Harem Master: Seduction System

Chapter 405: The Five-Colored Tribulation

The month-long waiting period had finally evaporated, and the suffocating, heavy tension that had draped itself over the Yao Clan’s Secret Realm shattered like brittle glass. The towering, swirling spatial portal situated at the deepest edges of the realm flared with blinding, chaotic light, violently disgorging the surviving participants of the grueling third stage. Thousands had entered the perilous, beast-infested Pill Realm to harvest ancient herbs, but only a fraction emerged. They were battered, their magnificent robes torn and stained with the blood of spirit beasts, but their spatial rings were heavy with the necessary, priceless ingredients.

The grand obsidian arena, which had sat dormant for thirty days, was now the epicenter of the Celestial Dragon Empire. Tens of thousands of elite martialists, sect leaders, and ancient elders filled the sprawling, tiered grandstands that had been carved directly into the fire-forged mountains. The ambient air was incredibly dense, thick with overlapping Battle Auras and the overwhelming, crackling resonance of profound Flame Qi.

At the very center of the vast, black obsidian floor, hundreds of massive, intricately carved alchemy cauldrons had been erected. They were forged from deep-earth star-iron and volcanic brass, waiting to be ignited.

High above the arena, sealed behind the heavily warded, soundproofed crystalline glass of the most opulent, elevated VIP pavilion, a completely different sort of tension was brewing.

Alaric sat comfortably on a wide, plush velvet lounger. He was dressed in elegant, sweeping robes of midnight blue, projecting the effortless, charming aura of a talented scholar. To his right sat Ling Ying, the voluptuous heiress of the Ling Clan, her emerald-green martial robes clinging tightly to her magnificent curves. To his left sat Princess Gu Ling, the pristine, untouched White Moonlight of the Gu Clan, wearing her signature pale lavender silk that flowed over her modest, elegant frame like liquid water.

Arranged gracefully upon the surrounding silk cushions and divans were the untouchable beauties of the Imperial Court: Noble Consort Shu, Imperial Consort Xian, Princess Huang Mei, and Princess Huang Hua.

The potent, soul-warming Hundred-Year Drunken Spirit Nectar had been flowing freely since they arrived in the pavilion. Because the ancient vintage bypassed their formidable Peak Martial Grandmaster and Martial King cultivations, acting directly upon their spiritual seas, the royal women were already exquisitely, heavily relaxed.

The stifling heat of the Yao Clan’s Secret Realm, combined with the warming effects of the nectar, had caused a fine, glistening sheen of sweat to coat their flawless, fair skin. The strict, rigid boundaries of imperial modesty had completely dissolved.

Noble Consort Shu slouched comfortably over a low wooden table, entirely unconcerned that her dark blue, heavily embroidered corset was straining to the point of tearing. Her incredibly massive, pale cleavage spilled aggressively over the top of the fabric, the heavy, luscious globes of flesh heaving with every slow, sultry breath. Imperial Consort Xian lounged sideways on a divan, her long, fair legs crossed carelessly, her crimson robes riding high up her thighs to expose her wide, curvaceous hips.

Princess Huang Mei, the forty-year-old warrior who possessed the athletic, impossibly perky body of a twenty-year-old, had unclasped the high collar of her gold-threaded dress. The fabric clung to her sweat-slicked stomach and large breasts, perfectly highlighting the rigid peaks of her nipples. Princess Huang Hua fanned herself lazily with her spirit-peacock fan, her voluptuous, mature body sinking deep into the cushions, her eyes hazy and heavily lidded.

“The time for gathering weeds in the dirt has finally concluded,” Imperial Consort Xian drawled, swirling the amber nectar in her jade cup, her speech delightfully sluggish. She gestured lazily toward the massive magical projection displaying the arena below. “Now, we see who truly possesses the absolute, refined control of a grandmaster. My candidate, Li Wei, looks perfectly composed.”

“Your candidate looks like a stiff, frightened child trying to remember his formulas,” Noble Consort Shu giggled, a deeply melodic, breathy sound. She shifted her weight, her massive breasts shifting and squishing heavily against the table, drawing Alaric’s covert, predatory gaze. “Look at Hun Ye of the Hun Clan. He radiates a delightfully dark, sinister confidence.”

Ling Ying, guided flawlessly by Alaric’s continuous mental link, poured another round of the nectar.

