My Xianxia Harem Life-Chapter 351 Fate

Riley stepped onto the wide, elevated stage, his boots echoing softly against the polished stone floor.

The instant he appeared, dozens of spiritual senses swept over him, piercing and invasive, brushing against every inch of his body as though trying to peel away his secrets.

Normally, such an act was seen as an open insult, a challenge meant to test one’s strength or provoke a reaction.

Yet Riley didn’t even flinch. His expression remained calm, his stride steady.

He could feel the probing energies lingering around him, but to him, they were nothing more than the playful tricks of arrogant youths—mere ripples trying to measure the depth of an ocean.

All around the stage, the gathered disciples whispered among themselves, curious eyes falling upon the newcomer.

Riley paid them no mind.

He had seen far too many of their kind—disciples who relied too heavily on their cultivation levels to command respect, unaware that true power was often far quieter, and far deadlier, than outward arrogance could ever show.

There were twenty-three senior disciples on the stage that day, each one a formidable cultivator who had already stepped into the Heavenly Tribulation Transcendence Realm.

Every single one of them possessed strength that could shake mountains and rivers, and their spiritual pressure hung heavy in the air like a storm waiting to break.

These were individuals who could easily live for a thousand years, their vitality sustained by the powerful energy circulating through their meridians.

With the right longevity pills and sufficient spiritual resources, that thousand years could stretch much, much further—perhaps even several millennia.

Death, to cultivators of their level, was not something that came naturally.

It had to be forced upon them.

Riley found an unoccupied seat near the front and settled into it with quiet grace.

The rows of seats extended far and wide, carved from a single block of spiritual jade that shimmered faintly under the sunlight.

This was the gathering place for the sect’s senior disciples—a sacred platform where they preached the Dao, shared their insights, and guided the younger generation along the perilous path of cultivation.

Despite the grandeur of the occasion, Riley could tell that most of the truly powerful cultivators in the sect were absent.

The true monsters of the sect, those who had long surpassed the tribulation realm, viewed events like this with thinly veiled disdain.

The rewards offered here were far too trivial to catch their attention, and their lofty ambitions lay far beyond simple sect merit or recognition.

To them, these assemblies were nothing more than child’s play.

And so, only the Heavenly Tribulation Transcendence experts remained—powerful enough to command respect, yet still hungry enough to fight for what little rewards were offered because to them this was significant enough to make them move.

Riley leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms as his eyes scanned the gathering.

The tension in the air was palpable; pride and competition hung thickly between the disciples.

Some looked at him with curiosity, others with contempt, and a few with open hostility.

Yet Riley merely smiled faintly.

Let them look, he thought. They would see soon enough why he didn’t fear their scrutiny.

The senior disciples, seated in loose circles across the grand stage, soon began whispering among themselves.

Their eyes flicked toward Riley again and again, their curiosity sharpening into interest, and in some cases, suspicion.

"I can’t see through him," one of the older disciples muttered under his breath.

His spiritual sense had swept over Riley several times already, but it returned nothing—no aura, no trace of cultivation, as if the man sitting there was a mere mortal. "His body gives off no spiritual fluctuations at all."

"Either he’s far above us in cultivation," another disciple said, his tone half-jesting but his eyes serious, "or he’s carrying a treasure that conceals his cultivation base. There’s no other way someone can hide from so many spiritual senses at once."

A third disciple, a woman with sharp eyes and a teasing smirk, chuckled softly.

"You’re both missing the obvious option. Maybe he hasn’t cultivated at all. Didn’t you hear the rumors? He came from one of the lesser mortal worlds—barely a speck of dust in the lower realms."

Her words earned a few quiet laughs from those nearby.

The idea of a mortal standing among Heavenly Tribulation Transcendence experts was absurd enough to amuse them.

And yet, no one could shake off the faint unease they felt from Riley’s calm demeanor and unbothered expression.

"Maybe," someone finally said, "but think for a moment. If you were Elder Adam, would you accept a direct disciple from the mortal world on a whim?"

The laughter stopped immediately.

A heavy silence fell among them, and the earlier mockery vanished like mist in the wind.

Elder Adam’s name carried weight—tremendous weight.

