Harem Master: Seduction System

Chapter 401: The Grand Alchemy Tournament and the Imperial Wager

The central alchemy arena of the Yao Clan’s Secret Realm was a colossal architectural marvel, an unbroken expanse of heat-resistant, glittering black obsidian that stretched for miles. Surrounding the pristine, circular testing grounds were massive, tiered grandstands carved directly into the slopes of the fire-forged mountains, currently filled to absolute capacity with tens of thousands of elite martialists, nobles, and representatives from every corner of the Celestial Dragon Empire. The ambient air was incredibly dense, heavily saturated with the rich, intertwined essence of Wood Qi and Flame Qi, creating a stifling, oppressive heat that only true cultivators could comfortably endure.

At the very center of the obsidian arena stood a towering, elevated platform crafted from deep-earth jade. Stepping onto this platform was Grand Elder Yao Yuan, a man whose physical body looked as ancient as the mountains, yet he radiated the terrifying, deeply refined Battle Aura of a Peak Martial King. He wore flowing robes of crimson and gold, his long, white beard fluttering slightly in the updrafts of the ambient heat.

Grand Elder Yao Yuan raised his hands, and the sheer, overwhelming density of his Flame Qi instantly silenced the chaotic roar of the tens of thousands of spectators.

“Welcome, esteemed guests, honored representatives of the Ancient Clans, and the noble emissaries of the Imperial Court,” Yao Yuan’s voice boomed, amplified by specialized sound-transmitting array formations, rolling across the obsidian arena like physical thunder. “Today marks the commencement of the Yao Clan’s Decennial Grand Alchemy Competition! This is not merely a contest of gathering herbs or memorizing ancient recipes. This is the absolute crucible where the true masters of the alchemical Dao are forged, and where the pretenders are burned away!”

He paced the jade platform, his sharp eyes sweeping over the hundreds of young, arrogant alchemists assembled in the staging areas below.

“The path of alchemy is the path of life and death, an absolute mastery over the raw, violent energies of the world,” Yao Yuan declared, his voice echoing with profound martial pride. “To that end, this competition shall be divided into four grueling, unforgiving stages. The first stage, which shall commence shortly, will strictly test the foundation of every alchemist: the control and raw power of the soul! You will face the Spiritual Resonance Steles. We will evaluate the quantity of your soul power, the refined quality of your spiritual essence, the absolute precision of your control, and the complexity of your soul techniques.”

He pointed a weathered finger toward a series of massive, crystalline pillars rising from the obsidian floor.

“The second stage,” the Grand Elder continued, the ambient Flame Qi around him flaring slightly, “will test the very core of our Dao: Flame Control! Whether you utilize your innate Flame Attribute Qi, High-Tier Beast Flames harvested from the badlands, or the legendary, devastating Heavenly Flames and their sub-flames… you must prove that you are the master of the fire, not its servant.”

Yao Yuan paused, letting the weight of his words settle over the competitors. Every major clan present, and especially the delegation from the Imperial Alchemy Academy, possessed at least one top-tier flame, usually ranking somewhere between the fourth and tenth positions on the continent’s Heavenly Flame index.

“The third stage,” Yao Yuan announced, “will require you to venture deep into the Yao Clan’s Pill Realm. You will be tasked with gathering ancient ingredients and herbs while navigating hazardous biomes and fending off the formidable beasts we have subjugated to guard them. These materials are strictly required for the concoction of ancient pill recipes—recipes capable of aiding the advancement of Martial Kings or even Half-Step Martial Emperors. And finally, the fourth stage will be the ultimate trial of concoction. The alchemist who produces the medicinal pellet of the absolute highest grade, purity, and profound resonance shall be crowned the victor!”

As the Grand Elder’s speech concluded to a deafening, earth-shaking roar of approval from the massive crowd, the focus shifted to the staging areas where the competitors were gathered. The tension in the air was palpable, thick with arrogance, long-standing rivalries, and the burning desire for absolute supremacy.

