The relentless wind sliced through the Heavenly Mountain Range like a vengeful spirit, whipping snowflakes into a frenzy that blurred the line between earth and sky. Lin Feng collapsed to his knees in a deepening drift, the frozen ground greedily absorbing the warmth of his spilling blood. His side throbbed with every ragged breath—a gaping wound from an elder's palm strike that had shattered ribs and meridians alike. In his trembling hand, he clutched the fractured jade pendant, its once-vibrant green now dulled by crimson stains. It was all that remained of his father, a relic passed down through generations of the Lin Clan, symbolizing their unyielding spirit.
Memories assaulted him like fresh blows. The dawn raid had come without warning. Black-robed disciples of the Heavenly Mountain Sect had descended like locusts, their qi-infused blades cutting through the outer defenses as if they were paper. "Traitors harboring forbidden treasures!" the lead elder had bellowed, his voice amplified by core formation realm power. Lin Feng had watched in horror as his uncles fell, their bodies crumpling under waves of spiritual pressure. His father had fought like a cornered tiger, unleashing a desperate barrage of sword qi that felled a dozen assailants before an elder's fist caved in his chest.
Lin Feng himself had charged into the fray, his Qi Condensation cultivation barely enough to scratch the outer disciples. He had slain three—throats slit in a blur of desperation—before the elder turned his gaze upon him. "A whelp dares resist?" the man sneered, unleashing a casual strike that hurled Lin Feng through the compound wall and down the icy slope. Now, miles from the smoldering ruins, death whispered its promise. His dantian was a ruined husk, spiritual energy leaking like sand from a broken hourglass. He should have perished hours ago.
But the heavens had other plans.
A low rumble shook the mountains, as if the very peaks groaned in protest. The storm clouds above twisted unnaturally, parting to reveal nine radiant pillars of light descending like divine spears. Each beam pulsed with a unique hue: glacial blue, fiery crimson, shadowy void-black, verdant emerald, stormy azure, golden solar, ethereal silver, earthen brown, and a swirling prismatic mix that defied description. The wind died abruptly, the snow hanging suspended in mid-air, as though time itself bowed to this intrusion.
From the heart of each pillar emerged a woman—no, a goddess. Their presences hit Lin Feng like a tidal wave of qi, so potent that even in his weakened state, his shattered meridians quivered in response. They stepped onto the snow without sinking, their forms ethereal yet tangible, robes woven from materials that shimmered like captured starlight or flowing silk forged in heavenly flames.
The first to approach was the one of ice and winter. Her skin was porcelain-pale, her long hair a cascade of midnight blue streaked with frost. She wore a gown of translucent azure silk that seemed to freeze the air around her edges. Her eyes, sharp as icicles, held a depth of ancient glaciers. "Leng Yue," a voice in Lin Feng's mind supplied unbidden—the Frost Sovereign, mistress of eternal cold.
Beside her materialized a figure of blazing passion. Huo Lian, the Flame Empress, her crimson gown clinging like molten lava, hair dancing like living fire. Her amber eyes smoldered with intensity, and the snow around her feet melted into steaming puddles without her even noticing.
Then came Mei Ying, the Void Maiden, cloaked in swirling shadows that absorbed light itself. Her form flickered at the edges, as if she existed in multiple planes at once, her obsidian eyes pulling at Lin Feng's soul like a black hole.
Lu Mei, the Jade Lotus, emerged in verdant green, her presence blooming like spring after winter, flowers of spiritual energy unfurling in her wake. Her gentle smile hid a core of unyielding vitality.
Feng Bao, the Storm Herald, crackled with azure lightning, her robes whipping as if caught in an invisible gale, eyes stormy and fierce.
Jin Yang, the Solar Radiant, glowed with golden warmth, banishing the cold around her, her presence like the sun at noon—blinding, life-giving.
Yin Hua, the Lunar Phantom, shimmered in silver moonlight, ethereal and elusive, her gaze holding the mysteries of the night sky.
Di Ling, the Earth Matron, stood solid as the mountains themselves, her brown robes textured like ancient stone, exuding stability and raw power.
And finally, Hong Ling, the Prismatic Weaver, a kaleidoscope of colors that shifted with every breath, her form a bridge between all elements, eyes sparkling with infinite possibilities.
They formed a perfect circle around him, their auras intertwining in a harmonious web that pressed against his failing body. Lin Feng's vision blurred, but not from blood loss—from the overwhelming majesty before him.
"You… who are you?" he rasped, forcing the words past cracked lips.
Leng Yue knelt gracefully, her touch on his forehead like a cool balm. "We are the Nine Celestial Consorts. In eons past, you were our eternal sovereign, guardian of the Heavenly Harem Realm. You sacrificed your divinity to shield us from the Great Cataclysm, scattering our souls across the Nine Heavens. We have waited through reincarnations, fragments of our power sealed until your soul awakened once more."
Huo Lian's voice joined, warm as a hearth. "The bond is unbreakable. Your blood calls to us now, in this moment of despair."
