Chapter 926 – "Plans of the Empress"
The scene shifts away from Alex and Aphrodite's long union to the other women gathered in the palace. Lian Hua now sits with authority, flanked by Lian Xin, Lian Yuer, and Ling Hua, while one hundred collared sex slaves kneel in disciplined silence around them.
The atmosphere is less charged with intimacy and more with calculation. With the Emperor erased, the empire lies vulnerable, but also open for complete control. Lian Hua outlines the situation clearly:
On the entire continent, there are only three Level 9 cultivators outside their circle.Against them, Alex's side already commands an overwhelming force: herself at Level 9, Lian Xin reborn and strengthened, Ying Hua and Lian Yuer as perfected daughters, and a full hundred Level 9 women bound to Alex.The balance of power is laughably one-sided.
Lian Yuer, her violet eyes glinting, assures her mother she can sense every whisper of disloyalty through her mind-reading. "No one can hide from me. The moment they think of resistance, I will know."
Ling Hua, calm and deliberate, suggests they move quickly to consolidate before other continents notice the weakness here. Her words are measured but sharp: "We must shape the narrative before others try to write it for us."
Lian Xin, her voice colder, volunteers herself for the most dangerous role. "Let me be the blade. I'll hunt the stragglers, those three so-called Level Nines. They won't live long enough to trouble us."
But Lian Hua shakes her head with a faint, confident smile. "No. We don't need to chase them. Let them come. They'll see an empire ruled by women stronger than they could ever be. By the time they understand, it will be too late."
The hundred sex slaves respond as one, their voices a chorus: "We belong to the Master. We will fight for him."
The planning session ends with clarity: the Eastern Continent has no power left to resist. With only three unaffiliated Level 9s alive, and Alex's forces numbering more than a hundred of the same tier, victory is not just certain — it is effortless.
The throne room glowed dimly with torchlight as Lian Hua convened the council of women. She sat with regal composure, her presence commanding without needing to raise her voice. Around her stood Lian Xin, Ling Hua, and her daughter Lian Yuer, while the hundred level-nine sex slaves knelt in perfect formation, awaiting orders.
Lian Hua spoke first, her tone sharp but calm. "The Emperor is gone. His bloodline erased. Yet shadows remain — ministers, nobles, and opportunists who whispered his name, who might cling to his memory. They must be cut away before they spread poison."
At her side, Lian Yuer's violet eyes gleamed. She stepped forward, her small frame radiating a cold certainty. "Leave them to me."
Her words cut through the silence like a blade. "I can hear them all — every thought, every whisper of loyalty still tied to him. I will kill them myself. One by one, until none remain. It will take me no more than a single day to travel across the empire and end them all."
Lian Hua's lips curved into a proud, satisfied smile. "Good. Quick and merciless, just as it should be."
Then her gaze turned to the gathered slaves, the hundred women kneeling in identical chokers, their aura of Ninth Level cultivation making the very air hum. "As for you," she declared, her voice rising so it carried to every corner of the hall, "you will not remain idle."
The women bowed their heads as one, awaiting her decree.
"You will spread out across the empire's borders," Lian Hua commanded. "Every road, every pass, every hidden trail. If anyone dares test our strength, if anyone thinks to invade during this moment of change — kill them. Leave no survivors. Let the world learn that our borders are sealed in blood and fire."
The chorus of a hundred voices answered instantly, the sound like thunder rolling through the chamber: "We belong to the Master. We will fight for him. None shall pass."
Ling Hua folded her arms, her calm voice breaking the silence that followed. "This way, our enemies will die before they ever reach our cities. The empire's heart will remain untouched."
Lian Xin's eyes narrowed, her voice colder. "And those inside who resist will be erased by Yuer's hand. No uprising, no rebellion. The purge will be absolute."
Lian Hua leaned back slightly, her violet hair falling in silken waves across her shoulder. She glanced toward Alex's empty throne, her lips curling with a faint smile of satisfaction. "Then it is decided. By tomorrow, this land will be cleansed — within and without."
Lian Yuer bowed slightly, her voice calm, absolute. "When the sun sets again, there will be no more voices left to oppose him. Only silence — and obedience."
The sex slaves bowed lower, their chorus echoing one last time: "We are his blades. We will kill in his name."
And with that, the empire's future was sealed — swift, ruthless, unstoppable.
The room stayed heavy with the weight of the decisions. Lian Yuer had pledged to scour the land of hidden loyalists, the hundred sex slaves had vowed to guard the empire's borders with slaughter, and Ling Hua's sharp eyes gleamed with satisfaction at the clarity of the plan.
But Lian Hua was not finished.
She rose from her seat, her violet hair spilling over her shoulders, her voice steady and cold. "Do you think killing them troubles me? It doesn't. Their lives mean nothing." Her gaze swept across the chamber, landing on her allies, her daughters, and the kneeling army of women. "This empire was never theirs to begin with. They were only placeholders, propped up by a man who is already ash."
