My Xianxia Harem Life

Chapter 344: Chapter 344 Magic

Riley stood up and retrieved a fresh set of clothes from the nearby cabinet.

As always, he chose his familiar black robes, ignoring the official sect uniform folded neatly beside them.

The standard garb, with its ornate insignia and bright colors, felt too loud—too declaring—for someone like him.

His usual attire was plain, but it fit him perfectly, both in style and spirit.

Blending in was part of the plan.

Until he deemed himself strong enough to face the world without hesitation, it was better to remain low-key—unseen, unnoticed.

There was no need to draw attention before he was ready to rise.

”Based on my understanding of this world’s cultivation system... I should be in the Essence Soul Reflection realm by now—or at the very least, my strength should rival cultivators at that level,” Riley mused.

He went out of the room and was now standing at the edge of a cliff overlooking the mist-shrouded valley beneath the sect grounds.

His robes fluttered slightly in the wind, the thin spiritual threads woven into the fabric shimmering faintly under the night sky.

The ancient immortal treasure he had sought out had detailed the stages of ascension with remarkable clarity.

The path of cultivation in this world unfolded as follows:

Mortal Meridian Awakening – the first step, where one awakens the dormant channels of qi within the body. Luminescent Spirit Vein – refining and expanding those channels into luminous conduits for spiritual energy. Core Heart Harmony – forming the core of one’s essence and harmonizing body, mind, and spirit. Essence Soul Reflection – the cultivator’s soul becomes a mirror, reflecting heaven and earth, strengthening the spirit body. Heavenly Tribulation Transcendence – where the heavens themselves test one’s worth through thunder and fire. Dao Searching Realm – the cultivator begins to comprehend the laws of existence, forging a unique Dao. Sovereign Domain Creation – manifesting a personal domain of power and intent, a world within the world. Void Breath Assimilation – merging with the essence of the void, breathing in the silence between creation. Primordial Dao Fragment – wielding fragments of the original Dao, stepping into true immortality. Apex Immortal Zenith – the final realm spoken of in hushed tones, where one walks as a sovereign among sovereigns, a being revered by time itself.

Riley’s gaze grew distant as he considered how far he had come—and how much further he had to go.

The essence within his body pulsed gently, resonating with the world around him.

He was stronger now, more aware, more monstrous.

But strength was relative in a world where mountains could be shattered with a thought and time itself could be bent by will.

”Still,” he muttered, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his lips, ”this isn’t nearly enough.”

He turned his eyes toward the east, where the sun rose behind the peaks.

Somewhere out there—possibly meditating atop some ancient cultivation mountain.

His master. Adam.

If the records Riley had uncovered were accurate, Adam had long since stepped into the Primordial Dao Fragment realm.

At that level, one could extend life for a million years, rewrite natural laws, and even touch the edges of true omniscience.

But now, that didn’t matter. He knew soon enough he’d catch up and beat everybody else in this world.

”I guess I’ve got a lot of catching up to do,” Riley said aloud, voice firm despite the vast gulf between them.

He clenched his fists, feeling the surge of energy ripple through his meridians.

He would cultivate in silence. Rise without announcement.

And when the time came, he would ascend, not as a shadow of his master Adam... but as a force of his own.

Until then, the old fogeys in the sect—some of whom had lived for thousands of years—would be his stepping stones.

Riley smiled once more, this time with quiet conviction.

”Time to get things done,” Riley muttered, slipping out of the sect without a single soul noticing.

His movements were silent, calculated—every step a shadow.

The night wind greeted him as he rose into the skies, metallic wings unfurling with a soft hum.

Each feather glinted like forged silver, the product of years of tinkering and refinement.

His body was clad in the same alloyed suit, sleek yet resilient, every inch molded to fit him perfectly.

This was no ordinary armor. It was a manifestation of his will and ingenuity, born from an immortal treasure he had acquired long ago.

The stone’s true form was formless—it could become anything its master envisioned.

Most would have squandered its potential, but Riley had remade it into a weapon, a shield, and a vessel of freedom.

To the world, it was a mere rumor, an artifact lost to time.

