty.
Their faces were works of art—delicate features, luminous skin, eyes that sparkled with joy at their young master’s return.
Their bodies were universally generous, with full breasts and narrow waists and curved hips that their uniforms—elegant dresses of pale gold silk with white aprons—did nothing to hide.
Their hair came in every color imaginable: midnight black, ocean blue, forest green, sunset orange, starlight silver.
These were women who, by beauty alone, could have been the holy maidens of any holy land in the Primordial Realm.
They could have been the dao companions of sect leaders and ancient ancestors.
Men would have waged wars for a single smile from any one of them.
Here, they were maids.
And they were delighted to be maids.
“Did Young Master have a good trip?” “Look at you!
You’ve grown even more handsome!” “His cheeks are so rosy!
I want to pinch them!” “Control yourself, Sister Mei—” “You first, Sister Lin!” Tian smiled, his cherubic face lighting up, and the maids collectively melted.
“Good morning, everyone.
I missed you all.” A wave of delighted giggles rippled through the lines.
Several maids pressed their hands to their cheeks.
One in the back let out a sound that was suspiciously close to a swoon.
“Y-Young Master is too sweet!” “How can a seven-year-old be so charming?!” “My heart can’t take this—” From the center of the formation, two maids stepped forward and bowed in perfect unison.
They were twins.
Both had golden hair, but their shades were distinctly different.
The elder sister’s hair was the color of a sunlit field of wheat—warm, vibrant, catching the light like spun gold.
It cascaded in waves down her back and over her shoulders, and her eyes were a clear, brilliant blue like a summer sky.
Her skin was fair and luminous.
Her figure was that of a mature young woman in her early twenties—full breasts that strained against her uniform, a narrow waist, and hips that curved with the promise of a warrior’s strength.
Two dragon horns, pure white as fresh snow, curved elegantly from her temples, marking her as a descendant of the dragon race’s light-aligned bloodline.
This was Long Jin, the elder twin.
Her expression was warm and steady, with a gentle smile that put everyone around her at ease.
She was the calm to her sister’s storm, the anchor that kept them both grounded.
Her voice, when she spoke, was soft and melodic.
“Young Master, welcome back.
Did you sleep well during the journey preparations?” The younger sister had hair of pale gold—almost platinum, the color of moonlight on frost.
It fell straight and sleek past her hips, and her eyes were a striking amber-gold, slit-pupiled like a dragon’s.
Her skin was slightly paler than her sister’s.
Her figure was equally generous—if anything, slightly more voluptuous, her curves a touch more pronounced, her chest a fraction fuller.
Two dragon horns, deep purple like amethyst, curved from her temples, marking her as a descendant of the dragon race’s twilight-aligned bloodline.
This was Long Rui, the younger twin.
Her expression was cooler than her sister’s, with a hint of sharpness in her amber eyes, but when she looked at Tian, that coolness melted into something soft and fiercely protective.
She was the blade to her sister’s shield.
“Young Master,” she said, her voice a husky contralto that always made Tian think of dark chocolate, “breakfast is prepared whenever you desire it.” Tian looked up at the dragon twins and smiled.
“Jin, Rui, I missed you both.” Long Jin’s cheeks flushed a delicate pink.
“Y-Young Master is too kind.” Long Rui’s expression remained composed, but the tips of her pointed ears turned red.
“We missed you as well, Young Master.” “Now,” Tian said, “you mentioned breakfast?” — The dining hall of the Harmony of Five was a chamber of white jade and warm gold light.
A table that could seat fifty stretched down the center, but currently only one place was set—at the head, where a cushion of cloud-silk awaited the young master.
Tian did not sit in the chair.
Instead, Long Rui settled into the seat and gently pulled him into her lap.
Her thighs were soft and warm beneath him, and her arms wrapped around his waist with the casual possessiveness of a dragon guarding her treasure.
Her ample chest pressed against his back, and if she noticed his slight wiggle to get comfortable, she said nothing—though a ghost of a smile crossed her pale lips.
“Young Master, please sit properly,” Long Jin said, though her gentle tone carried no real reproach.
