My Xianxia Harem Life-Chapter 385 Meta

Iris arrived at the clan and lingered high above the clouds, shrouded in mist and silence.

Her divine sense spread outward like an endless tide, sweeping across every corner of the vast city below.

She brushed past bustling markets, newly built temples, and even the hidden courtyards of able cultivators—yet nowhere did she sense the familiar presence of Riley.

Still, instead of disappointment, a faint, almost wistful smile curved her lips.

He’s here, she thought. Whether within these walls or beyond them, he never fails to appear when I least expect it.

Her heart, though calm as still water, carried a ripple of quiet anticipation.

With a soft flash, her flying sword descended from the clouds, cleaving the air like a beam of light.

It vanished in a single flash the moment her feet touched the ground, leaving behind only the graceful figure of a woman who seemed far too divine for the mortal realm.

Her pristine violet robes fluttered in the breeze, her long hair cascading like a dark waterfall behind her.

Even the air seemed to tremble faintly around her, infused with the subtle sharpness of sword intent.

Heads turned instantly.

The crowd that had gathered outside the main square fell into a hushed awe, their gazes following her every step as she made her way toward the largest building of the clan.

Her presence was neither arrogant nor humble—it was simply commanding, like the inevitability of a rising moon.

"That’s Elder Iris of the Sacred Heart Sword Sect," someone whispered reverently.

"She’s come again."

"Her visits to the Ash Maker’s domain are becoming far too frequent," another muttered, trying—and failing—to hide the intrigue in his tone.

"I heard she and the Ash Maker fought many times and exchanged pointers," said one elder, lowering his voice.

"Since then, they’ve met in secret more than once."

"Could it be..." someone murmured, leaning closer, "the Thousand Sword Fairy has fallen for the Ash Maker?"

The mere suggestion set off a storm of whispers.

Like sparks in dry grass, the rumor spread quickly from one tongue to another.

Some scoffed, some smiled knowingly, and others looked skyward, wondering what kind of man could stir the heart of the famed Thousand Sword Fairy—a woman whose sword alone could silence empires.

But Iris paid no mind to their chatter.

Her footsteps were steady, each one echoing faintly across the stone courtyard.

Her mind was elsewhere—on the man whose shadow seemed to follow her no matter how far she went.

"Elder Iris, to what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?" an elderly man asked as he stepped forward, his expression warm and respectful.

Despite his age, his eyes gleamed with curiosity—after all, it wasn’t every day that the famed Thousand Sword Fairy herself descended from her sect to visit their master.

"The usual," Iris replied softly, her tone polite yet distant. Her posture was straight, every movement elegant and restrained.

"Please inform your master that I’m here to pay him a visit."

"Of course, Elder Iris." The man bowed deeply, clearly both honored and nervous.

"Please, have a seat while I deliver your message. It may take a little while—Master Riley has guests from every corner of the world these days."

Iris simply nodded, saying nothing more. Her long sleeves swayed as she moved toward a nearby seat, but she didn’t sit.

Instead, she stood by the open window, gazing silently at the sprawling courtyard below.

Her divine sense lingered in the distance, brushing faintly over familiar energies, yet none of them belonged to the man she sought.

The faint scent of tea drifted through the air, mingling with the crisp fragrance of rain from the morning clouds.

Minutes turned into an hour.

The hall grew quieter as disciples came and went, sneaking discreet glances at her as they passed.

Whispers traveled behind her back—some spoke of admiration, others of envy—but she paid them no mind. Her focus was fixed, her heart beating with a rhythm she hadn’t felt in years.

Finally, a young disciple entered and bowed. "Elder Iris, Master Riley will see you now."

She inclined her head and followed.

The path to Riley’s main hall was long and winding, flanked by towering stone pillars engraved with ancient runes.

The doors at the end were massive, carved with the emblem of a burning ash tree—the symbol of the Ash Maker.

When the disciple pushed them open, a soft creak echoed across the vast space.

The grand hall inside was bright and tranquil.

Rays of sunlight filtered through the high windows, catching on floating motes of dust that shimmered like faint stars.

At the center, Riley sat at a low table, dressed in simple black robes.

A pot of steaming tea rested before him, the fragrance rich and earthy.

He didn’t rise to greet her.

Instead, he looked up from his cup, his lips curving into that faint, teasing smile that she knew too well.

"Another match?" he said lazily, swirling his tea. "You really do love getting beaten, Iris. Doesn’t matter how many times you challenge me—the result will always be the same."

He took a slow sip, his eyes never leaving hers. "You know I don’t hold back, especially not against someone who prides herself on her sword. I’m not used to handling a flower lightly."

Normally, she would have met his teasing with a sharp retort or a cold snort before unsheathing her sword—but this time, she didn’t.

Her silence stretched on until Riley’s brows furrowed slightly.

When she finally spoke, her voice was calm but carried a weight that made even the air in the room feel still.

"I’m not here for another duel."

Riley paused mid-sip. His expression softened, curiosity flickering in his dark eyes. "...Then what brings you here, Iris?"

