My Xianxia Harem Life

"What is that?!"

"It's a giant monster whale!"

"Watch out!"

Panic rippled through the cultivators as colossal shadows surged beneath the waves, their massive forms casting eerie, shifting outlines against the turbulent surface of the sea.

The monstrous whales, larger than any ship and armored with barnacle-crusted hides, circled ominously around the flying boat, their gaping maws occasionally breaching the surface to reveal rows of jagged teeth.

For a moment, fear gripped everyone aboard. Weapons were drawn, spells half-formed in trembling hands. Yet before chaos could erupt, someone shouted, "Wait! Look—the runes!"

As if awakened from a collective nightmare, the cultivators' gazes shifted to the luminous symbols etched along the ship's hull.

The runes pulsed gently, a soft, soothing glow weaving an unseen net around the boat. To their astonishment, the sea monsters hesitated.

Despite their overwhelming size and ferocity, the beasts dared not cross the invisible boundary created by the mysterious runic shield.

They prowled at the edges, letting out low, rumbling calls that vibrated through the air and water alike, but not one dared to come closer.

"What a strange mechanism," one cultivator muttered, his brow furrowed in fascination rather than fear. "I wonder if we can replicate those runes... perhaps even uncover the secrets behind their craftsmanship."

He was not an ordinary cultivator; he had some grounding in rune mastery, and the temptation to learn gnawed at him.

Closing his eyes, he extended his divine sense toward the glowing symbols, probing carefully, like a scholar studying an ancient text.

He traced the complex interlocking patterns—spirals, stars, and flowing lines—trying to understand the principles woven into their design.

But his efforts bore little fruit. The runes seemed to shimmer and distort the closer his divine sense reached, guarding their secrets against foreign intrusion. It was like trying to grasp mist with one's bare hands.

"It would be different if I could take them apart piece by piece…" he thought bitterly.

If only he could scrape the runes off the ship's surface, analyze their construction, and understand the runic pathways from their foundations upward. But such a feat was impossible.

The runes were not merely carved or painted onto the ship—they were bound into it, part of its very being.

Besides, these runes did not belong to him. Tampering with them would not only risk destroying the ship's defenses, but might also invoke the wrath of the ship's true master—someone powerful enough to journey through these perilous, monster-infested seas without fear.

The cultivator sighed and withdrew his divine sense. Around him, the others slowly relaxed, though wary eyes still scanned the waters, and hands remained near weapons.

Even with the safety of the runes, none among them forgot that they traveled through the heart of an untamed ocean, where one slip could mean death.

Above, the sky darkened, and a distant peal of thunder rolled across the heavens. Yet the flying boat sailed on, a small island of light and mystery, shielded by ancient arts that not even the boldest among them dared disturb.

The flying boat would sometimes surface above the waves, allowing glimpses of the endless sky, but most of the time, it traveled deep beneath the surface, hidden from view, seeking a safe passage through the unknown realms of the oceans.

Beneath the crushing weight of the sea, strange and ancient creatures stirred in the darkness, but none dared approach too closely, deterred by the protective runes carved into the ship's hull.

At the helm stood Riley, his hands steady, his gaze calm. Ever since he had absorbed the memories of Daoist Ghosty Zealot, maneuvering the flying boat had become second nature to him, as if he had sailed these treacherous waters a thousand times before.

The intricate routes, the hidden currents, the dangers that lurked in the deep—everything was now as familiar to him as the lines on his own palm.

Thanks to Riley's skill, the journey remained steady and safe. The cultivators aboard, some still new to the vastness of the world beyond their homelands, could only marvel at his composure.

There was no fear of losing their way, no panic about being swallowed by the endless sea. All they needed to do was trust in their leader and wait.

By Riley's estimation, they would arrive at their destination—the Golden Dragon Continent—in about seven days. It was a place of legend to many, a continent renowned for its power and prosperity.

Veronica, one of his wife, had once hailed from there, though her words had only hinted at the true grandeur that awaited them.

The Golden Dragon Continent was one of the strongest domains in the world, separated from other lands by the vast, seemingly endless Abyss Oceans.

In contrast, the Nine Cauldrons Continent, where most of them had originated, was primitive by comparison.

There, the oceans were regarded as impassable barriers, and the techniques to cross them had not yet been invented.

Had it not been for Riley and the ancient knowledge he now possessed, such a journey would have been nothing more than a foolish dream.

Excitement buzzed throughout the ship, but it was mixed with a healthy dose of fear.

What would they find on the other side of the abyss? How powerful would the cultivators of the Golden Dragon Continent be? What strange and alien customs might they encounter?

