Time lost all meaning within the bridal chamber. The days blurred into a haze of golden light and silken sheets, a living tableau of a spring palace painting come to life.

Han Lie lay at the center of this world, a king upon his throne of pleasure. To his right sat the imperious Ye Qingxuan; to his left, the gentle Zhuo Hongyi. Su Mei, bold and affectionate, lay sprawled across his chest.

It was the pinnacle of existence. The ancient texts spoke of the ‘Joy of Qi’—the blessing of multiple wives—but few men in the history of cultivation could claim a fortune as vibrant as this. He was sinking into the Gentle Fragrance Pavilion, drowning in a sea of familial bliss that soothed the weary edges of his soul.

“Hongyi, Mei,” Han Lie said, his voice rich with contentment. He looked at the women nestled against him, his expression turning solemn. “Aside from my wife, you two were the first to stand by my side. I want to give you both a formal status.”

Zhuo Hongyi rested her head on his broad shoulder, her eyes shimmering with adoration. “My love, being by your side is all I desire. I crave no titles.”

“Me too!” Su Mei chirped, nuzzling against him. “Just being accepted by the Sect Leader is enough to make me happy!”

“You are both so understanding.” Han Lie stroked their cheeks, marveling at their pliability. “Perhaps you do not care, but I would not be able to forgive myself if I let you remain in the shadows.”

He turned his gaze to the woman on his right. The Empress.

“So, wife…” Han Lie asked, watching her closely. “What is your opinion?”

Ye Qingxuan smiled, a beaming, radiant expression that lacked even a hint of jealousy. “I have no objection, Husband. As long as you are happy, that is all that matters.”

“Hahaha! With a wife like this, what more could a man ask for?” Han Lie threw his head back and laughed, the sound echoing off the gilded walls.

“If you wish to give them titles, Husband, simply pick a date,” Ye Qingxuan added softly, her voice like warm water. “We shall hold another Dao Companion Bonding Ceremony.”

Han Lie continued to laugh. It was infectious; Ye Qingxuan, Zhuo Hongyi, and Su Mei joined in, their bell-like laughter harmonizing with his deep baritone.

“Wife, you are truly too good to me,” Han Lie murmured, his hand cupping Ye Qingxuan’s flawless face.

“How else could I be your wife?” she replied, lifting her chin with a touch of playful pride.

“Indeed.”

Han Lie’s laughter cut off abruptly.

The warmth did not leave the room, but the light in his pitch-black eyes shifted. A profound, pitiable melancholy surfaced in his gaze.

“It is a pity,” he whispered. “The more beautiful a thing is, the less real it tends to be.”

The three women froze. Question marks seemed to practically materialize above their heads.

“Husband, what do you mean?” Ye Qingxuan asked.

Han Lie moved. He did not simply stand; he launched himself from the bed with an explosion of kinetic energy, landing on his feet a few paces away. A strange, inscrutable smile played on his lips.

“Enough. I do not deny that this is beautiful. It is the life I have yearned for in the deepest recesses of my heart. But if it is false, then it has no need to exist.”

“Husband, what nonsense are you speaking?” Ye Qingxuan stood, her brow furrowed in concern. “Have you succumbed to an inner demon?”

Han Lie looked at her—really looked at her—with a critical, dissecting stare.

“‘You’ can read my memories. You can simulate Ye Qingxuan, Zhuo Hongyi, and Su Mei down to the smallest detail. But so what?”

He took a step forward, his aura flaring.

“To confuse me, to make me willingly drown in this false spiritual world, ‘you’ have beautified their personalities to a grotesque degree.”

He pointed a finger at the woman in red.

“Especially you. ‘Ye Qingxuan’.”

Han Lie’s voice dropped, becoming cold and hard. “The real Ye Qingxuan might eventually accept the others, but she is an Empress. She is a tyrant. She would never share me so easily unless my cultivation had utterly surpassed hers—unless I had suppressed her pride with absolute power.”

“At present, I am not her superior,” Han Lie sneered. “So your behavior, from start to finish, reeks of incongruity. It is the fatal flaw in your masterpiece.”

The three women exchanged glances of terrified worry.