She met his gaze directly, unflinching. "I’m here to propose marriage."

The teacup stopped just shy of his lips. For a long moment, neither of them moved.

The gentle hiss of the teapot was the only sound in the hall.

Riley set his cup down carefully, his expression unreadable.

"Marriage?" he repeated slowly, as if testing whether he’d heard correctly.

"I’m here to marry you, Riley Rice," Elder Iris said clearly.

There was no hesitation in her tone, no trace of jest—only determination and something deeper hidden in her eyes, something even she could barely name.

The silence that followed was heavy, stretching endlessly.

Riley leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowing slightly as he studied her. "You’re serious."

"I am."

He gave a low chuckle—half disbelief, half amusement.

"The Thousand Sword Fairy, proposing marriage to me. That’s a story no bard would dare write."

But even as he spoke, something about the moment felt different.

Beneath his composed demeanor, Riley could sense it—the faint tremor of sincerity in her voice, the quiet storm behind her calm gaze.

For the first time, it wasn’t a challenge between swords.

It was something far more dangerous.

"Why? Do you think that I’m not worthy of you?" Elder Iris asked, her tone calm yet edged with defiance.

Her eyes gleamed like polished jade, sharp and unwavering.

Even as her heart pounded beneath the surface, her expression betrayed nothing but pride.

She stood before him, tall and poised, her long sexy robes rippling faintly with the wind that crept through the open hall.

The faint fragrance of sword qi still lingered around her—it was sharp, pure, and untamed, much like her.

Iris had never known submission, never known what it meant to bow her head before anyone.

She was the Thousand Sword Fairy, a name revered across countless realms.

Strong, noble, untouchable—and yet, in that moment, she was baring her heart to one man.

Riley set his cup down, a soft clink echoing in the silence between them.

His eyes lifted to meet hers, and for a moment, amusement flickered across his handsome face.

"It’s not that," he said finally, his lips curving into a faint smirk.

"I just find it... surprising. I wouldn’t be shocked if any other woman came to me with such a proposal—after all, I am quite the catch. Strong, powerful, intelligent, and"—he leaned slightly forward—"let’s not forget, devastatingly handsome."

His tone was teasing, but there was truth in it. He knew his worth, and he wore his confidence like armor.

"But you," he continued, eyes narrowing playfully, "you’re different. I didn’t think that you, of all women, would fall for my charm."

Iris tilted her chin slightly, meeting his smug expression with one of her own.

"Fall for your charm?" she echoed softly, her voice carrying a faint, mocking lilt.

"Don’t flatter yourself too much, Riley Rice." Then, after a pause, she sighed—a rare, almost wistful sound.

"If you must know the reason, it’s because I can see no other man worthy of me. You’re arrogant, reckless, infuriating... but you’re also strong. Real. And that’s rare in this world."

Her gaze softened, though her posture remained proud.

"Besides," she added, her voice lowering, "I’ve lived a long life, one spent in solitude and endless cultivation. I’ve fought battles that shook mountains, but I’ve never once known what it means to have a home—to have someone waiting at my side. I want to know what it feels like to belong... even just once."

Then, with a sudden spark in her eyes, her lips curved into a half-smile.

"Or perhaps," she said teasingly, "you’re afraid, Riley Rice. Afraid that you can’t handle a wild goddess like me?"

Riley laughed—a deep, rich sound that filled the hall.

"Afraid? Hardly." He rose from his seat in one smooth motion, his presence expanding like a quiet storm.

Even without releasing a shred of spiritual power, he seemed to dominate the room effortlessly.

"A hundred wives, a thousand lovers—it wouldn’t matter," he said, his voice confident yet strangely sincere.

"I’m insatiable in every way—strength, ambition, desire. You should know that better than anyone."

His gaze flickered over her face, the faintest trace of admiration buried beneath his teasing grin.

"Still," he added, his tone turning more serious, "I hope you know what you’re getting yourself into, Iris. Once I claim something, I never let it go."

Iris’s heart gave the faintest tremor, though her expression didn’t change.

She met his eyes evenly, her voice calm.

"Then claim me, Riley. But don’t think for a second that I’ll be one of those women who kneel at your feet. If we’re to wed, it will be as equals."

Riley smiled faintly, his gaze darkening with interest.

"Equals?" he murmured, stepping closer. "We’ll see about that."

He stopped only a breath away from her, so close that the warmth of his breath brushed her cheek.

The tension between them was electric—years of rivalry, pride, and unspoken attraction twisting into something neither of them could deny anymore.

Finally, Riley broke the silence.

"The wedding," he said slowly, his voice low and sure, "will be set as soon as possible."

He turned away briefly, pouring himself another cup of tea as if he hadn’t just agreed to the most shocking proposal in the realm.

"Prepare yourself, Iris," he said, his tone laced with quiet amusement.

"You wanted to know what it feels like to have a family. I hope you’re ready for the chaos that comes with mine."

For the first time in what felt like centuries, a soft, genuine smile touched Iris’s lips.

"Chaos or not," she replied, "I’m not going anywhere."