My Xianxia Harem Life-Chapter 352 Commerce

Riley looked around him and smiled faintly.

The vast courtyard was bathed in silvery moonlight, and thousands of disciples sat in silence, their gazes fixed upon the stage.

Rising slowly, Riley adjusted his robes and walked forward with calm, unhurried steps.

The murmurs that filled the air faded as he took his place at the forefront.

"It is night now," he began, his voice steady and clear.

"My fellow senior disciples have already spoken at length about the many paths of cultivation and the countless trials one must endure. Each of them has shared wisdom forged through experience—lessons of failure, perseverance, and enlightenment. I find that I have little to add to their words."

He paused briefly, his eyes sweeping across the crowd.

The faces before him reflected a mix of awe, curiosity, and determination.

"Cultivation," he continued, "is not merely a struggle for strength or longevity—it is a journey of the heart. It tests one’s will, one’s patience, and one’s resolve to face the unknown. The Dao is vast and boundless, and even the wisest among us have only glimpsed its surface. May each of you walk your own path without losing yourselves to greed or despair. And when the darkness ahead seems endless, remember that even the faintest spark can guide you forward."

His words lingered in the air like a soft breeze, carrying both warmth and quiet strength.

After a final nod, Riley stepped back from the front of the stage and returned to stand among his peers.

He did not think his speech too long or too short; some before him had merely stepped onto the stage for a few brief seconds before retreating, while others had spoken until the stars dimmed.

To Riley, what mattered was not the length of one’s words—but the sincerity behind them.

Riley would have much rather slipped back into the shadows, away from the prying eyes and idle chatter of the crowd.

The stage, bathed in soft lantern light, felt far too exposed for his liking.

Yet before he could retreat fully into the line of disciples behind him, a melodious voice called out—graceful and deliberate, but edged with something sharp.

"I wonder, fellow disciple Riley," the woman said, her tone perfectly measured, "what counsel would you offer to those who lose their way—those who find themselves tempted by the allure of mortal pleasures such as women and other indulgences?"

The audience stirred immediately.

A few disciples exchanged knowing glances, while others leaned forward with quiet anticipation.

It was a carefully chosen question—one that dripped with implication and left no easy answer.

The speaker was none other than Senior Sister Selena, one of the most admired elder disciples in the sect.

Her beauty was almost unreal beneath the flickering lantern light—silken hair cascading over her shoulders, eyes bright and unreadable, and a smile that never quite reached them.

Her robes, though modest by design, could not conceal the graceful curves beneath or the quiet confidence in her bearing.

Many of the younger male disciples had long admired her from afar, whispering her name like a charm.

Any man blessed enough to catch her eye would have felt as though the heavens themselves had smiled upon him, thanking his ancestors for generations.

But Riley felt none of that. Instead, his instincts tightened like a coiled spring.

He recognized her intent the moment she spoke.

This wasn’t an innocent question asked out of curiosity—it was a test, veiled in politeness but meant to draw him out.

A public challenge to his restraint, his reputation, perhaps even his past.

Selena’s words were silk wrapping around thorns, and he could sense the faint amusement behind her calm exterior.

Riley’s lips curved faintly, though his eyes remained steady.

So that’s how it is, he thought. She wants to measure me—see whether I’ll stumble or dance to her tune.

The murmurs in the crowd grew faint as the disciples waited for his answer.

Lantern flames flickered. The night breeze stirred the edges of his robe.

And for a brief moment, silence hung heavy between the two of them—an unspoken battle of wits masked behind courteous smiles.

Riley knew perfectly well that she was referring to him and trying to provoke a response.

The beautiful elder disciple’s question had been laced with a seemingly innocent tone, but her eyes gave away the intent behind it—she wanted to expose him, corner him, make him falter in front of everyone.

He could have chosen to deflect the question with a light joke or a clever remark.

But this time, something in him stirred. Maybe it was boredom. Maybe it was amusement.

Or maybe, just maybe, he wanted to remind everyone present that it would not be easy to mess up with him.

He straightened slightly, his lips curving into a faint, knowing smile.

"If you’re hinting at me and my lifestyle," he said, his voice carrying effortlessly through the hall, "then let me say this directly—I’m perfectly happy with the way I live. I don’t meddle in the affairs of others, and I don’t pass judgment on what people choose to do with their lives. Everyone walks their own path, after all."

