My Xianxia Harem Life-Chapter 377 Merchant

Riley vanished in the blink of an eye, leaving behind nothing but a faint ripple of energy where he once sat.

When he reappeared, it was within a secluded underground chamber—hidden beneath layers of spiritual barriers and formations meant to keep intruders out.

The air inside was dense with spiritual energy.

Threads of golden qi floated lazily in the air like fireflies, converging toward the figure of an old man sitting in the center of the room.

He was cross-legged, his breathing steady and rhythmic.

His skin glistened faintly as streams of spiritual light flowed along his meridians.

He was clearly in the midst of an important breakthrough.

Every breath he took drew in more energy, and faint cracks of thunder echoed within his spiritual sea.

Success was near—he could feel it.

Given a few more minutes, he would break past his bottleneck and ascend to the next realm.

But Riley had no patience for that.

"Wake up," Riley said simply.

His voice was quiet, but it rolled through the chamber like a divine command.

A suffocating spiritual pressure followed, pressing down on everything around him.

The golden threads of qi scattered.

The protective formations trembled and shattered as if they were made of glass.

The old man’s eyes flew open in shock.

"What—?!" he gasped, his concentration breaking in an instant.

He tried to stand, but before he could even move, invisible chains of pure spiritual force materialized around him.

They wrapped around his limbs, his chest, and finally his heart and soul, binding him completely.

The old man struggled, veins bulging in his neck as he tried to circulate his qi, but it was useless.

The chains tightened each time he resisted.

Panic flooded his eyes as he realized how utterly powerless he was.

"W-what is the meaning of this, senior?" he stammered, his voice trembling.

He dared not even lift his gaze to meet Riley’s eyes.

The presence before him was overwhelming—ancient, terrifying, and unfathomably deep.

Riley stood silently for a moment, his expression unreadable.

His aura was calm, yet it radiated a quiet dominance that seemed to suffocate the air itself.

"You’ve done nothing wrong," Riley said finally, his tone almost gentle.

"But your clansmen..." He paused, and his eyes flashed with cold light.

"Your clansmen have grown greedy. And greed, as you know, often leads to offending the wrong person."

The old man’s lips quivered. "Greedy? I—I was unaware—"

Riley waved a hand, silencing him instantly. "Unaware or not, the consequences remain the same. Still..." His gaze softened, though the power in his voice did not.

"There is no need for unnecessary bloodshed. I have no interest in destroying your clan—if you follow my instructions."

He then stepped closer, the sound of his boots echoing softly across the stone floor.

The air around him shimmered faintly, as if reality itself bent under his will.

He leaned forward and began to whisper instructions—each word deliberate, carrying a weight that made the old man’s soul tremble.

The old man nodded repeatedly, sweat dripping from his forehead. He would not dare defy a being like this.

Riley straightened, his gaze distant and cold once more.

"Do as I said. And remember—this is your one and only chance to keep your clan intact."

With that, he turned, his figure flickering like a mirage. In the next instant, he was gone.

The old man collapsed to his knees, gasping for air.

The chains around him dissolved into thin mist, leaving no trace of their existence.

Yet even as the chamber returned to silence, the old man could still feel it—the lingering pressure of Riley’s will, like the shadow of a god watching from afar.

***

A week later, word spread across the region like wildfire—the Tanner Clan had a new master.

Their ancient banners, once bearing the sigil of their proud lineage, now flew under a new crest: Riley’s.

No one dared to question how it happened. The sudden shift of power was too clean, too silent.

The Tanner Clan had simply... submitted.

Their patriarch now acted as a loyal servant, their elders bowed their heads, and their disciples followed orders as if it had always been that way.

A number of them of course were hanged because of their misdeeds.

This was a deterrent to many to not follow in their foolish examples.

To outsiders, it was as though the heavens themselves had ordained the change.

Riley made no effort to keep it a secret. In fact, he wanted everyone to know.

Power, after all, was not only about strength—it was about reputation.

The more people whispered his name with awe and fear, the more easily he could expand his influence beyond his modest Rice Clan.

He knew his clan’s weaknesses well.

The Rice Clan was small and lacked spiritual roots—no prodigies, no powerful bloodline.

Alone, they would have faded into obscurity in this cruel, dog-eat-dog immortal world.

But Riley had no intention of allowing that. He saw opportunity in conquest.

