Primordial Villain with a Slave Harem

Chapter 969: Mean Fox

Blossom’s invisible form practically froze. Her hands shot down to cover her rear on instinct, ears flattening even though no one could see them. Her bushy tail stiffened, puffing out like a startled cat before curling protectively around her hips.

”M-Meanie...!” she whimpered under her breath, her voice a pitiful little squeak in the void. ”Kitsara’s a big, big meanie...”

Despite the sulky words, there was an undeniable little wag to her tail as she remembered back to those amazing days on the rooftop. Her cheeks, though hidden in the veil of stealth, were undoubtedly flushed cherry red.

Kitsara only smirked without looking back.

Blossom yelped, squeezing her tail tighter around herself as her hands stayed glued protectively over her backside.

But in just a few seconds, the ladies returned to pro mode.

A soldier rounded the corner just then, suspicion tightening his brows as he caught sight of her limping toward the secondary access gate. ”What the...?” His hand drifted toward his sword. ”You! Identify yourself. What happened?”

Before he could draw...

”[Null Rend]!”

*Schlk!* Two claws descended on him, slashing with the power of the void. No scream. No sound. Nothing but the soft crunch of a body getting utterly mauled.

Kitsara never even broke her stride. she cooed into Blossom’s mind. Blossom’s only response was a mischievous, satisfied hum.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the prison wall...

”Okay... Please, work...” Feng’s hands glowed as unstable, flickering sigils spun around her wrists. Sparks of purple, red, and green magic arced between her fingertips, as if the universe itself wasn’t quite sure what was about to happen. Her wide grin was part thrill, part anxiety.

”[Chaotic Sigil: False Alert].”

The moment her palm slammed into the dirt, a thunderous BOOM echoed high in the skies above them. Its direction and distance were out of her control, but what she had power over was the mana used to determine the size of the ’false alert.’ She injected a lot, knowing she wasn’t here to fight, so she could splurge on these moments.

A violent ripple of pure mana detonated, perfectly mimicking the signature of a large flying army appearing out of thin air.

Up on the prison walls, defensive glyphs flared like alarmed eyes snapping open. Mana-sensing wards buzzed, anti-air beams shot toward empty sky, and the entire fortress bristled... at nothing.

Feng wiped her brow, heart pounding. ”I felt greatly insulted by the fact that Serika got a fire martial artist themed class while I got ’Gremlord,’ it felt like the universe itself told me my water cultivation was so bad it wasn’t even worth recognizing... But...” Her lips turned upward into a mad grin. ”I fucking love this class.”

”I knew it was gonna be one badass class. Wait until you get more levels under your belt. You’re barely level 20 and you’re already really useful.” Quinlan replied, already stepping forward.

Feng watched his form with thankful eyes for his words of reassurance; they meant a lot to her because she knew Quinlan wouldn’t offer these words just to make her feel better about herself. He truly meant it.

Now, she allowed her mana to slowly accumulate while watching the man do his part from behind.

His hand lifted, and a crimson flare of fire surged into existence using his [Fire Creation & Manipulation] spell. This was not just any flame; it was his own signature fire, birthed from a magic stat of 221 and bolstered by the pure refinement of his Zhenwu trials. ʀã𐌽𝐎ʙЁȿ

The air itself seemed to panic, collapsing inward as the inferno swirled around his hand. He flicked his wrist and *BOOM!* A fireball of immense proportions detonated directly into the nearest watchtower, turning stone, steel, and unfortunate guards into a violent splash of molten slag.

Another flick. *BOOM!* The southern wall buckled under the force.

The sadistic grin stretched wider across his lips. ”I missed this... So. Damn. Much...” he murmured, fingers flexing with gleeful precision.

Fire magic exploded. Earth magic surged. Walls cracked. .

The fortress’s defenders went wild, screaming orders, scattering toward the wrong directions, wondering what the hell the air defenses were shooting at, or what this unholy barrage on their walls was. It seemed like a coordinated, multi-pronged assault done by a giant invading army.

Meanwhile, Kitsara limped past the final checkpoint, Blossom trailing invisibly behind. With every soldier pulled away toward the false alarms and explosions, the prison’s core grew dangerously vulnerable.

Kitsara whispered.

A grin sharper than any blade carved itself across Quinlan’s face.

With a flick of his fingers, arcane rings laced with void-black and soul-blue sigils spun into existence in front of his feet. .

”[Warp Gate].”

Lines of power tethered his existence to the ones bound under his dominion. The twins weren’t here, but Kitsara and Blossom were, who bore the same slave marks as the horrible pair of noble daughters.

Space twisted. Gravity hiccuped. With a fwoomp, Quinlan vanished from the explosion-lit treeline, only to reappear a heartbeat later inside the prison’s inner sector, right beside the sneaky duo.

Kitsara stood mid-stride, her illusion of the limping officer still holding, while Blossom jolted at his sudden appearance, tail fluffing up like an overinflated pillow.

”The detention wing should be right ahead. Blossom already sniffed out the mana signature. It’s heavily protected by defensive artifacts, but now that the garrison is busy...?”

Quinlan’s grin darkened. ”Let’s see what more they have in store for us.”

His fingers snapped. ”[Elemental Stance: Gale.]” Winds coiled around his form, legs light, ready to dash at inhuman speed. His saber pulsed eagerly at his hip.

”Time to end this.”

Like wolves in the fold, the squad melted deeper into the prison’s bowels with death, mischief, and chaos trailing in their wake.