He was a man whose decisions shaped the sect’s future, one of the few elders whose word could change fates.

To become his direct disciple was an honor reserved for geniuses of unimaginable talent or individuals with terrifying potential.

"Elder Adam doesn’t waste his time," another disciple murmured, his voice low and thoughtful.

"If that man really is his direct disciple, then there’s a reason. Maybe he saw something in him that we can’t."

Whispers turned to uneasy speculation.

"What if Elder Adam plans to make him his successor?"

"Impossible! He only accepted him recently."

"Still... he’s not someone to underestimate."

More and more of them began looking at Riley differently.

Gone was the dismissive contempt they first had for the so-called ’mortal.’

Now, in their eyes, he was something else entirely—a hidden blade, sheathed but sharp, dangerous because of what they didn’t know about him.

Even the strongest among them, those who had laughed the loudest, now sat quietly.

None dared to probe him again with their senses.

Riley, for his part, noticed everything.

He could feel the tension in the air, the weight of their gazes pressing against his back.

A faint smile tugged at his lips, but he said nothing.

He merely sat there, relaxed and unbothered, as though he had all the time in the world.

And in that silence, the thought began to sink in among the disciples—

Riley was not just another new face. He was competition.

A rival in the Sacred Heart Sword Sect’s endless struggle for prestige, resources, and power.

Someone who might one day stand above them all.

***

The senior disciples continued their quiet discussions, their voices mingling with the hum of countless others across the grand plaza.

All around the vast stage, the atmosphere buzzed with energy and anticipation.

At first glance, it seemed like there were only thousands gathered—but a closer look revealed the staggering scale of the crowd.

Layer after layer of spectators filled the surrounding terraces, stretching all the way to the horizon.

There were easily close to a million disciples in attendance that day, a sight that truly displayed the immense power and influence of the Sacred Heart Sword Sect.

Most of those present were outer and inner disciples—young cultivators eager to catch even a fragment of enlightenment from their seniors.

To them, every word spoken on the Dao platform could mean the difference between stagnation and breakthrough.

Half an hour passed as more senior disciples arrived, each taking their place on the stage.

The murmurs gradually quieted when a tall, handsome man in elegant purple robes stepped forward.

His presence was calm yet commanding, and when he spoke, his voice carried clearly across the immense square.

"Welcome, fellow disciples!" he began warmly. "Today, our Dao Teaching Platform is once again full to the brim, and it is my honor to begin the session. I’m sure many among you are preparing to face the Heavenly Tribulation, so today, I shall share my insights on that very process. May you gain enlightenment and courage from my experience."

The crowd immediately fell silent, hanging onto his every word.

The man spoke with the ease of one who had weathered countless storms.

He described the signs that preceded the heavenly tribulation, the fear that gripped the heart before thunder fell, and the methods he used to stabilize his Dao Heart under the crushing pressure of heaven’s wrath.

His tone was humble yet confident, and every sentence carried the weight of genuine experience.

For a full hour, he spoke, and when he finally finished, disciples from all ranks began raising questions.

Each inquiry was answered patiently and thoroughly, earning him heartfelt bows and grateful words of praise.

"Thank you for your teachings, Senior Disciple!" many of them cried in unison, their voices echoing like a chorus of respect across the vast plaza.

After him, another senior disciple took the stage, and then another.

Each brought their own insights—some on sword intent, others on heart demons or the balance of yin and yang within the meridians.

The event became a highlight of wisdom and goodwill, with the senior disciples guiding and the younger ones listening with rapt attention.

Time slipped away unnoticed.

The sun began to set, dyeing the clouds in shades of crimson and gold, and still the teachings continued.

Magical candles and spiritual lanterns illuminated the night as the Dao discussions carried on beneath the stars.

One by one, every senior disciple took their turn to preach, until at last, only one seat remained occupied—the seat where Riley sat quietly since the beginning.

A ripple of excitement spread through the crowd.

"It’s his turn."

"The new direct disciple of Elder Adam..."

"What could someone like him possibly teach?"

All eyes turned toward him.

Some were filled with curiosity, others with skepticism—but all waited to see what the mysterious newcomer would say when his time finally came to speak.