My Xianxia Harem Life-Chapter 346 Battery
Riley did not pause his devouring.
On the contrary, he consumed even faster, as though daring the intruder to keep watching.
Every treasure he swallowed made his aura darker, sharper, more suffocating, until it pressed against the unseen spy like a mountain.
The watcher’s presence trembled faintly, then steadied.
The watcher had experience, courage, and interest in him.
Riley didn’t care. This was part of his plan after all.
Let them watch. Let them witness his transformation.
For now, the only sound in the room was the endless hum of treasures breaking apart, spiritual energy roaring, and Riley’s low, controlled breaths as he stepped further and further into power.
Riley finished consuming every last spirit stone, heavenly treasure, and trace of spiritual essence that could be of use to him.
The treasures within his body melted into rivers of pure energy, each stream rushing violently into his meridians before fusing with his core.
His dantian pulsed like a blazing sun, and the roar of power within him thundered like a great ocean tide.
When the torrent finally calmed, Riley opened his eyes.
A faint glow shimmered across his skin, and his aura surged so violently that the walls of his secluded chamber trembled under its pressure.
Slowly, a smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
He had gained more than he had expected. The harvest from this campaign alone was staggering.
Each evil sect he destroyed had not only fed his strength but also provided him with treasures accumulated over countless generations.
All of it was now his, absorbed into his being. He could feel it—his body was stronger, his spirit sharper, his soul more resilient.
"With this alone..." Riley thought to himself, his eyes glinting coldly, "...I can already rival Adam. At worst, I can stand as his equal. At best, I can surpass him outright."
The thought was enough to stir a dangerous ambition deep within his chest.
Adam, his so-called master, was one of the supreme existences of this realm.
To even compare oneself to him was madness in the eyes of others. But Riley knew better.
His confidence was not born of arrogance, but of certainty.
His foundation was real, and his path was unlike any other.
It was only a matter of time before no one—not Adam, not anyone—could stand before him.
More than that, Riley knew a secret most in this realm could not even imagine.
He closed his eyes again, his consciousness brushing against ancient memories and truths recorded beyond the confines of this world.
His real body, outside this alien realm, had seen it all—the rise and fall of the so-called Apex Immortal Zenith cultivators.
Once, they had been the pride of this world.
Their might had split mountains, overturned seas, and torn apart the heavens themselves.
They had seemed invincible.
But the truth was cruel.
In an age long past, the owner of this realm had used them as pawns, summoning their strength to fight battles that were never theirs.
In the end, they fell—broken, defeated, discarded.
Their corpses became dust, their glory erased, and the immortal era collapsed.
That was why, as of this moment, no true Immortal Zeniths remained.
The great path was shattered.
What remained now were only fragments—cultivators who clawed at the broken remnants of Dao, piecing together fragments of primordial truth.
To mortals and lesser cultivators, these experts were untouchable deities.
To Riley, they were nothing more than obstacles.
"Adam, my so-called master, stands among those at the top today. But even he..." Riley’s lips curved into a smirk, "...will fall short against me soon enough."
He clenched his fist, and the room seemed to groan under the sheer density of power leaking from him.
His shadow stretched unnaturally along the walls, as though the heavens themselves recoiled from his intent.
He could almost see the future in his mind’s eye: the day when this realm trembled under his name, when his strength eclipsed all others, when he no longer walked in anyone’s shadow.
Yet Riley did not rush. He knew cultivation was not only about accumulation but also patience.
For now, he would bide his time, continue harvesting, continue evolving.
Every sect he toppled was another step forward.
Every treasure he consumed was another stone laid upon the foundation of his supremacy.
This realm had long forgotten what true power meant.
The so-called sovereigns, the vaunted experts, the self-proclaimed gods—they were but candle flames in the darkness.
Riley would be the storm that snuffed them all out.
His eyes gleamed with killing intent and ambition as he whispered to himself:
"When I am finished, this realm will remember me as the one who shattered its limits. The one who devoured heaven itself."
