Bloody Harem System

A Bloody Fight

The latch lay in broken pieces on the floorboards. Plaster dust drifted through the air, catching the pale moonlight bleeding into the small room from the courtyard. Blake Mercer stood framed in the ruined doorway. His chest heaved with heavy, ragged breaths. He held his steel sword in a white knuckled grip.

He stared at the small wooden cot. His mind struggled to process the visual information in front of him. His pure virgin fiancée was straddling the sect cripple. Her blue silk robes were pooled on the floor. Her skin was flushed a deep, feverish pink.

"Get off him," Blake Mercer roared. His voice tore through the quiet night, echoing off the stone walls of the Lotus Pavilion courtyard.

Serena did not flinch. She did not scramble for her clothes or beg for forgiveness. She looked over her shoulder at the man who had lied to her for two years. A dark, arrogant smile curved her swollen lips. She shifted her weight deliberately, pressing her hips down harder against Arthur Drake.

A soft, breathy moan escaped her throat. The sound was a deliberate weapon aimed straight at Blake Mercer’s pride.

Arthur Drake rested his head against the wooden headboard. He let his hands slide down Serena’s bare back to grip her waist. He looked past her shoulder to meet the outer sect prodigy’s gaze. The passive aura of his Blood Dominance skill rolled off his skin in invisible waves. It filled the cramped room with a suffocating pressure.

Blake Mercer took a step forward, his boots crunching on the broken wood. He stopped abruptly as the pressure hit him. His eyes widened in shock. He tried to sense the spiritual energy in the room, expecting to feel the empty void of a mortal.

A thick layer of crimson Qi coated Arthur Drake’s skin. The energy was stable and terrifying. It was the undeniable signature of Qi Condensation Stage One. The realization struck Blake Mercer like a physical blow to the chest. The dividing line in the martial world was rigid. The Outer Sect was a holding pen for mortals tempering their flesh in the Body Refinement stages. Only those who formed a spiritual core could enter the Inner Sect.

Blake Mercer was the undisputed king of the outer sect. He had spent three years polishing his body, reaching the peak of Body Refinement. He was scheduled to break through to Qi Condensation next month. He had built his identity on being the strongest, the fastest, and the most talented junior disciple in the Cerulean Crest Order.

Yet the starved son in law he had just mocked was radiating a power Blake Mercer had not yet achieved.

"Demonic arts," Blake Mercer hissed. He raised his sword, pointing the steel tip at Arthur Drake’s face. "You swallowed a forbidden pill. You are a crippled piece of trash. You do not have the talent to form a core."

"Your fiancée seems to disagree," Arthur Drake said. His voice was smooth and calm, devoid of any fear. "She finds my core very satisfying."

The insult shattered the last remnants of Blake Mercer’s self control. Jealous rage boiled over, erasing all rational thought. He channeled every ounce of his physical strength into his legs and lunged across the small room. He swung his sword in a brutal, horizontal arc aimed directly at Arthur Drake’s neck. He intended to take the head right off his rival's shoulders.

Arthur Drake did not push Serena away. He did not even bother to sit up. He activated Crimson Flash.

His upper body blurred into a smear of red mist a fraction of a second before the steel blade connected. The sword sliced through empty air, whistling past his throat with lethal force. The momentum carried Blake Mercer forward, burying the tip of his blade deep into the plaster wall behind the bed.

Serena gasped as the blade passed inches from her face, but she did not pull away. The sheer danger of the flashing steel combined with Arthur Drake’s effortless evasion ignited a massive surge of adrenaline in her blood. She felt the dense, hot Qi flexing in his chest muscles beneath her. The friction of his evasive movement sent a sharp thrill of pleasure straight to her lower belly.

Blake Mercer yanked his sword free from the wall. Chunks of white plaster rained down onto the mattress. He reversed his grip and drove the blade straight down, aiming for Arthur Drake’s heart.

Arthur Drake shifted his hips to the right, taking Serena with him in a fluid, synchronized motion. The steel tip pierced the wooden mattress frame, burying itself an inch deep into the wood exactly where his chest had been.

The movement forced Serena to grind against him. She let out a loud, unrestrained cry, her fingernails biting into his shoulders. The violence in the room was acting as the ultimate foreplay. The Blood Dominance skill fed on her arousal, pumping her veins full of hot intoxicating submission. She wanted to watch this powerful man destroy the boy who had broken her heart.

"Stand still and die," Blake Mercer screamed. Sweat poured down his face. His chest heaved with exhaustion. The physical exertion required for Body Refinement techniques was draining his stamina rapidly.

He pulled the sword out of the wood and swung again. This time he abandoned all formal techniques. He slashed wildly, throwing uncoordinated chops in a desperate attempt to draw blood.

Arthur Drake bobbed and weaved. He moved his head and torso with lazy, calculated precision. The steel shaved a single strand of hair from his scalp on the third swing. The blade snagged the fabric of the bedsheets on the fourth. Arthur Drake never broke his rhythm, and he never let go of the woman in his lap.

"You are swinging like a drunk mortal," Arthur Drake taunted, locking eyes with the frantic swordsman. "Is this the famed talent of the outer sect? No wonder my wife had to do all the work."

The taunt worked perfectly. Blake Mercer let out a feral roar. He gripped the hilt of his sword with both hands, raising the weapon high above his head for a devastating vertical strike. He put his entire body weight behind the blow, determined to cleave Arthur Drake in half.