Her lips curved into a sly smile, tinged with cruel amusement. "I already control forty percent of the empire. For years, I've been quietly training my own people, preparing them for positions of power — ministers, generals, treasurers, scholars. But the Emperor refused me every time, claiming they were unworthy."
She let out a low laugh, her violet eyes glinting with venom. "Now, with those fools dead, there is nothing to stop me. I will replace them with my own. My people are already waiting. The empire won't suffer from their absence — it will thrive. They thought they were irreplaceable, but they were nothing but obstacles."
Lian Xin smirked faintly, her tone laced with contempt. "So all this time, you held the leash tight and bided your moment. No wonder the empire rotted under him — he never realized how much stronger it could have been under your hand."
Lian Hua inclined her head slightly, her expression sharpening into something regal and absolute. "Exactly. That is why their deaths don't matter. Every one of them will be replaced instantly with someone loyal to me — to us — and by extension, to him." Her hand lifted toward the throne where Alex usually sat. "Every word they speak, every order they give, will be his will carried through mine."
The hundred sex slaves bowed once again, their voices rising as one: "We obey the Master through you."
Ling Hua's lips curved into a cool, approving smile. "Then the empire is already stable. It will not break under the weight of change. It will grow sharper, stronger… and entirely yours."
Lian Hua nodded once, the glint in her violet eyes fierce. "By tomorrow, there will be no more Emperor's men, no more wasted seats. Only my people. And when the world looks upon this empire, they will see it ruled without hesitation or weakness."
The plans hung in the air like iron — Yuer's purge, the hundred guarding the borders, and the Empress's long-prepared replacements filling every seat of power. Yet even as the room pulsed with certainty, Lian Hua's voice dropped lower, her tone curling with cunning.
"The world will see me as their ruler," she said, violet eyes gleaming. "An empress who destroyed her husband and seized the throne for herself. That is the story they will spread, and I will not correct them."
She looked toward her sisters and daughters, her lips curving into a smile that carried both satisfaction and cruelty. "Let the people, the ministers, and the foreigners believe I am the one who holds the empire together. It is easier that way. They will not see the truth that he sits above us all."
Lian Xin folded her arms, nodding in approval. "Good. They will rally behind the symbol they can grasp, while never realizing the true power rests with him."
Ling Hua's voice was calm, deliberate. "It is cleaner this way. Outsiders cannot understand what it means to belong to him. They would not comprehend our devotion. Let them believe you are the throne's master, while we know who truly commands."
Lian Yuer, her violet eyes sharp and knowing, gave the faintest smirk. "Yes. To the world, you are the Empress. But to us…" she glanced toward the empty throne, "…there is only Father."
The hundred sex slaves lowered their heads in unison, their voices rising like a chant, steady and absolute:
"Let the outsiders believe she rules. We know the truth. The Master is the ruler."
The sound reverberated through the throne room, like a vow binding them all.
Lian Hua leaned back slightly, violet hair cascading across her shoulder, her smile edged with triumph. "Then it is decided. I will be their Empress. He will be their hidden Emperor. And only we will know the truth of who truly owns this empire."
Chapter 927 – "The One-Day Purge"
As soon as the council ended, the women dispersed to their duties. The hundred sex slaves departed the throne hall in disciplined lines, ready to march toward the borders. Lian Xin and Ling Hua went to oversee the replacement of officials with those Lian Hua had prepared years ago.
But Lian Yuer lingered only long enough to bow once toward the throne before slipping away.
She dressed herself carefully — plain, dark garments that covered her body completely. Her violet eyes glinted as she fastened the last clasp. I will not let these wretches see me. My body belongs only to him, and to those within our family.
Once ready, she spread her hands. Space twisted with a shimmer of violet light, and in an instant she vanished.
Her first stop was a manor in the south. A noble who had once whispered praise for the Emperor's reign sat alone in his chambers, pouring over scrolls. He never even noticed her arrival. Yuer appeared behind him, her hand cutting through the air like a blade of thought itself. His head fell to the table with a dull thud before his body realized it was dead.
She left without a word, her violet flame consuming the corpse into nothing but ash before teleporting away again.
The northern mountains. The western harbors. The eastern plains. Everywhere she appeared, death followed. She wasted no time with speeches or warnings. She could hear their thoughts the instant she arrived, their fear rising like a scream in her mind.
They still think of the Emperor. They still cling to his shadow. Then they are already dead.
One noblewoman choked on her breath as Yuer materialized in her courtyard. She tried to run, but Yuer's gaze pinned her in place. A flick of her wrist and violet fire swallowed her alive, her screams gone in seconds.
Another, a general once sworn to the Emperor, reached for his sword. Yuer's dagger of pure thought pierced his skull before the blade cleared its sheath. His body crumpled silently.
