My Xianxia Harem Life

Chapter 363: Chapter 363 Dashboard

The trip lasted only ten breaths before Riley was already hammering on the gate of a courtyard.

His movements were sharp, filled with killing intent that seemed to shake the air itself.

The courtyard was situated deep within the Inner Disciples’ quarters, where disturbances were rare.

So when the sound of the impact echoed like thunder, it instantly drew the attention of many.

Within moments, streaks of light flashed across the sky as disciples flew over from every direction.

Curious faces peeked from rooftops and windows, all eager to see who dared make such a ruckus in the inner court.

”Bang!”

The courtyard’s defensive formation flared to life, its runes pulsing faintly as if startled awake.

The next strike sent visible cracks crawling across the shimmering barrier, like veins of light spreading through glass.

”Open up!” Riley’s voice roared across the courtyard, vibrating with power and fury.

”I know you’ve got my servants in there! Don’t test my patience. Open this turtle shell before I break it apart myself!”

The watching disciples gasped.

They could feel the spiritual pressure radiating from him — steady, violent, and unrestrained.

”What the hell is happening?” someone whispered.

”Wait... isn’t that the new guy? The one who married the fairy Selena?”

”Yeah! And that courtyard—” another muttered, eyes widening, ”—belongs to Inner Disciple Alan! Elder Harren’s son!”

Excitement rippled through the crowd.

”This is bad. If Alan really took his servants, this is going to turn ugly fast.”

”Heh, ugly? More like entertaining. I’ve wanted to see Alan get knocked off his pedestal for a while.”

”Shhh! Don’t let him hear you say that!”

Meanwhile, Riley’s patience had already worn thin.

His aura swelled again, pressing down on the crowd like a storm about to break.

The cracks in the defensive formation deepened with a sharp noise that made several onlookers flinch.

Inside the courtyard, faint movements could be heard — hurried footsteps, muffled voices, the unmistakable sound of panic. Riley’s eyes turned cold.

”Still not coming out?” he muttered darkly, his hand beginning to glow with faint golden light. ”Fine. Let’s see how long your turtle shell lasts.”

The disciples watching held their breaths. Some backed away in fear, while others leaned in, eyes gleaming with anticipation.

It had been a long time since anything this exciting happened within the sect’s inner grounds.

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

Riley’s fist slammed against the courtyard’s barrier again, the sound echoing like thunder across the inner disciples’ grounds.

Each blow caused the defensive formation to ripple violently, its runes flickering and warping under the immense pressure.

Cracks shimmered across the surface, spreading like a web of light before being quickly reabsorbed as the formation stabilized again a breath later.

But Riley wasn’t fooled.

He knew the barrier’s strength perfectly well — he could have obliterated it with a single tap of his finger if he wished.

Yet, he held back.

This was not the time to reveal his true strength, not when half the sect was watching.

And especially not when he could feel his master’s divine sense locked onto him from afar.

He’s watching closely today, Riley thought, lips curling into a faint smirk. Let’s give him a show.

The crowd around him had grown into dozens, then hundreds.

Disciples filled the air and the nearby roofs, whispering among themselves.

The tension in the air was thick, and everyone wanted to see what would happen next.

Inside the courtyard, however, panic had already broken out.

Five men stood in the center of the yard, faces pale as death. Alan, the one leading them, was pacing back and forth like a trapped beast.

”Damn it!” he hissed. ”How the hell did he find us? We made sure no one saw our faces when we grabbed those women!”

One of the men snapped back in frustration, ”Clearly not careful enough! What now, Alan? He’s right outside! That’s Riley—the lunatic who’s not afraid to offend other elder disciples like him!”

Alan turned to him, eyes burning with irritation. ”Shut up! I know who he is!”

But the others weren’t done.

”This is all your fault!” another disciple roared, pointing a trembling finger at Alan.

”If you hadn’t been thinking with your damn cock, none of this would’ve happened!”

A third chimed in, voice full of panic.

”We could’ve just gone down to the mortal cities! Paid some girls to have fun—simple, easy! But no, you had to show off, didn’t you? You wanted to ’taste the servants of a new disciple.’ Well, congratulations, Alan—you’ve doomed us all!”

The air inside the courtyard was thick with anger and fear.

Four of the disciples were now glaring daggers at Alan, their resentment almost tangible.

Alan’s jaw tightened; he wanted to lash out, to remind them who he was—the son of Elder Harren, a man whose name alone commanded respect within the sect.

But even that title felt flimsy now.

Outside, another punch shook the formation, this time louder and heavier.

Dust fell from the eaves of the courtyard roofs as the barrier flashed an angry red.

Riley stood tall before it, one hand resting casually behind his back, the other clenched into a glowing fist.

His expression was calm, but his eyes burned cold with restrained fury.

