Primordial Villain With A Slave Harem-Chapter 832: Cheeky Brat [Bonus]

No. This wasn’t something he could leave in their hands. That’s why he had to escape, why he had to get stronger now.

He closed his eyes, retreating inward.

...

The Next Day

Feng Jiai’s voice rang through the chamber like a songbird learning to whine.

"Mmmnnnnggh... I’m booooored," she cried, flopping onto a cushion with exaggerated despair. "There’s nothing to doooo. I wanna grow flowers! Pretty, colorful flowers!"

The two palace maids blinked at her sudden outburst. She rolled over and clasped her hands like a child begging for sweets.

"Can I have some flower pots? With dirt and water? Pleaaase? I wanna grow something beautiful while we’re forced to remain here."

The maids exchanged an uncertain glance.

"...Should we really be letting them?"

"What’s the harm? It’s just a few pots with earth and flowers..." the other whispered, smiling. "Let the girl play."

They approached Feng with fond smiles, pinching her soft cheeks with playful affection.

"Of course, little lady," one giggled. "You’ll have your garden. We’ll bring you everything you need."

"Yay!" Feng chirped. "I’ll name the flowers after you!"

The women laughed and left, and within the hour, they returned with small ceramic pots filled with rich soil and containers of fresh water, along with a packet of flower seeds.

As soon as they exited the chamber, the childish smile on Feng’s face vanished like mist.

"...You’re up."

Quinlan was already beside the pots.

Without grace, without poise, he plunged his hands into the soil. The moment his fingers brushed the compacted earth, he shuddered.

It was rich, freshly tilled, carefully chosen. Exactly what he needed.

His breath slowed. He spread his palm against the cool surface and began.

The sensation was immediate.

Earth qi stirred. Subtle, slow, heavy. It wasn’t as dynamic as fire or as fluid as water: it was stoic. Unmoving. But not hostile.

It rumbled inside him like a mountain waking from a dream.

His arms tensed, his skin hardening as if his flesh remembered the feel of stone. The earth accepted him. Not because he was gentle, but because he had what it took.

...

Another Day

"I’m sick of this stale air!" Feng shouted one afternoon, dramatically covering her nose. "I can smell the old tapestries. Ugh! Do you want your esteemed guests to get poisoned?!"

The maids turned, blinking at her outburst. She dramatically waved her hands like a fussy princess.

"We can’t even open the windows! How’s anyone supposed to breathe properly in here?"

"We understand, little miss," one of the maids sighed. "But the windows are sealed with spirit-forged bars and locks. Only the guard captain can open them for cleaning."

"Then call him! I’ll die if I breathe this air one more time!" Feng whined while stomping her feet multiple times against the palace’s floor.

Amused and somewhat concerned, one of the maids nodded. "We’ll go fetch him. Just a moment."

As soon as the maneuver was completed and the windows were once again closed as the steps of the guard captain faded...

Quinlan was already seated in his meditative pose.

Wind had been let in with the fresh air. He had to dissect the different qi and only take in the wind element.

He inhaled.

And with that breath came a current.

It slithered into his proximity. Weak, but wild at the same time. Playful. It coiled around his skin like a curious snake, brushing his senses.

Wind qi.

It didn’t follow order. It didn’t listen.

So Quinlan didn’t command it. He invited it.

He opened his arms and let his breath become unstable, matching the wind’s erratic rhythm. In his core, his fire flickered. The newly seeded water and earth qi shifted, responding to the breeze.

He let himself go unanchored, for just a moment, his spirit floating.

And the wind flowed in.

...

And so the days passed. Then weeks.

Each day, a new ploy.

Each time, Feng would distract or perform.

Each time, Quinlan would take.

Water from the bath.

Earth from the pots.

Wind from the window.

Bit by bit, his inner world expanded.

Where once there was only flame, now there were seeds. Water coiled beside fire. Earth braced it. Wind danced around it.

No longer a single element.

No longer one path.

He was becoming more than a fire cultivator. More than even a Primordial.

He was building the foundation for the Avatar’s Core.

But foundations alone were not enough.

Quinlan opened his eyes slowly, exhaling through his nose. The air was warm, the walls too familiar. The energies inside his body protested. They were still untrained, raw, and rebellious. A fragile harmony, easily lost.

He clenched his hand.

’No matter how great my affinity is to the elements, wild qi can only take me so far.’

Without elemental shards—without essence—there would be no true awakening.

His water was shallow.

His earth, unshaped.

His wind, elusive.

It wasn’t shocking to him. After all, he’d consumed the fire elemental shard that he ’accidentally’ took from Feng, the one she stole and planned to use as funds to start anew after running away from home, from the parents who forced her to marry that scumbag young master whose name he’d long since forgot. Too irrelevant to matter.

When he came up in one of their conversations, he’d just call him Feng’s ex-boyfriend, receiving a torrent of unladylike curses from his partner in crime.

But, returning to the elemental seed topic: he was growing, but...

A low sigh left his lips.

"I’ve hit the limit."

He rose to his feet, rolling his shoulders, gazing at his own fingers as qi gently swirled along his skin, unrefined and incomplete.

Feng looked up from her latest act of fake sulking with her eyebrows raised. "What’s wrong? Not enough flowerpots for you?"

He grinned.

"No. Just enough." His eyes gleamed. "It’s time we stopped playing house, Feng."

She blinked, then slowly stood, excitement creeping up her spine.

"Are you saying...?"

He turned to her fully with a big smirk.

"It’s time we leave."