When night fell over the sealed battlefield of the Nether Rift, darkness didn't simply settle—it descended, thick and oppressive, like a suffocating shroud. The stars above were fake, illusory things conjured by the abyss to mock the sky.
But amidst that corrupted void, a single field camp stood bathed in spiritual wards and flickering lantern-light.
In the heart of it, Wang Li sat on a boulder.
He wasn't meditating. Or cultivating. Or even healing.
He was staring blankly at the enormous tent that had just been erected—by his fiancées.
"Explain to me again," he said slowly, "why… you all have to stay in the same tent. With me."
Yuechan, who was meticulously spreading clean linens across a glowing jade mattress, replied serenely, "We must protect you. This place is still unstable."
"Besides," Bai Xueyao added as she folded her sleeves, "you owe us some quality time. Do you know how stressful it is being your lover and co-warrior in a life-threatening abyssal warzone?"
"I didn't even know I was anyone's lover until yesterday!" Wang Li hissed, casting a glance at Ling Xi, who was stretching like a lazy cat near the fire.
She noticed his look and winked.
"Don't worry, my husband. I'm good at sharing. For now."
Wang Li felt a vein twitching in his forehead. He turned to the most logical person he knew.
"Lin Ruoyan. Please. Talk some sense into them."
She looked up from sharpening her saber and said dryly, "This was my idea."
"…Of course it was."
The tent wasn't small. It was a spiritual-grade fortress tent capable of resisting Saint King realm attacks. Its interior had been expanded with pocket dimension magic to include private sleeping quarters, bathing chambers, a cultivation lounge, and—for reasons unknown—a hot spring.
A very steamy hot spring.
Wang Li eyed it suspiciously. "Why does a war tent have a hot spring?"
Feng Yuling was already soaking in it, humming softly, snowflake petals drifting around her. "It's essential for rapid spiritual recovery. Also, don't act like you're not impressed."
"I'm terrified."
"You'll get used to it," Mu Qingling said, entering the tent behind him, arms folded. Her stardust cloak shimmered as she tossed it off. "We're all going to live here until the Rift Crisis is resolved."
"That could take weeks!"
"Exactly." Yuechan smiled. "Plenty of time for… bonding."
Wang Li collapsed onto a cushion, groaning.
"Bonding. Right. I'm going to die."
"You already did once, remember?" Ling Xi said sweetly. "I was there for your death scream. So poetic."
"…Someone kill me again."
"Oh don't be such a baby," Bai Xueyao scoffed, pulling him to his feet. "You survived fighting Demon Lords, ancient beast emperors, and the fury of five heartbroken women. You can survive one tent."
As the night deepened, and the abyssal winds howled like grieving ghosts outside the camp's barriers, inside the tent was oddly warm. Peaceful.
Yuechan brewed tea with moonlight water and poured him a cup.
Feng Yuling, out of the bath and dressed in ice-blue robes, handed him a clean set of clothes laced with spiritual energy.
Lin Ruoyan casually leaned her head on his shoulder while reading a scroll.
Mu Qingling was polishing her sword next to the fire, but kept glancing his way.
Even Bai Xueyao, who usually threatened to break his legs, now sat next to him, quietly tracing a dragon rune on his hand.
And Ling Xi?
She lay beside him with her head in his lap like a sleepy lioness, sighing contentedly. "I missed this. You, surrounded by chaos, as always."
"…How did my life become this insane?" he muttered.
"Because you're Wang Li," Yuechan said softly. "Our Wang Li."
That silenced him.
For the first time in a long while, he didn't feel the pressure of fate. Or cultivation realms. Or divine inheritance.
He just… felt.
Warmth. Closeness. Maybe even happiness.
He looked at each of them in turn. Their eyes told stories—of past heartbreak, unspoken love, grudges, promises, regrets. And yet they were all here.
Not just because of him.
But for him.
And suddenly, he didn't want to run away anymore.
He smiled. Genuinely.
"You're all crazy," he said.
Yuechan smiled. "We know."
"But you're my crazy."
Mu Qingling snorted. "Finally, he admits it."
Bai Xueyao cracked her knuckles. "You're still going to make up for seven years of ghosting me."
Lin Ruoyan rolled her eyes. "Can't we save that for when we're not in the abyss?"
Ling Xi raised her hand. "I vote we start now."
"Don't you dare," Wang Li said, backing away.
But it was too late.
They pounced.
---
The Next Morning…
Wang Li emerged from the tent, eyes hollow, clothes wrinkled, spiritual energy visibly drained.
A disciple passed by, saw his expression, and bowed in sympathy.
"Hero Wang Li! Did you fight another beast wave last night?"
"…Something like that," he muttered.
Behind him, muffled voices rang out.
"Where's my hairbrush?!"
"Wang Li, make us breakfast!"
"Who used all the qi-infused bath soap?!"
"Wait, is this my robe?!"
Wang Li sighed.
He was the strongest cultivator in the battlefield. The Slayer of the Abyss. A Dragonblood Emperor reborn.
But inside that tent?
He was a househusband with six fiancées and no escape.
And for some reason…
…he didn't hate it.
Not even a little.