My Xianxia Harem Life-Chapter 382 Biscuit

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

Two afterimages collided, moving so fast that even light struggled to keep up.

Each exchange sent shockwaves rippling through the land—valleys crumbled, the horizon split, and the sky itself seemed to groan under the pressure of their battle.

Dust and debris were swept into towering cyclones, circling them like furious spirits of war.

Elder Raiden’s every blow carried the weight of thunder and the fury of a lifetime spent mastering the martial path.

His veins bulged with power, his aura roaring like a tempest as he unleashed technique after technique—each one capable of annihilating armies.

Yet Riley stood there, calm and composed, his movements fluid and almost lazy.

With a flick of his wrist, he deflected Raiden’s heaviest strikes as though batting aside an insect.

Sparks of divine energy danced between them, painting the battlefield in flashes of gold and crimson.

The ground beneath their feet had long since turned molten, and distant mountains collapsed one after another like dominos under the pressure of their clash.

After a full minute, Riley exhaled quietly, his eyes half-lidded with boredom.

"Enough," he muttered, his tone indifferent, almost disappointed.

He clenched his fist.

The world froze. The air thickened as reality itself seemed to protest what was about to happen.

The pressure that followed was suffocating—an invisible storm that crushed the surrounding land flat for miles.

Even the heavens trembled.

Elder Raiden’s instincts screamed. His pupils shrank to pinpoints.

"It’s no good. I—!" His words caught in his throat as he realized he was staring at death itself.

With a roar, he summoned his defensive treasure—an ancient relic said to have once held back the wrath of gods.

Behind him, an ethereal mountain erupted into existence, stretching endlessly into the heavens. Its aura was eternal, unmoving, and absolute.

The Mountain of Eternity.

It was said nothing in this world could break it.

But Riley’s punch didn’t slow.

BOOM!

The mountain cracked from its peak to its roots. Fractures spread like spiderwebs, glowing with a blinding light before shattering into a billion fragments.

The sound that followed wasn’t merely heard—it was felt, reverberating through the bones of every living thing within hundreds of miles.

The fist passed through the mountain and struck Elder Raiden square in the chest.

For a brief instant, time seemed to stop.

Then his body convulsed—and disintegrated into a cloud of blood mist.

But the destruction didn’t end there. The shockwave carried on, leveling everything in its path.

The blood mist ignited into a crimson blaze, and within a single breath, Elder Raiden—one of the most powerful beings of his generation—was reduced to ashes.

Silence returned to the battlefield.

Only Riley remained standing amid the desolation, his expression unreadable.

The world around him was gone—scorched earth, shattered stone, and a lingering echo of the power that had just been unleashed.

He looked at his fist, then sighed. "Too weak."

Riley’s eyes turned toward the Starry Sky Pavilion cultivators.

The battlefield fell into eerie silence, broken only by the crackle of fading energy and the whisper of the wind sweeping across the ruins.

The once-mighty sect’s forces stood frozen in disbelief, their expressions a chaotic mix of terror, denial, and grief.

Some dropped to their knees. Others screamed in shock.

"It can’t be! Elder Raiden is invincible!"

"He—he can’t die... this is impossible!"

"This is a nightmare! Somebody wake me up!"

Their cries echoed into the void, trembling voices carried by despair.

Many disciples clutched their heads, unable to process the reality before them.

The man they revered as an immortal pillar, the undefeated guardian of their sect, had been erased as if he never existed.

The mountain that once stood between heaven and earth had been reduced to dust by a single punch.

A million disciples—each one proud to call themselves members of the Starry Sky Pavilion—now stood as hollow shells.

Their beliefs shattered. Their pride gone.

But from amidst the terrified crowd, an aura surged. It was ancient and vast, pressing down like the weight of the heavens themselves.

"Silence."

A voice, deep and commanding, cut through the chaos.

The air trembled, and countless disciples instantly straightened their backs as though finding an anchor amid the storm.

The speaker was an old man dressed in flowing silver robes embroidered with stars that shimmered faintly in the light.

His presence was like the night sky—immeasurable and eternal.

Even standing still, his power distorted the space around him.

He was the sect master of the Starry Sky Pavilion, the strongest being among them, said to have stood on the peak of the world for countless years.

Compared to him, Elder Raiden had been but a loyal hound guarding the gate.

The patriarch took a step forward, each stride resonating with power.

With every movement, his aura stabilized the trembling disciples behind him, restoring a semblance of courage to their broken hearts. 𝘧𝓇ℯ𝑒𝓌𝑒𝑏𝓃𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭.𝒸ℴ𝓂

He clasped his hands together and bowed slightly.

"Fellow Daoist," he said, his tone respectful yet heavy with authority, "the Starry Sky Pavilion was wrong to offend you. Elder Raiden acted rashly, and for that, he has paid the price. We will offer a worthy recompense for our mistake."

He paused, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Please, let this matter end here."

There was no arrogance in his words, no defiance—only controlled submission from a man who understood the gulf between them.