She stood beside them, ready to serve.
“I’m sitting perfectly,” Tian declared.
“You’re squirming.” “I’m settling.” Long Rui’s arms tightened slightly.
“The Young Master may sit however he pleases.” “Rui, you spoil him.” “I do no such thing.
I am merely accommodating his preferences.” The other maids had gathered around the table, each one carrying a dish or a platter or a covered tray.
The air filled with aromas so rich and complex that simply breathing was a culinary experience.
The first dish was unveiled: a platter of meat from a Supreme-grade Flame Qilin, its flesh still sizzling from the spiritual fire that had roasted it.
The meat was marbled with veins of gold that pulsed with residual yang energy, each slice so tender it seemed to melt before touching the tongue.
The aroma alone would have added years to a mortal’s lifespan.
“Sister Lin prepared this one,” Long Jin said, and a maid with forest-green hair blushed prettily.
The second dish: a soup made from the marrow of a Supreme-grade Frost Serpent, its broth a creamy white that steamed with yin energy.
Floating in the broth were spirit herbs—Thousand-Year Snow Ginseng, Nine-Revolution Spirit Mushrooms, Void-Blossom Petals—each one a treasure that could trigger a breakthrough for a Supreme Realm cultivator.
Here, they were common ingredients.
The third dish: a salad of spiritual fruits.
Sun-Dew Peaches that radiated gentle warmth.
Moon-Frost Berries that chilled the tongue.
Star-Heart Apples whose flesh sparkled with captured starlight.
Dragon-Eye Lychees that pulsed with draconic vitality.
Each fruit was at least Heaven Grade.
Some brushed against Saint Grade.
All of them were delicious.
More dishes appeared.
Steamed buns filled with Phoenix-Feather Mushroom paste.
Grilled steaks from a Saint-grade Thunder Ox, its meat still crackling with lightning.
Crystal-clear noodles in a broth made from the essence of ten thousand spirit plants.
A whole roasted Void-Swimming Duck, its skin crackling and golden, stuffed with Saint-grade spirit rice.
Tian opened his mouth, and Long Jin carefully lifted a spoonful of soup to his lips.
The broth was warm and rich and filled with energy that hummed through his body.
“Is it to Young Master’s liking?” she asked.
“It’s perfect.” She beamed.
The other maids beamed.
Long Rui, behind him, made a soft sound of satisfaction.
The feeding continued.
Long Jin would present a bite of meat, and Tian would accept it.
Sister Lin would offer a slice of fruit, and Tian would eat it from her chopsticks.
Sister Mei brought a piece of the roast duck, her hands trembling slightly with nervousness, and Tian’s smile when he tasted it made her nearly faint with happiness.
“This is the life,” Tian murmured between bites.
Long Rui’s breath was warm against his ear.
“Young Master deserves nothing less.” — Two days passed in blissful indulgence.
Tian played with his maids, explored every corner of his floating palace, and ate meals that would have made Great Emperors weep with envy.
But his favorite game, the one that had become a tradition on these journeys, was currently in progress.
“Young Master!
Over here!” “Come catch me, Young Master!” “I’m over here~!” Tian stood in the center of the grand hall, a blindfold of black silk tied over his eyes.
His arms were outstretched, and he turned slowly, listening to the rustle of skirts and the patter of bare feet on jade floors.
“Where are you, sisters?” he called, his voice carrying a playful lilt.
“Here, here!” “No, over here!” “You’ll never catch us~!” He lunged.
His hands closed around warm, soft flesh, and a melodious moan filled the air.
“Ah~ Young Master caught me~!” He pulled off the blindfold to find Sister Mei in his arms, her face flushed, her generous chest pressed against his small hands.
She was breathing quickly, her eyes half-lidded.
“Young Master is so good at this game,” she breathed.
“Sister Mei was too slow.” “Mm…
perhaps I wanted to be caught.” He released her and the blindfold went back on.
The game continued.
He caught Sister Lin—her breasts even fuller than Sister Mei’s, and her moan was high and sweet.
