My Xianxia Harem Life

Veronica had expected what came next. Her return stirred mixed reactions throughout the clan.

While her immediate family greeted her with open arms, relief, and tearful embraces, the atmosphere beyond that warmth was cold, charged with hostility and judgment.

Whispers buzzed through the corridors of the main hall like venomous insects, each one heavier than the last.

The top elders had gathered swiftly. They were seated in a crescent on raised platforms in the council chamber, a place carved from obsidian and jade, echoing with authority.

Their eyes bore into Veronica—not with curiosity, but with thinly veiled contempt.

"She has endangered the clan with her recklessness," one of the elders, a gaunt man with sharp features and colder eyes, declared.

"I propose we abolish her cultivation and send her to the Austere Clan. Let her learn humility where the sun does not shine. Perhaps then we'll no longer need to hide like turtles in the dark, fearing retaliation."

Murmurs of agreement and disapproval rippled through the gathered elders. Some nodded; others looked away uneasily.

A heavy silence followed. Then a voice thundered through the hall like a crack of lightning.

"Let me see you try," growled Veronica's father, stepping forward from the shadows.

His presence was overwhelming, like a storm barely contained. He wore the robes of a clan elder, but his aura screamed something far more dangerous.

"Lay a hand on my daughter, and I'll smash your skull into pulp before you can even utter your pathetic excuse for a sentence."

His spiritual pressure surged, causing the temperature in the hall to drop as many of the weaker elders instinctively recoiled.

He was not just an elder—he was a Void Tribulation powerhouse, a man who had survived countless life-and-death battles and walked the edge of ascension.

"She may have erred," he continued, his tone calmer but no less sharp, "but she is still of this clan. And I'll not stand by while opportunists dress their cowardice as justice."

The atmosphere tensed like a drawn bow. Several elders exchanged glances, calculating, weighing risks.

Everyone knew that open conflict within the council chamber could spiral into civil war. Many elders commanded their own private forces, loyal cultivators bound by blood, debt, or ideology.

It was the youngest elder, a woman with silver-streaked hair and a neutral expression, who finally spoke.

"This matter is too volatile to resolve here," she said calmly. "We must inform the Patriarch. Let him decide her fate. None of us want war. Not over this."

A low murmur of agreement followed. The elders gradually relaxed, some nodding, others remaining tense.

No one wanted to test Veronica's father, not when he was clearly ready to kill to protect his daughter.

And no one could afford to spark a civil conflict—not when their enemies outside the clan were already watching with hungry eyes.

But beneath the surface, resentment festered. And Veronica knew the battle for her future had only just begun.

Veronica spent the evening reuniting with her family, exchanging warm embraces and quiet words filled with the weight of time and distance.

It had been so long since she had last set foot in the ancestral grounds of the clan, and despite the tension hanging in the air, the embrace of her loved ones gave her the strength to endure it.

Beside her stood Riley—her husband, her shield, her partner.

When she introduced him to her family, there was visible hesitation.

They examined him with wary eyes, their smiles polite but thin.

He was a stranger, and more than that, a potential threat.

In a clan where power dictated respect, Riley's origins were unknown and beyond the abyss oceans, and his place beside Veronica stirred discomfort among the more conservative elders.

But all doubts faded the moment Riley released a portion of his aura.

The pressure in the room shifted like the sudden descent of a mountain.

Chairs creaked, glasses cracked, and the faint-hearted among them instinctively stepped back.

He didn't boast or posture—he simply was.

A Void Tribulation powerhouse, his cultivation base was undeniable, his strength unmistakable.

That revelation shattered much of the suspicion directed at him, and while not everyone warmed up to him, at the very least, they stopped questioning why Veronica had chosen him.

Still, the undercurrents of clan politics remained sharp.

Outside her immediate family, Veronica, Riley, and the loyal companions who traveled with them were met with cold eyes and stiff greetings.

Servants whispered. Junior cultivators sneered when they thought no one was watching.

Elders exchanged looks behind fans and teacups.

The disdain wasn't loud—it was subtle, lingering like a bad smell that couldn't be washed away.

By the time night fell, Veronica was emotionally exhausted.

She had smiled too much, spoken too carefully, and held her tongue when she wanted to lash out.

The long hours of posturing and cautious diplomacy took their toll, and even though she was finally home, she felt as if she were walking a tightrope over blades.