Over and over, throughout the empire, Yuer's presence was felt only for a heartbeat — then silence, then ash.
By nightfall, she had crossed every province, every hidden estate and fortress. Her footsteps left no trail, only a sudden void where lives once plotted rebellion.
The empire slept uneasy that night. Rumors whispered that death itself was walking the land, striking down anyone foolish enough to speak the Emperor's name.
And by dawn, Lian Yuer stood once more in the throne room, violet hair glinting under the torchlight, her garments unruffled, her hands clean as if she had never left.
Her words were simple, her tone calm and cold.
"Father, Mother… it is done. No one remains."
While Lian Yuer swept across the empire like a storm of silent death, another scene unfolded in the heart of the capital.
Within the audience chamber adjacent to the throne hall, Lian Hua, the Empress, had summoned the people she had trained for years — ministers, strategists, generals, treasurers, scribes, and advisors. Men and women who had studied under her shadow, sharpened in secret, and prepared for this very moment.
They entered hesitantly, whispering among themselves. The chamber was filled with a strange tension. They had all heard the sudden silence in the capital. Rumors had already begun to spread: noble estates mysteriously emptied, guards vanishing, generals no longer answering their summons.
One of the bolder among them finally spoke. "Your Majesty… what has happened? The ones who held these positions before us… they are gone. We do not understand."
Lian Hua rose slowly from her seat, her violet hair cascading over her shoulders, her posture regal and unyielding. Her eyes swept across the assembled crowd — each of them handpicked by her, each of them already bound by loyalty and training, but still trembling before her presence.
"They are dead," she said simply.
The room went utterly still.
"Every one of them," she continued, her tone calm, measured, and merciless. "Ministers, generals, scholars, commanders — all who served under the Emperor are no more. Their loyalty was not to this empire, nor to me, but to him. And because of that, they died."
She let the words sink in, her gaze sharp as it moved from face to face. "You are not here by chance. You were chosen. Trained. Prepared to serve when the time came. That time is now."
Some of the gathered officials shifted uneasily, but none dared to speak.
Lian Hua's lips curved into a cold, satisfied smile. "Do not waste your breath mourning them. They were obstacles, not leaders. This empire does not need their names. It needs your obedience. Your loyalty. And your fear."
She stepped down from the dais, her violet eyes gleaming. "Do your work well, and you will have power, wealth, and the Empress's favor. Fail… and you will join the dead you replaced."
Silence followed, heavy and suffocating. Then, one by one, the new ministers bowed low, voices rising in trembling unison:
"We obey the Empress."
Lian Hua tilted her chin up proudly, her smile sharp. "Good. Then go. Take your offices. Begin ruling this empire as I command. And remember…" Her voice dropped into something colder, sharper. "…your lives are not your own. They belong to me — and through me, to him."
The crowd scattered quickly, moving with the urgency of those who had just glimpsed the edge of their own mortality.
The Eastern Empire had changed hands in a single night.
The newly appointed officials had barely begun to steady themselves when one minister, older and braver than the rest, raised his voice. His tone was respectful, but edged with worry.
"Your Majesty… what of the borders? More than sixty percent of the army was lost when the loyalists were purged. The roads, the mountain passes, the harbors — they are all thinly defended. If our neighbors hear of this weakness, if they test us…" His voice trailed off, the implication hanging heavy in the chamber.
The others murmured agreement, unease spreading like ripples in water. The empire's strength had always rested on the size of its armies — tens of thousands of men ready to march at the Emperor's word. Now most were corpses or deserters, erased in the night.
Lian Hua turned her head toward the man slowly, her violet eyes gleaming with calm disdain. She stepped down from her dais again, the silence of her bare feet striking harder than any shout. When she spoke, her voice was smooth and unshaken.
"You think I would destroy the Emperor's army without already preparing for its replacement?"
The officials exchanged uneasy glances.
She raised her hand, and with a single flick of her fingers, the air shimmered. From the shadows of the chamber, the hundred women appeared — collared in white, their bodies kneeling as one, their presence pressing like a mountain on every soul in the room.
The sheer aura of one hundred Level Nines filled the chamber, suffocating, undeniable. The torches guttered as if struggling to burn beneath the weight of their power.
Gasps broke from the ministers. Some recoiled. Others fell to their knees without meaning to.
"These," Lian Hua said, her voice cutting through the panic, "are the new shield of the empire. One hundred women, all bound to me — and to him. Each stronger than the armies you cling to. Each more loyal than any soldier who ever served the Emperor."
The ministers could not hide their shock. Level Nine cultivators were rarities — legendary figures who could topple cities on their own. And now there were one hundred of them, kneeling here as if they were common soldiers, their heads bowed in perfect discipline.
"Do not speak to me of borders," Lian Hua continued, her tone sharp, commanding. "No nation on this continent has more than three Level Nines. If any kingdom dares to march against us, they will find their armies cut down before they cross a single field. If their rulers themselves come, they will be slaughtered like animals."