***
In the following months, Riley’s shadow spread across the immortal realm like a storm that could not be stopped.
Sect after sect fell beneath his hand, their foundations shattered, their heritage erased, their names consigned to oblivion.
He was merciless in his approach. To those steeped in cruelty and corruption, he showed no hesitation.
Elders who had preyed upon their disciples, sect masters who had sold mortals into slavery, alchemists who refined pills with human lives—none survived his judgment.
His sword fell without pause, cutting through them as if they were no more than weeds to be uprooted.
Yet amid the slaughter, Riley never forgot to plunder.
He stripped vaults bare, claimed spirit stones by the millions, heavenly treasures by the cartload, and ancient relics thought lost to time.
Even immortal-ranked artifacts were torn from the hands of their wielders, added to Riley’s growing mountain of spoils.
His conquests were not merely a cleansing, but a harvest—and with each victory, his strength soared to new heights.
The evil sects that remained began to unravel long before his blade reached them.
Fear was a poison that spread faster than steel.
Whispers of the "Divine Executioner" echoed through their halls like curses.
Some disciples stopped sleeping, jolting awake at the slightest sound.
Elders began to plot their escape, hoarding treasures and abandoning their sects to rot.
Others fell into madness, too afraid to leave yet too terrified to stay.
And then came the deserters.
"Fuck this! I don’t want to die young—I quit!" one disciple shouted before ripping off his sect robes and fleeing into the wilderness.
"Me too! If you’re so eager to die, then don’t drag me with you!" another spat, his voice trembling as he disappeared into the night.
"Let’s go! While we still can!" dozens more cried, scattering like frightened birds.
Some fled to righteous sects, begging for asylum.
Others vanished into the mortal world, trying to bury their past sins under false names and quiet lives.
But none could escape the shadow of fear.
Even in distant provinces, when cultivators quarreled, the ultimate threat was whispered: "Careful... or the Divine Executioner will come for you."
And so, Riley’s name spread, carried on the tongues of both the wicked and the righteous.
The righteous sects themselves were divided.
Within the Sacred Heart Sword Sect, disciples praised him openly.
"Hahaha! Heaven has finally sent divine retribution to this cursed world!" one shouted in joy.
"Even the Blood Fiend Sect, the Heavenly Demon Cult, the Nine Nether Palace—all destroyed! The heavens are merciful at last!"
Yet not all were so quick to celebrate. Among the elders, voices of unease rose.
"Do not be deceived," one cautioned grimly.
"A man who slaughters sects so easily may one day turn his blade upon us. Today, he kills the wicked. Tomorrow, who can say?"
In other righteous sects, debates raged.
Was Riley a hero chosen by the heavens, sent to cleanse the immortal realm of its corruption?
Or was he merely another butcher, one who hid his greed beneath the mask of justice?
No matter the opinion, none could deny the truth: his presence had changed the balance of the realm.
For the first time in countless generations, the evil sects that had ruled with fear found themselves hunted, their reign overturned by a single man.
And so, the name "Divine Executioner" became legend.
To the innocent, it was a beacon of hope. To the guilty, it was a death sentence.
And to those in power, it was a reminder that somewhere in the vast immortal realm, a man walked freely, unbound by sect, law, or order—answerable to no one but himself.
The realm trembled, not at an army, nor at a great alliance, but at the footsteps of a single man.
Riley pressed forward without rest, devouring sect after sect in an unstoppable tide of destruction.
He left no roots for evil to grow back, toppling their elders, scattering their disciples, and stripping their vaults bare.
His conquest continued until his coffers overflowed with treasures, his body saturated with the essence of countless legacies.
The immortal realm was incomprehensibly vast, its domains stretching across endless horizons.
To purge it entirely would take eons, yet Riley had no need of such thoroughness.
Even just one treasure house of an evil sect had saved too much food for him to eat.