He caught Long Jin, who let out a soft, surprised “Oh!” and then laughed gently as his hands found her curves.
He caught three more maids in quick succession, each one letting out sounds that were decidedly not appropriate for a seven-year-old to hear.
But Tian, mentally a grown man from Earth, heard them perfectly.
And he filed away every single reaction for future reference.
‘This is simultaneously the best and most frustrating game in existence,’ he thought.
‘I’m seven.
I can’t do anything about their reactions.
But when I’m older…’ [The Host’s future is going to be very busy.] ‘System!
Please continue.] ‘I hate you.’ [The Host loves this system.] “…Shut up.” “Young Master?
Did you say something?” “Nothing!
I’m going to catch you now!” “Oh no~!” — On the morning of the third day, the Harmony of Five began its descent.
Through the crystal windows, Tian watched as the territory of the Zhou family—the ruling clan of all demon races, the Zhou Demon Imperial Clan—spread out beneath them.
It was not inferior to any of the other forbidden forces.
It was, in its own way, perhaps the most breathtaking of all.
The Zhou Clan’s territory was built around and within a mountain range of black crystal that rose from the earth like the spine of a primordial beast.
The peaks were jagged and fierce, their surfaces gleaming with an obsidian luster that reflected the crimson light of the realm’s eternal sunset.
Rivers of molten fire flowed between the peaks, not destructive but warm and life-giving, their waters singing with demonic vitality.
The central palace rose from the highest peak—a fortress of black jade and crimson gold that seemed to claw at the sky.
Its towers were spiraled like demon horns.
Its walls were etched with murals depicting the history of the demon races: the First Demon’s awakening, the Hundred Clans’ unification, the rise of the Zhou bloodline.
Banners of deep crimson, bearing the Zhou family’s sigil—a demon horn wreathed in flames—snapped in the eternal wind.
Around the central palace, smaller fortresses and pavilions clung to the mountainsides like jewels on a crown.
Bridges of shadow and fire connected peak to peak.
Training grounds the size of cities sprawled in the valleys below, where demon cultivators of every race—succubi, banshees, berserkers, shadow demons, infernal lords—honed their arts.
And everywhere, everywhere, there was beauty.
The demon races were not the monsters that mortal stories painted them as.
They were breathtaking, their bloodlines refined over eons into forms that could make even a goddess pause.
Female demons walked the bridges and patrolled the walls, their figures universally mature and voluptuous, their horns and tails marking their specific bloodlines with elegant distinction.
This was the seat of demon power.
The heart of the infernal races.
The place where Zhou Meng ruled as Supreme Demon Empress.
And it was Tian’s home.
— At the highest window of the central palace, two women stood looking out at the descending vessel.
Zhou Meng, the Supreme Demon Empress, was as breathtaking as ever.
Her ruby hair cascaded in waves over shoulders clad in a gown of deep crimson silk.
The gown hugged her mature curves—the full, heavy breasts, the narrow waist, the wide, commanding hips—with the confidence of a woman who had ruled for millennia.
Her ruby eyes were soft as she watched the Harmony of Five approach.
Her obsidian horns caught the crimson light.
Beside her stood her daughter.
Zhou Lingxi had grown in the seven years since Tian’s birth.
She was twenty-two now, and the promise of her youth had bloomed into true, devastating beauty.
Her ruby hair, the same shade as her mother’s, fell in waves to the small of her back.
Her crimson eyes—the eyes of the Hundred Demons bloodline—were sharper than her mother’s, hungrier, but softened whenever she looked at the approaching ship.
Her obsidian horns had grown longer, more elegant, curving back from her temples like a crown.
Her figure had matured: her breasts were full and high, her waist narrow, her hips flared, and she moved with the fluid grace of a woman who had trained in demonic arts since she could walk.
She wore a gown of black and crimson that hugged every curve.
“He’s almost here, Mother,” she said, her voice carrying a warmth that few outside the family ever heard.
Zhou Meng smiled.
“He is.
Our little Tian’er.” “He’s not so little anymore.