Her violet eyes swept over them all, her smile edged with cruel satisfaction. "The borders are secure. Not with walls. Not with legions. With blood and fear. Let the world tremble at the knowledge that this empire is guarded by one hundred living weapons."
The ministers bowed low, their voices trembling as they answered together: "Yes, Your Majesty."
Chapter 928 – "The Hundred Blades at the Border"
At dawn, the one hundred women moved like shadows across the empire. No banners, no drums, no heavy boots trampling the earth — only the silent flash of teleportation, the sharp ripple of power as each disappeared to the borderlands.
Within hours, every pass, harbor, and road was occupied by a living wall of power. The news spread swiftly — the Eastern Empire's armies had been butchered, its throne overturned, its Emperor erased. To the vultures circling the land, it was the chance they had long waited for.
Sect banners rose across the frontiers. From the north, from the west, from the southern isles — hundreds of sects, clans, and opportunists converged, their eyes gleaming with greed. They spoke openly of seizing treasures, women, cities, spirit mines — the spoils of a broken empire.
But what they found waiting were not shattered armies.
At the western border, only three women stood in the mountain pass. Their white chokers gleamed faintly against their throats as their long hair shifted in the cold wind. They did not call for reinforcements. They did not rally soldiers. They simply watched the approaching sea of invaders with calm, unblinking eyes.
Laughter rippled through the sect armies. "Three women? This is their defense?" one elder sneered. "Cut them down and march through!"
The order was given. Thousands surged forward.
The first wave never reached the pass. A single raised hand unleashed a storm of light that cut the charging cultivators into ash before their cries even left their throats. Screams echoed down the canyon as bodies dissolved into nothingness.
The second woman stepped forward. Her strike was silent — no fire, no thunder — just the sudden collapse of men as their organs shattered from within, their cultivation veins rupturing under invisible pressure. Entire squads toppled like broken dolls.
The third woman smiled faintly as she raised her palm. Violet flames rippled outward, washing across the battlefield like a tide. Those who thought themselves quick enough to dodge found the fire blooming inside their chests, consuming them from within until they were nothing but drifting embers.
By the time the smoke cleared, tens of thousands lay dead. The ground was blackened, the canyon walls scarred by heat. Only three figures remained standing, their clothes unstained, their eyes cold.
"Next," one of them said simply, her voice carrying like steel through the silence.
The sects that had gathered recoiled. Some tried to rally, others whispered of retreat, but it was already too late. The empire's borders were no longer defended by armies of men — but by weapons in human skin, each one stronger than entire sects combined.
The vultures had come to feast on a corpse. Instead, they had thrown themselves into the maw of wolves.
The battlefield had fallen silent. The ashes of thousands still drifted in the mountain wind when three new figures appeared at the edge of the canyon.
They were not sect disciples. They were not opportunistic raiders. They were mercenaries — three Level Nine cultivators bought and paid for by the coalition of sects who had believed sheer numbers would overwhelm the weakened empire. Their auras flared like suns, the oppressive weight of their power pressing down on the corpses already littering the ground.
The surviving sect leaders cheered, their confidence restored. "Now the real battle begins! The empire has no armies left, no generals left — how could a handful of women stand against three masters of the Ninth Level?"
The mercenaries smirked as they advanced. They were scarred and weathered, their eyes sharp with arrogance. Their gazes swept over the three women in white chokers standing calmly in the pass.
"You three?" one of them sneered, his voice thick with disdain. "Barely past girls. Do you think cultivation alone makes you warriors? Step aside before we decide to amuse ourselves before killing you."
The second chuckled darkly. "Level Nine or not, you're children. I'll break your bodies slow enough to remind everyone watching what happens when women play at soldiers."
The third didn't even bother speaking — he simply drew his weapon, confident that the sight alone would make them flinch.
But the three women did not move. They only raised their eyes, unblinking, their calm like still water before a storm.
The first strike came fast. One mercenary flashed forward, his blade splitting the air, cutting through the canyon wall itself. Rock crumbled in its wake — but the woman before him didn't shift an inch. She lifted her hand, and his blade shattered like glass against her palm. His eyes went wide in disbelief — and then violet fire bloomed from her touch, swallowing him whole. His scream was cut short as his body turned to cinders mid-step.
The second mercenary cursed and hurled his spear, a streak of golden light meant to pierce even mountain stone. But the second woman tilted her head slightly, her choker gleaming faintly. The air warped. The spear twisted back mid-flight — and impaled its owner clean through the chest. His aura flickered, stuttered, and then died as his own weapon dragged him into the dirt.
The last mercenary roared, his aura flaring like a storm as he unleashed every technique at once — fire, stone, and blade raining down across the battlefield. The sky lit up with his fury. Sect leaders shouted with glee, convinced he would succeed where the others had failed.