Feng Xiao, the designated representative of the independent Pill Valley organization, stood calmly amidst the throng of haughty, brightly robed young masters. He wore simple, unassuming dark blue robes that contrasted sharply with the ostentatious silks of the Ancient Clans. He kept his Battle Aura tightly suppressed, his face a mask of pragmatic indifference.

“Pill Valley sends this unremarkable commoner to represent their dying legacy?” a mocking, sharp voice sliced through the ambient noise.

Feng Xiao turned slightly. Approaching him was Hun Ye, a pale, sinister-looking young master from the dreaded Hun Clan. Hun Ye’s eyes were entirely pitch black, lacking any visible sclera, and he radiated a cold, unsettling aura that seemed to devour the surrounding heat.

“I had heard Pill Valley was struggling to maintain their quotas of high-grade medicinal pellets,” Hun Ye sneered, his lips curling into a vicious smile. “But to send a mere outsider… an unknown, nameless vagrant from the outer prefectures? It seems your valley has entirely dried up, leaving only mud behind.”

“The quality of the pill is determined by the fire, not the silk of the alchemist’s robes, Hun Ye,” Feng Xiao replied evenly, his voice calm, refusing to rise to the blatant provocation.

“Bold words for a man who possesses an unknown, unranked flame,” chimed in Li Wei, the premier talent of the Imperial Alchemy Academy. Li Wei wore pristine white robes embroidered with golden dragons, a clear indication of his imperial backing. He crossed his arms, looking Feng Xiao up and down with intense disdain. “We have all heard the rumors of your so-called ‘Flame King’ title in the outer provinces. But here, among the true inheritors of the alchemical Dao, an unranked mutation is nothing but a parlor trick. I wield the rank-eight Crimson Lotus Flame. What do you have? Sparks?”

Feng Xiao remained silent, his expression completely unreadable. None of these arrogant fools knew the truth. They assumed his flame was a mere, unrecognized mutation. They had absolutely no idea that Feng Xiao had miraculously, through heaven-defying karmic luck and agonizing trials, perfectly merged eight different Heavenly Flames. While the resulting merged flame was currently only equivalent to an eleventh-ranked Heavenly Flame in terms of raw, outward output, its unique, stabilizing properties and profound versatility made it vastly superior to many lower and mid-tier flames.

“Leave the beggar to his delusions, Li Wei,” scoffed Gu Ming, an incredibly handsome, aloof young master from the absolute strongest Ancient Clan, the Gu Clan. Gu Ming didn’t even bother looking directly at Feng Xiao, his gaze fixed on the central arena. “He is only here to gain enough prestige to look at our Gu Clan’s outer gates. He will be eliminated in the first stage when the Spiritual Resonance Steles crush his fragile, unrefined soul.”

Feng Xiao’s hands clenched into fists at his sides for a fraction of a second before he forced his fingers to relax. The mention of the Gu Clan brought the image of Gu Ling—his pristine, elegant white moonlight—rushing to the forefront of his mind. He was a Martial King, a man who had conquered entire regions, yet her family’s strict, impossible requirements meant he was still treated like dirt. His soul cultivation, however, was already quietly touching the absolute boundaries of a Half-Step Martial Emperor. He would use this competition to mercilessly shatter their arrogant faces.

High above the staging areas, secured behind the heavily warded, soundproofed glass of a supremely luxurious, elevated VIP pavilion, Alaric sat upon a plush velvet lounger, looking down at the petty, predictable drama unfolding below.

He leaned his head back, letting out a long, bored sigh. The standard protagonist face-slapping routine was tedious. He had no intention of sitting quietly for hours, seriously watching Feng Xiao show off his hidden soul power while the other young masters gasped in manufactured shock. He needed entertainment. He needed a game.

He turned his head slightly, his ruby eyes fixing upon Ling Ying, the voluptuous young heiress of the Ling Clan, who was currently standing near the edge of the viewing balcony, intently watching the arena.

Alaric did not speak aloud. He engaged the subtle, undetectable mental link he had forged through his [Resonant Heart] and [Fantasy Weaver] abilities, communicating directly into her Sea of Consciousness.

