'!'

The crowd gasped collectively.

This was not the behavior expected from an imperial bride during a formal ceremony.

Several sect elders shifted uncomfortably, uncertain whether they should avert their eyes or continue watching.

When they finally separated, a thin strand of saliva connected their lips for a moment before snapping. Ying Jia's silver eyes blazed with something new—not just acceptance, but possession, which was more toward showing off rather than actually having it in her.

Tianlong kept looking toward her, within those silver eyes through the thin fabric, while clearly looking for a moment before realizing why she did that, as he chuckled low in his throat.

Among all the wives, he had expected either Feng, who had for quite a while become a good cultured wife, forgetting the vocabulary he taught her, or Mei, being the proactive "do this," but never had he expected his new wife to show such a side in front of so many people.

But knowing what might have motivated her to do so, he spoke in a voice carrying just enough to reach Chen's position. "I must say, you seem thirsty today, wife... I promise to dig all water out of your body..."

In the crowd, Chen's face had gone white with shock and rage.

His hands clenched into fists so tight that blood welled between his knuckles.

The sight of his transformed mother—his lost, mourned mother—kissing his grandfather with such passion was breaking something fundamental inside him.

His qi began fluctuating wildly, spiritual energy lashing out in chaotic waves that made nearby cultivators step back in concern.

But Zhang Wuji was there instantly, his killing intent washing over Chen like ice water.

The young man found himself unable to move, unable to even breathe properly under that terrible pressure.

:: Disciple, control yourself! You cannot win this confrontation! ::

His master's voice in his mind was sharp with desperation, but Chen was beyond rational thought.

The woman who had given him life, who had been his motivation for everything, was now claimed by his enemy.

With a strangled cry of fury and despair, Chen yanked his hand free from Yu Xiang's grip and fled.

He pushed through the crowd with desperate strength, leaving a trail of confused murmurs in his wake.

Yu Xiang hesitated for only a moment before following, her violet eyes calculating even as she played the role of concerned companion.

The ceremony concluded with traditional blessings and the exchange of jade marriage tokens.

As the crowd began to disperse, flowing back toward the dome-restaurants for continued celebration, the other three wives moved naturally into their roles as hostesses.

Mei went to handle the common folk, accustomed to greeting the guests. So she went for those who naturally got ignored in such extravagant marriages.

Yue—the rog, cultivators or the sect who were of lower status—even though called here, were clearly not balanced within the higher or the lowest of the common people. Given her status as empress now, and also knowing how to handle them, she preferred to greet those guests.

Feng naturally handled the higher sect leaders, elders who had arrived possessing a good amount of status in the whole empire, yet now vassals.

Naturally, it was time for both Tianlong and Ying Jia to greet the guests, all customary.

But Tianlong had other priorities.

He knew he had less time, as other wives might just, once a guest went, jump on him... and given how horny his fourth wife had made him, he wanted to check her thoroughly.

As the crowd's attention focused on his other wives, he moved without ceremony. He swept her up in a princess carry, one arm beneath her knees and the other supporting her back.

'!'

"Emper—kyaa~!!" But her voice cut in exclamation as his claws gripped her firm ass, dipping down as if telling her to be silent and not attract the attention of guests.

"H-husband?" she whispered, visibly trembling in her form as she felt how strongly and firmly he held her.

The crowd noticed immediately. Conversations faltered as hundreds of eyes turned to watch their emperor carrying one of his new brides away from the celebration.

Tianlong's voice carried clearly across the courtyard, pitched perfectly to reach Chen's retreating figure:

"I hope I don't make you cry too much tonight, my wife."

The words were delivered with casual cruelty, designed to twist the knife already buried in Chen's psyche.

Around the courtyard, guests exchanged shocked murmurs at the blatant sexuality of the statement.

Then Tianlong was gone, carrying Ying Jia through a doorway that led to the palace's private quarters, leaving behind a crowd buzzing while the three wives, looking in his direction but clearly bound by formalities, were clearly clenching their jaws, realizing that they had just been outwitted by that new woman.

[DING!]

[Achievement Unlock Condition Met: "Mother's consent to submit in front of his son"]

[Effect: +3,500 Harem Points]

[Bonus: Protagonist witnessed mother's willing participation in own humiliation]

[Unlock the Reward by fully claiming her: Get 60% Boost in attraction of every Son of Heaven's mother automatically]

'Huh?' And while moving, as Tianlong saw the reward, he blinked, really confused as to why it was written "More Son of Heaven" within the reward section. Though he could understand that it might be profitable, he had not the least expected that there could be more than one Son of Heaven in this world.

'Wasn't Zhao Chen just the one?'

While thinking, he suddenly realized that he had a weight and burden to carry—the burden in his arms that was begging for him to pay attention to it, rather than around him, he needed to completely focus on the one woman looking at him.

Tianlong strode into the bright chamber, the massive golden doors of the Pleasure Palace sealing shut behind him with a resonant thud that echoed like a heartbeat in the intimate space.

Candles flickered to life along the walls, their flames popping into existence one by one, casting a warm, golden glow that danced across silk-draped surfaces.

Flowers materialized from thin air—crimson roses blooming in mid-unfurl, petals rustling softly as they opened, their sweet, heady scent filling the room like an invisible embrace.

The bed at the center expanded before his eyes, sheets of the finest crimson silk smoothing themselves out, pillows plumping as if inviting surrender.

In his arms, Ying Jia felt like a living contradiction—her body fragile and soft like a cloud, completely under his mercy.

Her weight was light, almost ethereal, yet substantial where it mattered: the soft press of her massive breasts against his chest, heavy and warm, shifting with each step he took, their plush fullness molding to his muscles.

Her wide, motherly hips cradled against his forearm, the curve of her ass spilling over his grip, firm yet giving—the kind of ripe, jiggling flesh that made his fingers dig in instinctively, feeling the subtle tremble of her skin beneath the thin wedding silk.

She buried her face in his neck, her breath hot and ragged against his collarbone, carrying the faint, otherworldly scent of stardust and fresh rain—clean, intoxicating, and utterly addictive.

But strangely, she wasn't protesting, wasn't squirming or demanding answers as he expected. Her body was still, almost resigned, the tension in her limbs like a coiled spring waiting to release.

He halted near the bed, glancing down at her veiled face, partially hidden against him.

"So it seems you've accepted your fate, huh, wife?"

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