Profane Prince of Domination

"The unification of the Three Realms begins and ends today."

If anyone else spoke such words, the Warden wouldn’t have spared them a glance. But coming from Konrad’s lips, she couldn’t help but acknowledge them. Although those foreign deities’ strength stood beyond what she could estimate, when did the Chthonian Primogen ever pick a fight he’d not already won?

While the opponent’s confidence reached its acme, he would release his cards and crush them with absolute strength. On this day, she didn’t favor those Primordials’ odds. However, it was one thing that his victory was certain, another that the Warden turned into another one of his toys.

"Chthonian Primogen, how many consorts do you have?"

The Warden calmly asked while picking up her meditation beads. Undisturbed by the inquiry, Konrad arched his back and rolled his eyes as if making a quick mental calculation.

"The numbers recently swelled, and I’ve now reached 12,021. "

The words had barely left Konrad’s lips that the Warden broke into an abrupt coughing session.

*Cough* *Cough* *Cough* *Cough* *Cough*

Feeling the woman’s plight, Konrad gently tapped her back, sapping the coughing out of her lungs.

"A man shouldn’t be too greedy. Are you trying to dual cultivate to death?"

The Warden blurted, speaking words even she found foreign. But when the notion of 12,021 harem members swirled in her mind, she couldn’t help but find her words wholly accurate.

Konrad, however, shook his head.

"Nonsense. When even a mortal king dared house a harem of 16,000, how can the Profane Prince not have more than 10,000? This is but a starting point. After I extinguish my foes and tame the omniverse, I will definitely expand it to 30,000."

Konrad pledged, making the Warden wonder if his cock hadn’t grown sore from all the plugging.

"Try it and you’ll know."

Konrad said with a wolfish grin, reminding the Warden that her thoughts weren’t her own.

"Hum, hum. Ranks?"

"6,000 low-ranked Consorts, 3,000 mid-ranked Consorts, 1,600 Noble Consorts, 800 Revered Consorts, 600 Holy Consorts, 15 Divine Consorts, 4 Jade Consorts, 1 Jade Dowager, 1 Jade Empress."

Across the centuries a few more ladies naturally joined the ranks of the Divine Consorts. As for the extra two Jade Consorts, Rati and Selene claimed those spots.

The knowledge that the Dowager ranked below the empress and among the consorts didn’t escape the Warden’s acute mind. But knowing that it was Talroth’s blood sitting next to her, she didn’t think much of it.

"And where exactly would I rank in all that?"

"I still need one Jade Consort. I initially reserved the spot for Asmodeus, but she’s probably trapped in some miniature world, or worse, a Nothingness Seal whereas you are very much available. You could have it.

However, I assign my harem ranks depending on a mixture of skills and bias so...it will still depend on your performance."

For a second, the straightforwardness with which Konrad said those words took the Warden aback. But then she remembered who she was dealing with, and it all seemed natural.

"Unfortunately, the choice isn’t mine to make. So long as Heaven’s Will stands, no man can be intimate with me. You are no exception."

...

Meanwhile, as Konrad made the Warden’s personal acquaintance, the Heaven Warding Temple accepted its last guests and closed its doors. The guests were then led into a massive arena in the middle of which a three meters long greatsword lay planted in a stone altar. With no peculiar energy rippling from it, the sword would have appeared quite inconspicuous if not for the obsidian metal that made its blade.

But though that sword appeared as still as a rock, there wasn’t one knowledgeable deity on the scene that didn’t quiver in its presence.

And when faced with the blade that could slay all, when faced with the God Executing Immortal Sword, how could they not?

"According to past records, regular blood offerings from a Legendary God or above are necessary to keep the sword silent. One can only wonder how much of the Warden’s blood it absorbed across the eons."

A young man with mid-long black hairs and a red bindi-like mark in the middle of his forehead whispered as he intently stared at the sword. He was the Titan Lord’s only surviving son, having escaped the calamity due to his father dispatching him to the Heaven Warding Temple to inform the Primordials of Sakra’s plans. At first, he begrudged that assignment, thinking it unsuited for his station, and resenting that while his brothers followed their father into battle, he would be playing the errand boy.

Little did he expect that assignment to save his life. But so what if he was alive? His entire family - his world - had completely been exterminated, leaving behind specs of dust and squalls of shame. Worse, the rumors that the Chthonian Devil Armies slew the men but captured the women stabbed him day and night.

Perhaps at this very moment, his mother, sisters, and wife all stood impaled on some barbaric devil’s shaft, suffering untold humiliation! The mere thought reddened his eyes and as veins bulged on his temple, he cursed the Chthonian Primogen’s profane name!

"Chthonian Primogen, I Rajan swear to seize the God Executing Immortal Sword, become the fourth God of War, and take your wretched life!"

Rajan inwardly pledged while the anguish of his losses, the pain and humiliation gashed him as if he trod on a road of broken glasses. Planning to use him as a lure, Night used this half-month to vigorously train him, letting him catch up to the fallen Titan Lord at breakneck speed. Although he didn’t have full assurance that Rajan could pull out the sword, if he could, no matter where Konrad hid, he would show up!

In the tribunes, amidst the sea of guests, Blood Nether’s Immortal Blood Guard and Night’s Eternal Night Guard hid, ready to attack at the first sign of chthonian presence. Better, the entirety of the arena had long-since been turned into a peerless formation, ready to be activated at any time.

As long as Konrad appeared, regardless of the result of his clash with Blood Nether, Night didn’t doubt he couldn’t escape his palm!

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