My Xianxia Harem Life

Chapter 395: Chapter 395 Nature

Time moved quickly—slipping through the fingers like water—and for Riley and his family, the years passed in the same effortless way.

Twenty years went by almost without notice, carried away by peaceful days, lively nights, and a home filled with warmth.

In that time, every one of Riley’s wives had given birth to exactly one child.

One child each—perfectly balanced, perfectly spaced, perfectly harmonious.

None of the women wished to break that unspoken pattern, and Riley, amused and easygoing as always where his family was concerned, simply accepted it.

Their home became filled with bright voices, little feet pattering through the halls, and the distinct personalities of each child blooming beautifully.

Some were calm and scholarly, others mischievous and reckless, still others fiercely competitive or naturally gifted.

Yet all of them carried traces of their parents’ brilliance—sharp minds, strong cores, and eyes that held both pride and potential.

Throughout those years, Riley never added more wives to his household.

It wasn’t because he had grown disinterested or because romance no longer crossed his mind.

Rather, the world had grown far too aware of who he truly was.

His identity as the Ash Maker—the man who turned mountains to dust and enemies to whispers—had spread across continents.

His name traveled faster than migrating beasts, his reputation heavier than any divine artifact.

Women admired him, yes.

They envied his wives, yes. But admiration was different from courage.

To stand beside the Ash Maker, to sleep under the same roof as him, required a heart far stronger than most possessed.

Even noble ladies and powerful cultivator daughters felt their legs weaken when they imagined becoming part of his household.

So the number of wives remained unchanged—and Riley found he didn’t mind at all.

He had a complete family, a peaceful home, and more love than he ever expected to receive in this chaotic world.

On this particular day, Riley stood in the courtyard, hands folded behind his back as he watched his children train under the rising sun.

The courtyard stretched wide, surrounded by jade pillars and ancient peach trees, their blossoms drifting like pink snow.

The air hummed with spiritual energy as the children sparred, meditated, and practiced their sword forms.

Karina, Iris’s daughter, moved with elegance and deadly precision, her blade cutting through the air in graceful arcs.

Riley watched all of this with a faint, deeply satisfied smile.

Moments like these—quiet, heartwarming, full of life—were far more precious to him than slaughter or reputation.

He had fought countless battles, crushed countless enemies, and destroyed countless threats, but none of it compared to the simple joy of watching his children grow strong, confident, and happy.

The legendary Ash Maker stood there silently, arms crossed, letting the peaceful sounds of his family wash over him.

”Ding!”

A quick flash of steel cut through the warm morning air, the sound of wind whistling around it sharp enough to make even birds take flight.

Griffin barely had time to react before a figure appeared behind him, silent and impossibly fast.

His heart skipped a beat, and his eyes widened as he realized the inevitable—Karina had him.

Her sword pressed lightly against his neck, the tip barely grazing his skin as if to remind him of her dominance rather than harm him.

She tapped it once, deliberately, the metallic sound sharp in the quiet courtyard.

Thud!

Griffin’s practice sword slipped from his hand, clattering against the stone floor.

He stumbled forward slightly, the sting of defeat mixing with awe and frustration.

”Yield, brother,” Karina said calmly, her voice steady and almost melodic, though tinged with amusement.

She stood tall, her posture perfect, her eyes calm and unyielding.

”Fine,” Griffin muttered, his shoulders slumping. ”I don’t want to spar with you anymore, Karina. You always win. There’s... there’s no point.” His voice was reluctant, tinged with disbelief.

Karina’s lips curved into a teasing smile.

”Really? Wasn’t you the one asking for this duel in the first place, Griffin?” she said, tilting her head ever so slightly, the sunlight catching on her hair.

Griffin groaned, running a hand over his face. ”Aaahhhh... I just... I can’t believe the gap between us is so huge...” His voice faltered, and his shoulders slumped further.

He shook his head, still stunned, unable to wrap his mind around how easily he had been bested.

Every strike he thought might land was deftly countered, parried, or avoided entirely.

He had imagined at least one solid hit, maybe even a moment where he could gain the upper hand—but no. Karina had moved with precision, grace, and a terrifying level of control.

Every step, every swing, every motion had been calculated. He hadn’t even come close to touching her.

Griffin exhaled heavily, feeling the frustration and awe mingle inside him.