But the third woman only smiled faintly. She lifted her foot and pressed it to the ground. The entire canyon quaked. The mercenary's storm of attacks froze in midair, shattered into dust, and then the ground beneath his feet split open. The earth itself swallowed him whole, snapping shut with a thunderous crack. His aura vanished in an instant.
Silence returned to the battlefield.
The three women stood as they had before — unruffled, unstained, their eyes cold. Around them, the sects that had once jeered and shouted now trembled in stunned horror.
"You thought Level Nine made you untouchable," one of the women said evenly, her voice carrying across the canyon. "But you were nothing compared to us. Nothing compared to him."
The three exchanged a glance, their faint smiles carrying no joy, only certainty. They had not merely defended the border — they had announced a truth: no force on this continent could stand against the women of the Master.
The message was clear, written in blood and ash.
The dust settled, and silence smothered the canyon. Tens of thousands of corpses littered the blackened ground, the three hired Level Nines reduced to ash, their arrogance erased in a heartbeat.
The surviving sect leaders, once so bold, now stumbled back in terror. Some dropped their weapons, others fell to their knees, begging for mercy. The smell of blood and scorched stone hung thick in the air.
The three women stood in a line across the mountain pass, their white chokers gleaming faintly, their expressions calm — merciless, but calm.
"You dared to invade," one of them said coldly, her voice echoing off the canyon walls. "You dared to march on our empire, believing it weak." Her gaze swept over the scattered survivors like a blade. "This is the price of your mistake."
The second woman raised her hand. A wave of crushing force swept outward, collapsing lungs, snapping bones. Hundreds fell at once, their screams dying in their throats.
The third woman unleashed her violet flames again, and entire squads were reduced to drifting embers before they could even flee.
In minutes, the battlefield was cleansed — tens of thousands dead, their sect banners burning away into nothing. Only a handful remained — ten trembling figures frozen in fear, their weapons long abandoned.
The first woman gestured toward them, her tone sharp but deliberate. "You live because we allow it."
The second's eyes narrowed. "Go. Crawl back to your sects, your kingdoms, your masters. Tell them what you saw here."
The third woman stepped closer, her voice calm but edged with steel. "Tell them that the Eastern Empire is closed. Tell them that one hundred Level Nines guard its borders. If they come again…" Her violet fire sparked to life in her palm. "…they will not leave even a whisper behind."
The ten survivors fell to their knees, shaking violently. Some wept, some bowed until their foreheads scraped the blood-soaked ground. Without hesitation, they scrambled away, fleeing as fast as their battered bodies would allow.
The three women watched in silence until they disappeared into the horizon.
Only then did one of them speak again, her voice quiet, almost dismissive. "The vultures have had their warning."
The second added, her lips curving faintly, "If they ignore it, the next time, there will be no survivors at all."
The third looked out over the canyon, the corpses, and the distant mountains beyond. "By tomorrow, the whole continent will know: the Eastern Empire is untouchable."
And with that, they vanished into violet light, scattering once more to their posts along the border — the living wall of Alex's empire.
The massacre at the western pass was not unique.
Across every frontier of the Eastern Empire, the story repeated itself. Wherever opportunists gathered, sect armies massed, or mercenaries offered their services, they found only the quiet, patient silhouettes of women in white chokers waiting for them.
At the northern border, three more of Alex's sex slaves stood on a snowy ridge overlooking the gathered forces of two sect alliances. Their enemies boasted loudly of how they would "cut down the weakened Empress" and "steal the treasures of the old Emperor's throne."
They did not even finish their laughter before the snow beneath their feet turned crimson. The first woman struck with a gesture, summoning spears of ice that pierced through hundreds at once. The second's song shattered the cultivation cores of those who dared advance, dropping them dead before their blades could be raised. The third whispered a curse, and the sect leaders' bodies withered, their flesh crumbling to dust.
In less than an hour, the armies were gone, the snow drinking their blood until only a dozen survivors staggered away, pale and broken, carrying the tale.
At the southern harbors, fleets of ships approached, their sails painted with foreign emblems eager to loot the empire's coasts. Waiting on the cliffs were another trio of Alex's women. Their combined aura split the sea itself — waves rising like walls, dragging the ships under one by one. Screams echoed across the waters as fire, lightning, and crushing pressure annihilated entire fleets in moments.
When the sea stilled again, only a handful of sailors remained afloat on wreckage, coughing and trembling. They were not pursued. Instead, one woman's voice carried across the waters like thunder:
"Return to your masters. Tell them the Eastern Empire is forbidden ground. The Master's women guard it. If they return, they will drown in their own blood."
Similar scenes unfolded in the eastern plains, the southern deserts, and every hidden mountain path. Where there had once been armies and banners, there was only silence, smoke, and the faint glow of violet fire drifting on the wind.
Everywhere, the pattern was the same:
The invaders were annihilated.Their strongest were humiliated and slain without effort.A handful — no more than ten at each site — were deliberately spared and sent back, forced to carry the message.