‘Ling Ying,’ Alaric’s voice echoed smoothly within her mind, carrying the warm, trusted tone of her fabricated, cherished friend. ‘This preliminary posturing is dreadfully dull. Let us make this tournament significantly more interesting.’

Ling Ying jumped slightly, a flush of pleasure rushing to her fair cheeks at his mental touch. She turned around, offering him a bright, eager smile. “What did you have in mind, Alaric? Should I order the guards to bring us some rare spirit-beast delicacies from the clan’s reserves?”

‘No,’ Alaric replied mentally, his ruby eyes tracking the distant, golden, heavily guarded royal box situated on the opposite side of the arena. ‘I want you to dismiss your guards. Send them completely out of the pavilion. Then, I want you to summon your personal servants from your private chambers. Have them deliver formal, highly exclusive invitations to the Imperial Princesses, the Imperial Concubines, and the Imperial Consorts seated over there. Invite them here, to the central common chamber adjoining this pavilion, for a private wager on the first stage of the competition.’

Ling Ying blinked in surprise, her massive breasts shifting beneath her emerald martial robes. “The Imperial Consorts? But Alaric, they are incredibly proud. They rarely associate with anyone outside the top three Ancient Clans. The Ling Clan is… well, they might consider it beneath their station to answer my invitation.”

‘You are the heiress of an Ancient Clan, Ling Ying,’ Alaric reasoned smoothly, manipulating her inherent noble pride. ‘Do not sell yourself short. Tell your servants to inform them that you wish to propose a highly entertaining wager to pass the time. And add this: if they find the entertainment lacking or the game boring in any way, they may dictate any punishment upon you, which you will graciously accept. That alone will ignite their arrogant curiosity.’

Ling Ying nodded firmly, completely subservient to his suggestions. “I will do exactly as you say. It will be thrilling to host them!”

She immediately turned and barked crisp, uncompromising orders. She commanded her veteran protectors, including the suspicious Commander Zhao, to entirely vacate the pavilion and stand guard at the bottom of the jade staircase. She found their overbearing, protective presence far too stifling when she only wanted to spend time with her dear friend. Once the guards had bowed and exited, she summoned her handmaidens and dispatched them to the royal box with her bold invitations.

The heavy, soundproofed doors of the pavilion clicked shut, leaving Alaric entirely alone with Ling Ying and his own disguised harem.

Queen Cai Wei, Guildmaster Lin Ruoli, Saintess Ceanna, Grand Elder Yun Lan, Chief Auctioneer Ya Su, and Professor Lilliana stood quietly in the shadows of the room, dressed in simple, thick, concealing maid outfits that hid their true identities. They remained entirely silent, knowing perfectly well that their master was making a calculated, highly aggressive move on the Imperial Concubines. They were secretly thrilled, their corrupted minds eager to see how their dark god would ensnare the untouchable women of the Emperor.

As soon as the doors were sealed, Alaric did not hesitate. He did not waste time with sweet, romantic talk or gentle praises. He simply acted with the absolute, perverted entitlement of a conqueror.

He stood up from his lounger, walking across the thick, woven carpets, and stepped directly into Ling Ying’s personal space.

Ling Ying gasped, her emerald eyes widening as Alaric reached out. He did not ask for permission. He casually, smoothly slipped his large, warm hands beneath the hem of her emerald-green martial top. His long fingers traced the firm, incredibly soft, and tightly toned skin of her bare midriff.

“Alaric…” Ling Ying breathed, her voice trembling instantly. She bit her plump lower lip hard, her Emerald Gale Battle Aura fluttering erratically as she desperately tried to control the sudden, overwhelming surge of wetness between her thighs. She had believed they were just dear friends, but the sheer, dominant aggression of his touch bypassed her logic entirely, activating the deep, subjugating magic he had woven into her mind.