Mei Ying's tone was a whisper of shadows. "The Heavenly Mountain Sect's greed has stirred the relic within your clan's vault—the very artifact that once belonged to you. They sense its power but know not its true master."
Lin Feng's mind reeled. Flashes of impossible memories surfaced: grand palaces in the clouds, battles against cosmic horrors, nights of passion where qi merged in ecstatic dual cultivation, forging realms of power from shared ecstasy. Was this delusion? Or truth buried in his soul?
"I… I am no sovereign," he muttered. "Just a dying mortal."
"Not dying," Lu Mei said softly, her green qi flowing into him like healing vines. "Reborn."
As one, they placed their palms upon him—nine points of contact that ignited his body in a symphony of light. Agony tore through him first, his ruined meridians screaming as they were unmade and reforged. Veins of nine-colored qi snaked through his flesh, purging impurities, rebuilding his dantian into a vast, swirling vortex. Spiritual energy from the mountains rushed in, drawn inexorably to this new core.
In his sea of consciousness, the layered voices echoed again:
"The Harem Immortal Scripture awakens within you. It is the forbidden dao of unity—strength born from devotion, power amplified by intimacy. Dual cultivate with us, and shatter the heavens. Each union deepens your foundation, unlocks hidden realms. Ascend, Lin Feng. Claim immortality. Protect what is yours. Or see us scattered once more to the void."
The pain crested, then ebbed into euphoria. Lin Feng gasped as his cultivation surged—not back to Qi Condensation, but beyond. Foundation Establishment loomed on the horizon, his body tempered like divine steel.
The light faded. The goddesses stepped back, their expressions a mix of reverence and longing. Leng Yue offered her hand. "Rise, our lord."
He took it, strength flooding his limbs. The wound in his side sealed shut, leaving only a faint scar. His meridians hummed with power, qi circulating in perfect harmony. He stood, taller somehow, the snow crunching beneath boots that no longer trembled.
In the distance, the Lin Clan compound still burned, black smoke coiling like serpents into the sky. Figures in sect robes darted among the ruins, looting treasures and desecrating the dead. An outer elder barked orders, his core formation aura flaring as he sensed something amiss.
Lin Feng's eyes narrowed, a cold fury igniting within. "They will pay."
Huo Lian's flames danced eagerly. "Let us show them the folly of provoking the heavens."
Feng Bao crackled with lightning. "The storm begins."
But Lin Feng raised a hand. "Not yet. I must understand this… gift. And you."
The goddesses exchanged glances, a shared understanding passing between them. Yin Hua spoke, her voice like moonlight on water. "We are bound, but the bond must be renewed. Through cultivation. Through… unity."
A flush of heat stirred in Lin Feng—not just power, but desire. The Scripture whispered promises: nights of ecstasy that would propel him through realms, each goddess unlocking a facet of his potential.
He nodded. "Then teach me. But first—the sect's dogs die."
With a single leap, empowered by his nascent qi, Lin Feng bounded up the slope, the goddesses gliding effortlessly beside him. The first disciple spotted them—a young man rifling through a corpse's pockets. His eyes widened in terror.
"Ghosts! The dead rise—"
Lin Feng's fist struck like thunder, qi exploding from his palm. The disciple's chest caved in, body flying back into a burning wall.
Alarms rang out. More disciples charged, swords drawn, qi flaring.
Lin Feng smiled grimly. The slaughter had begun.
And in his heart, the path to immortality unfurled—paved with blood, love, and unbreakable vengeance.
The outer disciple never finished his scream.
Lin Feng's fist drove through the young man's chest like a spear of condensed qi, ribs shattering with a wet crack. Blood sprayed across the snow in a fleeting arc before the body crumpled backward, lifeless eyes staring at the burning sky. The disciple's storage pouch tumbled free; Lin Feng snatched it without breaking stride, crushing the identification jade slip inside with a casual squeeze of spiritual sense.
One down.
The alarm gongs of the Heavenly Mountain Sect's raiding party rang sharper now—three tolls in rapid succession, the signal for an intruder of consequence. Black-robed figures turned from their looting, qi surging as they formed defensive lines among the smoldering beams of the Lin Clan ancestral hall. Twenty outer disciples, three inner disciples at Qi Condensation peak, and the core formation elder who had nearly killed him earlier. The elder—Elder Huo Yan, according to the name embroidered in silver thread on his sleeve—stood atop a shattered pillar, his beard streaked with soot, eyes narrowing at the figure striding through the smoke.
"A ghost?" Huo Yan barked a laugh that held no mirth. "The whelp survived? Good. Bring me his head—I want to see if the relic is truly in his bloodline."
Lin Feng stopped twenty paces away. Behind him, the nine goddesses remained invisible to mortal eyes, their presences cloaked in a veil of divine qi. Only he could feel them: Leng Yue's cool touch on his left shoulder, Huo Lian's warmth against his right, the others forming an unseen circle that fed faint threads of power into his newly reforged meridians.
He raised his voice, calm and cold.
