My Xianxia Harem Life

Chapter 296: Chapter 296 Lurer

All had eaten and drunk their fill, yet no amount of fine dishes or rare wine could quench the growing curiosity in the room.

Though polite conversation flowed and laughter occasionally rippled across the tables, everyone knew there was an unspoken question hovering in the air—Who exactly was Riley Mason?

By the third hour of the feast, even the most patient among them could no longer hide their anticipation.

Anastasia, seated at the head table beside Riley, had noticed the furtive glances, the whispered exchanges, and the way some guests seemed more focused on the mysterious man at her side than on the lavish celebration she had prepared.

At last, she decided not to prolong their suspense.

Rising gracefully from her seat, she let her silken robes fall in perfect folds, the intricate embroidery glinting in the warm glow of crystal lanterns.

Her gaze swept over the gathering—men and women whose words could sway markets, topple rivals, and reshape the city’s political tides.

These were the true powers of Heaven’s Gate City.

And among them... sat several figures whose very presence commanded awe—true immortals.

Ancient cultivators whose lifespans stretched back through countless years, their power so vast that common folk could not even comprehend it.

They rarely appeared in public, yet tonight they had come, drawn by the same rumor that had captured everyone else’s attention.

The hall fell silent the moment Anastasia straightened her back.

The lively chatter faded into a thick, expectant stillness.

Even the servants froze mid-step, holding their trays as though afraid to break the tension.

Anastasia let a few heartbeats pass, allowing the suspense to sharpen before she finally spoke.

”My friends,” her voice rang clear, each word laced with composure and authority, ”I am aware that many of you have been waiting to confirm the truth of certain whispers. You have wondered about the identity of my master—and whether the stories you have heard are fact or mere exaggeration.”

She paused, and a faint, proud smile touched her lips. ”I will tell you now—there is no exaggeration. This man, Riley Mason, is indeed my master. The one who took me in, guided me, and shaped me into who I am today. Every ounce of strength and knowledge I wield is thanks to him... and even that is but a fraction of his true ability.”

A ripple passed through the audience—eyes widened, expressions shifted from curiosity to deep respect.

The true immortals in attendance narrowed their gazes ever so slightly, assessing Riley with a keener interest.

”I trust,” Anastasia continued, her tone turning slightly firmer, ”that you all understand the meaning of this truth... and the respect that must follow.”

There was no hesitation.

Chairs slid back in unison, robes swished against the marble floor, and the guests rose to their feet.

The sound of dozens of people standing in perfect synchronization was almost ceremonial.

Then, as one, they bowed deeply toward Riley.

”Greetings, Senior Riley!” they called in a powerful chorus, the sound echoing across the vast hall, resonating in the very beams of the ceiling.

Some bowed with both hands clasped before them, others lowered their heads until their foreheads nearly touched the ground.

Even those who considered themselves proud or untouchable performed the gesture without complaint.

For in this moment, they were not lords, merchants, or immortal experts—they were simply people paying respect to a man whose presence defied ordinary measure.

And Riley?

He sat quietly, a faint, unreadable smile on his lips, as though this entire display was neither new nor particularly surprising.

Although a few true immortals kept their spines straight and chose not to bow, Riley paid them no mind.

To him, respect was like a rare gem—beautiful when freely given, but worthless if demanded.

He neither frowned nor smiled at their silent defiance, his expression remaining as calm and unreadable as still water.

The flicker of pride in their eyes did not escape him, but he let it pass without acknowledgment.

The feast continued around them, yet a subtle shift in the air had occurred.

The whispers among the guests quieted, though furtive glances still stole their way toward Riley’s table.

Those who had bowed now kept their heads lowered, not daring to meet his gaze for too long.

Those who hadn’t watched him with the careful alertness of hunters gauging a rival predator.

A minute later, Anastasia returned to her place at his side.

She settled into her chair with the grace of someone accustomed to being the center of attention, yet her posture tilted slightly toward him—an unconscious gesture of deference.

