The colossal ebony-and-steel carriage advanced along the wide avenues of the Pale Gold Capital, a silent leviathan slicing through a sea of billions of cultivators.
Outside, the air was not merely bathed in golden light — it was oppressively dense. The gravity of this superior plane smelled of molten lead and hot metal. Any mortal from a lower world who tried to breathe in those avenues would have their lungs crushed in the first second, yet here the crowds and beast-drawn carts moved with biology brutally hardened by the ecosystem itself.
To the eyes of the empire, the oppressive opulence of the vehicle and the imposing posture of the old coachman forced the path to open. However, thanks to the Karmic Veil woven by Zhì Yuǎn, anyone who peered through the window gaps saw only a grotesque contrast: not gods, but merely the dirty and forgettable faces of pathetic peasants. The true face of that calamity belonged only to them, and to the memory of the two heiresses waiting thousands of miles away.
The interior of the armored cabin ignored the crushing pressure of the world outside. The air smelled of sandalwood, freshly brewed lotus tea, and sweet spices. The breakfast served on the small center table had just been devoured, and the atmosphere on the black velvet carpet was one of thick, welcoming calm.
Zhì Yuǎn reclined against the scarlet cushions, his long, calloused fingers idly turning an empty teacup. The gaze that, in the early years of his cosmic ascent, had seemed like a pool of cold lethargy now shone with a gentle, relaxed warmth.
Just minutes earlier, while Yù Méi shoved her fifth meat-stuffed bun into her mouth, the god had tilted his head and murmured, with complete naturalness, that old Mò Zhōng would need to reinforce the springs on the right side of the carriage before the Brutal Blade swallowed the entire wooden tray by mistake.
Yù Méi had choked, her ears turning red as peppers while she grumbled with her mouth full and crossed her arms. Yù Qíng had let out a crystal-clear laugh, and even the timid Bái Wǎn had hidden a sweet smile behind the sleeve of her pearl dress.
Mò Yán collected the empty porcelain plates with precise, elegant movements. The young woman with snow-white hair paused, adjusting the crossed collar of her hanfu, and lifted her scarlet irises toward her husband.
"My heaven has been smiling much more these past few months," Mò Yán said as she set the tray on the table, her gaze overflowing with devoted affection. "The abyss in your eyes has lost the lethargy that accompanied us at the beginning of the ascent. Has the weight of your universe changed, husband?"
The question did not go unnoticed.
In the corner of the cabin, Bái Wǎn stopped folding the silk napkins and lifted her soft face, her large oceanic eyes blinking with pure curiosity. Yù Méi also abandoned her usual boredom, resting her elbows on her own knees to listen.
Yù Qíng, seated on her heels right behind Zhì Yuǎn, slid across the upholstery until she rested her pale chin on her husband's broad shoulder. The priestess's soft arms wrapped around his neck.
Zhì Yuǎn set the teacup down. He rested his right arm on the rune-glass windowsill, watching the frantic flow of the ochre city outside. His free hand rose, calloused fingers threading through the first wife's black hair in a possessive yet gentle caress.
"The hunger is still here, Yán," the baritone voice dropped to an intimate, affectionate octave, delivering the words only to the altar that knew his depths. "But it stopped clawing at my throat."
The man's fingers slid along Yù Qíng's shoulder, the dense heat of his skin radiating a terrifying sense of security.
"In the early years, the space inside demanded I swallow the entire world just so the walls wouldn't collapse," Zhì Yuǎn leaned his head against the carriage wood, his dark eyes relaxed. "But now… the foundation has finally settled. I could lock the door of this carriage and lie in the dark with you for millennia without madness ever coming to collect the bill again."
Mò Yán's thighs tightened beneath the silk, a feverish, damp heat rising up her neck as her breath faltered at the realization that the absolute control of that existence finally belonged to him alone.
"The breath has returned to my lungs," the touch on Yù Qíng's skin grew even softer. "It's like going back to that first day on our old bamboo veranda… when the air of the world entered my chest and I could finally breathe."
He turned his face, meeting Yù Qíng's abyssal irises mere inches from his own. Zhì Yuǎn's large hand cupped the priestess's cold cheek, his thumb brushing her red lips with lethal tenderness.
"I feel completely whole again," the god's gaze sank into the darkness of his wife. "Exactly like the day I married you, Qíng."
A thick, submissive heat flooded the woman in blue's insides. Yù Qíng's black eyes melted into a pool of blind adoration. Her lips parted, her entire body leaning forward, ready to fuse her soul with his in a visceral kiss that would seal that perfect declaration.