Riley stood amidst the desolation, the ashes of Elder Raiden still drifting through the air like dark snow.

His expression did not change.

He looked at the patriarch for a moment before sighing softly, almost disappointed.

"I already gave you ten breaths to leave," he said, his voice calm and even, yet each word reverberated through the air like the toll of a divine bell.

"You had your chance... and yet you did not cherish it."

The moment those words were spoken, the sect master’s eyes widened slightly.

His instincts screamed danger.

The world seemed to darken.

The stars above flickered, their light dimming as though even the heavens held their breath.

Every disciple felt their blood run cold; some collapsed, unable to withstand the pressure radiating from Riley.

His presence surged like a tidal wave—endless, oppressive, and absolute.

The patriarch clenched his fists, his jaw tightening as he summoned his full strength.

Behind him, the void shimmered, revealing a grand astral formation that encompassed the sky—a constellation of glowing sigils, each representing centuries of accumulated knowledge and power.

And yet... Riley didn’t even look impressed.

"You think your stars can save you?" he murmured, his gaze piercing through the formation like a blade.

The patriarch’s heart sank.

Riley raised his hand slightly, and the heavens trembled once more.

"Fellow Daoist," the sect master said at last, his voice carrying both dignity and desperation.

The once-majestic figure now seemed burdened, his aura trembling ever so slightly beneath the crushing silence that followed Elder Raiden’s death.

"Let us end this senseless conflict here. Even if you succeed in whatever vengeance drives you, the world will remember you only as a bloodthirsty monster.

"Elder Raiden’s death has already given us a path to retreat. Let his sacrifice mark the end of this enmity. I swear upon the foundation of the Starry Sky Pavilion—we will show our sincerity and make amends for what has happened here."

He clasped his fists and bowed deeply.

The disciples behind him looked on with a mix of disbelief and dread; to see their proud sect master bow so low was like watching the stars themselves dim.

But Riley didn’t move.

He stood there, silent, his expression cold and unreadable as his gaze bored into the patriarch’s trembling form.

When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet—too quiet—but each word struck like a hammer.

"Too late."

The old man’s breath caught.

"I do not care what the world thinks of me," Riley continued, his tone as calm as still water.

"If I were weaker, you would have made a cup from my skull and drunk from it. You would have chained my women, laughed as you broke them, toyed with them and called it justice. The strong always justify their cruelty."

He took a slow step forward. The air shuddered. "Enough talking. Pray to your gods... for you will see them today."

A shiver ran through the entire battlefield. The air thickened, heavy as lead.

Every heartbeat echoed like thunder.

Some disciples fell to their knees under the weight of that single sentence.

Then—chaos.

"Fuck this!" someone screamed, voice cracking.

"I didn’t cultivate for thousands of years just to die here!" He turned and fled, blasting away into the distance, abandoning sect and oath alike.

Another disciple roared, tears streaking his face. "For Elder Raiden!" He charged forward, blade drawn, power burning his life force away in one last desperate strike.

But it didn’t matter.

The instant Riley moved, the world changed.

He raised his palm—slowly, almost lazily—and the heavens themselves responded.

The air warped, space folded, and the clouds twisted into a spiraling abyss.

A light brighter than the sun ignited above him, and for a brief, terrible moment, all creation held its breath.

Then the palm descended.

It wasn’t just an attack. It was judgment.

The sky cracked like glass. Mountains shattered into dust.

Oceans surged upward only to vanish into mist. Every soul caught beneath that palm felt the weight of inevitability pressing upon them—an ancient, cosmic decree that could not be defied.

The world dimmed.

BOOM.

The impact was silent at first, too vast for mortal senses to comprehend.

Then came the sound—an earth-splitting roar that drowned out heaven’s thunder.

The ground tore apart for thousands of miles.

The sect master’s defiant cry echoed faintly.

"No—!" but even his divine voice was swallowed by the storm.

His treasures shattered like toys, his life’s work turned to dust.

Even those who had fled far into the horizon weren’t spared.

The palm’s reach extended beyond sight, beyond reason, sweeping across the continent like an apocalypse given form.

Cultivators watching from neighboring lands felt their souls quiver; some coughed blood just from sensing the distant aftermath.

And then, at last, silence.

The world itself seemed to mourn. A stillness heavier than death fell upon the land.

Ash drifted down like black snow. The scent of burned qi and despair filled the air.

Riley slowly lowered his hand. His expression didn’t change.

His breathing was steady, calm—utterly detached.

He looked over the desolate ruin, the ashes that once were mountains and men, and whispered softly,

"You reap what you sow."

He turned away, his robes swaying in the faint wind.

Each step he took seemed to carry him further from the mortal world, as if the heavens themselves were unwilling to touch him.

Far away, countless sects and kingdoms felt the disturbance. Great elders opened their eyes in fear.

Ancient beings in seclusion stirred, sensing the death of a power that once stood beside them.