”Last warning,” he said, his voice like rolling thunder. ”Open this gate—or I’ll tear down every wall you’re hiding behind.”

The disciples in the crowd could feel the killing intent beneath his words.

Some stepped back instinctively. Others watched with wide eyes, unable to look away.

Inside, Alan’s heart sank. His mind raced for a way out, but every option led to disaster.

His father’s status might protect him later—but right now, there was no one to save him from the man waiting outside.

”Alan...” one of his companions whispered, voice shaking. ”He’s going to break through any second. What are we going to do?”

Alan swallowed hard, his lips curling into a snarl as he tried to hold onto his pride.

”Shut up. Let me think.”

”I know what to do now,” Alan said at last, his tone sharp and laced with suppressed fury.

”Come — we’ll meet him outside. He’s got no proof of anything. The women are hidden safely inside my treasure; there’s no way he can find them. And if all else fails—” he smirked, lifting his chin arrogantly, ”—what’s he going to do to me? I’m the son of a sect elder. I’d like to see him try.”

The others exchanged uneasy glances, but none dared oppose him. Alan’s confidence, though brittle, carried the weight of his background — and that alone made them cling to it like drowning men.

Still, beneath that arrogance, Alan’s heart was pounding.

He wasn’t just angry — he was humiliated.

Selena had been the woman he adored for years, the one he imagined one day standing beside him as his cultivation partner.

But she had chosen Riley instead, that upstart mortal man who somehow rose through the ranks overnight.

The shame had festered in him, twisting into hatred.

Taking Riley’s servants had been petty revenge — a way to wound the man who had stolen what he wanted most.

Now, however, that same act had come back to haunt him.

”Come,” Alan snapped again, waving his hand.

The defensive formation around the courtyard flickered, the glowing runes collapsing into motes of light that faded into the air.

The barrier was gone. The path to Riley was open.

The five men stepped out together, trying to look composed.

Dozens of eyes followed their emergence from above — inner disciples perched on rooftops, hanging mid-air with arms crossed, whispering eagerly among themselves.

”There he is.”

”Alan! He’s actually facing him directly!”

”This is going to end badly... or beautifully.”

Alan squared his shoulders and glared at Riley, his face twisted with anger and pride.

”Who the hell do you think you are?!” he barked, his voice echoing across the courtyard. ”Do you even understand what you’re doing right now? Barging into an Inner Disciple’s courtyard is a severe crime! The penalty for that alone is enough to have your cultivation base crippled!”

He took a step forward, sneering. ”You think you can throw baseless accusations around and get away with it? Don’t overestimate yourself, Riley. You’re nothing in front of me!”

For a moment, silence reigned.

The watching disciples leaned forward, hungry for the next move.

Riley stood motionless, his face unreadable, eyes half-lidded as though the outburst bored him.

Then, without warning — he moved.

A flicker. A blur of black shadow.

Alan barely saw the strike. He felt a sudden impact, like the world itself had collapsed into his chest.

A cold numbness spread through his body before pain even registered.

His eyes widened in shock as he looked down — only to see a hand, Riley’s hand, thrust clean through his torso.

”Bang!”

The air exploded as the strike’s force rippled outward, kicking up dust and sending the nearest disciples stumbling back.

Alan tried to speak, but only blood came out, dark and hot, spilling down his chin.

”You... dare...” he gasped, his voice breaking as the light faded from his eyes.

His body trembled, his legs gave way — and then he fell.

The ground cracked under the impact of his lifeless body.

Silence.

The entire courtyard went dead still. Not a breath, not a whisper.

Only the faint rustling of robes in the wind and the soft drip of blood hitting stone.

The four remaining disciples stood frozen, their minds blank, hearts hammering in terror.

The arrogance and confidence they’d worn moments earlier vanished like smoke.

They couldn’t even look Riley in the eyes.

Riley slowly pulled back his hand, expression calm, as if he had merely swatted an insect.

A faint red mist lingered on his fingertips, quickly dispersing into the air.

”Proof?” he said coldly, his voice carrying effortlessly through the silence. ”I don’t need proof.”

His gaze shifted toward the remaining four men — sharp, deadly, and suffocating. ”You touched what’s mine. That alone is enough.”

The crowd, which had gathered to watch what they thought would be a confrontation of words, now trembled in disbelief.

Some disciples turned pale, realizing the sheer difference in strength. Others were exhilarated, whispering frantically.

”He... he killed Alan in one move...”

”Alan! Elder Harren’s son! Dead!”

”Oh heavens, this—this will shake the entire sect!”

Riley didn’t care. His killing intent hung heavy in the air, thick enough to choke on.

He stood over Alan’s corpse, his robes stirring in the faint breeze, looking more like a reaper than a man.