“Darling, what reading memories? What spiritual world? You’re scaring me!” Zhuo Hongyi cried out.

“If it’s an inner demon, tell us! We’ll help you overcome it together!” Su Mei pleaded.

They looked at him as if he were the madman. As if he were the one breaking the sanctity of their paradise.

“Truly, there is no other way,” the false Ye Qingxuan sighed. Her expression hardened. “We must subdue him first.”

Her jade-like hand shot out.

BOOM!

The terrifying pressure of the Void Refining Stage erupted within the bridal chamber. The air screamed as her palm descended, carrying enough force to crush a mountain.

For a split second, a primal fear flickered in Han Lie’s heart. The pressure felt undeniable. The killing intent felt real.

But the fear was transient. Han Lie’s will was iron.

He did not dodge. He reached out.

His large, calloused hand intercepted the incoming strike, his fingers clamping around her delicate wrist like a vice.

The impact should have shattered his arm. Instead, he held her fast. The skin felt warm, the pulse beneath his fingers beat rhythmically, but Han Lie’s conviction was absolute: She is fake.

Therefore, she could not hurt him.

“This is the second trial, is it not?” Han Lie said calmly, staring into the shocked eyes of his ‘wife.’

“I have seen through your tricks. It ends here.”

Hum!

The world shattered.

The gilded walls, the silken sheets, the beautiful women—everything froze in grayscale before dissolving into mist.

Han Lie’s physical body shuddered—a violent jolt that snapped his consciousness back into reality. He opened his eyes.

He was sitting in a void. There was no bridal chamber, only the endless, silent dark.

Floating nearby was Bai Ling. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her brow knotted in intense pain. She was thrashing slightly, caught in the throes of a nightmare she could not wake from.

“You finally woke up. I was about to claw you awake, meow.”

Xiao Zi’s voice drifted from his side. Han Lie turned to see the purple cat crouching in the void, looking bored but relieved. It seemed the illusion had bypassed her entirely.

“How long?” Han Lie asked, his voice raspy.

“Several days, probably. Time is weird here, meow,” Xiao Zi replied, flicking her tail.

“Acceptable. Not too long.”

Han Lie exhaled a long breath and adjusted his posture, crossing his legs to meditate. He began to circulate the Yin Yang Demonic Art, stabilizing his chaotic qi.

Yet, the moment he closed his eyes, the images returned.

The wedding. The laughter. The warmth of three bodies pressing against him. The perfection of that false life played through his mind like a lantern show.

It had been terrifyingly detailed. If his will had been even slightly weaker, if he had been a man more prone to complacency, he would never have broken free. He would have lived and died in that sweet, rotting dream.

He had to admit, the desire was real. He wanted that life. He wanted Ye Qingxuan as his wife, and a harmonious harem at his back. Before this, he hadn’t dared to articulate such a greedy dream even to himself.

After an unknown amount of time, Han Lie opened his eyes, his composure restored.

He turned his attention to Bai Ling.

Her condition was deteriorating. Cold sweat beaded on her forehead, and her whimpers were growing more desperate. She looked like a small boat caught in a hurricane.

“Brother Lie, the Saintess looks bad, meow,” Xiao Zi said, hopping onto his shoulder to peer down at the girl.

“Nonsense, I have eyes.”

“Should we force her awake?”

“Force her?” Han Lie reached up and flicked Xiao Zi’s forehead.

“Ouch!”

“Use your brain,” Han Lie scolded. “Based on my experience, this is a trial of the heart. The ruins’ master forces us to face our deepest desires or our darkest fears.”

He gestured to Bai Ling’s trembling form. “I faced desire. Looking at her, she is facing fear.”

Han Lie’s expression darkened. “If we interfere violently while her soul is locked in that struggle, the backlash could shatter her mind. She would fall into an endless abyss and never wake up.”

“Then what do we do, meow? Just watch?” Xiao Zi asked, her ears drooping. “What if the Saintess can’t beat her fear?”

“We wait,” Han Lie said, his voice quiet but firm. “We give her time. Trust in her strength.”

Silence returned to the void, broken only by Bai Ling’s ragged breathing and the low hum of Han Lie’s power as he sat guard, watching over her struggle in the dark.