My Xianxia Harem Life

Riley's immortal body shook as if on the verge of collapse.

At last, a spark broke free.

A tiny fragment of his soul floated above his palm, flickering like a candle flame in a storm.

Weak, fragile, but unmistakably alive.

Riley stared at it, his lips curling into a thin smile.

"There you are… my key into their world."

He cradled the spark with seals, wrapping it in a cocoon of protections before sending it hurtling toward the chosen realm.

Somewhere out there, a suitable vessel awaited—perhaps a dying cultivator, perhaps a body too weak to resist possession.

Whatever it was, that spark of Riley would seize it, adapt to it, and begin climbing.

His gamble was set in motion.

Leaning back, Riley exhaled, feeling the cavernous emptiness within him where the fragment had been.

His soul was fragmented now but his strength has not diminished.

If this attempt would fail then he could easily afford to make another attempt like this one.

Still, his eyes shone with ruthless determination.

"If the realm master is reckless, as foolish as the last one I replaced, then perhaps this spark will lead me to a great harvest. But if not…" His smile widened, cold and sharp.

"Then I will make my own opportunities. Heaven itself won't stop me."

The void around him stilled, as though listening.

Somewhere far ahead, his fragment streaked through the darkness toward its uncertain fate.

And Riley, the eternal gambler, sat in silence—waiting, watching, and plotting what would come next.

In the end, Riley chose a vessel that gave him the least chance of being discovered.

A baby—fragile, overlooked, and with no suspicions attached.

More than that, he chose a body that was already dead, a shell abandoned by life, perfect for his soul fragment to slip into unnoticed.

"I'm sorry, master. We did all that we could… the baby has no breath," an elderly midwife said softly, her voice trembling as she lowered her head.

"No! This can't be!"

The father, a tall and strikingly handsome man with an aura that carried both authority and strength, erupted in grief.

His golden dragon-embroidered robes swayed violently as he stumbled forward, seizing the lifeless infant from the maid's hands.

His face was pale, eyes bloodshot, but his grip was firm, unwilling to let go.

"My son cannot die! He is a dragon among men, destined to inherit everything I have built! The heavens promised me this! How can I, the patriarch of the clan, fail to even protect my own bloodline?!" His voice cracked, torn between rage and despair.

He cradled the baby close to his chest, rocking back and forth as though sheer will could restore life.

His tears spilled freely, falling upon the child's pale cheeks.

His hand shook as he tapped the infant's back again and again, begging, praying, pleading for a response.

But there was only silence.

A full minute passed. Then two. Then five. The room grew heavy with grief.

The midwives wept quietly, servants bowed their heads, and even the old family physician sighed in regret.

The patriarch's shoulders slumped, his once-proud figure reduced to a broken silhouette.

And then—

"Waaaaahhhh!"

A sharp, piercing cry shattered the silence.

The baby's chest heaved, his tiny lungs filling with breath as his body jerked to life.

His fists clenched, his legs kicked with sudden vigor, and the once-still corpse now flailed with undeniable vitality.

The cry grew louder, rawer, reverberating through the chamber like the roar of a young dragon testing its voice for the first time.

"Miracle!" one of the midwives gasped, falling to her knees, tears streaming down her face.

"The heavens have blessed us!" another servant cried out, clasping her hands as though in prayer.

The patriarch froze in disbelief, his tear-stained face lifting slowly.

His hands, trembling, pulled the baby closer, staring at the crimson flush returning to the infant's cheeks, the glitter of life now burning in his once-glassy eyes.

And then he laughed—wild, unrestrained, joyous laughter that shook his entire frame. "He lives! My son lives! The heavens have returned him to me!" He lifted the child high toward the ceiling, his voice ringing with pride.

"Remember this day! My son was dead and yet lives again! Truly, he is no ordinary child! He is chosen—destined for greatness!"

The chamber erupted in cheers and tears, attendants hailing the newborn as a divine gift, a child blessed by fate itself.

