My Xianxia Harem Life

"Wow! It's cold here," one of Riley's wives exclaimed, wrapping her arms around herself as a gust of dry wind swept past them.

Her voice echoed faintly across the desolate plain, carried by the biting breeze that offered no comfort.

"I know," another replied, rubbing her arms briskly. "I'm starting to think I don't like this place already. It's lifeless. Ugly."

"And our cultivation bases are sealed too," a third woman added with a frustrated sigh. She tried to channel spiritual energy into her palm, but nothing happened. "It's like someone shut off all the qi in the world."

"This place is just… weird," one of the younger women muttered, glancing around with visible unease.

Riley stood silently at the center of the group, surveying the barren desert surrounding them.

Cracked earth stretched to the horizon, dotted with twisted rocks and the occasional skeletal tree that looked like it had died centuries ago.

The sky above was gray and dim, casting a somber hue over the entire landscape. It was a dead world, silent and still, as if even time itself had slowed.

The group had just arrived in the secret realm—teleported randomly like everyone else who entered. Though the location wasn't ideal, none of them were particularly alarmed.

Prior to entering, they had gathered a fair amount of intelligence and even acquired a crude but functional map.

While others might wander aimlessly, Riley's party already had a rough sense of direction.

"East," Riley finally said, pointing toward a distant mountain range barely visible on the horizon. "According to the map, there's supposed to be a cluster of massive waterfalls in that direction. I suddenly feel like soaking in a hot spring. Maybe it'll wash off this desert gloom."

His wives brightened at that, some nodding eagerly.

"A warm bath sounds amazing right now," one of them said with a hopeful smile.

"Better than standing around freezing in this cursed wasteland," another agreed.

The group began to move, their long robes fluttering slightly with each step. They weren't alone—several servants trailed after them, carrying supplies, food, tools, and tents.

A few even held up decorative parasols to shield their mistresses from the sun, even though the light was barely strong enough to cast shadows.

Their arrival in the realm might've been random, but their presence carried an air of elegance and order. It looked more like a royal procession or a casual noble's picnic than a typical secret realm expedition.

"Look at them," one of the servants whispered to another with awe. "Everyone else enters this realm trembling, but our young master and his wives look like they're on holiday."

"Of course they do. He's Riley," the other replied simply, as if that explained everything.

As they walked, laughter and chatter began to replace the earlier complaints. Despite the strange environment, the group's morale was high. With Riley leading them, confidence came naturally.

Even in a land where cultivation was sealed and danger could appear at any moment, it felt—for now—like they had nothing to fear.

Little did they know, something was watching them from beneath the cracked earth.

"Oh my… that's Riley Mason! Look!" one of the men hissed, eyes wide as he peeked through a slit between two slabs of sun-baked rock.

"I know, man. I have eyes too," the second whispered back, his tone dry and unimpressed. He didn't even look up from the scope of his sand-scrying lens.

"And you don't have to shout," the third snapped quietly. "We're hiding, remember?"

The three men were buried just beneath the surface of the desert, concealed beneath layers of sand, camouflage netting, and illusionary qi that blurred their presence to any casual observer.

A dry wind whistled overhead, shifting grains of sand over their makeshift observation post. They didn't flinch. They were used to this. Trained for it.

This was their element.

Unlike most cultivators who relied on flashy techniques and brute force, these men came from a harsh desert world where even qi was scarce and the sun never showed mercy.

Their people had learned to move like shadows and strike like mirages—unseen, deadly, and gone before the enemy ever knew what hit them.

Though they held no great titles or fame outside, in this environment, they were the undisputed masters.

And now, the great Riley Mason had stepped directly into their territory.

The one with the lens adjusted the focus and muttered, "It's definitely him. Same golden cloak. Same ridiculous confidence. A true void tribulation powerhouse."

"And those women with him... they're his wives, right?" the first man added, voice full of disbelief. "There's like more than a dozen of them. How is that even fair?"

The third man frowned. "Focus. This isn't gossip hour. If Riley Mason is really here, we need to get this information to the boss—immediately. This changes everything."