"Elder Huo Yan. You came for a relic. You found only death."
The elder's face twisted. "Arrogant brat. Your clan harbored a forbidden immortal artifact—by sect law, your lives were forfeit. Kneel and offer your dantian; perhaps I'll grant you a swift end."
Lin Feng's lips curved. "I offer you nothing but regret."
He moved.
No grand technique, no flashy sword art. Just a single step powered by the nascent Harem Immortal Scripture.
His body blurred forward in a streak of nine-colored afterimages. The nearest outer disciple barely raised his sword before Lin Feng's palm met his forehead. A pulse of qi—borrowed from Huo Lian's flame essence—detonated inside the man's skull. The disciple's head burst like overripe fruit; the corpse collapsed in a steaming heap.
Chaos erupted.
Swords whistled. Spear qi lanced through the smoke. Three inner disciples charged in formation, their qi linking into a rudimentary battle array that amplified their strikes.
Lin Feng laughed once—low, almost surprised at the sound coming from his own throat.
He spun, left hand sweeping in an arc. Leng Yue's frost qi flowed through his meridians unbidden, turning the motion into a crescent of razor-sharp ice shards. The array shattered; two disciples were bisected at the waist, the third lost an arm and screamed as black frost crawled up the stump.
The remaining outer disciples faltered, fear replacing greed.
"Impossible!" one shouted. "He was trash—Qi Condensation fourth layer at best!"
Lin Feng didn't answer with words.
He answered with motion.
Every strike carried traces of the goddesses' essences: Mei Ying's void qi swallowed incoming attacks into nothingness; Lu Mei's vitality healed micro-tears in his muscles faster than they formed; Feng Bao's lightning crackled along his knuckles, stunning foes before the killing blow landed. He was no longer fighting alone—he was a conduit, a living fusion of nine divine daos.
Within minutes, the raiding party was reduced to scattered limbs and widening pools of blood. Only Elder Huo Yan remained, his face pale beneath the soot, core formation qi roiling around him like a furnace.
"You… what devil art is this?" the elder snarled, forming hand seals. A towering flame python coalesced behind him, jaws wide, ready to swallow.
Lin Feng wiped blood from his cheek—someone else's. "No devil art. Just repayment."
Huo Yan roared and unleashed the python. It lunged, heat warping the air.
Lin Feng didn't dodge.
He stepped forward into the flames.
The goddesses' voices layered in his mind:
"Accept our gift."
Nine streams of qi surged from his dantian, wrapping his body in a prismatic cocoon. The fire python struck—and shattered against the barrier like water on glass. Huo Yan's eyes widened in disbelief.
Lin Feng closed the distance in an instant.
His hand closed around the elder's throat.
"You took everything," Lin Feng said quietly. "Now I take yours."
He squeezed.
Huo Yan's core formation qi erupted in a desperate counterattack—flames, wind blades, earth spikes—all crashing against the divine shield. None penetrated.
Lin Feng leaned in, voice low.
"Tell your sect lord this: the Lin Clan's last son still breathes. And he comes for every mountain peak you claim."
With a casual twist, he crushed the elder's windpipe.
Huo Yan's eyes bulged, qi dissipating in a final, futile explosion. The body slumped.
Silence fell, broken only by the crackle of dying fires.
Lin Feng released the corpse and turned.
The nine goddesses materialized fully now, no longer cloaked. They stood in a loose semicircle amid the carnage, untouched by blood or soot, their beauty almost painful against the backdrop of destruction.
Leng Yue stepped forward first. "Your first step is taken. The Scripture has tasted combat. It hungers for more."
Huo Lian's eyes gleamed. "And for us."
Lin Feng felt it—the subtle pull in his dantian, a warmth that was not merely spiritual. The Harem Immortal Scripture whispered promises: deeper bonds would unlock greater power. A single night of dual cultivation with even one of them could propel him through entire minor realms.
He met their gazes, one by one.
"I will not fail you again," he said. The words carried the weight of memories he did not fully possess.
Yin Hua drifted closer, her silver hair floating as if underwater. "We know. That is why we returned."
Lu Mei placed a gentle hand on his chest. "But tonight, you must rest. Your body is newly reborn. Tomorrow, we begin the true cultivation."
Lin Feng nodded, though the fire in his blood urged otherwise.
He looked back at the ruined compound one last time.
"I will rebuild this place," he vowed. "Brick by brick. And when it stands again, it will fly the banner of a new sovereign."
Hong Ling—the Prismatic Weaver—smiled, colors shifting across her skin like living auroras.
"Then let us begin forging that banner… starting with you."
Lin Feng exhaled, feeling the weight of nine immortal hearts aligned with his own.
The Heavenly Mountain Sect believed they had ended the Lin Clan.
They had only planted the seed of their own annihilation.
He turned from the ashes and walked into the night, nine goddesses gliding beside him like stars descended to earth.
The path to immortality stretched ahead—steep, blood-soaked, and lined with ecstasy.
He would walk it without hesitation.
For vengeance.
For them.
For the eternity they would claim together.