Alaric’s hands did not stop at her stomach. He slid them upward, forcefully pushing the silk fabric of her robes out of the way. He aggressively cupped her massive, incredibly heavy breasts. They were entirely unsupported beneath her martial robes, and the sheer volume of the pale, soft flesh filled his hands to the brim. He squeezed the luscious globes without an ounce of gentleness, his thumbs immediately finding her hardened, dark pink nipples and rolling them callously between his fingers.

“Mmm…” a soft, stifled moan escaped the heiress’s lips despite her best efforts. Her knees weakened, and she slumped forward, her tall, voluptuous frame resting entirely against Alaric’s chest.

To Alaric’s discerning eyes, her struggle to maintain her noble composure only made her infinitely sexier. Her nipples were rigidly erect under his thumbs, and the scent of her slick, wet pussy permeated the air of the pavilion. If he had enough time, he would have unbuckled his trousers, thrown the young heiress face-down over the balcony railing, and fucked her ruthlessly right then and there while the crowds cheered outside.

But he had a far grander, much more dangerous game to play. He was planning to conquer the Imperial Princesses, the incredibly arrogant Concubines, and the exceptionally beautiful Imperial Consorts. Taking action to fully claim Ling Ying right now would leave her a flushed, panting, ruined mess, completely destroying her credibility as a dignified host and alerting the royal women to his true intentions before the trap was sprung.

Reluctantly, Alaric pulled his hands out from beneath her robes, giving her massive breasts one final, sharp squeeze before smoothing the emerald fabric back into place.

“Compose yourself, Ling Ying,” Alaric whispered, trailing a finger down her flushed, burning cheek. “Our esteemed guests will be arriving shortly.”

Ling Ying nodded frantically, taking several deep, shaky breaths, her hands smoothing her hair as she tried to calm her racing heart and the heavy, throbbing ache in her core. She was immensely happy that he was enjoying her body, viewing his perverted touches not as an insult, but as the ultimate compliment from her most cherished companion. She desperately wanted to seize this opportunity to become his good, sexy maid, to bring him absolute pleasure whenever he demanded it.

Less than twenty minutes later, the heavy doors of the central, adjoined common chamber—a massive, neutral room provided by the Yao Clan organizers for cross-faction mingling—swung open.

The imperial beauties had arrived.

They entered the common chamber like a procession of absolute goddesses, their presence instantly elevating the atmosphere of the room into a dazzling, heavily perfumed battlefield of court politics and staggering, mature beauty.

Leading the group was Noble Consort Shu. She was a woman renowned across the entire Celestial Dragon Empire for her unparalleled mastery of water-attribute arts, and her appearance reflected her fluid, overwhelming grace. She wore a dark blue, heavily embroidered, extremely tight silk corset dress. The garment was a masterclass in scandalous royal tailoring; her massive, incredibly pale cleavage spilled beautifully and aggressively over the top, threatening to burst the seams with every shallow breath. Her waist was cinched impossibly tight, flaring out into wide, child-bearing hips that swayed with liquid elegance.

Beside her walked Imperial Consort Xian. She was an incredibly tall, commanding beauty, standing almost eye-to-eye with Alaric. She possessed a famously wide, curvaceous, heart-shaped ass that was legendary in the inner courts, her tight, crimson martial robes hugging every inch of her lower body. She wore a haughty, disdainful sneer on her flawless face, projecting the fierce, protective arrogance of a mother who fiercely guarded the Third Prince’s claim to the throne.

Following the consorts were the Imperial Princesses. Princess Huang Mei, a forty-year-old Peak Martial Grandmaster who looked entirely like a vibrant twenty-year-old, wore a tight, gold-threaded martial dress that perfectly highlighted her impossibly perky, large breasts and her slender, highly athletic waist. Her sister, Princess Huang Hua, carried a heavy, elegant fan crafted from the feathers of a spirit-peacock. Her incredibly fair skin glowed in the ambient light, and her exceptionally wide, voluptuous hips swayed seductively with every graceful step she took.

Ling Ying stepped forward, executing a flawless, deep, and deeply respectful aristocratic bow.