“Since we are to be sequestered in this pavilion for several hours while the concoction process unfolds,” Ling Ying proposed, her own fair cheeks flushed a brilliant, beautiful pink from the wine, “I suggest we implement a new, highly entertaining wager to pass the time.”

“Another game, Ling Ying?” Princess Huang Mei asked, leaning forward, her perky breasts resting against her knees. She shot a highly appreciative, smoldering look at Alaric. “Are you going to have your handsome sweetheart dance for us again? I must admit, his footwork is incredibly… stimulating.”

Gu Ling felt a sudden, inexplicable flash of irritation at the Princess’s blatant ogling of Alaric, though she quickly masked it behind a polite smile. She took a delicate sip of her wine, enjoying the warm, comforting buzz that chased away the usual, suffocating anxiety of her clan’s expectations.

“As delightful as that would be, Princess Huang Mei,” Ling Ying smiled, shooting Alaric a look of genuine, chemically induced affection, “I was thinking of a wager more suited to the grand spectacle before us. A game of alchemical insight.”

“Explain,” Princess Huang Hua commanded softly, snapping her fan shut and resting it against her wide, curvaceous hip.

“We shall bet on the precise unfolding of the concoction process,” Ling Ying detailed, speaking the exact words Alaric whispered into her Sea of Consciousness. “We shall predict the primary ingredient being purified, the exact classification of the pill being forged, and ultimately, the tier of the Lightning Tribulation it summons. We assign points for accuracy.”

“And the stakes?” Noble Consort Shu asked, her eyes gleaming with competitive fire. “We established during the second round that material wealth is a bore. What shall the loser forfeit?”

“Secrets and favors,” Ling Ying announced boldly. “The loser of each designated betting round must answer one question from the winner with absolute, unfiltered truth, no matter how deeply personal or politically scandalous. Or, if they refuse to answer, they must owe the winner one personal, unrecorded favor within the Imperial Court.”

The Imperial Women exchanged intrigued, highly aroused glances. For women who navigated the treacherous, deadly waters of the Celestial Dragon Empire’s inner palace, secrets were currency, and unrecorded favors were more valuable than Heaven-grade artifacts. The sheer, dangerous thrill of the wager, amplified by the intoxicating nectar, was impossible to resist.

“I accept,” Imperial Consort Xian declared haughtily. “My knowledge of alchemical theory is unparalleled among the consorts. I shall enjoy extracting your secrets, little heiress.”

“I am also in,” Gu Ling spoke up softly, her crystalline voice drawing the attention of the older women.

Gu Ling saw this as the absolute perfect, unprecedented opportunity. If she could demonstrate her profound knowledge and win favors from the Imperial Consorts, she could weave a safety net of imperial influence to protect Feng Xiao from the wrath of the Gu Clan elders.

“Excellent. Then let the crucible begin,” Noble Consort Shu laughed, raising her cup in a toast.

Down in the massive obsidian arena, the Fourth Round officially commenced.

Grand Elder Yao Yuan struck a colossal bronze gong, the sonic wave rippling across the mountains. “Ignite your cauldrons! Let the heavens judge your Dao!”

Instantly, hundreds of massive, roaring pillars of Flame Qi erupted across the arena floor. The temperature skyrocketed, distorting the air into a shimmering mirage. The alchemists summoned their respective flames, their Battle Auras flaring to maximum intensity to control the violent elemental energies.

Li Wei of the Imperial Alchemy Academy summoned his Golden Sovereign Sun-Flame, a brilliant, blindingly pure golden fire that wrapped around his golden cauldron like a coiled dragon. Hun Ye of the Hun Clan unleashed a terrifying, pitch-black fire that seemed to consume the light around it, his cauldron glowing with a sickly, necrotic purple hue. Gu Ming of the Gu Clan summoned his Ethereal Bone-Chilling Flame, the white fire paradoxically causing frost to form on the obsidian floor beneath him.

And in a quiet, isolated sector of the arena, Feng Xiao stood before a plain, unassuming dark-iron cauldron.

He did not boast. He raised his hands, and the mesmerizing, tri-colored flame—the heavily suppressed manifestation of his eight merged Heavenly Flames—bloomed into existence. It burned with a quiet, terrifyingly dense intensity, completely ignoring the chaotic fluctuations of the surrounding competitors.

“Let the first betting round commence,” Ling Ying announced in the VIP pavilion, pointing to the magical projection of Hun Ye. The dark, sinister young master was casually tossing a series of grotesque, blood-red roots into his cauldron. “What is the primary ingredient the Hun Clan representative is purifying?”

