My Xianxia Harem Life

Chapter 301: Chapter 301 Champion

Even the true immortals, often detached and enigmatic, could not resist commenting among themselves.

Their voices, low but tinged with amazement, floated above the general chatter.

”I can’t believe I’d live to see the day the Sword Fairy finally gets married,” one immortal said, shaking his head in awe.

His tone carried both disbelief and a profound respect, as though centuries of witnessing mortal and immortal events still could not prepare him for this moment.

”Me neither,” another replied, her eyes narrowing as she studied Riley from afar. ”What puzzles me most is that I can’t sense the cultivation base of her husband. By all appearances... he seems only mortal. It doesn’t make sense.”

A third immortal, older and seasoned in both combat and politics, leaned forward, voice measured.

”If the rumors are to be believed, that man is the Sword Fairy’s master.

It would be natural that his cultivation and power lie far beyond what our senses can detect.

Mortal eyes and ears cannot comprehend the true magnitude of his existence.”

At these words, the assembly of immortals exchanged glances, their expressions shifting from casual curiosity to solemn acknowledgment.

A rare seriousness settled over the hall, as though the very air recognized the presence of someone extraordinary.

Their gazes collectively turned toward Riley. His calm demeanor, subtle aura, and effortless command of the room spoke volumes.

He did not need to display flashy power—his mere presence radiated authority and mystery.

Whispers ran through the immortal guests, questions forming silently: What realm had he reached?

How had he guided the Sword Fairy?

Meanwhile, mortal guests could only marvel at the sheer spectacle of the wedding.

They admired Anastasia’s ethereal beauty, the graceful way she moved through the hall, and the aura of quiet power surrounding her.

Many whispered in awe about her reputation—the Sword Fairy, unmatched in skill and elegance—and yet here she was, radiantly happy, holding the hand of a man who seemed so ordinary yet exuded an unexplainable strength.

As the feast continued, Riley and Anastasia moved through the hall, exchanging smiles and soft words with their guests.

Even as they laughed and accepted praise, the aura surrounding Riley remained subtle yet undeniable.

Some immortals leaned in to confer with each other quietly, their voices low and cautious.

The conversation shifted from admiration to speculation, and some even considered the strategic implications of such a union.

The grandeur of the feast, the beauty of the couple, and the quiet, powerful presence of Riley made the entire celebration unforgettable.

For one night, the halls of Heaven’s Gate City shimmered with light, energy, and whispers of awe, and everyone present—whether mortal or immortal—felt themselves witnessing something that would be remembered for centuries to come.

***

Riley’s married life was a whirlwind of excitement and intensity.

More than a dozen wives demanded attention, care, and affection daily, and he gave it to them all without hesitation.

Every morning brought its own challenges, every night its pleasures, and Riley thrived in the balance between duty and desire.

Yet, amidst the laughter, whispers, and passion of his wives, his mind remained sharp, focused on a far more pressing objective: figuring out a way to defeat Sunny.

”I suppose I’ll just have to tackle this the old-fashioned way,” he murmured one evening, the faint glow of his immortal aura casting shadows across the room.

He created one of his clones and prepared it for a mission unlike any other: to traverse the void and search for the elusive place that even the Ancient One had failed to find in the past.

Boom!

The clone shot forward, an almost invisible streak of light tearing through the infinite darkness of the void.

Trillions of kilometers passed in a single heartbeat, the clone moving faster than anything a mortal—or even many immortals—could comprehend.

It scoured the endless darkness, probing every rift, scanning every anomaly, yet for minutes on end it found nothing.

That, Riley knew, was entirely natural.

The Ancient One had spent countless eons wandering this same void, seeking beings like Riley, only to be met with emptiness and silence.

Riley’s lips pressed into a thin line as he watched the clone’s progress, his mind analyzing every variable.

The void was vast, almost impossibly so, and even the fastest clone could easily miss the faintest trace of a being as careful and elusive as the Ancient One.

He knew this mission would require more than speed—it would require power, precision, and sacrifice.

”I guess I’ll have to make a sacrifice,” Riley said, his voice low and deliberate.

