Primordial Villain with a Slave Harem

He blinked and immediately met two pairs of eyes.

Feng and Serika.

His head was nestled against something soft—shockingly soft—and as his senses stirred to life, he realized where he was.

Serika’s lap.

The mighty warrioress, battle-scarred and iron-willed, had apparently decided that her thick, tanned thighs made for the perfect recovery pillow. And she wasn’t wrong. Despite the lean muscle under her bronzed skin, there was an impossible warmth to her, a heat that radiated not just from her body, but from her very presence. Resting there, he felt as if the world itself had been silenced, pain forgotten, chaos quieted.

Her crimson hair framed her sharp features, and her intense green eyes, eyes that had seen him at his worst and fought beside him through hell and back, were blinking rapidly, scanning his face like a hawk watching for changes.

On the other side, Feng sat by his head, one hand caught mid-stroke in his black hair. The moment his eyes opened, she froze like a startled deer. Her blue, glassy eyes widened in shock, but suddenly, her fingers gripped onto his messy strands as if afraid that letting go would make him vanish again.

Neither of the pair spoke words of welcome or relief.

Instead, they studied him.

Their gazes weren’t just of concern.

They were actively searching, trying to see if something vital had been lost in him, sensing that he’d undergone a transformation of sorts, even if he didn’t bear a single mark of change on the outside.

They wanted to know if he was still him.

If the corruption had sunk in too deep.

If the Quinlan they knew had been swallowed by the overwhelming power now humming beneath his skin like a thunderstorm waiting to break.

For a moment, he simply looked at them. Then…

His smile came slowly, curling into that familiar, cocky tilt of the lips they’d seen a hundred times before. The one that could mean trouble, charm, or both. The one that said I’m still here.

He raised both arms—slowly, languidly—one hand reaching toward each of them.

They both flinched.

Just slightly.

Just enough to betray the feelings of concern they didn’t want to admit to him.

But as his fingers moved toward them, they didn’t pull away.

Couldn’t pull away.

Something about his gaze—those deep, endless eyes still swirling subtly with the harmonized elements of fire, water, wind, and stone—anchored them. One look into them left their doubts scattered. Their tension melted not by logic, but by something older, deeper.

They didn’t understand it.

Not fully.

But they felt it.

This was still Quinlan.

And more.

“Did you really think…” he murmured, voice low, teasing, “that I, Quinlan Elysiar, would let myself get overtaken by some measly invaders of the soul? That I would leave you behind on your own?”

He smirked. “Please. They’ve been neutralized. Subjugated. I’m the one in charge.”

Feng let out a sharp little gasp and then cried out fully. “You dummy!”

In an instant, she collapsed onto him, hugging his head fiercely to her flat chest. “You scared me so bad! Right after we won! I thought that-“

Her voice cracked as tears welled in her eyes, trickling down her cheeks to splash onto his skin. “You idiot! I thought we lost you!”

Quinlan opened his mouth to respond, but Feng didn’t get long to hold the moment.

Because, with a blur of movement, Serika smoothly lifted his head from her lap and, like an acrobat springing into battle, maneuvered over him in a single, fluid motion. One moment she was beside him, the next she was straddling his chest, red hair cascading around his face like a curtain.

And then she devoured him.

Her kiss was fierce. Hot and hungry, her lips crashing against his with a great deal of repressed fear and longing finally unleashed. There was no gentleness in it, only need. Raw and unapologetic. She kissed him like he was oxygen. Like he’d stolen her breath, and she was stealing it back.

He didn’t resist.

How could he?

She was flame incarnate. She burned for him, and in that moment, he welcomed the fire. One hand slid right down to her sexy butt, the other up her sensual back, pulling her further into him as he returned the kiss, going even deeper, once and for all ascertaining the fact that he was still here in this priceless woman. That he was still himself.

A short distance away, Rongtai stood watching the scene unfold, arms crossed.

His expression?

Absolute poker face.

But his eyebrow twitched. Once.

Just once.

Feng, meanwhile, had gone utterly still. Like a cheetah whose prey had been stolen by a mighty lion.

She stared with her mouth open, the flush on her cheeks rising from red to crimson rage. “Again?! Have you no shame?! You did this last time too, damned woman!”

Serika pulled away just enough to pant against his lips, eyes half-lidded, voice smug and low. “Sorry.”

“Sorry?! I don’t need your sorry, you hog! I need you to get off him!” Feng exploded, already trying to elbow Serika aside, trying to wedge herself back in.

But as she leaned closer, about to force herself into another hug around his shoulder, Quinlan’s head turned just slightly in her direction, and her gaze met his.

Those eyes—deep, endless—now shimmered with the quiet swirl of all four elements. Harmonized. Unbreakable. Ascendant.

He was entirely unimpressed by her actions.

Feng froze—absolutely and utterly—as Quinlan’s elemental eyes turned toward her.

And then, without warning, the world around her twisted.

Wind howled in her ears as the ground dropped out from beneath her. Light shattered. Heat and cold coiled around her in chaotic ribbons as her body felt pulled, stretched, warped through a kaleidoscope of elements and soul-light.

“No, wait! WAIT!” she screamed, her voice whipped away by the storm.

Then…

Silence.

Stillness.

A deep, eerie calm.

She stumbled onto her feet, panting and wild-eyed, standing in a wide-open space of surreal calm.

A mountain range loomed behind her, its peaks scorched by fire and kissed by wind. To her left, endless grasslands rolled beneath a violet sky. Rivers ran in elegant, glittering threads far in the distance, carving through the terrain.

The sky above was unfamiliar. It was starless, vast, an infinite dome of swirling clouds and humming silence.

Feng spun around with her heart pounding. “Where… where the hell am I?!”

Then it came.

A deep, resonant voice. Masculine, smug, everywhere and nowhere all at once.

“What a bad girl you are, Feng Jiai.”

She jolted, instantly recognizing the owner of the voice even if it echoed differently than in reality. “Q-Quinlan?!”

The panic in her mind cracked instantly, replaced with pure indignation. Her brows furrowed. She puffed up and scoffed, trying to reclaim her pride even as her legs still trembled.

“Bad girl? Me?! I just won us the battle against a literal god! Your appreciation of my person is severely lacking, thank you very much! And also, where are you, huh?! Show your ugly mug, coward!”

His laugh echoed all around her. Rich, amused, and devilishly warm. It sank into her bones.

“Busy, I’m afraid. Serika’s tongue is very much engaged with mine. She’s a thorough girl, that much is certain. All fire, this one.”

Feng gasped, her jaw falling open in scandalized disbelief. “Y-You-! You did whatever this is to send me away?!”