The morning came quietly, like a sigh between two worlds.
Ye Tian sat in the cart, his gaze fixed on the faint mist outside the window. He hadn't moved for hours since waking from the Tianyin Battleground dream—neither speaking nor meditating, just being. The rhythmic sound of the wheels against the earth felt distant, as though the world itself was gently fading into background noise.
Yet, deep within his body, his cultivation stirred—his Night Immortal Physique drawing in spiritual energy unconsciously, refining it, weaving it into his meridians like silent moonlight. His power was growing even as his mind wandered in stillness.
As the first ray of sunlight crept over the horizon, painting the sky in gold, Ye Tian blinked and exhaled.
"Ooh," he murmured with a faint smile. "Morning already."
He tapped the communication talisman and spoke calmly,
"Disciples, stop. Take an hour's rest. Use this time for yourselves."
The cart slowed to a halt on a quiet forest road, surrounded by morning mist and dew-laden grass.
Inside, the peaceful silence was broken by a soft voice.
"Mm… you're up early as ever…" murmured Xiuying, rubbing her eyes, her dark hair falling over her shoulders.
Ye Tian chuckled and reached out, patting her head gently.
"If the leader slacks off, what will happen to the organization?"
He then leaned forward and, with his usual unhurried tenderness, kissed each of his wives good morning—Mu Qingyao, Lan Yuhua and Ling Feng —each touch brief, yet charged with quiet warmth.
The cart, once filled with drowsy silence, now carried a gentle hum of blushes and whispers.
Lan Yuhua's cheeks turned faintly red. "Tian… you could at least give some warning before doing that."
Ye Tian smiled lazily. "If this is how you react now, how will you handle another three?"
Ling Feng arched a brow, her red eyes narrowing. "This system of yours really tells you such things… or are you making them up as you go?"
Lan Yuhua folded her arms, pretending to frown. "Right! I was thinking the same thing."
Ye Tian raised a hand in mock offense. "Why would I lie to my beloved wives? It says the next partner will meet me in a few days."
Xiuying giggled from the side. "Huhu, Brother, you're going to be the harem king at this rate. More wives than the demonic cult leader himself."
Ye Tian's expression stiffened for a heartbeat before he gave a small, helpless laugh.
Mu Qingyao's tone was calm but sharp. "Other than that, is it me, or did your cultivation rise overnight?"
"Ha… haha…" Ye Tian rubbed the back of his neck. "How could that happen? It's the same as yesterday, I assure you."
He quickly stood and clapped his hands. "Leave that. Now that we're all awake, let's get some training in. We've been too lazy lately."
---
Training Scene:
The wives and disciples spread across a sunlit clearing surrounded by jade-green trees. Mist curled between the roots, and the faint roar of distant waterfalls echoed.
Ye Tian stood in the center, correcting Xiuying's form with a flick of his wrist, his movements fluid and precise.
"Your stance lacks focus. Again."
Ling Feng's sword carved arcs through the air, frost blooming wherever she moved. Bai Lian clashed against her, their blades ringing in rhythm—frost against flame, grace against power.
Lan Yuhua guided the younger disciples through Qi circulation patterns, her voice calm and steady. Mu Qingyao, meanwhile, observed quietly, sketching tactical diagrams on the earth with her finger—her crimson robes swaying lightly in the breeze.
For that hour, the field shimmered with motion—each person moving like a verse in a poem of power.
---
Later, the sound of water replaced that of swords.
They gathered by a nearby spring—clear, crystalline, surrounded by silver-leaved trees that caught the morning light. Steam rose faintly as they bathed, laughter echoing softly.
Ling Feng, ever proud, tried to remain distant, but Xiuying splashed her with a handful of water.
"Ah—Xiuying!" she snapped, though her tone betrayed a smile.
Lan Yuhua laughed gently. "You two will never change."
From the shallows, Ye Tian looked on quietly, half-immersed, the rippling light reflecting in his violet eyes. For that brief moment, the world seemed still again—peaceful, almost unreal.
---
Afterward, as the others dressed and packed, Ye Tian opened his system interface. The transparent blue screen shimmered before him, displaying a faint map.
[ Tracking disciples… Estimated arrival time: 36 minutes. ]
He nodded. "The group from yesterday will reach us in under an hour. We'll leave when they arrive."
"Okay," came the unified response from his wives and disciples.
---
Half an hour passed.
Ye Tian now lay under a sprawling tree near the spring, his head resting on Lan Yuhua's lap. Her fingers gently brushed through his hair, while Mu Qingyao sat beside her, the sunlight soft against her crimson robes.
Her gaze, calm yet affectionate, lingered on him for a long moment. "You're always thinking or working, yet you look most peaceful like this."
He smiled faintly without opening his eyes. "Peace rarely lasts. Might as well enjoy it while it does."
The warmth of the scene lingered — the soft rustle of leaves, the sound of distant water, and the quiet laughter from the wives nearby. Ling Feng and Xiuying were dueling again a few paces away, sparks flashing as their blades collided.
For a moment, the Nightlord seemed less like a ruler and more like a man resting between storms.
A young disciple approached, bowing respectfully.
"Sir, we're ready to go."
Ye Tian opened his eyes slowly and stood, brushing stray leaves from his robe.
"Alright. Only a few days left until the Dragon Phoenix Competition. Let's move."
As the caravan began to roll forward once more, Ye Tian gazed toward the distant horizon — crimson clouds drifting over endless plains.
In a quiet whisper meant for no one but himself, he said,
"Never give me too happy of a life… I might forget about you far too soon."
The wind carried his words away, fading into the golden light of dawn.