For a brief moment, his tone was calm and measured, almost humble.

But then, he paused—and that pause alone was enough to shift the air.

His eyes, sharp and cold, swept across the gathered disciples.

"But..." he continued softly, his tone dropping to something far more dangerous, "since we’re talking about temptation, desire, and moral decay... perhaps it’s worth mentioning that a few of us here have lived far more exciting lives than I ever did."

The crowd stiffened.

Several disciples exchanged uneasy glances, unsure whether to laugh or stay silent.

Riley’s smile widened.

"I see one among us who has stolen a wife from another man—his own brother in arms, no less. I see another who’s delved into the forbidden arts of the evil sects, hiding it behind a mask of righteousness. And perhaps the most fascinating of all..." He turned his head slightly, eyes glinting with quiet amusement.

"I see someone who is planning to betray our sect. He’s right here. Right now."

His words struck like thunder. Gasps erupted, and whispers filled the courtyard like a rising tide.

Faces turned pale; others flushed with anger or guilt.

The elder disciples exchanged glances, trying to gauge whether Riley was bluffing or if he truly knew something they didn’t.

Riley, meanwhile, simply folded his arms and watched the chaos unfold.

He didn’t need to explain himself.

The power of his words was enough to make every guilty soul squirm.

And for the first time in a long while, he allowed himself a small, satisfied smile.

"What?! Someone’s going to betray our sect?!"

"Who could it be? One of the elder disciples?!"

"This is dire news!"

The moment Riley’s words left his mouth, the courtyard burst into chaos.

Murmurs rose and fell like waves, the sound of fear and disbelief filling the air.

Disciples looked at one another with suspicion in their eyes, their once-composed expressions now twisted in unease.

Even the usually stoic elders exchanged glances, their brows furrowing as they silently weighed Riley’s claim.

No one wanted to speak first. In that charged silence, even breathing too loudly might draw unwanted attention.

After all, the first one to react would risk becoming a target of suspicion.

Riley stood there calmly, letting the storm of uncertainty he’d created spread on its own.

He didn’t need to add another word; his silence was more powerful than anything he could have said.

His gaze swept lazily across the crowd, and wherever his eyes landed, people flinched, as if afraid he might single them out next.

Finally, it was Selena who broke the silence. The elder disciple took a step forward, her beautiful face hardened with resolve.

"If you truly know who these people are," she said, her tone firm and commanding, "then name them. Don’t throw around baseless accusations just to frighten others. As a disciple of this sect, it’s your duty to report anything that threatens its safety. Speak now, Riley."

Her words carried authority, and for a moment, the whispers died down.

Everyone’s attention turned to Riley, waiting for his response.

But Riley only chuckled softly, a low, unhurried sound that somehow made the tension worse.

"It’s for me to know," he said, his lips curving into a faint smile, "and for you all to find out."

He tilted his head slightly, his tone light yet laced with a quiet menace.

"Besides... don’t you trust the pillars of our sect? The mighty elders who guide us? The revered sect master who stands above all? If the heavens were to fall, surely it’s not our shoulders that would bear the weight."

His words hung in the air like smoke—vague, evasive, yet strangely profound.

A few disciples frowned in confusion, others exchanged worried looks.

Was he mocking their leaders?

Or was he implying that even the pillars themselves might not be blameless?

Riley took a step forward, his expression unreadable.

"Worry not, fellow disciples," he said softly, "the truth always reveals itself—sooner or later."

Then, without waiting for permission or further questions, he turned and descended from the stage.

His movements were unhurried, every step steady and deliberate.

His wives followed quietly beside him, her hand brushing against his as they walked away together.

The crowd parted before them, no one daring to block their path.

As they disappeared beyond the courtyard, whispers erupted once more—frenzied and fearful.

"Who do you think he meant?"

"Was he serious about the betrayal?"

"Could it be one of the elders?"

"I—I heard someone say that Elder Chen’s disciple practices strange techniques at night..."

"Don’t say that aloud! You’ll get yourself killed!"

Speculation turned to paranoia.

Every suspicious glance, every hushed tone, every uncertain smile now carried new weight.

Trust, once firm among them, began to crumble under the invisible pressure Riley had left behind.