My Xianxia Harem Life-Chapter 219 Chemistry

"It’s all well and good that we can pick the names," one elder began, his tone calm but laced with caution.

"But there is one thing we must not overlook. We need to make absolutely certain that the woman we choose will carry out the task not only obediently, but wholeheartedly. If we send someone who is unwilling, someone who carries resentment in her heart, she could easily jeopardize everything. A single misstep on her part could provoke Daoist Riley’s wrath far more than anything we could have anticipated."

The weight of his words hung in the air, silencing the room.

The elders who had been debating moments before now exchanged uncertain glances, their expressions growing grim.

He continued, "This isn’t just about appearance or cultivation level anymore. We’re not simply selecting a representative—we’re placing our entire sect’s future in her hands. If she falters, if she fails to respect the gravity of this marriage alliance, the consequences may be catastrophic."

A heavy silence followed, thick with unspoken worries.

Some elders looked down at the floor, lost in thought, while others rubbed their beards or tapped their fingers anxiously on the table.

After a pause, another elder finally spoke, his voice low but firm.

"I’m afraid the good elder is right. Most of our prodigies, saintesses, and saint children possess proud and unyielding temperaments. They are not the sort to bow their heads easily. Many of them were raised to see themselves as the chosen, the untouchable, and have been betrothed since their youth to allies of equal stature. Forcing one of them into this marriage, especially with someone they do not know or respect, could lead to rebellion, or worse... sabotage."

He sighed deeply, the lines on his face deepening.

"I fear that if we push the wrong person into this role, it will only bring us disgrace, not salvation. In that case, we may as well admit it—we’re back to square one."

A long and somber moment followed. No one dared speak.

The once-heated discussion had turned cold, the flicker of hope that had filled the chamber now dimmed by the shadows of doubt.

And then, as if struck by sudden inspiration, a voice rose from the corner.

"I may have a solution," an elder said, rising slowly to his feet. His eyes gleamed with a quiet certainty.

"I know someone. A young woman of extraordinary beauty and talent—someone who has not only mastered the arts but has always placed the needs of the sect above her own. But more than that, I know she will do as we ask, not because she is forced to, but because she believes in our cause."

Heads turned toward him immediately, curiosity reigniting in their eyes.

The atmosphere, heavy just moments before, began to shift as a new possibility took root.

"Who is she?" one elder asked, leaning forward with renewed interest.

"Is she truly willing?" another questioned. "And can she win the favor of Daoist Riley?"

The elder gave a small, knowing smile. "If anyone can, it’s her."

And just like that, the discussion pivoted.

The weight of despair gave way to a glimmer of hope, all focused now on this mysterious young woman who might just be the key to saving them all.

***

In a quiet courtyard nestled deep within the sprawling estate of the Golden Dragon Clan, serenity reigned.

Tall plum trees swayed gently in the breeze, their petals dancing down like snowflakes onto the smooth stone paths.

A koi pond shimmered in the center, its still waters reflecting the soft hues of the afternoon sun.

Everything was peaceful—eerily so, as though the world was holding its breath.

At the heart of this tranquil space sat a woman whose presence commanded the air around her.

Fiona.

Seated gracefully on a low, carved jade bench, she cradled a porcelain teacup between her slender fingers.

Steam curled from the surface of the fragrant brew, its warmth rising into the cool afternoon air.

Her long crimson hair, the color of fire at dusk, was bound loosely with a silk ribbon, cascading over her shoulder like a living flame.

Each strand caught the light, shimmering with an almost ethereal glow.

She was breathtaking—more than that. She was otherworldly.

Her beauty was not the delicate, fleeting charm of youth, nor the loud allure flaunted by courtesans and noble daughters.

No, Fiona’s beauty was regal and composed, the kind that demanded attention.

Her figure, perfectly sculpted, spoke of maturity, strength, and irresistible grace.

Her skin was flawless, pale as moonlight, and her features were finely carved—full lips, a straight nose, and eyes that seemed to see through the soul.

But it wasn’t just her appearance that left people speechless.

What set Fiona apart—what truly left an impression—was the aura that surrounded her.

Cold, dignified, unreadable. Like the surface of a deep lake in winter, she revealed nothing.

Men, when they looked at her, were not simply entranced by her face or form.

They were drawn to the mystery she embodied—the desire to peel back the frost, to touch the fire they believed lay buried beneath.

But Fiona never let them close.

She had learned long ago that love was a luxury women like her could not affordSuddenly, hurried footsteps echoed against the stone tiles.

