Primordial Villain With A Slave Harem-Chapter 837: Claiming the Elemental Shards

Feng Jiai’s breath hitched in her throat.

Her lips parted in a panic, voice trembling as she stammered, "T-These defenses weren’t here before! I-I swear, I’ve been in this place dozens of times! Th-this is new! I’m so sorry!"

She turned toward Quinlan with eyes wide and lips quivering. But, despite what she expected, he didn’t flinch. Didn’t panic.

He simply exhaled through his nose and turned toward the door that was now sealed shut, glowing with angry crimson runes, thick steel plates sliding down over it like a vault in wartime lockdown.

"Calm down." His voice was oddly light, even amused.

He took a few steps forward, rolling his shoulders. "No use panicking now."

Feng backed up instinctively as heat poured from him in waves. "W-What are you doing?"

Quinlan’s response was a wicked, unhinged grin.

"Buying us time."

He strode to the control pillar that was inset with silver runic rings that governed the vault of the treasury. It was waiting for the proper imprint to cycle the vault open or shut.

He planted his feet, inhaled, and let the Seventh Form — Tyrant’s Reckoning roar to life.

A torrent of Qi flooded out of his core. Fire-red and sun-bright, it surged along every vein, gathering in a whirling spiral around his right forearm. Sparks hissed across his skin. The air warped—first just shimmering, then outright igniting—until a miniature comet of flame and pressure sheathed his clenched fist.

Even Feng, halfway across the room, felt the temperature spike. Her hair lifted in the sudden updraft as if a forge had opened beside her.

Quinlan drove that comet straight into the control pillar.

*KA-THOOOOM!*

The impact detonated like a siege charge in a cathedral. A shockwave ripped through the chamber; shelves rattled, crystal cases rang like bells. Flames spider-webbed over the control rune rings, melting inscriptions into washed-out scribblings. The master sigil sparked, sputtered, and then died.

Outside, the clan elders heard the boom and then a sickening *keeee-CLUNK!* as every fail-safe slammed shut.

Instead of cycling open, the treasury’s main door froze in mid-sequence, its layered defenses jammed.

Quinlan flexed his scorched knuckles, sparks still licking off the skin, and shot Feng a wolfish grin. "That’ll keep them busy."

The alarms howled.

And Quinlan turned his back on the sealed entrance, ready to claim the shards now helplessly trapped inside with him.

Outside the treasury, the courtyard was already swarming with members of the Jiai family.

Elders. Disciples. Clan guards. All shouting and pushing to the front.

"Who dares invade our treasury!?"

"That’s Renyuan’s imprint signature! He opened the vault?! Where is he!?"

"The formation isn’t responding! It’s jammed! Someone destroyed the release pattern!"

"W-what?! That’s impossible! No one should be able to release such a devastating attack...!"

"Did that monster in a woman’s skin, Serika Vael, invade us?!"

Fists pounded against the door. Water attacks crackled off the outer defenses. All of it was no good. Water wasn’t the element of destruction. Its users lacked the overwhelming power of fire cultivators.

Inside, Quinlan had already turned away from the door.

He walked calmly back toward the crystalline dais, but the elegant display cases were no longer transparent.

Heavy metallic plates had sealed over them, enchanted to resist forceful removal.

Feng blinked, panic slowly turning to awe as Quinlan strode across the room and pulled a massive ceremonial hammer from the weapon racks. It was taller than she was, yet her awesome uncle handled it as if it weighed nothing!

Quinlan spun it in one hand.

Then he lifted it above his head and breathed out. Fire immediately began channeling through his arms, creeping up his glowing orange veins like a serpent.

He surged forward, this time unleashing the Sixth Form of the Blazing Tyrant Style.

The hammer met the steel casing with a thunderous *CRASH!*

The entire mechanism exploded outward.

When the dust settled, the inside of the case was exposed.

Rows of Water Shards shimmered, about a dozen of them neatly arranged like fine jewels.

Quinlan reached in.

His fingers wrapped around one shard, glowing a serene azure color. It felt cold to the touch. He dropped the hammer and immediately sat cross-legged, placing the shard in his two palms.

Behind him, the pounding at the door grew more ferocious. Even if they weren’t great at destruction, sooner or later, the vault doors would be pried open. Sooner, probably. It was a race against time. He had to grow strong enough to fight back against the whole might of the Jiai family and its numerous cultivators before they got in.

*BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!*

Feng winced with every strike, her entire frame tense like a bowstring.

But then she looked to Quinlan, saw the madman’s grin still on his lips, even as cold sweat dripped down his neck.

Serene. Confident. Focused.

The realization struck her then, like a slap across the face.

He wasn’t just physically strong or a prodigy at cultivation.

He was invincible in spirit.

Unbreakable in will.

And in that moment, something changed in Feng.

No more panic. No more second-guessing.

If he was going to fight for her future, then she would fight for his.

She turned and sprinted toward the nearest weapon rack, dragging over heavy halberds and spears, tipping over shelves, and shoving racks against the entrance.

It was like building a barricade in a sandstorm, but she didn’t stop. Didn’t hesitate.

Every second she bought was another second he could steal power from her treacherous family.

Quinlan didn’t waste another second.

With the same hammer, he broke through the metal casing of the water shard, he shattered the metal casings of the earth and wind shards. Both shards, raw with immense elemental force condensed into those little storage vessels, pulsed on their velvet pedestal before he grabbed them.

Veins bulged beneath Quinlan’s skin as the three raw shards rested in his cupped palms. They thrummed like caged hearts. Behind him, the vault door boomed again under the Jiai clan’s pounding. The rune-locks were failing thanks to Quinlan’s intervention, but it was only a question of when they would work properly again.

As such, there was no time to handle each shard delicately. He couldn’t assimilate them one by one.

He crushed all three at once.

*Crack!* Crack!* Crack!*

Elemental light tore free.

A glacial torrent of blue surged down his right arm.

A granite tide of grayish brown thundered through his spine.

A razor-like, violent storm of wind boomed up his ribs.

They rammed into the blazing core already anchored in his dantian.

The result was cataclysmic.

...

Inside his core, Fire greeted the newcomers like a rabid sovereign fighting to the last drop of blood for its throne.

Water answered with crushing rip-tides.

Earth tried to root everything in unmoving stone.

Wind tore at the bindings, seeking freedom.

His qi channels superheated. A structured network of crimson fissures crawled across Quinlan’s chest.

Outside, Feng heard a single strangled breath and saw his skin blister in fiery patches. "Uncle!"

He didn’t hear her alarmed cry. His consciousness was buried in his internal chaos.

The four forces beat against one another, trying to seize the core’s center. Every clash sent shockwaves through his twelve perfected meridians. They groaned like overstretched cables that were mere seconds from snapping.

Quinlan forced himself deeper.

He mapped the flow: Fire spiraled fastest, Wind darted widest, Water circled smoothest, Earth pressed heaviest. Opposites, but also complements—if he could time their pulses.

He settled his breathing into a steady four-part rhythm:

First, inhale, letting the wind stir freely through his lungs.

Second, hold, allowing the fire within him to flare and build.

Third, exhale, letting the breath flow like water, smooth and controlled.

Fourth, pause, just for a moment, grounding himself like solid earth.

Then he repeated it.

Again.

Again.

And again.