By nightfall, the continent was already stirring with rumors. Survivors staggered back to their sects with trembling voices, repeating the same tale again and again:
"One hundred women. All Level Nine. Guarding every border. The Eastern Empire is sealed. Enter, and you die."
The empire no longer needed armies. It no longer needed walls. Its borders were built of living weapons, each stronger than the sects who thought to prey on them.
The vultures had descended for easy prey. Instead, they found a cage of blades.
By nightfall, the survivors reached their sects and kingdoms, staggering with fear, their words tumbling out in broken voices.
They spoke of the Empress's command, not of Alex. Of how Lian Hua herself had unleashed a hidden army of one hundred women, all at the Ninth Level, to stand guard over every border. Of how entire fleets and sect legions had been erased in hours, and of how only a few were allowed to live so the warning could be spread.
Not one dared mention Alex's name. None even hinted at a shadow behind the throne. Whether through fear or instinct, they repeated only what they were told:
"The Empress rules now. The Empress commands the hundred. The Empress has declared the Eastern Empire forbidden to outsiders."
In taverns and sect halls, whispers spread like fire. "The Empress killed the Emperor." "The Empress commands one hundred Level Nines." "The Empress's will is law."
No one suspected the truth. The sex slaves had kept it perfectly. Alex's existence remained hidden above them all — unseen, unknown, untouchable. To the world, the Eastern Empire now belonged to Empress Lian Hua, the woman who had killed her husband and raised a legion of monsters in his place.
Fear spread faster than fire in dry grass. Sects abandoned plans to march east. Merchants canceled expeditions. Even the other three Level Nines of the continent fell silent, none daring to test the borders after hearing how three of their peers had been obliterated in an instant.
By the end of that night, the message was clear across the continent:
The Eastern Empire is sealed. The Empress rules. Do not cross her borders.
And so, the vultures scattered, fear binding their wings — never knowing that the one they truly feared was hidden, seated above them all.
Chapter 929 – "Three Days to Stability"
The continent trembled with rumors, but within the empire itself, the chaos was short-lived.
In just three days, Empress Lian Hua restored stability with a precision and confidence that silenced all doubt.
The ministers and generals she had trained for years were installed overnight, sliding into the empty seats of power as if they had been waiting for them all along. Orders were issued without hesitation, taxes collected without disruption, armies reorganized under new banners of loyalty. The bureaucracy, once rotten with spies and corruption, began to function with ruthless efficiency.
Merchants who had hesitated to open their stalls on the first day after the purge found themselves back in the markets by the second, guarded not by soldiers but by the suffocating knowledge that one hundred Level Nines now watched the borders.
By the third day, the empire's cities were steady again — food moving, trade flowing, streets quiet. The common people whispered of the Empress with awe and terror. "She killed the Emperor." "She commands a hundred monsters." "She rules without hesitation."
Even the nobles who had once schemed and plotted in their manors kept their heads bowed, terrified to even think a rebellious thought for fear that the Empress's daughter might be listening — because everyone knew the little violet-haired girl could hear thoughts, and no traitor survived her gaze.
Inside the palace, the atmosphere was different. Ministers prostrated themselves before Lian Hua, calling her "Empress of the East" with voices trembling in reverence and fear. They reported order restored, revenues flowing, borders sealed.
But those who wore white chokers, who knew the truth, kept their eyes lowered for another reason. They knew she was only the mask. Behind her throne sat the real ruler — the one whose name was never spoken aloud.
By the end of the third day, the Eastern Empire was stable, silent, and unchallenged. Its people obeyed, its borders were untouchable, and its enemies watched from afar in fear.
The vultures had fled. The empire belonged wholly to the Master.
Beyond the palace walls, life returned to the empire with startling speed.
Merchants reopened their stalls in the bustling marketplaces. The fear that had silenced trade on the first day melted into relief as customers streamed back in. Wagons rattled along the streets again, filled with grain, silk, and spices. One merchant laughed bitterly to his neighbor as he set out his wares:
"At least the Empress isn't taxing us twice for the same goods anymore. The old fool nearly ruined us."
Travelers, once hesitant to leave the safety of inns, resumed their journeys. Caravans set out for distant cities, no longer harassed by the Emperor's senseless checkpoints that had drained both coin and patience. Guards at the roads — new men, loyal to the Empress — waved them through with little more than a glance.
Cultivators too returned to their sect halls and training fields. Under the Emperor, they had been shackled by arbitrary decrees, forced to pay fees for every breakthrough, and restricted from using certain cultivation methods unless they belonged to his favored sects. Now, with those decrees torn away, the air itself felt lighter. Young disciples practiced openly again, their elders murmuring in approval.
In taverns, ordinary folk whispered the same thought again and again:
"This is better."
"The Emperor is dead, but the Empress doesn't trouble us. She just rules."