"Young Miss Fiona!" a clear voice called out.

A young maidservant, delicate and breathless, hurried into the courtyard with a scroll clutched tightly in her hand.

Her hair was disheveled, and her cheeks were flushed, but she moved with the practiced grace of someone who had served her mistress for years.

"A letter from the clan," she said, bowing as she presented the sealed parchment.

Fiona blinked slowly, setting her teacup aside with practiced ease.

She took the scroll and cracked the wax seal without a word.

Her eyes scanned the contents. The words were brief but heavy.mShe closed the scroll with a soft sigh, her fingers tightening slightly around it.

"Is it bad news?" the maid asked gently, stepping closer. "Is it... another competition? Another summit?"

Fiona didn’t answer right away.

The maid hesitated, lowering her voice. "You’ve done everything they’ve asked of you... every task, every trial. Isn’t it enough yet?"

Fiona’s lips curled into a faint, wistful smile. "It’s never enough, Rose," she murmured.

Her gaze drifted toward the garden around her.

The plum blossoms, the winding stone path, the stillness of the pond—she had known this courtyard since childhood.

Now, she was being asked to leave it behind.

"I suppose this will be the last," Fiona said softly, almost to herself.

"The final request I can fulfill before..." She didn’t finish the sentence.

Some things didn’t need to be said aloud.

But her expression hardened, as did her voice.

"Prepare your things, Rose," she said, rising to her feet with the grace of a queen. "We’ll be traveling for a while."

Rose looked up, startled. "You mean—now? Where are we going?"

Fiona’s eyes gleamed with a resolve as sharp as a drawn blade. "To where duty and honour calls," she said. "And where my fate, too, will be decided."

The wind stirred her hair, sending red strands fluttering like banners in the wind.

Somewhere beyond the walls of the estate, the drums of destiny were already beginning to beat.

***

Fiona and Rose boarded the grand flying boat at dawn, the sky painted with hues of gold and lavender.

Dozens of well-trained servants accompanied them, tending to every need as the vessel soared smoothly above the clouds.

The journey was long, but Fiona spent most of it in quiet contemplation, her gaze fixed on the horizon while Rose fussed over her hair and outfit to ensure she looked her best upon arrival.

By the time they reached the Austere Clan’s territory, the sun was dipping low, casting long shadows over the majestic mountains and sweeping courtyards below.

The clan’s estate was imposing—stone buildings carved into the mountainside, veiled in mist and surrounded by towering pine trees.

A soft wind carried the scent of incense and pine resin as the boat landed near one of the outer courtyards.

They were received by a group of clan members, one of whom stepped forward—an elder with silver-streaked hair and a reserved expression.

Fiona bowed politely, and with grace and composure, she explained their purpose.

"I’m sorry, Young Miss Fiona," the elder said after listening carefully, his tone respectful yet firm.

"But Master Riley is not entertaining any guests at this time. That said, please feel free to stay in one of our guest courtyards within the clan grounds. I will ensure that Master Riley is informed of your arrival."

"There’s no problem," Fiona replied, maintaining a calm and gracious demeanor.

"But could you please pass this letter to Master Riley for me?"

The elder accepted the sealed envelope with a nod. "Consider it done, Young Miss Fiona."

With that, he turned and walked away, his robes trailing behind him as he disappeared into the stone halls of the clan.

Days passed in silence.

Fiona and her entourage settled into the offered courtyard, a quiet place surrounded by blooming nightlotus trees and a koi pond.

The servants busied themselves, but Fiona remained mostly in her chambers, waiting.

Despite her poised exterior, concern began to creep into her heart.

Each day, she would glance at the gate, hoping for a messenger. But none came.

After a week, the silence became too loud to ignore.

One morning, as the mist rolled in over the courtyard, Fiona called for Rose.

"Rose, I have a task for you," she said, her voice soft but resolute.

Rose stepped forward immediately, eyes attentive. "What is it, Young Miss?"

Fiona took out a second letter, this one newly written and sealed with a red ribbon.

"Kindly deliver this to one of the elders of the Austere Clan. Tell them it’s for Master Riley, and that it must be given to him personally."

Rose’s eyes flashed with understanding. "Understood, Young Miss. I’ll do it right away."

Clutching the letter to her chest, Rose turned and hurried out of the courtyard with determination in her step and a spark of loyalty in her heart.

Fiona watched her go, then turned back to the quiet garden. The koi swam lazily in the pond, unaware of the storm slowly brewing in her heart.