No one could say for certain. The unknown loomed large before them, both thrilling and terrifying.

Some gathered in quiet groups, speaking in hushed tones about their hopes and fears. Others spent their time cultivating, preparing themselves for whatever challenges lay ahead.

Every so often, someone would glance toward Riley, as if seeking reassurance simply by looking at him.

To them, Riley was not just a leader—he was a myth in the making. A godlike figure whose means and methods were so far beyond their comprehension that they could only stand in awe.

He moved with the certainty of someone who had seen the future, and even when the flying boat groaned under the pressure of the deep seas or a monstrous shadow passed overhead, he never wavered.

Above, unseen in the crushing blackness of the ocean depths, an ancient leviathan drifted past the flying boat, its single luminous eye watching them for a long, silent moment before vanishing into the abyss.

And still, the flying boat pressed on, a small, stubborn light making its way through the vast unknown, carrying with it the hopes, dreams, and fears of all who dared to dream of something greater.

Seven days of endless ocean, seven days of navigating the crushing depths, and finally—finally—they saw land again.

"What's that?! Wow!" someone cried out, breaking the tense stillness that had settled over the flying boat. Instantly, everyone snapped awake, spiritual senses and divine senses shooting forward like arrows, probing the vast expanse ahead.

Through the mists, the jagged outline of a coastline appeared, bathed in the faint golden light of the setting sun. Mountains loomed in the distance like ancient guardians, their peaks lost in swirling clouds.

Dense forests stretched along the shores, untouched and primeval.

Yet what truly stunned everyone wasn't the beauty of the land—it was the spiritual essence that flooded out to meet them.

"This spiritual essence... it's at least three times richer than our continent's!" a sharp-eyed cultivator gasped, his voice filled with disbelief.

"Three times? No, I think it might even be more!" another shouted.

"This is incredible!" someone else cried, their face lighting up with unrestrained joy.

A ripple of excitement surged through the ship. Just breathing the air at this distance made their dantian stir and their cultivation bases react as if nourished by invisible hands.

If cultivating here meant three times the speed of growth—or even more—then ascending to higher realms was no longer a distant dream but a real possibility.

Many young cultivators in particular couldn't hide their eagerness.

They crowded near the ship's railing, peering hungrily at the approaching land, as if their dreams of immortality and greatness were waiting for them just beyond the treeline.

However, the more experienced cultivators—the seasoned warriors who had endured countless battles and setbacks—remained calm.

They understood that riches, whether spiritual or material, never came without cost.

A land this abundant surely meant the native cultivators were far stronger, their powers honed in a fiercer crucible than anything the Nine Cauldrons Continent had ever known.

The Void Tribulation experts exchanged glances, silent agreements passing between them. In this unfamiliar and dangerous world, there was only one man they could rely on: Riley.

Their leader stood at the helm, his expression unreadable, his gaze fixed firmly ahead. Calm and steady, as if nothing could shake him.

An hour later, the flying boat glided to a stop just above the shore, hovering steadily over a pristine white-sand beach where crystal-clear waves lapped gently.

The dense spiritual aura of the land was almost overwhelming at this distance—thicker, purer, and more intoxicating than anything they had ever experienced.

Riley finally turned to address them, his voice clear and commanding.

"We've arrived," he announced, his gaze sweeping across the gathered cultivators. "This land is called the Golden Dragon Continent—one of the more prosperous and powerful continents in the world."

He paused, letting the words sink in. Some looked thrilled. Others were tense, gripping the hilts of their swords, sensing the invisible pressure of a stronger world.

"If anyone wishes to disembark now and explore on their own," Riley continued, "you are free to speak. I will not stop you."

A heavy silence fell over the deck.

Everyone looked at one another, but no one spoke. Even the boldest among them hesitated. As tempting as it was to rush into this new world, they understood the danger of ignorance.

Alone, without allies or understanding of the land's powers and politics, they would be nothing more than prey.

Seeing the silent consensus, Riley gave a small nod of approval.

"Good. Then it's decided," he said. "Our first destination will be my wife's clan. Once we arrive, you can decide if you wish to stay with us or leave on your own. No one is a prisoner aboard this ship. But remember—just as you are free to choose your path, I am under no obligation to protect you if you walk alone."

His words were calm, almost casual, but the underlying warning was clear. They were not children anymore. They were cultivators walking a path of blood, struggle, and destiny.

In this new land, strength and caution would decide who thrived—and who perished.

With those words, Riley turned back toward the ship's controls. The flying boat stirred once again, sailing inland toward the unknown.