He’s seven.” “Seven is still little.” “When I was seven, I was already training with the berserker corps.” “You were a terror at seven.” “I was dedicated.” “You set fire to the eastern training ground.” “That was an accident.” “You called it ‘practice.'” “…It was productive practice.” Zhou Meng laughed—a rich, warm sound—and wrapped an arm around her daughter’s shoulders.
“Look at us.
Both of us watching the sky like lovestruck girls waiting for a suitor.” Lingxi’s cheeks flushed crimson.
“Mother!
He’s my baby brother!” “And also the future ruler of all demon races.
Including the succubi and banshees, whose queens are currently waiting in our reception hall.” Lingxi’s expression shifted.
A knowing smile curved her lips.
“Ah.
Auntie Succubus and Auntie Banshee couldn’t wait, could they?” “They arrived an hour ago.
With their daughters.” “Of course they did.” A maid appeared in the doorway and bowed deeply.
“Empress.
Princess.
The Succubus Queen and Banshee Queen have arrived with their daughters and await you in the Crimson Reception Hall.” Zhou Meng nodded, her ruby eyes sparkling with amusement.
“Escort them in.
Tell them we will join them shortly.” The maid bowed and departed.
Lingxi’s smile widened.
“Mother, it seems Auntie Mei Xing and Auntie Wu Ling can’t wait to see their future king.
And Sister Mei Lian and Sister Wu Jing can’t wait to see their future husband.” Zhou Meng chuckled.
“They’ve been waiting for this since the day Tian was born.
The fruits he consumed—the Heart Fruit of the Succubus Clan and the Desire Flower of the Banshee Clan—were meant for the one destined to rule them.
And now that he’s old enough to visit…” “They want to stake their claim before anyone else does.” “Precisely.” The two women shared a look of perfect understanding, and then they turned together to descend to the reception hall.
— The Crimson Reception Hall was a masterpiece of demonic architecture.
Its walls were polished obsidian veined with rivers of molten gold.
Its pillars were carved into the shapes of intertwining demon horns.
Its floor was a single massive slab of blood-red jade, so perfectly polished that it reflected the ceiling’s murals—scenes of the demon races’ greatest victories in battle and diplomacy.
And in the center of this hall, four women waited.
The first was Mei Xing, Queen of the Succubus Clan.
She was, quite simply, a walking invitation to sin.
Her hair was a cascade of deep pink—the color of sunset roses—that fell in waves to the backs of her knees.
Her eyes were the same shade, pink and luminous, with slit pupils that seemed to draw in anyone who met her gaze.
Two elegant horns of dark pink, almost magenta, curved from her temples.
Behind her, hidden beneath the flowing silk of her gown, a heart-shaped tail swayed gently.
But it was her body that truly defied reason.
Her breasts were massive—larger even than Zhou Meng’s magnificent chest, impossibly full and round and straining against the bodice of her gown.
The dress was deep pink silk, cut low to expose the vast valley of her cleavage, and it clung to her figure like a second skin.
Her waist was impossibly narrow, almost unreal in its slenderness, before flaring into hips wide enough to make any man’s hands itch to grip them.
Her legs were long and shapely, visible through the high slit of her gown.
Every movement she made—every breath, every blink, every tiny shift of her weight—radiated a charm that could make a mortal man spill his seed without a single touch.
She was a seduction empress, a woman whose very existence was a temptation.
Beside her stood her daughter, Mei Lian, Princess of the Succubus Clan.
She was twenty years old, and she was her mother’s daughter in every way.
The same deep pink hair, falling in waves to her hips.
The same pink, luminous eyes.
The same dark pink horns.
The same heart-shaped tail, currently hidden beneath her gown.
Her body had already bloomed into a figure that rivaled her mother’s—breasts as full and heavy, waist as narrow, hips as curved.
But there was a freshness to her beauty, an innocence that her mother had traded for pure, lethal sensuality.
Where Mei Xing was a fully bloomed rose, Mei Lian was a bud just beginning to open—promising, breathtaking, and utterly captivating.
The third woman was Wu Ling, Queen of the Banshee Clan.