“Noble Consorts, Imperial Princesses,” Ling Ying greeted them, her voice steady and polite. “I am deeply honored that you have graced my humble chamber with your divine presence. Please, take your seats.”

Alaric sat quietly on a low, plush cushion near the back of the room. He perfectly played the role of Ling Ying’s quiet, unassuming little friend. His dear beauties—Cai Wei, Lin Ruoli, Saintess Ceanna, Professor Lilliana, Yun Lan, and Ya Su—stood behind him in a neat, silent row, their heads bowed, appearing entirely as an obedient line of anonymous maids.

“You are Ling Ying, the young heiress of the Ling Clan, are you not?” Imperial Consort Xian asked, her tone dripping with subtle, practiced condescension as she took a seat on a plush divan. She waved a perfectly manicured hand dismissively. “Your servants informed us that you sought to provide entertainment. And that you offered to accept any punishment we deem fit should we find your proposed game boring. A very bold, incredibly foolish wager for a clan of your… waning standing.”

“Indeed,” Noble Consort Shu chimed in, adjusting her dark blue corset, subtly drawing attention to her massive, heaving breasts. “The preliminary stages of these alchemy tournaments are dreadfully tedious. Watching young boys sweat over soul stones is hardly thrilling. Tell us, child, what profound amusement have you concocted to warrant our time?”

Alaric sat completely still, his face impassive. He established the mental link immediately.

‘Tell them we will be playing a betting game based entirely on the numerical progress of the first stage,’ Alaric instructed Ling Ying seamlessly. ‘It is a game of insight and judgment. Tell them each of us will select three candidates from the staging area. For every tier of the Spiritual Resonance Stele our chosen candidates fail to illuminate, we must take a cup of wine. If a candidate completely surpasses expectations, the other players must drink.’

Ling Ying did not hesitate. She repeated Alaric’s exact words aloud, her voice carrying the confident, measured tone he projected into her mind.

“A drinking game?” Princess Huang Mei laughed, a sharp, melodic sound. She leaned back, her gold-threaded dress tightening over her athletic, perky chest. “You presume to challenge our tolerances, Ling Ying? As Peak Martial Grandmasters and Martial Kings, we can purge ordinary alcohol from our meridians in a single breath. We could drink an entire tavern dry and feel nothing more than a slight warmth.”

‘Smile politely,’ Alaric commanded mentally. ‘Tell them the wine is a special, ancient vintage provided by your grandfather. It is called the Hundred-Year Drunken Spirit Nectar. Tell them it is incredibly mellow to the taste, but it acts strictly upon the soul, bypassing physical cultivation and Battle Aura entirely. It cannot be purged by Qi.’

“This is no ordinary tavern swill, Princess Huang Mei,” Ling Ying smiled politely, gesturing to one of the disguised ‘maids’—Lin Ruoli—who stepped forward carrying a heavy, intricately carved jade flagon. “This is a special, ancient vintage provided by my grandfather. It is the Hundred-Year Drunken Spirit Nectar. It is exceptionally mellow on the palate, but its effects bypass physical cultivation and Battle Aura entirely. It acts directly upon the soul. It cannot be purged by Qi, no matter how high your realm.”

In truth, the wine had been provided directly by Alaric, utilizing the vast, exotic, and highly potent stocks he had acquired from Lin Ruoli’s Jade Serpent merchant reserves. It was a terrifyingly strong, soul-warming intoxicant that lowered inhibitions and amplified physical sensitivity without muddying the intellect.

Noble Consort Shu’s eyes gleamed with competitive interest. She loved a challenge of the soul. “A wine that challenges a Martial King? How intriguing. Very well, Ling Ying. We accept your wager. It will be immensely satisfying to watch you drink yourself into a stupor when your candidates inevitably fail.”

“Excellent,” Imperial Consort Xian sneered, taking a delicate jade cup from Lin Ruoli. “Let us select our pawns. I claim Li Wei of the Imperial Alchemy Academy. He has the backing of the throne; his soul foundation is flawless.”

