My Xianxia Harem Life

It was no secret that the average Nascent Soul cultivator could live up to 1,000 years. Daoist Three Swords, however, had defied the odds, surpassing 1,500 years.

Riley could only assume it was due to a combination of longevity pills, forbidden techniques, and sheer force of will.

Yet even with these measures, it was clear that time was running out for the old master.

His body bore the unmistakable signs of decay, and the rampant death qi swirling in the room was a testament to his waning vitality.

Still, Riley knew better than to underestimate him.

The man had survived far longer than most and had carved his name into the annals of history for a reason.

A cornered tiger, no matter how old or frail, was still a tiger.

"Elder Riley Mason," Daoist Three Swords rasped, his voice brittle yet laced with an undeniable sharpness.

His sunken eyes met Riley’s with surprising intensity.

"You’ve made quite the stir as of late. Tell me... why did you still choose to come here?"

Riley smiled faintly, his usual confidence tempered with a touch of respect.

"I was under the impression that my sect was invited to the Seven Swords Grand Meet," he said calmly.

"Or should we start packing our bags and head back home after just arriving?" His tone was light but carried a subtle edge, as if testing the waters.

He paused, his gaze steady as he added sincerely, "And, of course, it’s an honor to meet one of the greatest legends this continent has ever known."

Riley wasn’t merely paying lip service.

From what he’d read, Daoist Three Swords had stood as a bastion of righteousness for centuries, a figure of unwavering principles who had shaped the very fabric of the cultivation world.

Despite the man’s frailty, Riley felt a genuine sense of admiration.

One should understand that only powerhouses who had reached the Nascent Soul Realm were qualified to earn the revered title of "Daoist." and have Daoist titles attached to their names.

The old man chuckled softly, the sound dry and brittle, like the rustling of dead leaves. "Flattery... a tool of the clever, but often a mask for ulterior motives. You should know that the phantom abyss sect and the prince clan will be after that handsome head on your shoulders."

"And summoning me here is your way of protecting me, isn’t it? A clear stance that you won’t sit idly by while evil knocks at your doorstep," Riley said with a grin, his respect for the old, dying man deepening.

Men of honor and bravery like Daoist Three Swords were a rare breed these days, relics of a bygone era.

The old man let out a dry chuckle, shaking his head.

"Hah… that’s wishful thinking on your part, young man. I’m old, tired, and far beyond my prime. All I can promise is that no harm will come to you within the boundaries of my Heavenly Sword Sect. Beyond that..." He sighed, his voice trailing off with the weight of unspoken limitations.

"But," Daoist Three Swords continued, his sharp eyes studying Riley intently, "I can see well enough that you’re ready to face the threat of both influences, Elder Riley. Which brings me to the question: what do you rely on to face such overwhelming odds? You don’t seem reckless or foolish—no, not in the slightest. That much, I can tell."

The old master paused, his gaze narrowing as he examined Riley’s demeanor.

Over the years, Daoist Three Swords had developed an uncanny ability to read people, and Riley did not strike him as a man courting death.

Riley met his gaze with calm confidence.

"I have my ways, Daoist Three Swords. As for what they are…" He smirked faintly.

"I’m sure you’ll find out after the Seven Swords Grand Meet."

The room fell silent as the two men regarded one another, a quiet tension filling the space.

"I’m sure I will," Daoist Three Swords said with a faint, knowing smile.

He knew that Riley was hiding a significant secret, especially since he had managed to kill Lucas Prince. After all, no ordinary person could accomplish such a feat.

With that, he brought the meeting to a close.

Riley was led by the same disciple back to the courtyard where Elder Michael and the rest of the Stone Mountain Sect disciples were staying.

The air was thick with focus and determination as everyone busied themselves with their cultivation, preparing for the upcoming contest.

"Ah, so it’s just the two of us again, Elder Michael. Care for another game of chess?" Riley asked with a playful grin.

Elder Michael let out a tired sigh, shaking his head.

"No. There’s no point in playing with you—you always win." He frowned slightly, recalling the countless games they had played on their journey to the Heavenly Sword Sect.

He had lost every single one, without exception.

"I see. That’s a shame," Riley said, feigning disappointment.

"I suppose I’m out of opponents then. I can’t ask our disciples; they’re all too busy preparing for the contest." He sighed dramatically, leaning back as if burdened by the lack of competition.

Chess had always been his favorite hobby back on Earth. Outwitting a worthy adversary—or being outsmarted—was a thrill he sorely missed in this new world.

Elder Michael gave him an amused look before gesturing towards the courtyard gates.

"Why not explore the Heavenly Sword Sect? It’s your first time here, after all. There are plenty of sights worth seeing. I recommend the Sword Tomb—it’s a place that will broaden your horizons, no matter your path in cultivation. I’ll keep an eye on the disciples."

Riley’s grin returned.

"Thank you, Elder Michael. I’ll take your advice."

It was still noon, leaving him the rest of the day to wander the sect at his leisure.

But first, his stomach made its demands known with a low, insistent growl.

"I’ll start by finding a good restaurant," Riley muttered to himself.

"I’m so hungry, I could eat an entire horse."

With that, he set off into the bustling sect, ready to indulge his appetite before exploring the wonders of the Heavenly Sword Sect.