She was a stark contrast to the succubus queen, but no less beautiful.
Her hair was black as a starless night, straight and sleek, falling to her waist like a curtain of liquid shadow.
Her eyes were crimson red, the color of fresh blood, and they held a depth of sorrow that was somehow deeply alluring.
Two goat-shaped horns, black and ridged, curved from her temples.
She had no tail.
Her body was different from Mei Xing’s but equally magnificent.
Her breasts were full and generous, though not as impossibly massive as the succubus queen’s.
Her waist was narrow.
Her hips were wide and inviting.
She wore a gown of deep black silk, more conservative than the succubus queen’s, with a high collar and long sleeves.
And yet, despite the modesty of her dress, she radiated a different kind of allure—a magnetic charm that made men want to conquer her, to claim her, to break through her sorrow and make her smile.
Where the succubus invited, the banshee challenged.
Her daughter, Wu Jing, Princess of the Banshee Clan, stood at her side.
She was twenty years old, with her mother’s black hair and crimson eyes.
Her goat-shaped horns were smaller, more delicate, but just as elegant.
Her body had matured into the same generous curves as her mother’s—full breasts, narrow waist, flared hips.
She wore a gown of dark grey silk, and her expression was calm, watchful, and tinged with a quiet melancholy that made her beauty all the more striking.
Like her mother, she radiated a charm that inspired conquest—a man would look at her and feel an overwhelming urge to protect her, to claim her, to make her his.
The four women turned as Zhou Meng and Zhou Lingxi descended the grand staircase.
“Empress!” Mei Xing’s voice was a melodic purr that seemed to caress the ears of everyone in the room.
She and Wu Ling immediately dropped into deep, respectful bows, their daughters following suit a heartbeat later.
“Sister Mei Xing.
Sister Wu Ling.” Zhou Meng’s voice was warm as she reached the bottom of the stairs.
“Why are you bowing?
Come here.” The two queens rose and rushed forward, embracing the Demon Empress with the easy affection of old friends.
Mei Xing’s massive chest pressed against Zhou Meng’s, and the succubus queen laughed—a sound like honey and champagne.
“Sister Empress, you look radiant as always!” “Sister Mei Xing, you’re going to suffocate me.” “Nonsense!
My breasts are very breathable!” “That’s not—never mind.” Zhou Meng turned to Wu Ling, who embraced her more gently.
“Sister Wu Ling, how are you?” “I am well, Sister Empress.” Wu Ling’s voice was soft and melodic, carrying the faint echo of a song just beyond hearing—the signature of the banshee bloodline.
“We heard the young prince was arriving today and simply had to come.” “As did we,” Mei Xing added, her pink eyes sparkling.
“We’ve waited seven years to meet the little emperor!” Behind the queens, the two princesses had gravitated toward Zhou Lingxi.
Mei Lian immediately clasped Lingxi’s hands in her own.
“Sister Lingxi!
It’s been too long!” “Mei Lian, you saw me last month.” “A month is too long!
Especially when your baby brother is coming!
Is he really as cute as the reports say?” Lingxi’s smile was knowing.
“Cuter.” Wu Jing stepped closer, her crimson eyes curious.
“The Shadow Pavilion reports said he charmed every assassin in their headquarters.” “He did.” “The Yaochi Holy Land reports said their female disciples fought over who got to escort him through the gardens.” “They did.” “The Long Dynasty reports said their matriarch personally made him dragon-fire pancakes.” “She did.” Mei Lian’s pink eyes went wide.
“He’s…
he’s really that charming?” Lingxi looked at her two friends—the succubus princess and the banshee princess, both breathing slightly faster, both with faint blushes coloring their cheeks—and smiled.
“He is,” she said.
“And you’re both already falling for him, and you haven’t even met him yet.” “I am NOT—” Mei Lian started.
“I am merely curious—” Wu Jing said at the same time.
Lingxi laughed.
“Oh, this is going to be delightful.” The harmonious scene continued as the six women settled onto the couches and cushions of the reception hall.
Servants brought tea and spirit fruits.