“I shall take Hun Ye,” Princess Huang Hua stated, fanning herself lazily, her wide hips shifting on the cushions. “The Hun Clan’s soul techniques are sinister, but undeniably effective in these trials.”

“And I will choose Gu Ming,” Noble Consort Shu declared confidently, her massive cleavage heaving. “The Gu Clan breeds only the absolute best. He will illuminate the highest tier.”

Ling Ying, guided perfectly by Alaric’s internal prompting, selected three relatively unknown, unremarkable alchemists from minor sects, ensuring she appeared as the underdog.

“And who do you choose for your final candidate, Ling Ying?” Princess Huang Mei asked, swirling the amber liquid in her cup.

‘Choose the boy in the plain blue robes from Pill Valley. Feng Xiao,’ Alaric ordered, a dark, highly entertained smirk playing on his lips as he watched the imperial women unknowingly walk directly into his trap.

“I choose the representative from Pill Valley,” Ling Ying announced. “Feng Xiao.”

“The vagrant with the unranked spark?” Imperial Consort Xian burst into genuine, mocking laughter, slapping her knee. “Oh, Ling Ying. You have already lost. Prepare to drink your grandfather’s nectar until you cannot stand.”

While the royal beauties finalized their arrogant wagers within the luxurious, soundproofed chamber, the grand spectacle in the obsidian arena outside finally commenced.

“The First Stage begins!” Grand Elder Yao Yuan’s voice boomed, shattering the tense silence of the arena. “Competitors, approach the Spiritual Resonance Pillars!”

The center of the arena was dominated by massive, towering pillars of translucent, crystal-clear spiritual jade. These were not mere testing stones; they were ancient artifacts that measured the absolute depth of an alchemist’s soul.

The competitors stepped forward in groups of ten. The rules were brutal and instantaneous. To pass the first tier, they had to push their soul power into the base of the pillar and illuminate the bottom third with a stable, solid light. For quality, the color of the light had to shift from a muddy brown to a clear, vibrant blue. For control, they had to use their spiritual threads to physically manipulate heavy, leaden weights trapped within the transparent pillar, lifting them to the designated marks.

The early groups failed spectacularly. Many young, arrogant alchemists from minor sects pushed too hard, their unrefined, chaotic soul power cracking the delicate internal mechanisms of the pillars, resulting in immediate, humiliating disqualification. Others lacked the profound control required, dropping the leaden weights and failing to meet the minimum resonance.

Then, the true talents stepped forward.

Hun Ye, the sinister representative of the Hun Clan, placed his pale hands upon the pillar. His pitch-black eyes narrowed. Instantly, the pillar illuminated with a dark, vibrating purple light. It shot past the first tier, blazing rapidly through the second, and stopped firmly at the upper edges of the third tier. He effortlessly manipulated the leaden weights, his soul threads thick and aggressive.

The crowd roared in approval. A solid third-tier resonance was exceptional for his age.

Gu Ming of the Gu Clan stepped up next. He acted entirely aloof, barely glancing at the pillar. He placed a single, pristine hand upon the jade. The pillar exploded with a blinding, pure white light. The resonance shattered Hun Ye’s record, climbing steadily into the fourth tier, the leaden weights inside the pillar dancing gracefully according to his flawless, supreme will.

“The Gu Clan’s foundation is truly terrifying!” an elder from a minor sect gasped in the stands. “To reach the fourth tier… his soul is already touching the boundaries of a high-tier Martial King!”

Li Wei of the Imperial Alchemy Academy smirked, stepping forward to represent the throne. He placed both hands on the pillar, his face straining with intense, focused effort. A vibrant, golden light filled the jade, matching Gu Ming’s fourth-tier height, though the light flickered slightly, indicating a fractional lack of absolute purity compared to the Gu Clan prodigy.

Inside the common chamber, Noble Consort Shu laughed elegantly, raising her cup. “It seems my Gu Ming is performing flawlessly. Drink, Ling Ying.”

