The obsidian courtyard of the Shattered Heaven carried the stagnant weight of the last three weeks.
No disciple was training in the square. The silence on the mountain was absolute.
Mò Tiān sat on the lowest step of the main pavilion. His steel sword rested uselessly across his knees. The Sect Master's hair had turned white, and the skin on his face looked gray. Twenty-one days of powerlessness, waiting for the outsiders' verdict, had aged the patriarch by decades.
He raised his dull gaze when light footsteps sounded on the stone.
Mò Yán stopped two steps away. The silver-gray tunic stretched slightly over her chest as she straightened her spine.
"The portal will be activated soon, Sect Master," the diplomat's voice came out calm and direct. "They are going to leave. And I will go with them."
Mò Tiān gripped the hilt of his sword. The iron creaked under the old man's fingers.
"Three weeks, Yán'er," Mò Tiān's voice came out hoarse, thick with a mix of hollow fury and exhaustion. "I had to watch you guard the door of that room like a dog. I raised you to be the pride of the sect. And you throw everything away to serve a monster who destroys without even blinking?"
Mò Yán did not look away.
"I've been waiting for this my entire life, Father," Mò Yán replied, her voice firm. "We spent millennia reciting mantras and building walls to pretend we weren't stagnant. The Lord I now follow needs none of that."
Mò Tiān clenched his teeth. He searched his daughter's scarlet eyes for any sign of coercion. But the girl's irises shone with feverish clarity and proud devotion. The realization broke the old man's last pillar of resistance. She wasn't being dragged away — she had jumped willingly.
His grip on the sword loosened. The metal slipped from his hand and hit the stone step with a hollow clack. The leader's fury died, replaced by the pure exhaustion of a father who had just lost his daughter.
The old man raised his hand. He touched the top of Mò Yán's head, gently stroking her white hair with painful slowness.
"I cried for the sect," Mò Tiān murmured, his voice cracking. "But now I can only hope you won't regret the path you chose. May the heavens have mercy on you, Yán'er."
Mò Yán closed her eyes at the feel of his calloused touch. Her heart beat unevenly. A single tear rolled down her face, washing away the last tie that bound her to that mountain.
"Heaven has already claimed me, Father. I will never regret it," she whispered, the seed of devotion warming her chest and pushing out the grief. "I don't need mercy. I only need him."
Mò Yán opened her eyes, took a step back out of the old man's reach, and bowed deeply in one final, impeccable salute.
She turned on her heels and walked back into the shadows of the main pavilion. The heir of the Shattered Heaven had died there, and she did not look back even once.
Mò Yán crossed the stone corridor and returned to the pavilion. She stopped two steps behind Zhì Yuǎn, keeping her eyes fixed on the floor.
Yù Qíng and Yù Méi were already waiting beside him. Both women had their faces strictly covered by heavy dark veils and long cloaks. Their porcelain skin and divine beauty had been hidden from the mortal world.
He didn't ask what had happened in the courtyard. He simply raised his right hand, the black hat Yù Qíng had given him casting a shadow over his face.
"A quick detour before we head down to the matrix with the carriage," Zhì Yuǎn said.
His two fingers sliced through the air. Space gave way with a dry crack, and a silver rift opened above the carpet.
He stepped into the void. Yù Qíng floated right behind him, followed by Yù Méi. Mò Yán took a deep breath and stepped into the portal without hesitation. The rift closed immediately, leaving the mountain hall completely empty.
The jump lasted less than a second.
The fabric of the world opened again thousands of kilometers away. Zhì Yuǎn's boots touched an old wooden floor.
The thin mountain air disappeared, replaced instantly by the muggy heat of a mortal city. The place smelled of dust, ink, and dry paper. Shelves bowed under the weight of bamboo scrolls and leather tomes surrounded the group in the dim light. They had landed directly in the center of the Path of Antiquity bookstore, in the city of Qīngshí.
Behind the wooden counter, the old shopkeeper's teacup stopped mid-air, just a palm's width from his mouth.
The old shopkeeper lowered the porcelain cup onto the counter. The sound of ceramic against wood cut through the muggy air of the bookstore.
He ignored Zhì Yuǎn for a second and looked directly at Mò Yán. His granddaughter, the one he had trained to be the clan's heir, was standing two steps behind the outsider, with her shoulders slightly hunched and her eyes fixed on the floor. The perfect posture of a servant.
Yù Qíng took a soft step forward and stopped beside Mò Yán. The woman in blue raised her hand and slid her cold fingers along the line of the diplomat's jaw, forcing her face upward.
"Do you like our new servant, Elder?" Yù Qíng asked in a sweet tone. "We're taking her with us to clean the floors of our home up there."
The old man didn't change his expression, but his fingers tightened on the edge of the counter hard enough to make the wood creak.
"Servant?" His voice came out low and rough. "You're going to take my precious granddaughter as a common maid?"
Yù Qíng smiled faintly, without releasing Mò Yán's chin.
"She chose to follow my husband. And I decide what to do with her."
The old man let out a short, dry laugh without humor.
"Chose?" He slowly walked around the counter and stopped two steps from the group. "Or did you break her until she no longer had a choice?"