The queens and the empress talked of politics and clan matters.
The princesses talked of cultivation and training and the mysterious young prince who was about to arrive.
Finally, Mei Xing could contain herself no longer.
She leaned forward, her massive chest nearly spilling from her gown, and fixed Zhou Meng with an eager gaze.
“Sister Empress…
is the demon prince truly about to arrive?
Our future emperor?” Wu Ling’s crimson eyes also fixed on Zhou Meng.
The two princesses, who had been pretending not to listen, immediately stopped their conversation and perked up their ears.
Zhou Meng’s ruby eyes sparkled with amusement.
She took a slow sip of her tea, savoring the moment, before answering.
“Yes,” she said.
“He will arrive today.
Within the hour, if the ship’s schedule holds.” Mei Xing’s pink eyes lit up.
Wu Ling’s crimson eyes softened.
Mei Lian’s cheeks flushed.
Wu Jing’s calm expression cracked with a flicker of nervousness.
“Finally,” Mei Xing breathed.
“We’ve waited so long to see what kind of man our future emperor has become.” “He’s seven,” Lingxi pointed out.
“A future man, then.
The foundation matters.” “The Heart Fruit and the Desire Flower,” Wu Ling murmured.
“He consumed them.
They were meant for the one destined to rule the succubus and banshee clans.
If he truly possesses the Hundred Demons Body…” “He does,” Zhou Meng confirmed.
“The Immortal Body of the Hundred Demons.
The same as mine.” A shiver ran through the four women.
The two queens exchanged glances.
The two princesses clutched each other’s hands.pp “Then he is the one,” Mei Xing whispered, her voice reverent.
“The prophesied emperor. Follow the newest chapters on g.com.
The one who shall be the ruler of our tow clans .” “He is also my baby brother,” Lingxi said dryly, “and if either of you makes him uncomfortable, I will personally throw you into the Molten Abyss.” “Noted,” Wu Jing said quickly.
“Absolutely noted,” Mei Lian agreed.
— POV shifted.
Tian was currently playing hide and seek.
The grand hall of the Harmony of Five had been transformed into a playground.
Cushions had been piled into forts.
Silk curtains had been hung to create mazes.
And forty maids were hiding throughout the vast chamber, giggling and calling out to their young master.
“Young Master!
Over here!” “Catch me, Young Master!” “You’ll never find me~!” Tian, blindfolded, moved through the maze with the confidence of a predator.
His other senses had sharpened over seven years of this game.
He could hear the rustle of silk, the catch of breath, the soft patter of bare feet.
He lunged.
His hands closed around something soft and warm and magnificently large.
A moan filled the air.
“Ah~ Young Master caught me~!” He pulled off his blindfold.
It was Sister Lin, her cheeks flushed, his small hands full of her generous chest.
She was breathing heavily, her eyes half-lidded with pleasure.
“Young Master is getting too good at this,” she breathed.
“Sister Lin, you always hide in the same spot.” “Mm…
perhaps I want to be found~” He released her and the blindfold went back on.
He caught Sister Mei next—her breasts even fuller, her moan even more melodious.
He caught Sister Yu, who let out a sharp gasp and then melted against him.
He caught Long Jin, who laughed gently and kissed his forehead before sending him off again.
He caught Long Rui, who said nothing but whose arms tightened around him for just a moment longer than necessary.
‘This is heaven,’ Tian thought as he groped his way through another round.
‘Absolute, undiluted heaven.
I’m seven years old, and I’ve already felt more breasts than most men do in a lifetime.
When I’m older…
when I can actually do something about these reactions…’ [The Host’s future harem is already assembled.
He simply needs to grow up.] ‘System, you’re supposed to be a villain system.
Why do you sound like a matchmaker?’ [This system is a Supreme Villain System.
A supreme villain must have supreme women.
The Host is acquiring supreme women.
This is logical.] ‘I can’t argue with that.’ — Two days passed in a blur of games and meals and maid-adoration.
And then, on the morning of the third day, the Harmony of Five docked at the central palace of the Zhou Demon Imperial Clan.