Ling Ying, following the rules, took a sip of the Hundred-Year Drunken Spirit Nectar. A sudden, intense flush of heat rushed immediately to her cheeks, the potent, soul-warming alcohol bypassing her Emerald Gale Battle Aura completely, sending a hazy, deeply pleasant buzz through her mind.

Finally, it was Feng Xiao’s turn in the arena.

The Flame King stepped up to the massive Spiritual Resonance Pillar. He wore his simple, plain blue robes, his demeanor entirely calm, ignoring the sneers and the whispered insults from the competitors standing nearby. He didn’t boast. He didn’t strike a dramatic pose.

He simply placed his right hand flat against the cool, crystalline jade.

For a long, agonizing second, absolutely nothing happened. The pillar remained dead and dark.

“Hah! The Pill Valley vagrant can’t even ignite the base!” Li Wei barked a harsh, mocking laugh, pointing at Feng Xiao. “He doesn’t even have the soul power of an apprentice!”

“Disqualify him!” yelled an arrogant youth from the Yan Clan.

But Feng Xiao was not failing. He was merely gathering the immense, terrifyingly vast ocean of soul power he had cultivated through countless life-and-death struggles and miraculous encounters. His soul was not that of a young master; it was a soul that had survived the assimilation of eight distinct, violent Heavenly Flames. It was a soul that was quietly, undeniably brushing against the very threshold of a Half-Step Martial Emperor.

Feng Xiao released his suppression.

The Spiritual Resonance Pillar did not just illuminate; it erupted.

A blinding, overwhelming, incredibly pure pillar of azure light exploded upward from the base. It didn’t pause at the first tier. It violently smashed through the second, obliterated the third, and instantly eclipsed Gu Ming’s fourth-tier record.

The light continued to roar upward, filling the entire, massive crystalline structure until the jade itself began to hum and vibrate dangerously under the sheer, unadulterated volume of his spiritual essence. The color shifted from azure to a profound, deep, flawless violet—the absolute highest marker of soul quality recorded by the artifact.

Inside the pillar, the heavy, leaden weights did not just lift; they shattered into fine dust under the absolute, crushing precision of his spiritual control.

The entire obsidian arena, filled with tens of thousands of elite spectators and arrogant martialists, fell into a sudden, utterly stunned, deathly silence. The sneers vanished, replaced by dropped jaws and wide, terrified eyes.

Gu Ming’s aloof facade completely shattered, his hands gripping the railing of his viewing box tightly. Li Wei took a stumbling step backward, his face draining of all color.

Feng Xiao slowly pulled his hand away from the vibrating, violet-glowing pillar. He turned his head, his calm gaze sweeping over the paralyzed, speechless competitors who had mocked him seconds prior. The face-slap was absolute, devastating, and entirely undeniable. He hadn’t just beaten them; he had utterly humiliated their entire generational legacy with a single touch.

Inside the luxurious common chamber, the atmosphere shifted drastically.

Imperial Consort Xian’s jade cup slipped from her fingers, clattering against the low wooden table. Noble Consort Shu’s mouth hung open slightly, her massive breasts heaving rapidly against her dark blue corset as she stared in shock at the magical projection displaying the arena.

‘Tell them to drink,’ Alaric’s voice echoed darkly, filled with pure, predatory amusement within Ling Ying’s mind. ‘Tell them the vagrant just shattered the board. Tell them to drain their cups to the dregs.’

Ling Ying, feeling the potent, warm buzz of the nectar amplifying her confidence, smiled a bright, victorious smile. She picked up the heavy jade flagon.

“It seems, esteemed Consorts,” Ling Ying purred, gracefully pouring the incredibly potent, soul-bypassing wine into their empty cups, “that my final candidate has vastly, completely surpassed expectations. According to the rules of our wager… you must all drink.”

Alaric sat quietly in the shadows, his ruby eyes watching the Imperial Princesses and Consorts reluctantly, pridefully lift their cups to their lips. The game had begun, the wine was flowing, and the untouchable, arrogant beauties of the Celestial Dragon Empire were drinking themselves directly into his waiting, merciless hands.