Deviant: No Longer Human

"Huh?"

Wang Xiao blinked.

Because suddenly… some uninvited guests showed up.

One of them was Sakura, the hyperactive hacker girl who spent half her time competing with Freya and the other half leaking national secrets for the Illuminati. Sakura wasn't just dangerous—she was unhinged, like a tsundere AI on Adderall.

But what the fuck was she doing here?

She worked for Luna, not for him.

Then the truth came out like a soap opera punchline—She was Isabelle's daughter.

Yup. The prodigy hacker. The one with a different surname. That Sakura. Isabelle's kid.

Apparently, Isabelle had invited her here to "introduce her to someone important."

Sakura nearly died from secondhand shame.

"Introduce?? I've already been SLAPPED by this man, STRADDLED this man, and SNIFFED his goddamn musk! What kind of introduction are we doing here, mother?!"

Meanwhile, Isabella, looking all noble and composed, just stood there like a mother proudly sending her daughter off to be corrupted by destiny.

She had no regrets. If anything, she thought it was better that Wang Xiao already broke her daughter in. Saved time. Better than her dating some weakling with a blog.

What she didn't expect?

Was for Wang Xiao to have already conquered her daughter like a side quest in a RPG.

And so, the universe continued to spiral—where women of power, science, and royalty all seemed to orbit one man. Not because he was good.

But because the gods were bored. And this story? Wasn't even halfway done.

Next came Elyria.

And when we say came—we mean descended from the heavens like she was about to crusade against sin itself.

Clad in glimmering white armor, she looked like some divine knight who moonlighted as the cover model for Holy MILFs Monthly. Her silver hair glistened. Her gaze could cut a lesser man's ego in half.

She stepped onto the scene like she was about to challenge Wang Xiao.

Turns out?

She was.

As per Aurora's cryptic princess-of-chaos briefing: "She won't submit unless you show her your strength. Just saving her from an eternal time loop with Maliketh isn't enough."

Because apparently dragging her out of a cosmic groundhog day of suffering didn't qualify as foreplay.

So Wang Xiao stood up. Said nothing. Did nothing fancy.

Just looked at her.

And Elyria?

She. Just. Folded.

Not emotionally. Physically.

The divine war empress who once slapped star-beasts in the face, dropped to her knees with a pale face and trembling thighs. The rest of the girls stared, confused. All they saw was a proud warrior kneel like her legs forgot how to be legs.

Only those sensitive to Aether felt it—like a neutron star of domination just rolled through the room—and they pitied her.

This wasn't seduction.

This was domination physics.

Elyria didn't even pretend to resist. She unclipped her armor like it was a burden. Soft, milky shoulders peeked out beneath, glowing like a sacrificial goddess in heat. Even the girls watching—supposed rivals—couldn't help but whisper internally:

"...Good skin."

She slid into the pool, divine dignity in every movement, drifting silently toward Aurora—who, of course, was already pressed against Wang Xiao like an overly affectionate wife.

Meanwhile, Yue, hiding just a little away, whispered like she was watching a bad soap opera:

"Dad's just showing off..."

She pouted. Her birthday had been hijacked. Again.

But even Yue knew what this was.

This wasn't a party.

This was a statement.

One pool. Mortal women. Divine warlords. Scientists. Elites. All naked, all equal. All soaking in the same water.. All reminded of one thing:

No matter who you are, no matter how high your pedestal—

—you strip, you soak, and you submit in the house of God.

Elyria hadn't stripped out of lust. She stripped because she understood. She was no longer a proud empress of time-warped battlefields—she was just another woman beneath the throne.

And then Wang Xiao asked, quite casually:

"What about Athene and Yuriko?"

Aurora paused. Her smile vanished.

"They said they'd come..."

Elyria answered instead, her voice like a divine blade:

"Yuriko won't show up until you do something about her 1000th reincarnation. As for Athene... she said she doesn't like 'events like this,' she's being a prideful whore, I warned her..."

Translation: she's too proud to sit in a tub with other women. She wants a private meeting. Alone. With no competition.

Her eyes swept across the water.

