Chapter 439 Camper

Chapter 439: Chapter 439 Camper

Valery arrived in White Bone City in a single breath of time.

Space folded neatly around her, swallowing her presence before anyone—cultivator or formation—could sense her return.

The towering white structures of the city passed her by like ghosts as she reappeared within her residence, her feet touching the floor without a sound.

She did not waste even a heartbeat.

The moment her door closed, Valery released her divine sense.

It spread outward like an invisible tide, sweeping through corridors, courtyards, sealed chambers, and guarded rooms.

Servants, guards, elders—she ignored them all. Her focus locked onto a single presence.

"Oh?"

Her brows lifted slightly.

"Father is still cultivating."

At first, there was mild surprise. Riley was not known for long, uninterrupted sessions.

He was bold, reckless, and impatient—qualities that had shaped both his strength and his many scars.

But then her divine sense reached deeper.

Much deeper.

The casual calm on Valery’s face shattered instantly.

Her perception pierced through heavy restrictions and violent spiritual fluctuations, and what greeted her froze her breath in her throat.

Riley was no longer human in form.

His body had expanded into a colossal ape manifestation, muscles layered upon muscles, veins glowing faintly with burning essence.

Ancient runes pulsed across his skin like scars carved by the heavens themselves.

Power.

Raw, overwhelming power.

It pressed against her divine sense like a stormfront, wild and barely restrained.

The cultivation energy around him churned violently, devouring spiritual qi from the surroundings at a terrifying pace.

Valery’s fingers clenched.

"This aura..."

It wasn’t just strong—it was wrong.

Her shock deepened when she traced the depth of his cultivation.

In just one month, Riley had crossed realms that should have taken decades of accumulation, tempering, and enlightenment.

"...This is impossible."

Her gaze sharpened as she analyzed the technique itself, dissecting its flow, its structure, its brutal efficiency.

"Is that the second realm of the technique?"

She paused.

Her heart skipped a beat.

"No... no, this isn’t the second realm."

Her pupils constricted violently.

"It’s the fourth realm!"

The realization struck like thunder.

Valery didn’t hesitate.

Space screamed softly as it fractured beneath her authority.

Distance collapsed into nothingness, and in the next instant, she was already standing inside Riley’s cultivation chamber, mere steps away from him.

The oppressive pressure hit her immediately.

The chamber was a mess—cracked floors, warped walls, things around him burned half to ash.

The very air trembled under the weight of Riley’s presence.

"Father..." Valery whispered, her voice unusually quiet. "This is madness."

Riley’s ape form slowly exhaled. The sound alone sent ripples through the room.

His massive body trembled, not from exertion—but from instability.

Valery’s divine sense swept over him again, this time more carefully.

And her heart sank.

This wasn’t cultivation.

It was suicide delayed by stubborn will.

Riley’s eyes finally opened.

Despite everything, there was still clarity in them. And amusement.

"You’re finally back, Valery," he said, his voice echoing unnaturally within the chamber. "Just in time."

The ape form began to shrink, bones cracking softly as his massive body condensed.

"Care to give me a wheelchair?" he added casually. "My legs aren’t very reliable these days."

Valery said nothing.

Her expression hardened, but she nodded.

With a simple flick of her finger, spatial light gathered and condensed.

A wheelchair materialized before them, its structure reinforced with subtle runes to support a body on the brink of collapse.

"Thank you, daughter," Riley said warmly as he lowered himself into it.

As he sat down, his ape form fully faded, revealing his human body once more.

The sight hurt more than Valery expected.

His once-powerful frame was thin, his legs completely limp.

His eyes were open—but unfocused, dull, unable to see.

The terrifying strength remained, coiled within him like a sleeping beast, but the price had already been paid.

He was blind.

And crippled.

Before Valery could move, a robe drifted through the air and wrapped itself around Riley’s naked body, covering him neatly.

The fabric obeyed his will alone, floating as if guided by invisible hands.

"You can now control objects with your mind?" Valery asked quietly.

Riley chuckled. "Naturally. A few perks of the technique."

She stepped behind him and placed her hands on the wheelchair, pushing him toward the exit of the cultivation chamber.

Each step felt heavier than the last.

"I don’t know what my mothers will say about this, Father," Valery said after a long silence, shaking her head. "You pushed yourself far beyond reason."

Riley leaned back comfortably, utterly unconcerned.

"They won’t care that much," he replied with a grin. "I’m still a big man where it matters the most."

Valery sighed softly, equal parts exasperation and helpless affection lingering in her eyes.

She had seen countless cultivators chase power.

But this—

This was Riley walking willingly into damnation, smiling all the way.

***

When Evelyn and Monique finally saw Riley, the shock hit them harder than they had expected.

They froze where they stood.

The man before them was unmistakably their husband—his aura, his presence, the familiar steadiness of his soul—but his condition made their hearts clench painfully.

The wheelchair, the unfocused gaze, the subtle stiffness in his posture... none of it should have belonged to him.

"Husband... what happened to you?" Evelyn asked, her voice breaking as she rushed forward.