Taking over weak or fading clans brought him resources, manpower, and credibility.

And unlike most young cultivators who feared retaliation, Riley saw none of that as a disadvantage.

Only advantages waited for the daring.

Within a couple of months, his efforts bore fruit.

Envoys from minor families and sects began to appear at his gates, bringing gifts and pledges of loyalty.

Merchants sought his protection, wandering cultivators begged to join his growing faction, and even rival clan elders came to negotiate alliances.

Riley accepted them all.

He welcomed anyone willing to submit, offering stability and wealth under his banner.

Yet those who betrayed him—those foolish enough to test his authority—were shown no mercy.

Riley did not slaughter them outright; death was far too easy and wasteful. Instead, he broke them.

Those who defied him had their cultivation sealed, their wills crushed, and their souls bound by restrictive seals that forced obedience.

They lived, but as slaves—reminders of what happened to those who betrayed Riley’s trust.

And among the cultivators of the realm, that punishment was feared far more than death.

Whispers began to circulate in taverns and markets, in sect halls and secluded mountains:

"The new lord of the Tanner Clan... they say he enslaved their ancient ancestor."

"Nonsense. That’s just a rumor—no one could subdue a cultivator of that level."

"Then explain why no one’s seen the old monster since."

The murmurs only strengthened Riley’s legend.

His name began to spread beyond his borders, reaching neighboring cities and clans who now spoke of him with both reverence and fear.

Still, Riley remained unsatisfied. Sitting alone atop the Tanner Clan’s once-sacred pagoda, he gazed over the lands now under his control. 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝙚𝙬𝓮𝙗𝒏𝙤𝒗𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝒐𝓶

The night wind carried the scent of incense and iron, the echoes of prayers and despair blending in the distance.

The immortal realm was vast, filled with predators dressed as kings and saints.

He knew that someday, stronger powers would turn their gaze toward him. But that didn’t matter.

Riley smiled faintly, eyes glinting with quiet determination.

Let them come. He would either devour them—or make them kneel.

***

A single year was all it took for Riley to transform from an obscure clan leader into one of the most influential figures in the region.

Dozens of clans now swore allegiance to him—once minor families that had teetered on the brink of destruction, their ancestral lands pillaged, their legacies nearly erased.

Riley took them all under his wing. He didn’t merely conquer; he rebuilt.

He restored what others had taken, gave order where chaos once reigned, and offered protection that no sect or alliance had managed to provide them in centuries.

To the desperate, he was a savior.

To his enemies, he was a nightmare.

The world now knew him by a name whispered in fear and awe—Ash Maker.

It was a title born from a single massacre: the annihilation of a million experts that had dared to besiege him.

No corpses were left behind, only dust and silence. Since then, the mere rumor that Riley was displeased could make rival elders tremble.

None dared make foolish decisions against him or the myriad clans under his command.

Those who once schemed behind closed doors now weighed their words carefully, for Riley’s shadow stretched farther than any blade.

And yet, despite the terror his name inspired, Riley ruled with an unexpected sense of balance.

He did not delight in bloodshed for its own sake.

He saw every clan under him as a gear within a great machine—one that needed to run smoothly if his growing empire was to endure.

He spent vast amounts of resources on them, ensuring their prosperity and unity.

Merchant routes were secured, cultivation resources distributed, and training grounds expanded.

Where once small clans fought each other for scraps, now they shared abundance under Riley’s flag.

But perhaps his greatest contribution was the network of interspatial portals he had ordered to be constructed across the region.

It was a feat of coordination and wealth few believed possible.

Each clan’s territory was connected through these shimmering gateways, allowing instant communication and support.

If one was attacked, reinforcements could arrive within moments.

This innovation alone cemented his control.

While others saw it a waste, Riley looked at it as a great investment.

Without ever raising a sword, Riley could respond to any threat.

He no longer needed to oversee every conflict or dictate every order.

His subordinates acted with his authority, bound by oaths and the invisible pressure of his will.

He had built something more than an empire—he had built a system.

Every clan leader under him was like a nerve connected to the same body, each feeling his influence, each carrying his mark of power.

His empire thrived, not because of fear alone, but because of efficiency, vision, and the undeniable truth that following Riley was far safer than opposing him.

Still, the wider immortal world could not ignore such a rapid rise.