To Riley, it was his ace, a tool that would let him roam unchecked in a realm where even old monsters tread carefully.

As he soared higher, he withdrew a jade slip and let his consciousness seep into it.

Streams of information flickered before his eyes—the names of sects, clans, and kingdoms, their alliances, rivalries, and wealth.

The immortal world was vast, but only a handful truly held sway. Riley had no interest in bowing to them.

He sought power, resources, and strength, and the fastest path was painted in blood.

”Resources first,” he whispered to himself. ”And the easiest way is to take what others already hoard.” His lips curved into a smile, cold and sharp.

He already had a plan. Noble sects were out of his list.

But the darker ones—the evil sects?

They preyed on the weak, hoarded forbidden treasures, and made enemies without number.

No one would shed tears if they vanished overnight. In fact, most would be relieved.

”I should go to the evil sects first then,” Riley decided, eyes narrowing as his wings beat once, twice, propelling him forward.

He already had a target in mind, one whispered of in fear, a sect that thrived on slaughter.

Its vaults would be rich, its defenses cruel, but Riley was not afraid.

Instead, he relished the thought. ”Let’s see how evil they really are.”

Riley arrived after an hour of flight, his metallic wings folding in as he hovered above the sect.

From this height, the stench of corruption already reached him—thick, cloying, and unmistakable.

The entire compound was drowning in an atmosphere of decadence.

Even at this late hour, the place pulsed with life, not from cultivation or study, but from debauchery.

Lewd cries filled the night, echoing across the mountainside—moans, screams, and guttural laughter blending into a chorus of sin.

The sect had long since abandoned any sense of discipline, existing only as a hive of lust and cruelty.

This was the den Riley had chosen to burn first.

Among the powers of the immortal world, it was one of the weakest, its so-called ”sect master” no more than a Heavenly Tribulation Transcendence cultivator.

Weak in the grand scheme, but still rich with resources stolen from the innocent.

Perfect prey.

”Time to test my might,” Riley murmured, his eyes glinting with cold anticipation.

The wings at his back flared once before retracting entirely, leaving only the silver sheen of his armor.

His body tilted forward, and he descended like a spear cast from the heavens.

The night split apart.

”Bang!”

The ground erupted as Riley slammed into the sect’s heart.

The earth quaked under the force, shockwaves blasting outward in every direction.

Stone tiles shattered, buildings crumbled, and disciples were flung from their beds of indulgence like ragdolls.

The explosion tore through the sect’s foundation, announcing his arrival with violence that could not be ignored.

Screams followed.

Men and women, caught mid-act, stumbled out half-dressed, their faces pale with horror.

Elders who had been lost in their own depravity shot out of their chambers, robes disheveled, their eyes blazing with confusion and rage.

The once-decadent cries of pleasure had turned into a cacophony of terror.

”Who dares?!” one elder roared, his aura bursting forth in a wave of corrupted spiritual energy.

His voice cracked halfway, betraying his panic.

Riley straightened from the crater he had carved, dust rolling off his metallic armor like smoke.

His eyes, sharp and merciless, swept across the scattering figures.

The sight of them—these parasites who preyed on the weak—only steeled his resolve.

”I do,” he answered simply. His voice carried not as a shout, but as a cold decree that cut through the noise.

Dozens of disciples rushed forward in blind desperation, spiritual weapons flashing under the moonlight.

Riley raised a single hand, and the immortal stone reshaped itself instantly, forming a blade that gleamed with otherworldly light. He slashed once.

The courtyard turned into a storm of blood.

Walls collapsed further as spiritual formations tried to activate, but his earlier impact had fractured their cores.

Protective arrays sputtered and failed, leaving the sect exposed to the night sky.

Riley’s lips curled faintly beneath his helm. ”Pathetic. This won’t even be a warm-up.”

With that, he stepped forward, every movement precise, deliberate, and unstoppable.

Behind him, flames began to spread from the shattered structures, lighting the night with an ominous glow.

The evil sect, so loud in its indulgence moments ago, now echoed with the cries of the damned.