"No more ridiculous decrees, no more useless taxes, no more fear that some noble will strip us of what we worked for."
Even farmers in the countryside felt the difference. Soldiers no longer came demanding grain they couldn't spare. Instead, caravans came offering fair payment, and the surplus was carried away to feed the cities.
The people did not know the whole truth. They did not see the corpses burned to ash, the purges carried out in silence, or the hundred living weapons standing at the borders. To them, the change was simple:
The mad Emperor was gone. The Empress ruled. And life was finally normal again.
Most shrugged, sighed, and went about their business with relief. Whatever dark storms had swept through the palace were none of their concern.
As long as their bellies were full, their trade was free, and their lives were not interfered with, they were content to say:
"This is better. We don't have to worry anymore."
Chapter 930 – "Return to Frost Moon Palace"
The empire stood steady after three days, its borders sealed, its people settled, its enemies scattered in fear. Within the palace, the women gathered once more before Alex to decide the next steps.
Lian Hua, Xu Li, and Lian Xin bowed deeply. Lian Hua's violet eyes gleamed with certainty as she spoke:
"We will remain here, my Master. The empire must see its Empress and her daughters present in the capital. But do not worry — distance does not matter anymore. With the chokers, we can come to you at any time."
Xu Li touched the white band around her throat, her crimson eyes glowing faintly. "One thought, and I will be at your side. Whether you are across the empire or beyond the seas, the bond brings me to you."
Lian Xin smiled faintly, her gaze warm. "Even if you go far, you will never be without us."
Alex regarded them quietly, his hand brushing along Lian Hua's waist one last time before turning. Beside him, Ying Hua already stood ready, her small frame radiating composure, black eyes sharp with intent.
"We will return to the Frost Moon Palace," Ying Hua announced, her voice calm but commanding. "That sect must be brought deeper into Father's shadow. Their loyalty is strong, but loyalty must never rest. It must be sharpened, day after day."
Lian Yuer stepped forward then, her violet hair catching the light. "I will go too. Father may have left the empire in your hands, Mother, but I will not leave his side." Her words were soft, but the steel in them carried absolute conviction.
Lian Hua smiled knowingly, brushing her daughter's cheek with pride. "Go, then. Guard him well."
The hundred sex slaves knelt in the chamber, awaiting orders. Ying Hua cast her gaze over them, her lips curving faintly. "If some of you grow restless guarding the empire's borders, you may rotate with the Frost Moon Palace women. Consider it a trip to change the air. Serving Father in different places is still serving him. There is no loss in that."
The kneeling women bowed low, their voices rising as one: "We obey. Wherever the Master desires, we will serve."
With that, the decision was sealed.
The Empress and her daughters would remain in the heart of the Eastern Empire, ruling in Alex's name.Alex, Ying Hua, and Lian Yuer would return to the Frost Moon Palace, bringing with them the unseen weight of their new power.And the one hundred living weapons at the borders would rotate as needed, ensuring no woman under his collar was ever left without his presence.
The Eastern Empire had become stable in three days. Now, it was time for Alex's shadow to spread once more — beginning with Frost Moon Palace.
The skies above Frost Moon Palace shimmered as the air bent and tore open in a flash of violet light. From it stepped Alex, flanked by Ying Hua and Lian Yuer. The aura of their arrival spread like a silent thunderclap, and the entire sect stirred as if struck by a single heartbeat.
The palace grounds erupted in motion. From every hall, every courtyard, and every chamber, women streamed out in flowing silks and uniforms, eyes bright with expectation. Within moments, the great plaza before the main palace was overflowing. All 2,500 sex slaves of Frost Moon Palace had gathered, kneeling or standing with trembling smiles, their voices rising in a chorus of devotion:
"Master has returned!"
The air vibrated with their passion, love, and longing. Disciples pressed close together, their gazes fixed on Alex as if even blinking would be a sin. Some wept openly, others bit their lips to hold back cries of joy, but every one of them radiated the same feverish devotion.
Alex stood at the center of the storm of adoration, his calm gaze sweeping over the sea of women. His presence alone was enough to draw them closer, hearts pounding, as if gravity itself bent toward him.
At his side, Ying Hua lifted her chin, her voice cutting clearly across the crowd. "Your Master has returned. And today, you will meet another of his angels."
Lian Yuer stepped forward. Small, delicate, her violet hair catching the sunlight, she looked almost fragile — but the aura rolling off her silenced even the breathless whispers of the gathered women. Her violet eyes swept the crowd with cold calm before softening when she looked up at Alex.
Alex rested his hand gently on her head, his tone steady and absolute. "This is Lian Yuer. My daughter. My creation. My angel."
A ripple spread through the crowd — not disbelief, but wonder. The 2,500 sex slaves bowed as one, their voices thundering across the palace:
"Welcome, Angel of the Master! Welcome, Daughter of our Lord!"
