By the time dawn colored the horizon in shades of gold and blood, Wang Li had already given up on the idea of a peaceful day.
He sat in the Cloudfire Sect's war pavilion, surrounded by maps, beast reports, cultivation barrier readings—and five women arguing over whether or not to decapitate his newest "fiancée."
"Let me get this straight," Bai Xueyao said, cracking her knuckles. "We're supposed to fight ancient abyssal beasts and share you with a Demon Empress's disciple?"
"She technically arrived with a marriage contract," Lin Ruoyan pointed out.
"A spiritual peach contract," Wang Li corrected. "Made when I was twelve. I couldn't even grow facial hair."
"She wants to duel me," Bai Xueyao hissed, "for your heart."
"That's romantic," Yuechan mused.
"That's psychotic," Mu Qingling snapped.
Feng Yuling, sitting cross-legged in a floating chair made of ice crystals, looked up from the beast reports. "Can we table the harem wars for later? There's an entire wave of corrupted Nether beasts surging toward the east border."
"Oh right," Wang Li muttered. "The end of the world."
Within hours, the sect alliance had mobilized.
Skyships bearing banners of Flame Lotus Sect, Void Sword Sect, Stormcloud Temple, and even the elusive Shadow Wisteria Clan floated over Cloudfire territory. A joint command center was set up—a miracle in itself, considering half the sects had tried to assassinate each other the year before.
Wang Li stood at the center of the command tent, explaining the madness unfolding across the continent.
"Abyssal rifts have been appearing at random," he said, pointing to a glowing map. "Beasts that haven't been seen in millennia are crawling through. Demonic qi tainted with void essence is affecting even high-level cultivators."
"Are you implying these beasts are... possessed?" Elder Wuyin of the Stormcloud Temple asked grimly.
"I'm not implying anything," Wang Li said. "I'm stating it."
He raised his hand. A dark tendril of qi emerged from his palm, squirming like a living thing.
It hissed.
The room went silent.
Yuechan reached over and casually disintegrated it with a snap of her fingers.
"Next time, tell me before you summon cursed entities in a meeting," she said sweetly.
"Noted," Wang Li coughed.
From behind a curtain, Xing Feiyan entered, dressed in full abyssal battle armor, her black-gold saber humming with ancient runes. The room tensed.
She smiled politely.
"I will assist your envoy," she said, nodding to Wang Li. "For personal and practical reasons."
"Oh, you mean your marriage claim," Bai Xueyao growled.
"Still valid," Feiyan said serenely.
"Can we not do this here?" Wang Li sighed.
Lin Ruoyan stepped forward and clapped her hands.
"Focus. We launch our counter-operation tomorrow. All units prepare for high-speed teleport formation deployment. Wang Li, you're leading the Vanguard Division."
Everyone turned to him.
Wang Li blinked. "...I am?"
"Yes," Lin said. "You're the only one who's both powerful enough and dumb enough to charge directly into a demonic rift and make it look like a strategic maneuver."
"That's not fair," Wang Li said. "I'm also incredibly handsome."
"That too," Yuechan whispered beside him, leaning close enough to make him blush.
That night.
The moon shone down on the Cloudfire Sect like a silvery lantern. Most disciples were preparing their artifacts, sharpening swords, and meditating. Wang Li, however, found himself ambushed by his women one by one.
First was Mu Qingling.
"You need to stop letting Yuechan influence your cultivation style," she grumbled, adjusting his robes. "You've started using moon-element qi in your palm strikes. It clashes with your inner flame core."
"Thanks, Mom," Wang Li said.
"Don't make me slap you."
Then came Feng Yuling, who handed him a new talisman.
"I infused it with cryo-essence," she said, looking away. "If you get overwhelmed, activate it. I'll come immediately."
"Yuling... thank you."
"Don't misunderstand it," she muttered. "I just don't want to watch the others cry."
Then Bai Xueyao grabbed him by the collar and kissed him so hard he nearly passed out.
"Don't die," she whispered against his lips. "If you die, I'll resurrect you just to kill you again."
"Romantic," he wheezed.
Finally, Yuechan approached as he sat under the moonlight.
She didn't say a word—just curled up beside him and rested her head on his shoulder.
"You really are the eye of a storm," she murmured. "No matter what happens, we all spin around you."
"I didn't ask for this," he said.
"Too late."
The next day.
Wang Li stood at the edge of the Nether Rift.
Before him, the sky had cracked open like a bleeding wound, and the land was blackened by cursed qi. Beasts with jagged limbs and gaping maws roamed the wastelands. A corrupted wyvern the size of a mountain roared from above.
Behind him stood over a thousand elite cultivators.
Beside him stood the women who had thrown their futures—and hearts—into chaos for his sake.
He cracked his neck, summoned the Crimson Dragonblade, and took a deep breath.
"Let's go make some terrible decisions," he said.
And charged into the abyss.