The blade descended. The air split with a sharp whistling sound.

Arthur Drake raised his left arm. He did not activate Crimson Flash. He did not attempt to dodge. He activated his Bone Crushing Grip skill.

His hand shot upward. His fingers snapped around Blake Mercer’s descending right wrist in midair.

The energy of the strike hit a solid wall of crimson Qi. The sword stopped dead in its tracks, hovering just three inches above Arthur Drake’s face. Blake Mercer grunted, pushing down with all his might, but his arms felt like they were trapped in a steel vice.

Arthur Drake looked up at the sweating, trembling prodigy. He smiled. He squeezed his fingers.

A sickening, wet crunch echoed through the small servant quarters. The radius and ulna in Blake Mercer’s forearm shattered into dozens of jagged splinters under the overwhelming force of the Qi Condensation grip.

Blake Mercer opened his mouth, but no sound came out for a full second. The shock of the pain paralyzed his vocal cords. His fingers went numb. The steel sword slipped from his lifeless hand and clattered onto the floorboards.

A shrill, agonizing scream finally tore from his throat. His knees buckled instantly. He collapsed onto the floor beside the bed, clutching his mangled, misshapen arm against his chest. He writhed on the wood, kicking his legs in blind agony. Tears of pain and humiliation streamed down his face.

Arthur Drake dropped his left hand back to Serena’s waist. He looked at the crying boy on the floor with profound boredom.

Serena looked down at her former fiancé. A few hours ago, she had viewed this man as a towering pillar of strength. She had thought he was a dragon destined to rule the sect. Now, looking at him sobbing on the floor in a puddle of his own sweat, the illusion broke into pieces. He looked pathetic. He was nothing but a weak, arrogant boy who had played with her feelings.

She ran her hands through Arthur Drake’s dark hair, leaning forward to press her breasts against his chest. She looked down at Blake Mercer, her eyes cold and merciless.

"You promised me you were a dragon," Serena said. Her voice carried clearly over his pathetic sobs. "You told my father you were the strongest man in the outer sect. You sneaked into a married woman's bed tonight because you thought you were untouchable."

Blake Mercer looked up through his tears. His face was pale and contorted in pain. "Serena, please. He is using trickery."

"He broke your bones without even getting out of bed," Serena stated, her voice dripping with venom. "He is a true cultivator. And his stamina eclipses yours in every single way. You leave women unsatisfied and alone. He fills me up and makes me scream. You are a joke, Blake Mercer."

The degradation hit Blake Mercer harder than the shattered bones in his arm. His pride was his foundation. Hearing his fiancée describe another man's size and bedroom skills in such graphic detail broke his spirit. He dropped his head against the wooden floorboards and wept openly, his ego ground into dust.

Arthur Drake decided the show was over. He lifted his right leg, planting his bare foot square in the center of Blake Mercer’s chest.

He released a short, violent burst of crimson Qi from his sole. The concussive force launched Blake Mercer backward. The prodigy flew through the shattered doorway, soaring over the wooden porch. He crashed into the dirt of the courtyard, rolling several times before coming to a stop near the edge of the lotus pond. He lay there coughing up blood and dirt, too broken to stand.

Arthur Drake lowered his leg. He looked through the broken doorway out into the courtyard.

Clara Vale stood frozen near the center of the garden. She clutched her silk robe tight against her body, her knuckles white with tension. She had watched the entire fight from the shadows.

A cold shiver ran down Clara's spine. The sight of her husband terrified her. Just a few hours ago, Arthur Drake had been a bruised, bleeding mortal begging her father for justice. He had been a pathetic creature she could slap and humiliate without consequence.

Now, he was radiating a dark, suffocating power. The dense crimson aura of a Qi Condensation cultivator swirled around him, casting long shadows in the dim room. His face was flawless, the cuts and bruises erased by whatever miraculous power he had obtained. He looked incredibly handsome, possessing a raw, dangerous magnetism that commanded attention.

She looked at the defined muscles of his chest, the calm authority in his dark eyes, and the beautiful inner sect disciple eagerly riding his hips. A sharp, violent pang of jealousy pierced Clara’s chest. She had starved him and cuckolded him because she craved a strong man. She had settled for Blake Mercer’s mediocrity because she thought it was the best available option.

Now, her rightful husband had conquered the outer sect's greatest talent without breaking a sweat, and he was giving another woman the pleasure Clara had desperately sought.

Arthur Drake locked eyes with his wife across the courtyard distance. He saw the shock, the fear, and the dawning regret written clearly on her face. He did not speak to her. He did not owe her an explanation or a single word of closure. She was dead to him.

He raised his left hand toward the broken doorway. He channeled a wave of compressed air through his palm. The invisible force hit the shattered wooden door and the broken frame lying on the porch. The debris flew upward, slamming into the doorway to form a makeshift barricade.

The wood locked into place, cutting off Clara’s view of the bedroom and sealing her outside in the cold night air.

Arthur Drake turned his attention back to the woman in his bed. He gripped Serena’s hips, his dark eyes burning with intent.

"Where were we?" Arthur Drake asked softly.

Serena let out a needy, desperate whimper. She grabbed the sides of his face and pulled his lips to hers. She kissed him with a frantic hunger, ready to surrender herself completely and give him every drop of her Blood Essence.