Lian Yuer's gaze lingered on them for a moment. She said nothing at first, but when she spoke, her tone was cool and sharp, like a blade. "I am his. That is all you need to know." Her lips curved faintly, pride flickering in her eyes. "And as his, I will watch you. Serve him well… or you will answer to me."
The women trembled, not from fear but from exhilaration, their cries rising higher. "Yes! Yes! We belong to him!"
Ying Hua smiled faintly, her black eyes glittering as she stepped beside her sister. "Now you see. Father's family grows — and with it, his shadow over this world. You should be proud. You will witness the rise of his angels yourselves."
The plaza resounded with joy and reverence. Women pressed their foreheads to the ground, some reaching out with trembling hands as if to touch the very air he had walked through. The atmosphere was overwhelming — a tidal wave of lust, love, and submission.
Lian Yuer moved closer to Alex, leaning lightly against his side. "They will obey, Father," she murmured softly, but loud enough for those nearest to hear. "They already belong to you."
Alex nodded once, his calm presence carrying more weight than a thousand proclamations. "Good. Then let Frost Moon Palace remember today — the day they welcomed another of my daughters. The day they witnessed the strength of what is mine."
And at those words, the cries of 2,500 women filled the skies, echoing beyond the palace walls, shaking the mountains themselves.
After the roaring reception, the palace gradually settled. The women dispersed to their halls, though their voices still carried through the courtyards, repeating over and over: "The Master has returned. The Angel has come."
That night, within Frost Moon Palace's inner quarters, Ying Hua guided her younger sister to her chambers.
The room was quiet, illuminated only by the soft glow of spirit lamps. Lian Yuer's violet eyes scanned her surroundings — a space simple, but filled with Ying Hua's quiet order. She looked back at her sister, lips curving faintly.
"I'll stay here," Yuer said softly. "With you."
Ying Hua studied her for a moment, then nodded, her expression calm but her grey-silver eyes glimmering. "Good. We are Father's angels. It is right that we live together. Watch each other. Guard each other. Sleep beside each other."
Without hesitation, Lian Yuer began to undress. Silk robes slipped from her shoulders and pooled soundlessly on the floor. She climbed onto the bed, her pale body glowing faintly in the lamp light, and lay back against the pillows. Her hair fanned across the sheets, violet strands catching the dim light like threads of crystal.
Ying Hua said nothing — only moved to join her. She loosened her own garments, shedding them until nothing separated her skin from Yuer's. Then she slid onto the bed, her small frame pressing close.
The sisters embraced wordlessly. Warmth against warmth. Heart against heart. Yuer curled into Ying Hua's body, her arms wrapping around her tightly, her voice barely a whisper.
"I feel calmer here."
Ying Hua rested her chin lightly against Yuer's hair, her hand brushing along her back in steady, soothing motions. "Of course you do. You are with me. With Father's family, there is no fear. No doubt. Only truth."
Yuer's violet eyes softened. She pressed herself even closer, their bare forms molding together, her breath mingling with Ying Hua's. "Yes… only truth."
The chamber was quiet, their bodies pressed close beneath the faint glow of spirit lamps. The silence lingered for a time, until Ying Hua finally spoke, her voice calm but edged with the absolute conviction that always burned within her.
"When you were born, Yuer," she whispered, her black eyes steady, "my first thought was this: if she is not loyal to Father, then I will kill her."
Her words carried no malice, only cold honesty. She smoothed her hand over Yuer's hair as she continued. "I knew he would never allow it. He would stop me. But still… if that day had come, I would have tried. Even if it meant death. Because I cannot accept a sister who does not worship him. I would have killed you just to vent my hatred."
Lian Yuer listened without a flicker of fear, her violet eyes calm, her breathing steady. When Ying Hua finished, Yuer tilted her head slightly, her lips curving into a faint, almost amused smile.
"That's strange," she murmured softly, "because I had the same thought."
Her fingers traced gently along Ying Hua's cheek. "If Father ever creates another sister… and if she does not love him, if she is not loyal to him… then I will kill her myself. No hesitation."
Their gazes locked, violet and black, both steady, both sharp, both burning with the same fanatical devotion.
"Then we are more alike than you think," Ying Hua said quietly.
"Almost identical," Yuer replied, her voice just as soft.
The sharpness in their words melted as they pressed closer. What remained was love — not rivalry, not suspicion, but the fierce recognition that they were the same, that they shared the same heart, the same loyalty, the same Father.
They kissed, slow and lingering, their lips brushing with quiet affection. Then they curled tighter together beneath the sheets, legs entangled, bodies pressed into one another's warmth.
Yuer rested her forehead against Ying Hua's, her violet eyes softening. "We are his angels."
Ying Hua's lips curved faintly. "And nothing else matters."
The two sisters fell silent again, kissing and cuddling on the bed, their love for each other a reflection of their love for the man who had given them life.