Imperial Consort Xian squinted at the screen, her crimson robes slipping further down her shoulder. “It is a Blood-Marrow Vine. An aggressive, Yang-heavy plant.”

“Incorrect, Consort,” Gu Ling interjected politely, her flawless, pale face composed, though her eyes shone with competitive spirit. “Notice the subtle, black striations along the root system, and the way the ambient Flame Qi aggressively recoils from it. It is not a Blood-Marrow Vine. It is a Wraith-Weeping Mandrake. An extremely rare, highly toxic Yin-attribute herb found only in the deepest, most corrupted ravines of the Pill Realm.”

Princess Huang Hua leaned forward, her massive breasts pressing against the table as she inspected the projection. “The Princess of the Gu Clan speaks the truth. Look at the smoke rising from his cauldron. It is black, tinged with gray. He is utilizing the mandrake to forcibly suppress the chaotic volatility of a beast core.”

“A Wraith-Weeping Mandrake,” Noble Consort Shu mused, sipping her nectar. “A foul ingredient. It requires immense, brutal soul power to prevent the toxins from shattering the alchemist’s meridians. What pill could he possibly be forging?”

“He is attempting to concoct the Wraith-Blood Marrow Pellet,” Gu Ling stated with absolute certainty, utilizing the vast, ancient knowledge hoarded by her clan. “It is a forbidden, seventh-tier medicinal pellet. It temporarily grants the consumer the physical invulnerability of a spectral wraith, at the severe cost of their long-term vitality. The Hun Clan has always favored power over longevity.”

Alaric sat quietly, his arm resting casually behind Ling Ying’s chair, his fingers secretly, lightly tracing the curve of the heiress’s spine right above the dip of her buttocks. Ling Ying shivered slightly, biting her lip to suppress a moan, her body incredibly hot and sensitive.

“Princess Gu Ling possesses an incredibly sharp, refined eye,” Alaric complimented smoothly, his deep voice drawing the attention of the imperial women. He smiled at Gu Ling, who offered a small, genuinely pleased nod in return. “To identify a corrupted root purely by the smoke it produces requires profound, foundational knowledge.”

“The Gu Clan hoards knowledge like dragons hoard gold,” Imperial Consort Xian grumbled, pouring herself another drink. “It seems the Princess has won the first exchange. Ask your question, Gu Ling.”

Gu Ling hesitated for a fraction of a second. She needed to build a bridge, not burn one.

“I do not wish to pry into scandalous secrets,” Gu Ling said gracefully, looking directly at Princess Huang Mei. “I ask only for a truth regarding the Imperial Court. Tell me, Princess Huang Mei… what does the Emperor truly value most when evaluating the potential of the younger generation? Is it their raw martial talent, their political lineage, or their independent utility?”

Princess Huang Mei laughed, a sultry, deeply cynical sound. She leaned back, her gold-threaded dress pulling tight across her waist. “A clever question, little Princess. You seek to know how the Emperor plays the board. The truth is simple, and incredibly cruel. My imperial father cares nothing for lineage. He cares nothing for raw, unrefined talent if it cannot be controlled. He values independent utility above all else. He values tools that can solve problems the Imperial Army cannot formally touch without starting a continental war.”

Gu Ling’s eyes brightened imperceptibly. This was exactly the confirmation she needed.

“A powerful, independent alchemist, for example,” Gu Ling hypothesized smoothly, ensuring her tone remained entirely casual, “one who owes absolutely no allegiance to the Ancient Clans or the prominent sects, but possesses the skill to concoct seventh-tier pills… such a man would be an invaluable, highly prized asset to the Imperial Family, would he not?”

“Undoubtedly,” Noble Consort Shu agreed, her massive, pale cleavage shifting as she nodded. “An unbound alchemist of that caliber is a strategic weapon. If the Imperial Court could secure the exclusive loyalty of such a man, we could bypass the extortionate medicinal tributes demanded by Pill Valley and the Yao Clan entirely. The Emperor would elevate such a man to the highest echelons of the nobility in a heartbeat, provided he proved his worth.”

Gu Ling’s heart soared. The path was clear. If Feng Xiao won this tournament and demonstrated his unparalleled worth, the Imperial Family would actively seek to recruit him. With the backing of the Emperor, the Gu Clan elders would be entirely powerless to stop their union.