Her voice was low, a private thread of sound in the vast hall.

”You could have at least spoken to them,” she murmured, eyes flicking toward the true immortals at the far end of the room.

Riley’s lips curved faintly, his tone almost languid. ”It doesn’t matter. If we are meant to speak, the moment will present itself. If not, then fate is fickle in such matters—and I see no reason to chase it.”

Anastasia studied him for a moment, a strange fondness flickering in her eyes.

”You know... I’m starting to remember just how often you used to say things like that. Back then, it all sounded so cryptic—maddening, even. Now... not so much.”

Her smile warmed, the guarded elegance slipping for a heartbeat.

She leaned in, her shoulder brushing his arm, and whispered in a tone barely audible over the clink of dishes.

”I can’t wait for later.”

Riley’s gaze lingered on her for the briefest moment.

He knew precisely what she was referring to, but rather than answer her directly, he let his expression soften into an enigmatic half-smile.

”Seek, and you shall find,” he murmured. ”You’ll have what you desire soon enough, Anastasia.”

Her eyes glinted—part intrigue, part anticipation.

A faint color rose to her cheeks before she quickly looked away, regaining her composure.

Riley lifted his cup with unhurried grace, taking a slow sip as if the exchange had been of no consequence.

The faint clink of porcelain as he set it down punctuated the silence between them.

Somewhere across the hall, one of the true immortals who had refused to bow was still watching him, their gaze sharp and measuring, as though trying to divine whether Riley was a man to be approached—or avoided entirely.

The feast continued in a haze of fine wine, laughter, and polite conversation, though to the eyes of seasoned cultivators, its length was nothing extraordinary—barely seven hours from the first toast to the final cup. Still, the gathering had been enough to leave the air heavy with satisfaction, alliances subtly reinforced, and unspoken rivalries rekindled.

When it finally drew to an end, Anastasia rose gracefully from her seat, her long gown whispering against the polished floor as she began to see to her guests.

Riley’s wives were given the finest chambers the estate could offer—spacious, luxuriously appointed rooms, each with a view of the moonlit gardens.

Anastasia oversaw these arrangements personally, ensuring they were treated with courtesy worthy of their status.

But when it came to Riley, she made no effort to hide the fact that she would be the one to lead him herself.

Her pace was measured, neither hurried nor languid, but there was a quiet certainty in the way she moved—like a woman following the pull of destiny.

They walked through corridors lit by warm golden lanterns, the scent of night-blooming flowers drifting in from open archways.

The hush of the late hour seemed to magnify every sound—the soft rustle of her silken sleeves, the muted tap of her slippers against the marble floor, the faint clink of the jade hairpins swaying in her dark hair.

With every step, her heart beat a little faster.

She had waited for this night far longer than she cared to admit—years in which his figure had lingered in her thoughts like a shadow she could never touch.

Countless times she had imagined this moment, rehearsing words she might say, picturing how it might unfold.

Now, finally, fate had delivered him to her door, and she would not let the chance slip away.

She dared a glance at him.

He walked beside her as if this were the most ordinary thing in the world, his gaze calm, his presence unshakable.

That composure only made her hunger sharper; she wanted to see him break that calm, even if only for her.

They turned another corner, and she felt the nearness of her goal.

Just ahead waited the room she had prepared—a place where the weight of the past, the patience of the years, and her long-suppressed desire would finally find release.

Tonight, what she had yearned for would no longer be a dream. And she could hardly wait for it to begin.

At last, they reached the final door at the end of the corridor—a grand, lacquered frame inlaid with faintly glowing jade, its surface reflecting the golden lamplight. Anastasia paused for only a heartbeat, her eyes flicking up to meet Riley’s.

Then, without another word, she pushed the door open, stepped inside, and turned toward him. In the next instant, restraint shattered—she closed the distance in a single breath, practically leaping into his arms as if the weight of years apart had been compressed into this one moment.

Her fragrance enveloped him, warm and intoxicating, while her fingers clung to the fabric of his robes as if letting go was no longer an option.