But then there was Riley.

He had said little during the day's formalities, offering only the words that were necessary and the presence that was steady.

And that alone was enough for Veronica.

Over the years they'd spent together, she'd come to understand him well.

He wasn't the type to jump into dangerous situations blindly.

If he had agreed to come to her homeland—a place crawling with enemies cloaked in family colors—then it meant he had already prepared for what lay ahead.

They had only just returned to their shared quarters when he stepped close, his voice low and steady.

"Come here," he said, pulling her gently by the waist. "There's no point in stressing over what hasn't even happened yet. I'm here. I've got you."

Veronica's heart softened at his words. She let herself melt into his arms, allowing his strength to steady her trembling emotions.

In the safety of his embrace, the burdens of the day fell away like heavy armor shed at last.

Riley guided her into a quieter room—one of the inner chambers where no guards or servants would dare intrude.

The moment the door clicked shut, the silence wrapped around them like a protective cocoon.

Riley wasn't usually one to separate his affections. His love was wild, dominant, and often shared among the other women in his life—but not tonight.

Tonight was Veronica's. He knew it in the way her shoulders drooped, in the way her voice wavered when she tried to act strong.

Tonight, she needed more than strength. She needed him.

He reached up and brushed a strand of hair from her face.

"You did well today," he murmured. "Better than most could. But you don't have to carry it all alone."

Veronica blinked away the emotion building in her eyes. She nodded, biting her lip, and leaned into his touch.

"Mmm…" she sighed as he kissed her softly—once on the lips, then on the corner of her mouth, and then her jaw.

His hands found her waist, slow and reassuring, not demanding. The quiet rustle of fabric slipping loose echoed faintly in the room as they drew closer, body and soul.

It wasn't hurried. There was no urgency in their movements—just a quiet intimacy, a shared understanding.

The kind of closeness that came from surviving problems together, from carrying each other's burdens, from knowing someone truly had your back in a world that didn't.

And in that fleeting moment of peace, all the doubts, the glares, the politics—they didn't matter. Not here. Not now.

In time, their clothes lay in scattered folds across the floor, each piece shed with quiet urgency.

The room was dim, lit only by the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the sheer curtains, casting silver outlines over their bare forms.

Their bodies pressed close, warm skin meeting warm skin, every touch sending a shiver down Veronica's spine.

Their lips were still locked in a deep, lingering kiss, filled with passion but also something softer—something that spoke of trust, of safety, of everything they'd been through together.

Their tongues moved in sync, exploring slowly, savoring each second as if time had stretched just for them.

Every brush of their mouths, every shared breath, felt electric.

Riley's hands roamed her body with purpose and reverence, tracing the contours of her back, the curve of her waist, the softness of her thighs.

Veronica responded in kind, her fingers gliding along his chest, memorizing the familiar firmness of muscle and the gentle rise and fall of his breathing.

Their touches weren't hurried. They were deliberate, exploring, worshipping each other with a quiet intensity that spoke volumes without words.

This was only foreplay, yet Veronica already felt like she was unraveling.

Every kiss, every caress, drew her further away from the weight of her responsibilities.

The looks of disdain, the judgment from her kin, the suffocating expectations—they no longer held power over her in this space.

In Riley's arms, she wasn't a clan member or a political piece. She was simply his. And he, hers.

His lips left hers only to travel down the line of her neck, trailing slow kisses along her collarbone and down her chest, each movement setting fire to her skin.

Her breath hitched, her body responding with eager anticipation. Still, Riley didn't rush.

He lingered, savoring every reaction, every soft gasp and quiet moan that escaped her lips.

His patience only deepened her desire, and with every passing second, she melted further into his embrace.

Veronica wrapped her arms around him, pulling him closer, her fingers threading through his hair.

"You always know what I need," she whispered, her voice husky, vulnerable.

Riley lifted his head, his eyes dark with passion but warm with something deeper.

"You give so much of yourself, Veronica. Let me give something back. Get wild—for me."

And she did.

She let go of the tension in her shoulders, the knot in her chest, the storm in her thoughts.

She surrendered to the moment, to him. Because with Riley, she felt seen. Cherished.

Desired not for her beauty or cultivation, but simply for who she was.

For the first time since returning home, she felt truly at peace.