Manipulative Harem God

Longyun City!

In the tranquil heart of the Huang estate, nestled under the expansive embrace of a cerulean sky, Master Huang Juncheng, bound to the confines of his wheelchair, found solace beside a serene pond.

Its waters, a canvas of light and shadow under the sun's caress, reflected the few wandering clouds above.Follow current ɴᴏᴠᴇʟs on ɴovᴇl_Firᴇ.ɴet

Ancient willows, standing as silent sentinels, whispered age-old secrets to the gentle breeze, their leaves performing an ethereal dance.

Before him stood General Zhang Mingxuan, his uniform pristine, the four stars on his shoulder served proof to his rank and the battles he had weathered.

"Master Huang, the Shadow Crescent has emerged from their silence. Chi Yu is rallying their forces in the depths of the unseen," General Zhang's voice barely rose above a whisper, merging seamlessly with the natural symphony of the courtyard. "The Eternal Void Society is also plotting an uprising against the Dynasty. I fear that one of our ranks is already tainted."

Master Huang Juncheng's eyes, deep and unfathomable, remained fixed on the dance of light upon the water, as if deciphering the riddles of the universe in its depths. "The game unfolds as expected, General Zhang. We tread a path fraught with shadows. Caution shall be our guide; the Shadow Crescent's tendrils stretch far beyond what the eye sees. And as for the Eternal Void Society, let them contend with the rising star of your family. Isn't he already embroiled in conflict with them?" He spoke with a subtle smile.

"Master Huang, don't joke. I've scoured every ancestral record, and I'm certain we have no relation to him. Why do you persist in mocking me?" Zhang Mingxuan couldn't suppress a wry smile.

"Haha..." Huang Juncheng's laughter echoed in the courtyard, infusing it with life. "Are you truly certain, General? If it turns out he indeed belongs to the Zhangs, I may just consider arranging a marriage between my apprentice, Du Yun'er, and him."

!!

Zhang Mingxuan's eyes, momentarily alight with the spark of realization, quickly dimmed, surrendering to a helpless smile.

He understood all too well the meaning of Master Huang Juncheng's words.

The Zhang family, despite its centuries of service to the nation and its martial prowess, remained largely tethered to the mortal realm.

Only a select few, through sheer determination and fortune, had pierced the veil of obscurity to grasp the ancient secrets of cultivation—secrets zealously guarded by the martial families as if they were their very breath.

Zhang Ming, his own son, stood among the lucky few, chosen to join the elite Dragon Squad, where he trained in the celestial arts.

Pride swelled in Zhang Mingxuan's heart for this achievement, yet he never dared to dream that fortune would smile upon their family again so soon.

A union with Du Yun'er would not only bind them to the ancient and revered Huang lineage but also to the elusive Du family, hidden for centuries behind the mystical veil of the phoenix.

Such an alliance could elevate their standing to heights unimaginable, granting them a prestige that mingled with the very essence of the divine.

Yet, as his gaze shifted to the figure beside the wheelchair, a chill cascaded down his spine, erasing any schemes from his mind.

There, in the shadow of the wheelchair, stood Du Yun'er, a vision of fiery elegance against the twilight's embrace.

Her hair, a cascade of deep crimson, seemed to capture the last rays of the setting sun, setting her aglow with an otherworldly light. Her eyes, fierce and radiant as molten rubies, mirrored the intensity of her spirit.

At the mention of marriage, her brows knit together in a display of quiet displeasure, her delicate hands gripping the wheelchair handles not out of necessity, but as a statement of her autonomy and strength.

Du Yun'er's glare towards Zhang Mingxuan was as chilling as a winter storm, laden with ominous warnings, her eyes sharp enough to etch her disapproval into the very air between them.

Yet, as her fierce gaze momentarily caught Master Huang's reflection in the serene pond, an unspoken exchange flitted between them—a ballet of looks laden with meaning, culminating in a soft, disapproving hum from her lips.

"Du Yun'er, does my suggestion displease you so?" Huang Juncheng couldn't resist probing, his voice laced with amusement, his smile betraying his anticipation of her dissent.

"No, Master. I would heed your guidance, but he—his hands are stained with the blood of the innocent. And worthiness? That remains to be seen," Du Yun'er replied, her voice a blend of respect and bold critique, her words casting a shadow over the faces of the men before her.

"And his survival? I've assessed his prowess myself—it scarcely merits mention. Why do you place such faith in him?" Her challenge was veiled in a deceptive smile, her audacity to speak her mind leaving an air of tension.

Zhang Mingxuan was left in a stunned silence, the words catching in his throat, while Huang Juncheng's laughter boomed, unfazed by her grumbling.

"Hahaha... Is that your belief?" He turned towards Du Yun'er, whose frustration was barely concealed beneath her composed exterior.

"Yes. He's taken hundreds of innocent lives. Why does martial law not pursue him?" Du Yun'er's frustration spilled over, her voice tinged with astonishment.

In their world, a martial artist's honor forbade the use of their strength against the defenseless unless provoked.

Yet, Zhang Wei had broken these principles time and again, escaping retribution each time.

How could she not question this anomaly?

For the man before them, seated calmly in his wheelchair, was none other than Huang Juncheng—ranked first on the sky list, the President of the Martial Arts Association, and the Chief General of the Han Dynasty.

His name alone, synonymous with a man who had tore a general with his bare hands, sent shivers down the spine of the underworld and beyond.

"Are you two perhaps doubting my decision?" Huang Juncheng's spoke, his eyes scanning their faces, registering the flickers of doubt. With a heavy sigh, he surrendered to a moment of helplessness, his usually impenetrable facade showing cracks.

The grave shift in Huang Juncheng's demeanor caught Du Yun'er off guard, prompting her to voice the question that had haunted the corners of their minds.

"Is it... related to your legs, Master?" Her voice was tinged with a mix of skepticism and concern.

"..."