Primordial Villain With A Slave Harem-Chapter 824: Arrival to the Capital

"Alright. Let’s start," he said with heat dancing in his eyes.

The old man walked out of the shack’s creaky door, and Quinlan quickly followed after him, eager to see just what this fourth form had in store for him.

...

Vul’Kareth.

The capital of Vulkaris was everything the border town Zhaokun wasn’t.

Where Zhaokun had been a gritty, militarized outpost clinging to the edge of the nation, Vul’Kareth blazed with grandeur. Built in concentric rings around a dormant volcano—the Thronespire—its architecture roared with fire-forged pride. Crimson banners snapped in the dry winds. Lava-lit canals coursed with a slow flow, illuminating the roads with an amber glow. The air crackled with heat, alive with embers.

This wasn’t a place where people survived.

This was a place where the strong thrived.

Crowds surged like waves through the market districts. Flame-juggling street performers danced to wild drums. Merchants shouted over one another to advertise "phoenix feather cloaks" and "dragon-blood spices!" One bold man waved a half-charred hand while selling fireproof underwear, claiming they could withstand "both an angry wife and a furnace!"

Inns were nearly full, their signs marked with frantic chalk:

ROOMS LEFT: 3.

Feng Jiai pressed close to Quinlan, grabbing onto his big hand with both of hers as her wide eyes took it all in. "This place is pure insanity."

Quinlan chuckled, tightening his grip around her dainty hands. "It’s home to a nation that crowns its ruler through combat. You expected sanity?"

She puffed her cheeks. "Honestly? I thought the underwear guy was a lunatic about to get arrested, but now I’m not sure. Maybe he’s a normal citizen here." freeweɓnovel.cѳm

They stepped aside as a group of monks walked past, each of them barefoot, shirtless, and calmly carrying bowls of fire in their hands.

"...Right," she muttered. "Totally normal."

A few minutes later, the old man stopped just shy of a towering arena platform in the city’s center, where lines of cultivators waited to register. His gaze lingered briefly.

"I have some business to take care of," he said.

Feng turned to him. "What kind of business?"

The old man looked at Quinlan instead of the girl when he grunted, "Register for the event."

Quinlan nodded and watched the old man leave, disappear into the sea of people.

They registered without much fanfare.

A quick signing of his name and one grumpy attendant later, Quinlan was marked as a contestant for the upcoming Ember Reign Festival—an event even the capital’s hardened cultivators whispered about with wary respect.

"Well... I suppose we’ve got a few hours to kill," Feng muttered, glancing around at the festival madness.

That was when Quinlan’s eyes landed on a half-charred wooden sign hanging over a canal bridge:

"Lava Rafting – 20 xuán per person. Helmets optional. Waiver Required."

...

Ten minutes and some loose bandit spoils later, they found themselves aboard a long, slightly unstable-looking raft bobbing on a canal of glowing molten lava. A fire-resistant enchantment could be observed along the raft’s edges.

Feng stared down at the lava.

Then at the guide, who looked half asleep and bored out of his mind.

Then at the other passengers.

A well-dressed man and woman sat toward the middle with elegant posture, trying (and failing) to avoid getting soot on their expensive robes. Between them sat their daughter, a voluptuous girl slightly above Feng’s age with long curls of red hair, a chest that strained her qipao, and eyes that flicked curiously toward Quinlan.

Feng squinted at the girl. For some reason, she didn’t like her, even though no words were exchanged between the two.

"I have a bad feeling about this..." she whispered, right as the guide thumped his paddle and the raft shot forward.

The molten canal twisted violently.

"AAAAAHHHHHH!"

Feng, warrior of Naryssia, fierce cultivator, and wielder of watery grace, immediately flung herself across the raft and into Quinlan’s lap like a startled kitten. Arms wrapped around his waist. Trembling.

"I hate this, I hate this, I hate this!"

Quinlan, meanwhile, sat perfectly balanced. Legs spread, one hand on the raft’s side, and the other around her slim waist, while the wind brushed through his hair as if he were born for this. He raised an amused brow.

"This is a lot more fun than I expected. I’m glad I let you rope me into this."

"Well, I’m not!!! Why did you let me do this to myself?!"

Another twist.

Another scream came, this one even higher-pitched than Feng’s.

The red-haired daughter let out a shriek and tripped as the raft bumped. She stumbled across the middle of the raft and fell...

... directly onto Quinlan’s arm.

"I’m so, so sorry!" she cried, clutching his veiny bicep for dear life as she pressed his arm right into the plush valley of her cleavage. Her voice was soft. Purring even. Her cheeks burned bright red as she added with a breathy little sigh, "Oh my, you’re very... sturdy."

"...Thanks?"

Across from him, Feng’s head whipped around with a low growl.

Her hands twitched. Her eye twitched. Her soul twitched. It was obvious that the whole act of her falling was done just so she could molest her uncle.

"Ahem." she hissed through clenched teeth. "The raft is stable now."

No one paid attention to her, especially not the well-endowed lass.

"I said," she growled louder, "The raft is STABLE now. You can let go of his arm."

The girl looked at Feng, then down at the arm still wedged between her generous assets.

"Oh... Right." She gave it a little squeeze before releasing with hateful eyes glaring right into Feng’s own fiery stare. "Oops."

Her parents said nothing. They just gave her synchronized dry stares, as if they weren’t even surprised by her bold actions. Her mother even seemed a bit sad that her seduction attempt landed flat.

Feng bared her teeth and muttered darkly, "Let the slut fall into the lava next time..."

*Gong!*

A distant bell thundered through the city.

The hour was upon them.

The Festival of Embers was about to begin.

The contestants were called.

It was time.