All the women—regardless of their backgrounds—felt it. A blunt slap of judgment without even being touched.

Elyria wasn't just blunt. She was a walking war goddess in a bikini.

"Oh…" Wang Xiao murmured, placing his hand on Elyria's shoulder.

She flinched—visibly. That cold, battle-hardened expression cracked for a second, replaced by a tiny blush of divine embarrassment, like a war goddess caught watching hentai.

But of course, the moment she realized her face had twitched—bam! Cold mode re-engaged.

He wasn't even trying to tease her. His hand just accidentally slid over her soft, porcelain arm, then brushed close to her barely-covered breast. The cloth between her and disaster was thinner than the plotline of a bad romance novel.

Shiver.

Oh yeah, she felt that.

The rest of the girls? Watching like they were front row at a divine slap battle. They didn't even know who this Athene was—but whoever she was, she just fucked up. Because Wang Xiao looked like he was already in the mood to rearrange someone's soul over a grudge.

But Wang Xiao wasn't just being pervy.

No.

He was thinking.

Yuriko's case was complicated—she wasn't some ordinary woman he could bed and tame. She was the 999th reincarnation of a spell so insane, even he had to pause and process.

The first Yuriko had cast it to cheat the system—since becoming Transcendent by normal cultivation meant bashing your head against the cosmic ceiling forever. So she chose a loophole: 1000 reincarnations, stacking power like a player abusing save points.

Each version stronger. Each death closer to godhood.

Now? This 999th Yuriko was already different from the ones Aurora and co. knew. She had memories, yes, but personality-wise? Totally new bitch.

Wang Xiao faced three choices:

- Let her complete her 1,000th rebirth and gain a freakishly overpowered ally.

- Absorb her mid-process and steal the loot drop for himself.

- Or stop the cycle now and lock this version in forever.

Classic dilemma: power, loyalty, or total domination.

But Yuriko wasn't the headache.

Athene was.

That proud, pompous goddess who sent an RSVP to a nude divine reunion and ghosted. And unlike Yuriko, Athene wasn't trying to ascend—she just didn't want to get her divine ass in the same bathwater as the "common sluts," as she'd probably call them.

"She plans to fight you to death," Elyria said calmly, as if discussing the weather.

Because of course she did.

She'd rather die than strip. And Wang Xiao wasn't sure whether to laugh, admire her pride, or just schedule her funeral.

"Foolish…" Aurora scoffed like she was already filling out the death certificate. She turned to Wang Xiao, her lips pressed into that dangerous thin line.

"Kill her if she doesn't know what's good for her."

And that was it.

No mercy. No softness.

Because weakness, at this moment? Unacceptable. With another Transcendent already trying to hunt him down, any unresolved thread—any fragile alliance—was a loaded gun pointed at his back.

Wang Xiao came to this party not just to show dominance. He came to wrap up loose ends, assert godhood, and casually destroy hearts. Then, maybe—*maybe*—fuck the women senseless.

But not now.

Because doing it right now? That would lower his status. And status mattered.

So he stood.

And left.

Just like that.

And suddenly—the pressure vanished.

Every woman, from battle-hardened MILFs to shy divine daughters, let out a breath like they'd been holding their bladder for hours.

Even his sisters—those who grew up clinging to his robes—felt it.

He wasn't human anymore.

He had become something unreachable. Like a star—shining, distant, growing further with every passing moment. No matter how much they stretched, they couldn't touch him.

And somehow, it hurt.

Still, life moved.

The women mingled. Talked. Some flirted. Some judged. Eveline's daughters, who hadn't even unpacked their trauma, started bonding with others.

No apologies were given.

Why would they?

Wang Xiao forgave them. And that was all that mattered.

The rest? Background noise.

The ego of these women was sky-high. Only Wang Xiao could shrink it.

Still, the younger ones—except Selene and Ji Xuehong—fit in well. And Elyria? She observed them like an ancient great aunt evaluating her nieces.

Along with Aurora, she had taken on the quiet role of senior war wife. The type who didn't smile often, but when she did, you'd assume someone died.