Mò Yán did not look away. She continued with her face held up by Yù Qíng's hand, her neck exposed and her body rigid. But her eyes — those scarlet eyes that once carried sect pride — now shone with something different. Something the old man recognized with a tightening in his chest.
It wasn't coercion. It was desire.
A hot fury rose in the old man's throat. It wasn't just for his granddaughter. It was for his own pride. For the lineage he had built with blood and sweat. For the dignity he had tried to preserve even in the midst of mediocrity and stagnation.
"I won't allow you to turn her into a trophy for your husband," the old man said, his voice growing heavier. "She deserves more than that. If he's going to take her, let it be as a wife. On the same level as you."
Yù Qíng released Mò Yán's chin. The priestess looked at the old man with an expression of feigned surprise.
"Wife?" She laughed softly. "You're asking for a lot, old man. My husband already has the two of us. Why would I give him a third?"
"I will serve," the old man replied firmly. "Let me be your butler. In exchange, I demand that you preserve my granddaughter's dignity and take her as a wife."
Silence fell over the bookstore.
Yù Qíng studied the old man for a long moment. Her eyes darkened. She had gotten exactly what she wanted from the beginning: a loyal and "strong" servant for free. Using the girl she already planned to put in her husband's bed had only been to make everything more entertaining.
She "relented."
"Our house does need a butler," she murmured, turning to her husband. "What do you think, my heaven?"
Zhì Yuǎn, who had remained silent the entire time, looked at Mò Yán. His gaze was direct, without any trace of romance or hesitation.
"Your grandfather just negotiated on your behalf," Zhì Yuǎn said, his tone direct and practical. "But what do you actually want?"
Mò Yán's heart was beating so fast it hurt in her ribs. She had spent the last three weeks guarding his bedroom door, listening to his wives' voices, feeling the weight of his presence. And at some point — she didn't know exactly when — the desire to belong to that domain had grown inside her beyond any desire for power she had ever had before.
It wasn't just romantic love. It was something deeper.
She wanted to be his. Just like the others were.
"I… I want…" Mò Yán said, her voice trembling.
She raised her eyes, looking directly into his. Those eyes as deep as an abyss. An abyss she desperately wanted to throw herself into.
"I will be your wife," she declared, her voice now steady.
Zhì Yuǎn took a step forward. He grabbed the back of Mò Yán's neck with his large hand and pulled her face up, forcing her onto the tips of her toes. His mouth crushed against hers in a deep, brutal kiss. His hot tongue invaded her, sealing his claim in a raw manner in front of her grandfather and his wives.
Mò Yán's legs lost their strength instantly. She grabbed onto his gray tunic to keep from collapsing. The first tears overflowed from her scarlet eyes and ran down her face during the kiss. It wasn't pain. It was gratitude. Her grandfather had secured for her what she herself had desired but lacked the courage to ask for.
Zhì Yuǎn pulled back, leaving the young woman gasping and crying against his chest, and looked down at the shopkeeper on the floor.
"The deal is done."
The old man dropped to his knees and pressed his forehead to the wooden planks.
"I swear to never betray you and to follow your shadow until the end, my Lord."
Zhì Yuǎn raised his index finger. He combined the Law of Karma with a trace of the Law of Destruction. An invisible seed shot from his finger and sank directly into the old man's chest.
The elder gasped, feeling a chill spread through the bones of his ribcage.
"The oath is now engraved in your dantian," Zhì Yuǎn explained with complete normalcy. "If even a single thought of betrayal crosses your mind against us, that seed will detonate and you will vanish before you can even blink."
The old man smiled against the dust and nodded.
"Gather your belongings, butler," Zhì Yuǎn ordered. "We're returning to the mountain now."
While the old man hurriedly packed a leather bag at the back of the store, Yù Qíng adjusted her blue silk and gave Mò Yán a satisfied smile.
The white-haired girl was still breathing heavily. Her legs still lacked strength, and she remained leaning against Zhì Yuǎn's chest, her face streaked with tears. She raised her scarlet eyes to the first wife.
"Thank you… my Lady," Mò Yán said, her voice thin and choked.
Yù Qíng stepped forward and touched the girl's warm cheek with her cold fingers.
"Our husband has already sealed your fate," Yù Qíng corrected, her voice practical and gentle. "You can call me sister now."
Mò Yán's chest rose quickly. Her face flushed at once. She tightened her fingers on his gray tunic.
"Thank you, elder sister."
Yù Méi, who was standing behind Yù Qíng, let out a low chuckle from behind her veil.
"Welcome to the harem, little sister Yán~"
Unable to bear her own embarrassment, Mò Yán lowered her head and hid her flushed face directly against Zhì Yuǎn's chest.
The man didn't comment. He simply slipped an arm around the girl's waist to keep her steady.
Minutes later, with the butler's luggage ready and Mò Yán having recovered but still holding onto him, Zhì Yuǎn raised two fingers and tore space open in the middle of the store. The silver rift opened with a dry crack.
He stepped into the void, guiding his family and the new butler. The portal closed behind them, leaving the bookstore completely empty.