The gangplank extended, and Tian descended.
Waiting for him at the base of the dock was a delegation of elders—dozens of them, all women, all Great Emperors, all breathtakingly beautiful.
Their horns came in every shape and color.
Their bodies were universally mature and voluptuous.
And their faces, as they watched the young prince walk down the gangplank, were filled with barely contained anticipation.
Tian reached the bottom and bowed with perfect grace.
“Greetings, Aunties.
This junior is honored to be welcomed by such esteemed elders.” The elders melted.
“Oh, he’s SO polite!” “His voice—his voice is like warm milk and honey!” “Look at that face!
It’s like a doll’s face!” “How can a seven-year-old be this charming?!” “I want to pinch his cheeks!” “He called us Aunties!
AUNTIES!” An elder with silver horns and crimson hair stepped forward.
Her eyes were sexy and seductive .
“Young Prince, welcome home.
We have waited so long to meet you properly.” Tian smiled—that cherubic, heart-melting smile that had charmed assassins and holy maidens alike.
“Then I am sorry for making you wait, Auntie.
I am here now.” The elder made a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a squeal and immediately scooped him into her arms.
Her ample chest pressed against his face.
“You precious, precious child.
Come!
Your mother and sister are waiting!” The delegation of Great Emperors escorted him through the palace, their cold, fearsome demeanors completely shattered by the presence of their young prince.
They cooed.
They fussed.
They argued over who got to walk closest to him.
Tian, for his part, simply enjoyed the attention.
‘The Maiden Calamity Body really is the gift that keeps on giving.’ At last, the doors to the Crimson Reception Hall swung open.
And Tian stepped inside.
— The first thing he noticed was the breasts.
It was impossible not to.
The succubus queen and her daughter were standing side by side, and their chests were…
monumental.
Massive.
Defying physics and reason and every expectation he had formed in two lifetimes.
They strained against their gowns with a presence that demanded attention.
His attention was given.
‘So big,’ he thought.
The second thing he noticed was the banshee queen and her daughter, standing slightly apart.
Their chests were more modest but still impressive, and their crimson eyes held a depth that drew him in.
‘Also big.’ The third thing he noticed was his mother, Zhou Meng, rushing forward with tears in her ruby eyes.
“Tian’er!
My baby!” She scooped him up and pressed him to her own magnificent chest, and Tian temporarily lost the ability to see anything but soft, warm darkness.
“Mother,” he said, his voice muffled, “I missed you too.” “I missed you more!
Three months is too long!
I’m never letting you leave again!” “Mother, you’re squishing me.” “Good!” Behind them, Zhou Lingxi laughed and gently extracted Tian from their mother’s embrace.
“Let him breathe, Mother.
He’s just arrived.” She knelt and cupped his face in her hands.
She had grown so beautiful.
Her ruby hair.
Her crimson eyes.
Her obsidian horns.
She was a demon princess in her prime, and she was looking at him like he was the most precious thing in all the realms.
“Hello, little brother.
I’ve missed you.” “I missed you too, Big Sister.” She kissed his forehead and rose, keeping one hand on his shoulder.
And then Tian turned to face the four women who were staring at him.
Mei Xing, the Succubus Queen.
Mei Lian, the Succubus Princess.
Wu Ling, the Banshee Queen.
Wu Jing, the Banshee Princess.
Eight eyes.
All fixed on him.
All wide.
All filling with something that looked almost like wonder.
‘So cute,’ the four women thought simultaneously.
“So big,” Tian breathed, his eyes fixed on the succubus queen’s chest.
Silence.
Then Mei Xing burst out laughing—a rich, delighted sound that made her entire body shake in ways that were extremely distracting.
“He’s PERFECT!” Mei Lian’s face was bright pink.
Wu Jing’s calm expression had cracked into a shy smile.
Wu Ling’s crimson eyes were soft with maternal warmth.
Zhou Lingxi sighed and flicked Tian’s forehead gently.
“Little brother.
Manners.” “I said it out loud, didn’t I?” “You did.” “…I stand by it.” Mei Xing laughed even harder.
