Dual Cultivation: Gathering SSS-Rank Wives in the Cultivation World

Chapter 756: Chapter 756 - Childhood Friend Came to Meet Prince

’She colluded with him. She swapped places with her twin. She let him fuck her. She let him advance her cultivation. She is his now. Not mine. His.’

’That bitch.’

His hand, the slender, scholarly hand, slammed the desk. The impact, the palm on the dark wood, was loud. The ink stone, the brush, the scrolls, rattled. The frustration, the fury, the impotent, helpless, consuming rage of a man who had been outmaneuvered, outpowered, and humiliated, was there.

But he could do nothing. The power, the cultivation, the army, the fleet, all of it, was above him. He was a Divine Integration early stage cultivator before a Divine Transcendent being. He was an ant before a dragon.

A servant, an old man in plain robes, arrived. His face, lined, respectful, was careful. The bow, the formal greeting, was performed.

"Master," the servant said. His voice was quiet. "Lady Han has arrived to meet you."

The name, the two words, the name that carried a weight of memories, of childhood, of friendship, of unspoken feelings, hit the eldest prince like a wave.

His face, the scholarly, frustrated, angry face, transformed. The smile, the genuine, warm, delighted smile of a man hearing the name of someone he cared about, broke through.

"What?" he said. His voice was bright. The surprise, the joy, the genuine emotional response of a man who had not expected this, was there. "See? See? She has come to see me!"

He moved. His feet, on the purple marble, carried him forward. His pace, fast, was the pace of a man rushing to greet someone. His robes, white and silver, fluttered. His sharp eyes, the scholarly assessment, were gone. Replaced by warmth. By anticipation.

~ The Courtyard

The courtyard was beautiful.

The garden, the silver-leafed trees, the spirit-flowers, the crystal stream, the moonlit stone paths, was the private sanctuary of the eldest prince. A place of peace. Of solitude. Of reflection.

The woman stood in the courtyard.

Her dress, brown and simple, was the dress of a merchant. Not a cultivator. Not a noble. A merchant. The fabric, coarse and practical, was belted at the waist. Her figure, the full, curvy body of a woman who had lived among common people, was visible. Her boobs, bigger than average, strained the fabric. Her hips, wide and curved, were prominent. Her hair, dark and curly, fell past her shoulders in wild, natural curls. Her face, pretty, warm, the face of a woman who smiled easily and often, was there.

Lady Han. The merchant’s daughter. The childhood friend.

The eldest prince, arriving in the courtyard, saw her. His sharp eyes, the warmth, the joy, the unspoken, years-long, deeply buried romantic feelings, were in his gaze.

"How are you?" he said. His voice was warm. The tone of a man greeting someone he cared about. "You have finally arrived here, my friend."

He hugged her. His arms, the scholarly arms, wrapped around her. The embrace, the warm, genuine, emotional embrace of a man holding someone he had missed for a hundred years, was real. His body, the Divine Integration frame, held her. The curl of her hair, the scent of the merchant’s shop, the warmth of her body, filled his senses.

She chuckled. The sound, the warm, easy, familiar laugh of a woman who had known him since childhood, was genuine.

"Aren’t you being too much, Prince?" she said. Her voice was teasing. The familiar, comfortable, bantering tone of a childhood friend. "It’s been hundreds of years since you came here. And now you are clinging to me like this."

The words, the teasing, the gentle, affectionate rebuke of a woman who had waited, who had been left behind, who had watched her childhood friend ascend to the upper realm and become someone she barely recognized, were delivered with a smile.

His smile, the warm, genuine, slightly embarrassed smile of a man who had been called out for being too clingy, was there.

"I was helpless," he said. His voice was soft. The explanation, the excuse, the justification of a man who had left and had not come back, was delivered. "I couldn’t come. I needed to train and become stronger. To save everything and return the glory of our kingdom."

The words, the noble, purposeful, duty-driven words, were the words he had told himself. The words he had repeated. The words that justified the hundred years of absence, of silence, of not coming back, of not contacting the woman who had been his closest friend.

She listened. Her warm eyes, on his face, held the understanding. The forgiveness. But also, beneath the surface, the pain. The loneliness. The years of being left behind, of fending for herself, of watching her father fall ill and being unable to help.

He smiled. His warm, soft smile, the smile of a man looking at someone he had feelings for, was there. His eyes, the gestures, the way he helped her sit on the stone bench, the way his hand lingered on her shoulder, the way his gaze softened when he looked at her, all spoke of a man with a crush.

She, in her own world, seemed unaware. The pain, the preoccupation, the weight of her father’s illness, the desperation that had driven her to seek out a childhood friend she had not seen in a century, consumed her.

He reached into his robe. His hand, the slender fingers, found the pendant. The jade pendant, the formation stone, the communication artifact, was in his palm.

"I’m going to leave soon," he said. His voice was soft. The regret, the sorrow of a man who had just returned and was already leaving, was genuine. "So you can have it. You can call me whenever you need."

He held out the pendant. The jade, green and polished, glowed with formation light. The communication array, the spiritual link, was embedded. With this, she could reach him. Anywhere. Anytime.

Her eyes, on the pendant, were still. The realization, the dawning, painful realization that he was leaving again, hit. He couldn’t help because he was going on the expedition. The inheritance. The Reincarnation Pool. He was leaving.

The pain, the sharp, cutting, deep pain of a woman who had finally gathered the courage to ask for help, who had finally reached out, who had finally come to the one person who might be able to do something, only to find that he was leaving, was there.

She didn’t look at the pendant. Her eyes, the warm eyes, the eyes that had held hope, were on the ground.

"So I needed to do it," he said. His voice was quiet. The justification, the apology, the explanation, was offered.

They talked. The childhood friends, the prince and the merchant’s daughter, the two people who had grown up together in this province, who had played in these gardens, who had been inseparable before cultivation and duty and the upper realm had separated them, talked.

The memories, the childhood, the games, the adventures, the mischief, the stories of their youth, were shared. The warmth, the nostalgia, the bittersweet joy of reunion, was there.

Then she asked.

"What is happening in this city?" she said. Her voice was curious. The question, the natural question of someone who had arrived in a city filled with soldiers and ships and rumors, was asked.

He told her. The upper realm master had arrived. The mortal emperor. The being whose power, whose army, whose presence, had thrown the entire province into turmoil.

Her warm eyes widened. The shock, the surprise, the awe, was there.

"Immortal Emperor?" she said. Her voice was incredulous. "Is he strong?"