Some whispered of heavenly intervention, others of ancestral spirits watching over the clan.

But none of them saw the truth.

Deep within the infant's dark eyes, for the briefest of moments, a strange flicker stirred—ancient, calculating, and cold.

Behind the wailing of a newborn hid a presence that did not belong, a consciousness both foreign and familiar.

Riley had arrived.

He lay still within the infant's fragile body, listening to the chaos around him, feeling the unfamiliar warmth of a father's embrace, the dampness of tears soaking into the swaddling cloth. His mind was calm, analytical, drinking in every sensation.

"So this… is what it feels like to be born," he thought. The soul fragment had successfully anchored itself, disguising his presence as nothing more than a miracle.

"A dead child revived. No one will ever suspect…"

As the patriarch pressed a kiss to his son's forehead, Riley's lips curled into the faintest, unseen smirk.

"This life… will be mine."

With that done, Riley exhaled deeply, letting the tension and fatigue in his body slowly dissolve.

The heavy burden of his recent efforts—the expenditure of his immortal essence, the careful deployment of soul fragments, and the countless calculations he had made—felt momentarily lighter.

He stretched his arms, feeling the raw energy of his realm pulse beneath his feet, a constant reminder of the dominion he held.

He then resumed the flow of time within his domain, allowing it to stretch and expand once more.

The frozen moments he had commanded to halt earlier now resumed their dance of motion and life.

Creatures of the realm stirred, the air shimmered with vitality, and the energies he had drawn upon began to weave themselves back into the fabric of existence.

Though he could stop time inside his world, the multiverse beyond continued unabated.

Stars burned, realms collided, and countless battles raged—all beyond his control.

His power was absolute within his borders, yet outside them, the vast infinity remained untouchable.

Riley stood tall, letting the awareness of his position wash over him.

He allowed himself a moment to simply observe—every mountain, river, and sentinel in his realm perfectly still now moving with life once more.

It was a sensation unlike any other: the quiet satisfaction of absolute control tempered by the humbling knowledge that beyond his walls, the cosmos marched on independently.

A small, self-assured smile curved his lips. Compared to the ancient one he had replaced, his progress was extraordinary.

Every calculated risk, every drop of immortal blood spent, every fragment of knowledge uncovered in the void had placed him leagues ahead.

He had learned more in this short span than the ancient one could in countless millennia, and he had done so while barely scratching the surface of the infinite possibilities that stretched beyond his grasp.

Riley's gaze turned inward, analyzing the threads of strategy he had already set in motion.

Clones deployed to mark potential realms, fragments of his soul navigating unknown territories, contingencies prepared for both success and failure—he had laid a network of influence that would continue to expand long after he turned his attention elsewhere.

Each step he had taken now promised exponential returns in the future.

"Yes," he murmured, his voice low and steady, resonating with unshakable confidence, "this is a great start for me."

He lifted his hands, letting the golden light of his immortal essence swirl and dance across his fingertips.

It was not merely a display of power—it was a reminder, a warning even to himself, of what he had achieved and what he was capable of.

The universe beyond might remain untouchable for now, but Riley knew it was only a matter of time before his reach extended further.

"And soon," he whispered to no one in particular, "I will see just how far I can push it."

Even as he stood there, at the center of his growing domain, his mind churned with possibilities—new techniques to master, new threats to scout, new gambits to play across the multiverse.

He felt the thrill of absolute potential—the intoxicating certainty that every calculated move he made now could ripple across infinite realms.

Riley smiled again, more broadly this time, as a spark of ruthless ambition lit in his eyes.

For all the challenges ahead, all the dangers lurking in distant corners of reality, he knew one thing with absolute clarity: he was already far ahead of anyone who could oppose him, and he would not stop until every advantage had been claimed.

Days passed, and Riley savored every moment with his wives, reveling in the laughter, warmth, and intimacy they shared.

Each day brought new joys, playful moments, and deepening bonds, until finally, Ruby decided it was her turn to make her move.