Monique followed close behind, her usual composure gone.

"Are you hurt? Who did this to you?" Her hands trembled as she reached for him, afraid that even touching him might cause pain.

Their distress spread like wildfire.

The children gathered around as well, questions pouring out all at once—fear, confusion, disbelief mixing together until the room descended into near chaos.

Riley raised a hand, still smiling.

"Easy, easy," he said calmly. "I’m not dying."

His voice carried quiet authority, steady enough to cut through the noise.

Alive.

Strong.

"This is nothing," Riley continued gently. "Just a temporary consequence of some... intense training."

Though his eyes could no longer see, his face turned toward each of them in turn, as though he were looking directly into their eyes.

"I promise you," he said, "I’m fine."

It still took nearly an hour to calm them completely.

Evelyn cried. Monique scolded him. The children clung to him until Valery finally ushered them away, one by one, letting the household slowly return to its uneasy calm.

Only when night descended did silence finally settle over the residence.

In the quiet of their shared chamber, soft lantern light flickered against the walls.

Evelyn and Monique sat beside Riley on the bed, their shoulders brushing his, neither willing to leave his side.

"Husband..." Evelyn said quietly. "Are you really alright?"

Monique nodded in agreement, her expression tight. "You don’t need to prove anything to us. We’d rather you rest."

Riley listened, then smiled—gentle, sincere, and unmistakably affectionate.

"I know," he said softly. "I just... missed my wives."

Slowly, deliberately, he rose to his feet.

For a brief moment, a deeper presence stirred beneath his skin—the latent ape form, powerful and imposing—but he carefully adjusted himself, drawing that strength inward and stabilizing his body into a human shape.

Maintaining it required effort. It drained him. Normally, he would not bother.

But tonight was different.

Tonight, he wanted to be with them—not as a cultivator, not as a reckless man chasing power, but as a husband.

The doors closed. The candles dimmed.

The outside world faded away.

Whispers replaced worries. Gentle touches replaced fear.

The tension that had gripped them all day slowly melted into warmth and familiarity.

Soft voices filled the room, mingling with quiet laughter and breathless murmurs as the hours passed unnoticed.

"Ah..."

"Oh..."

"Mmm..."

The night stretched long and unhurried.

When dawn finally approached, Riley lay resting between Evelyn and Monique, their breathing slow and even.

For once, he did not circulate his qi or force his body to recover. He simply slept.

And though his body had paid a terrible price for power, in that moment, surrounded by those he loved, Riley felt—if only briefly—at peace.

After that night, Riley became—by every reasonable definition—an insatiable beast.

Not merely in cultivation, but in spirit.

Having already crossed the most perilous threshold of the technique, the frantic desperation that once drove him vanished completely.

There was no longer a need to gamble his life on every breath or force breakthroughs with suicidal urgency.

Instead, Riley settled into a rhythm that was disturbingly calm.

Almost... natural.

During the day, he cultivated.

From dawn until the sun hung high in the sky, the cultivation chambers trembled beneath his presence.

Even seated in his wheelchair, even blind and crippled, the aura he released was monstrous.

Spiritual qi bent unnaturally toward him, rushing in violent currents as if answering a silent summons.

The technique refined itself within him, growing more efficient, more ruthless, stripping away waste and hesitation alike.

Each session ended the same way—cracked floors, warped formations, and an oppressive pressure that lingered long after he stopped.

Servants avoided the area entirely.

By night, Riley returned to his wives.

When dusk fell, the household atmosphere shifted.

The suffocating pressure of cultivation gave way to warmth and quiet intimacy.

Laughter could occasionally be heard behind sealed doors, low and familiar, and long and intense lovemaking.

Evelyn and Monique never complained.

On the contrary, they seemed reassured by this routine, as though anchoring Riley to something human kept him from slipping entirely into madness.

Day for power.

Night for love.

It was a deviation from any orthodox cultivation path.

And yet—

Despite dividing his time so blatantly, despite indulging in rest, intimacy, and emotional attachment that should have slowed or destabilized him, Riley’s progress did not falter in the slightest.

It accelerated.

Week by week, his aura deepened.

The violent instability Valery had initially sensed began to smooth out—not weakening, but condensing.

Like a blade being folded again and again, growing sharper with every refinement.

This terrified Valery.

She watched him constantly, her divine sense brushing against his presence far more often than she cared to admit.

Each improvement defied established logic.

Each refinement mocked the cultivation principles she had mastered over countless years.

"This makes no sense," she muttered one evening, standing atop a distant tower and staring toward her father’s residence.

The technique did not punish excess.

It rewarded it.

The more Riley lived—trained, rested, indulged, loved—the smoother the technique flowed.

His emotions did not interfere with his cultivation. They fed it.

As if the technique itself thrived on intensity of life rather than discipline alone.

That realization sent a chill down Valery’s spine.

Riley, for his part, remained completely unbothered.

He trained when the sun rose. He stopped when his body demanded it.

He laughed when the children visited.

He teased his wives. It was as though cultivation had ceased to be his goal.

It was simply something he did. And of course his improvements never stagnated at all.