His chest heaved as he glanced at her, this unstoppable force that was also his sister, his equal in blood yet leagues above him in skill.

”You really are... amazing,” he said finally, voice quiet, almost reverent. ”I don’t know how you make it look so effortless.”

Karina chuckled softly, lowering her sword and resting it against her shoulder. ”Effortless?” she said, shaking her head playfully. ”Maybe. But you’re improving, Griffin. One day, you’ll reach me. Keep training.”

Griffin let out a half-hearted groan but couldn’t help the faint smile that tugged at his lips.

He knew she was right. One day... maybe.

For now, though, he could only pick up his fallen sword and bow his head in quiet respect, humbled yet determined to close the gap.

The courtyard was silent again, save for the soft rustling of leaves and the distant chirping of birds, as the siblings stood there—one victorious, calm and composed; the other humbled, frustrated, but more determined than ever.

As Riley watched his children spar in the courtyard earlier that day, a small, satisfied smile tugged at his lips.

The hierarchy of strength among them was clear, but he had no quarrels with it.

Not every child could be equal in power—nor should they be.

Each of them had their own unique gifts, their own inclinations, and their own destinies to forge.

Some were naturally gifted in cultivation, others possessed remarkable talent in strategy, and a few had affinities for mystical arts that far surpassed what he could teach them.

It was this diversity that filled Riley with pride.

To him, it wasn’t a matter of who was strongest—it was about nurturing each of them to embrace their own strengths and grow confident in their individuality.

Life itself posed little danger or limitation for his children.

With his cultivation, vast resources, and countless elixirs at his disposal, he could easily grant them near-unlimited lifespans.

True immortality, in its absolute sense, might remain beyond reach, but Riley had ways to extend life indefinitely.

Potions, preservation techniques, and powerful artifacts—all could ensure that his children would live long enough to witness centuries, perhaps even millennia, of growth, adventure, and prosperity if they so desired.

This knowledge brought him a quiet satisfaction, knowing that the next generations of his family would rarely be threatened by the passage of time.

That evening, the family gathered for a rare but deeply cherished occasion—a full dinner with all members present.

The large dining hall was bathed in the warm glow of golden lanterns, the light dancing off polished jade carvings and intricate tapestries depicting the family’s victories and journeys.

Though cultivation demanded long hours, sometimes days without rest, they maintained a tradition of gathering at least once a month to share a meal.

Even the busiest among them made the effort to be present, recognizing that family bonds were as important as personal strength.

As the family settled into their seats, Riley’s eyes roamed over the scene before him.

His children were laughing and teasing one another, animatedly recounting the day’s victories and minor failures.

His wives sat together, sharing subtle smiles and glances that conveyed both pride and quiet affection, their presence grounding him more than any cultivation technique ever could.

Riley felt a profound warmth welling in his chest.

The world beyond their walls—the countless sects, rival clans, and the dangers of the immortal realm—mattered little when set against the life he had built here.

This room, filled with laughter, light, and love, was more valuable than any artifact, technique, or legend.

”Let’s eat,” Riley announced warmly, raising a hand in a gesture that drew the family’s attention.

Instantly, the room came alive with a chorus of voices.

Plates were passed, chopsticks clinked, and the rich aroma of prepared dishes filled the air.

Stories and jokes flowed freely, some recounting amusing missteps in training, others teasing each other over moments of pride or blunders made earlier in the day.

Between bites and laughter, Riley found himself reflecting on how far his family had come.

Twenty years had passed in the blink of an eye.

Each child had grown strong, skilled, and full of life, and each wife had contributed in her own way to the harmony and happiness of their home.

He felt a sense of quiet gratitude—not just for the family they had become, but for the peace they had carved out in a chaotic world.

As conversation flowed and the evening grew warmer with laughter and companionship, Riley felt a rare, unshakable peace settle over him.

His heart was light, his mind free from worry, and his spirit content.

In the immortal realm, where power, danger, and ambition often ruled, he had found something far more precious—a family united not just by blood, but by love, trust, and shared joy.

For Riley, nothing could compare to this: the sound of his children’s laughter, the warm smiles of his wives, and the comforting sense that, in this room, surrounded by the people he cherished most, he had truly found happiness in its purest and most enduring form.