"Agreed," the second said. "This isn't some wandering rogue. It's him. The infamous Riley Mason!"

Two of the three men began crawling backward, using a silent retreat technique that allowed them to move under the sand without disturbing the surface.

It was a specialized method, one developed over decades in the endless dunes of their homeland. Soon, they vanished entirely, leaving no trace.

The third man remained, eyes fixed on the distant figures. He shifted slightly, angling his lens to get a better view of the servants, the equipment, the layout of the camp being set up. Every detail mattered.

He pulled out a worn leather notebook and began jotting notes with practiced efficiency:

Confirmed: Riley Mason present

Group consists of more than 20 members

His wives

10+ servants/support staff

Traveling heavy but with confidence

Destination appears to be east—possibly the giant waterfalls

He paused, glancing up at the horizon.

The desert winds had picked up slightly. The sun was lower now, casting long shadows across the cracked land.

Danger was always present in the secret realm, but Riley's group looked utterly at ease, as if they were on a leisure tour rather than an expedition into one of the most unpredictable and perilous zones in existence.

The spy narrowed his eyes. Either they were foolish…

…or they were confident for a reason.

He slipped the notebook back into his vest and looked some more.

The man allowed himself a small grin.

Others would hunt spirit beasts and chase after treasure maps. But not them. Their job was simpler—and far more profitable.

They sold information to the highest bidder, played sides against each other, and let the realm's chaos feed their pockets.

And now, with Riley Mason on the board, the game was about to get very interesting.

Many cultivators within the secret realm recognized Riley Mason the moment they saw him—and wisely gave way. His reputation preceded him like a wave, and few were foolish enough to get in his path.

Yet Riley paid them little mind. He wasn't here to make a name for himself, nor to seek conflict. He was here to enjoy himself, to explore the realm leisurely, and to give his wives a well-deserved outing.

Before long, they reached the fabled waterfalls marked on their map. The sight was breathtaking—cascading rivers of crystal-clear water flowing from the jagged cliffs above into deep, serene pools.

Surrounded by lush vegetation and misty air, it was a rare paradise in the middle of this otherwise barren world.

Without hesitation, they swam and bathed in the cool water, laughter echoing as they relaxed beneath the falls.

Afterward, they set up a lavish picnic by the riverbank, dining on fresh game caught nearby—roasted expertly by their servants over open flame.

The meat was juicy, the wine flowed freely, and the atmosphere was one of joy and freedom.

In the days that followed, their outing turned into something far more fruitful.

They encountered ancient ruins hidden deep in forested ravines, unsealed forgotten treasure caches, and defeated guardian beasts guarding relics of power.

Although Riley no longer acted as he had during his time with Diana—rushing in solo, recklessly powerful—he had grown in wisdom. Now, he relied on cooperation and trust.

The teamwork between him and his wives was nothing short of spectacular.

Together, they moved like a single entity—dozens of graceful cultivators surrounding massive spirit beasts with flawless coordination.

One would draw attention, another would trap, and Riley would deliver the finishing blow, or vice versa. The efficiency, grace, and sheer power they displayed left onlookers stunned.

Soon, word of their exploits spread like wildfire throughout the secret realm. Whispers of "the man with the twelve wives" began to circulate, and tales of their victories grew with each passing day.

They were known not only for their strength but for the elegance with which they operated—disarming traps, bypassing formations, and collecting rare treasures as if it were second nature.

By the second week, their journey took a dramatic turn.

They had just cleared another ancient site and were descending a hill when they spotted two new figures blocking their path.

One was a woman dressed in flowing purple robes, her beauty ethereal and otherworldly—like a violet flame wrapped in mystery. Her presence was calm, commanding, and strangely familiar.

Beside her stood a tall man in a silver mask, his eyes gleaming with amusement. He gave their group a wide, exaggerated smile—like a predator welcoming prey into his den.

"Well, well…" the masked man said, his voice warm yet laced with something unsettling. "What a lovely parade we've stumbled upon."

Riley narrowed his eyes. Around him, his wives shifted slightly, their hands inching toward their weapons.

The carefree outing was over.

Things were about to get interesting.