A drop of his immortal blood appeared in his palm, glowing faintly with concentrated energy.

He poured it into the clone, infusing it with a fraction of his own power.

Bang!

The clone’s speed surged, doubling, then tripling almost instantaneously.

Its aura flared, leaving brilliant streaks of light trailing through the void, illuminating distant cosmic clouds and empty stretches of darkness.

Riley’s eyes narrowed as he focused all his attention, reading the clone’s every movement, every scan, every ripple of energy it detected.

His mind raced with calculations, probabilities, and strategies.

Hours—or perhaps only minutes, given the manipulation of time within his realm—passed as Riley continued to monitor the clone.

He experimented with its trajectory, altering its angles subtly, adjusting its energy signature, testing how it interacted with traces of residual power scattered across the void.

Each adjustment brought new data, and Riley’s mind absorbed it all, cataloging every possibility, every lead, every subtle clue that might point toward his goal.

He knew this was not an easy quest at all.

One clone, one drop of blood, one experiment—it would take countless iterations, countless sacrifices, and unparalleled patience to succeed.

Yet Riley did not waver.

Every fiber of his being pulsed with determination, every heartbeat synchronized with the rhythm of the mission he had set in motion.

He was patient, methodical, and relentless.

And so he waited, eyes fixed on the glowing streak of his clone racing through the void, confident that eventually, somewhere in the endless expanse, he would find what he sought—and the game would truly begin.

”More,” Riley muttered, his voice low and unwavering.

He poured drop after drop of his immortal blood into the clone, each one blazing with the power of his essence.

One drop of his blood would normally take at least a trillion years to regenerate, yet Riley ignored the cost.

The gamble was enormous, but failure was not an option—if he hesitated, his realm could awaken into chaos, leaving devastation in its wake.

Hundreds of drops, then hundreds more, flared through the clone like liquid fire. With each infusion, its speed and perception multiplied exponentially, and the clone tore across the void like a streak of lightning, its aura blazing a trail that shimmered across the darkness.

Time itself bent around it, allowing Riley to observe regions of space no ordinary being could reach.

Then, finally, the void ahead shifted.

Bang...

bang...

bang...

Riley’s eyes narrowed as a massive scene unfolded.

An armada of spaceships stretched endlessly across the void, descending upon a distant realm with terrifying coordination.

Explosions erupted across the planet’s surface, shockwaves rippling through the air, and the sky itself seemed to crack under the firepower.

The sight struck him with a grim familiarity—it resembled the chaos that had once erupted in his own realm.

He immediately concealed the clone in a hidden rift, keeping it unseen, and allowed himself to observe in silence.

Every detail fascinated him: the precise formations of the invading ships, the cadence of their attacks, the subtle shifts in their trajectory, and the responses of the defenders.

Riley’s mind cataloged each move, each pattern, every burst of energy, calculating probabilities and possible outcomes.

The attackers were relentless and well-coordinated, their strategies refined, yet the defenders were strong, utilizing terrain and energy manipulation with expertise.

Riley’s focus deepened as he considered the scale of the conflict.

This was not a random raid or a simple territorial dispute—this was a carefully orchestrated assault, likely orchestrated by a force ancient and powerful, one that had been preparing for centuries.

Every detail—the deployment of fleets, the staggering firepower, the methodical sieges—spoke of intelligence, experience, and unimaginable power.

For an hour, Riley observed, analyzing weaknesses in the siege, noting patterns that could be exploited, and mentally rehearsing interventions that could turn the tide.

He realized that the attackers were confident, almost arrogantly so, yet overconfidence often created openings.

He noted the shifts in their formations when certain weapons fired, the slight gaps that appeared in the defensive lines, and the timing of energy surges that could be manipulated.

Despite the devastation and chaos unfolding before him, Riley’s expression was calm, almost detached.

His mind was alive with calculation and strategy, absorbing every fragment of data as though he had been born to study conflict at this scale.

The risks he had taken with his immortal blood—the trillions of years needed to recover even a single drop—seemed trivial compared to the potential knowledge and advantage he could gain.