She turned her gaze back to the projection, watching Feng Xiao meticulously control his tri-colored flame. ‘Win this, Xiao,’ Gu Ling prayed silently. ‘Show them your brilliance. Show them you are worth the wrath of the heavens.’

“The Princess is very inquisitive regarding independent talent,” Imperial Consort Xian teased, a sly, drunken smirk on her flushed face. She looked between Gu Ling, Ling Ying, and Alaric. “It seems all the young heiresses these days are fascinated by wandering scholars and unbound rogues. Tell me, Alaric. You possess that wondrous Azure Spirit Flame. Have you considered offering your… services… to the Imperial Court?”

Alaric chuckled, a dark, incredibly charismatic sound. His hand slipped slightly lower, his thumb brushing the very top of Ling Ying’s cleft, causing the heiress to let out a sharp, breathless gasp that she hastily disguised as a cough.

“I am afraid my services are of a far more… personal nature, Consort Xian,” Alaric replied smoothly, his ruby eyes locking onto hers with a smoldering, predatory intensity that made her breath hitch. “I deal in the profound mysteries of the elements, and the delicate, intricate workings of the human form. The rigid bureaucracy of the court would completely stifle my… creativity.”

“What a profound shame,” Princess Huang Hua purred, aggressively fanning her flushed face, her wide hips shifting restlessly. “I am certain the Imperial Palace could provide you with a vast, incredibly varied array of… forms… to study.”

“I am quite satisfied with my current subjects of study,” Alaric smiled, his hand firmly squeezing Ling Ying’s hip.

The Imperial Women laughed, the intoxicating nectar making them incredibly bold. They continued to openly tease Ling Ying about her handsome, intensely charming sweetheart, completely unaware that Alaric was meticulously, simultaneously reading all of their psychological weaknesses.

Down in the arena, the concoction process entered its most violent, critical phase.

The air was filled with the deafening, explosive sounds of failing cauldrons. Less skilled alchemists lost control of their localized Flame Qi. Their ingredients instantly incinerated, causing violent, localized explosions that shattered their cauldrons and sent them flying across the obsidian floor, coughing up blood.

The true masters, however, pushed forward.

“Look at the Imperial Academy’s prodigy,” Noble Consort Shu pointed, eager to reclaim her lost points. “Li Wei is merging the final essences. What is he forging, Ling Ying?”

Ling Ying, relying on Alaric’s whispered insights, answered confidently. “He is refining the ‘Golden Crow Marrow Extract’ and binding it with ‘Sun-Fire Amber’. He is attempting the ‘Imperial Dragon-Blood Pill’. A high-tier, sixth-grade pellet designed to forcefully expand the meridians of a martialist possessing a fire-attribute bloodline.”

“Correct,” Imperial Consort Xian nodded proudly.

“But observe the instability in his cauldron,” Gu Ling pointed out, her keen eyes catching the microscopic tremors in the golden metal. “His Golden Sovereign Sun-Flame is too aggressive. It is violently rejecting the Yin properties of the stabilizing herbs. He will complete the pill, but the grade will suffer.”

Suddenly, the crimson sky above the Yao Clan’s Secret Realm began to violently darken.

Massive, churning storm clouds gathered with terrifying speed, entirely blotting out the ambient light of the realm. The air grew thick with the suffocating, destructive pressure of Heavenly Dao.

“Pill Tribulation!” a spectator roared from the grandstands.

When a medicinal pellet of the Seventh Tier or higher was successfully formed, its sheer, concentrated spiritual energy and its heaven-defying properties actively invoked the wrath of the natural world. The heavens themselves would summon a Lightning Tribulation to violently destroy the unnatural creation. The number of distinct colors present in the lightning indicated the absolute strength, purity, and profound quality of the pill.

“Hun Ye has finished!” Princess Huang Hua exclaimed, pointing her fan at the Hun Clan representative.

Hun Ye stood before his cauldron, his arms raised in dark triumph. A beam of sickly, purple light shot from his cauldron into the churning clouds.

BOOM!

A massive, terrifying bolt of lightning struck down from the heavens, directly targeting his cauldron. The lightning crackled with three distinct, vibrant colors: black, purple, and blood-red.

“A Three-Colored Lightning Tribulation!” Grand Elder Yao Yuan announced, his voice echoing across the arena.