But before their mouths could meet, a purely ironic and provocative gleam ignited in the god's dark irises.
"…Or was it the day I first tasted that almond cake of yours back in the village?" The god's lips curved into a dry, jovial smile. "A god's memory sometimes fails."
The kiss died a millimeter away.
The untouchable mask of majesty on Yù Qíng's face cracked in an instant. The woman in blue drew her neck back, narrowing her black eyes. She crossed her arms beneath her full bust with scandalous force, her pale ears flushing an indignant red as she formed an absolutely adorable pout.
"My husband has quite the nerve, confusing the sweetness of my cake with the eternity of our union," the priestess's icy, feigned fury failed miserably to hide the smile tugging at the corners of her lips.
Yù Méi couldn't hold it. The golden warrior threw her head back and let out a rough laugh, slapping her own knee, delighted to see her usually unshakable elder sister dismantled by a single sentence. Bái Wǎn covered her face with both hands, shoulders shaking in sweet, contained laughter, her blue eyes sparkling at the family's lightness.
Mò Yán hid her own smile behind the wide sleeve of her hanfu. The young woman's heart tightened with a domestic happiness that the sterile rules of her old clan could never have offered. Their husband was not merely a cosmic slaughter machine; the center of their universe was warm, alive, and absurdly captivating.
The carriage gave a slight jolt. Mò Zhōng's rough, loyal voice sounded muffled through the thick wood of the front door.
"My Lord. We have arrived at the Silver Matrix Plaza."
The lightness inside the cabin did not evaporate, but focus returned to Zhì Yuǎn's eyes. He adjusted the collar of his charcoal-gray tunic, the half-smile still present.
"Pay the dust for the capital guards, Yán," Zhì Yuǎn waved lightly. "And let's take a close look at the jade gardens of the Bifront Empire."
Mò Yán nodded. The young woman's posture returned to its polished, unshakable state. She rose gracefully, picked up the stored jade passes, and opened the communication hatch on the ebony door.
The Silver Matrix Plaza opened before the carriage like a white marble plateau encrusted with concentric circles of gleaming metal. Hundreds of Jade Infantry guards, armed with short halberds and stern gazes, organized the flow of nobles and merchants buying passage to the impregnable Central Crown.
As soon as the colossal carriage stopped near the embarkation columns, a tired, stagnant-faced Matrix Master approached the hatch with a registration scroll in hand.
The official's gaze fell on Mò Yán. But thanks to the Karmic Veil covering the family, the guard's stagnant mind registered neither the scarlet irises, the snow-white hair, nor the young woman's monumental voluptuousness. The official's limited brain saw only the dirty, tired face of a forgettable peasant woman.
The official opened his mouth to speak.
Without uttering a single syllable, the woman extended her hand through the gap and placed on the stone tray a small sack of raw leather. The loose knot gave way slightly, revealing the blinding, crystalline gleam of dozens of High-Grade Spirit Stones — an absurd fortune, dense and pulsing with pure Qi, enough to buy the entire plaza and the loyalty of every guard present.
The heavy thud of the treasure echoed.
The official paled. Cold sweat trickled down his temple as he was hit by the radiation of that purest ore. The man's astonished gaze traveled from the sack overflowing with perfect stones to the face of the "pathetic peasant woman," then to the colossal ebony-and-steel carriage guarded by a coachman whose aura unmistakably belonged to a veteran warrior. The grotesque contrast made the man's legs tremble.
"I-Immediate clearance, Senior!" The official frantically stamped the free-pass plaque, deactivating the main barrier without daring to ask a single question.
Mò Yán collected the jade pass and closed the hatch with a dry click.
"The passage is open, my heaven," the young woman stored the plaque and returned to her seat with a submissive smile.
Mò Zhōng snapped the reins. The carriage advanced toward the center of the immense silver circle. Light exploded around the ebony wood and steel, swallowing the vehicle in a blinding flash that tore across the continental distance of the empire.
When the blinding light faded, the sharp noise of the markets and the dust of the outer avenues vanished completely.
The air that slipped through the carriage gaps was different. It smelled of purified nectar, millennial incense, and an orthodox pride that admitted no flaws. They had landed on the private platform of the Central Crown, the epicenter of power. And outside, beyond the sunlit arrival plaza, the colossal jade gates of the Pale Gold Imperial Palace rose, guarded by gigantic statues of ochre dragons and azure luans.
The defenses of the Utopia appeared unbreakable.
But Zhì Yuǎn's black, unfathomable eyes, reflecting the golden gleam of the gates, already saw the structural crack that the mere weight of his arrival would cause. The wolf did not need to howl; the gates had been opened by invitation.
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