The Succubus Queen approached, her massive chest swaying with every step, and knelt before Tian.
Up close, she was even more breathtaking.
Her pink eyes sparkled with amusement and something deeper.
Something that might have been hope.
“Little Emperor,” she said, her voice a melodic purr, “I am Mei Xing, Queen of the Succubus Clan.
And I have waited a very long time to meet you.” Tian met her gaze steadily.
“I’m sorry for making you wait, Auntie Queen.” “Auntie Queen.” She pressed a hand to her heart.
“Wu Ling, did you hear that?
He called me Auntie Queen.” Wu Ling approached more quietly, her black hair swaying.
She also knelt, her crimson eyes studying Tian’s face with quiet intensity.
“And I am Wu Ling, Queen of the Banshee Clan.
Welcome home, Young Prince.” “Thank you, Auntie Wu Ling.” Wu Ling’s stoic expression cracked.
A smile—small but genuine—curved her lips.
“He is…
even more charming than the reports suggested.” “He’s adorable,” Mei Lian blurted out.
Then her face went from pink to crimson.
“I—I mean—he’s—I didn’t—” Wu Jing placed a hand on her friend’s shoulder.
“Mei Lian, you’re making it worse.” “I KNOW I’M MAKING IT WORSE!” Tian looked at the two princesses—the flustered succubus and the composed banshee—and smiled.
“Hello, Big Sisters.
It’s nice to meet you.” Mei Lian stopped stammering.
Wu Jing’s calm expression flickered.
Both of them stared at him.
“Big…
Sisters?” Mei Lian whispered.
“You’re my mother’s friends’ daughters, right?
So you’re my big sisters.” Wu Jing’s pale cheeks flushed.
“That is…
logically correct.” “Then I’m glad to have more big sisters.” Mei Lian made a sound that was somewhere between a squeal and a whimper and buried her face in her hands.
Wu Jing’s blush deepened.
The two queens exchanged glances and smiled.
Zhou Meng watched the scene with profound satisfaction.
‘My son.
Already conquering hearts without even trying.’ Zhou Lingxi watched with amusement.
‘Those two are already done for.
Completely and utterly done for.’ And Tian, surrounded by beautiful women who were all looking at him with expressions ranging from adoration to fascination to barely concealed hunger, had exactly one thought.
‘I love this family.’ [DING!
Four new Daughters of Destiny detected in the Host’s vicinity!] [Mei Xing — Succubus Queen.
Luck Value: Gold.
Physique: Heart-Tempting Dao Body (Dao Rank).] [Mei Lian — Succubus Princess.
Luck Value: Gold.
Physique: Heart-Tempting Dao Body (Dao Rank).] [Wu Ling — Banshee Queen.
Luck Value: Gold.
Physique: Soul-Song Dao Body (Dao Rank).] [Wu Jing — Banshee Princess.
Luck Value: Gold.
Physique: Soul-Song Dao Body (Dao Rank).] ‘Wait.
The QUEENS are Daughters of Destiny too?!’ [Correct.
They are daughters of luck Host .
They have been waiting for their destined emperor.
That emperor…
is you.
AND you have forgotten that the destined protagonist of these daughters of lucks that you now made it impossible to have anything to do with them anymore .
Beasue you have taken the the holy fruit of these 2 clans and in a way you have half crippled him .
] [And host now you have these lewd succubus and banshee to play with and do naughty things with them ] ‘…I’m seven System .’ [The Host will not be seven forever.] ‘System, are you suggesting I—’ [This system suggests nothing.
This system merely provides information.
The Host’s interpretations are his own.] ‘You’re definitely suggesting something.’ [The Host has a vivid imagination.] Tian looked at Mei Xing, who winked at him.
He looked at Wu Ling, who inclined her head with quiet warmth.
He looked at Mei Lian, who was still blushing furiously.
He looked at Wu Jing, whose calm exterior could not quite hide the interest in her crimson eyes.
‘This is going to be…
complicated.’ [The Host loves complications.] ‘…Yeah.
I kind of do.’ — END OF CHAPTER 8