Hun Ye did not flinch. He channeled his dark Battle Aura, swinging his arms to manifest a massive, spectral shield of necrotic energy that violently intercepted the three-colored lightning. The blast shattered his shield, but the cauldron remained intact.

He reached in and pulled out a glowing, blood-red pill that radiated a terrifying, sinister aura.

“A Seventh-Tier Wraith-Blood Marrow Pellet!” Hun Ye laughed maniacally, holding the prize high.

The crowd erupted in cheers and murmurs of fear. A three-colored seventh-tier pill was a masterpiece that could secure victory in any normal decade.

“A profound achievement,” Noble Consort Shu admitted, taking a long drink of nectar. “But he resorted to sinister, forbidden methods. I saw him secretly sacrificing captive souls hidden within his sleeves to artificially boost the spiritual resonance of the pill. It is powerful, but inherently corrupted.”

Moments later, the sky churned again.

Gu Ming of the Gu Clan stepped back from his cauldron, his Ethereal Bone-Chilling Flame retracting. A pillar of pure, blinding white light shot into the sky.

CRACK!

The heavens answered with a devastating barrage of lightning. This time, the bolt was thicker, more violent, and shone with four distinct, radiant colors: white, azure, silver, and gold.

“A Four-Colored Lightning Tribulation!” the crowd roared in absolute awe.

Gu Ming drew his sword, unleashing a terrifying, heaven-severing arc of pure Sword Qi that cleanly sliced the four-colored lightning bolt in half, safely diverting the destructive energy away from his cauldron.

He retrieved a perfectly round, glowing white pill that emitted an aura of profound, unyielding purity.

“The Ethereal Jade-Bone Pill,” Gu Ling identified it immediately, her voice laced with immense clan pride. “A flawless, seventh-tier medicinal pellet that can completely reconstruct the shattered skeleton of a Martial King, rendering their bones as durable as deep-earth jade. A masterpiece of four colors.”

“It seems the Gu Clan is poised to take the vanguard once again,” Princess Huang Mei smiled, looking at Gu Ling. “Your clan’s foundation is truly terrifying, Princess.”

“It is a strong showing,” Alaric interjected calmly, his ruby eyes completely unfazed by the spectacular display of martial and alchemical might. “But the true master has not yet revealed his hand.”

Every eye in the VIP pavilion turned back to the projection.

Feng Xiao stood alone in his sector. His plain iron cauldron was glowing cherry-red, vibrating so violently it threatened to shatter into a million pieces. He had ignored the conventional, safe recipes. He was forging a customized, highly volatile, incredibly complex formula.

He was concocting the ‘Nine-Revolutions Soul-Restoring Pellet’. It was an ancient, lost recipe he had deciphered specifically to heal the critically damaged, fragmented remnant soul of his banished Yao Clan master, who slumbered within his ring.

To forge this impossible pill, Feng Xiao had utilized the most incredibly rare, highly volatile ingredients harvested from the Pill Realm: the ‘Nine-Nether Soul-Nourishing Lotus’, a flower that only bloomed in places of extreme death; the ‘Heaven-Mending Spirit Root’, a massive, pulsing root that contained the raw essence of life; and the ‘Soul-Condensing Amber’, a fossilized resin that required absolute, flawless temperature control to melt without evaporating.

Feng Xiao’s hands moved in a blur, weaving hundreds of complex, ancient alchemical seals per second. His tri-colored flame roared, compressing the violently conflicting energies of the Yin lotus and the Yang root into a singular, perfect singularity.

“Condense!” Feng Xiao roared, his voice echoing with absolute authority.

He slammed his palms against the side of the glowing iron cauldron.

The resulting shockwave of pure, unadulterated spiritual energy was so massive it physically knocked the surrounding alchemists off their feet. A pillar of light, so incredibly dense and bright that it blinded the spectators, erupted from his cauldron, piercing the dark, churning clouds above.

The heavens fell completely silent. The ambient Flame Qi in the entire Secret Realm seemed to freeze in absolute terror.

Then, the sky tore open.

It was not a mere bolt of lightning. It was a localized, apocalyptic catastrophe.

A massive, roaring column of destructive, heaven-sent lightning descended upon Feng Xiao’s sector. The lightning did not merely crackle; it sang with the fury of the Dao. And it shone with five distinct, incredibly vivid, unmistakable colors: Crimson, Gold, Azure, Violet, and Emerald.

“Heavens above!” Grand Elder Yao Yuan screamed, losing his dignified composure entirely, his eyes bulging as he stared at the sky. “A FIVE-COLORED TRIBULATION!”

The entire obsidian arena erupted into absolute, pandemonic chaos. A Five-Colored Lightning Tribulation for a Seventh-Tier pill was a phenomenon that had not been witnessed in the Celestial Dragon Empire in over five hundred years. It signified a pill of such terrifying, perfect quality that it bordered on the divine.

“Protect the arena!” Yao Yuan roared, realizing instantly that Feng Xiao, as a mere Martial King, could not possibly survive the full, unmitigated wrath of a five-colored strike.

A dozen ancient, gray-haired elders of the Yao Clan, all possessing the terrifying might of Half-Step Martial Emperors, erupted from the grandstands. They soared into the air, their combined, overwhelming Flame Qi forming a massive, incredibly dense canopy of fire above Feng Xiao’s sector.

The five-colored lightning crashed into the elders’ shield. The impact was deafening, a sound that shattered the eardrums of the weaker spectators. The elders groaned, their faces straining as they desperately channeled their Battle Auras to deflect the catastrophic, heaven-sent energy, dispersing the lightning into the surrounding mountains, which instantly exploded into highly active volcanoes.

When the blinding light finally faded, and the smoke cleared, Feng Xiao stood entirely unharmed before his plain iron cauldron.

He reached inside and pulled out the prize.

It was a medicinal pellet that did not simply glow; it radiated a profound, physical halo of five distinct colors. The ‘Nine-Revolutions Soul-Restoring Pellet’. A perfect, flawless, Five-Colored Seventh-Tier pill.

The silence that followed was absolute.

Hun Ye dropped to his knees, his three-colored pill suddenly looking like a piece of worthless mud in his hands. Gu Ming stared at Feng Xiao, his aloof, arrogant facade completely, utterly shattered, his mind unable to process the sheer, impossible gap in their abilities. Li Wei simply collapsed, his golden flame extinguishing in despair.

The face-slapping was complete. The unknown vagrant from Pill Valley had not just beaten the Ancient Clans and the Imperial Academy; he had thoroughly, undeniably humiliated them, establishing himself as the absolute, undisputed pinnacle of the younger generation.

Inside the luxurious VIP pavilion, the reaction was equally stunned.

Imperial Consort Xian’s jade cup shattered in her hand, the nectar spilling over her crimson robes. Noble Consort Shu was gripping the edge of the table so hard her knuckles were white, her massive breasts heaving erratically, her eyes wide with a mixture of profound shock and intense, calculating political hunger.

“A Five-Colored Tribulation…” Princess Huang Mei whispered, her voice trembling. “He… he is a monster. A true, unparalleled genius.”

Gu Ling sat perfectly still, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. Beneath her cold, pristine exterior, her heart was soaring. She wanted to scream in triumph, to run down to the arena and embrace him. He had done it. He had shown the entire world his absolute brilliance.

She turned her gaze slowly to the Imperial Women, ensuring her expression remained a mask of polite, objective observation.

“It seems, esteemed Consorts,” Gu Ling said softly, her crystalline voice cutting through their shock, perfectly executing her political maneuver, “that my assessment of independent talent was not entirely unfounded. A man capable of summoning five colors… he is indeed a strategic weapon worthy of the Emperor’s attention.”

“He is,” Noble Consort Shu agreed instantly, her eyes practically burning with political ambition as she stared at the projection of Feng Xiao. “We must make contact with him immediately. Before the Yao Clan or the Gu Clan can secure his loyalties. The Third Prince requires an alchemist of this magnitude.”

“The First Prince will offer him a duchy,” Princess Huang Hua countered, her mind already racing with schemes to recruit the prodigy.

Alaric sat in the shadows, his face an impassive mask, but internally, he was laughing a dark, thoroughly amused, villainous laugh.

The trap had snapped shut with flawless, magnificent precision.

Gu Ling believed she had successfully manipulated the Imperial Women into providing a political safety net for her beloved Feng Xiao. She thought she was saving him.

The Imperial Women believed they had discovered a supreme, independent asset that would secure their sons’ paths to the Heavenly Dragon Throne. They thought they were playing the grand game of empires.

None of them, not the pristine White Moonlight, nor the arrogant, incredibly sexy Consorts, realized that their sudden, desperate focus on the protagonist was exactly what Alaric had orchestrated. They were all looking precisely where he wanted them to look.