My Seven Wives Are Beautiful Saintesses - Chapter 203

Chapter 203: Chapter 203: A Lord Beyond One World
The Immortal Realm did not remain still after the Equilibrium Vault summit. If anything, it began to move more carefully, as if the very fabric of reality had recognized a new, sharper edge in its weaving.

In the weeks following Vahn’s return, the Eastern Continent entered an era historians would later call the Period of Quiet Expansion. It was a title born of paradox. Usually, the growth of a power in the Immortal Realm was heralded by the thunder of war-drums and the stench of scorched earth.

But under Vahn, the silence was deafening. No great wars erupted. No banners burned. No ancient sects collapsed in a single night of fire and betrayal. Instead, power shifted through subtler currents, redirected like rivers carved by patient, invisible hands.

​Crimson Hawk’s territory expanded without a single drop of blood being spilled in conquest. It was a phenomenon that defied the brutal traditions of the cultivation world. Cities did not wait to be besieged; they petitioned for incorporation. Trade coalitions, weary of the predatory tariffs of the Central Empire, requested arbitration under Lord Vahn’s law. Minor lords, men who had spent centuries hoarding their tiny corners of the world, quietly dissolved their own holdings. They chose subservience over the terrifying uncertainty of standing outside the shadow of the Void.

There were no announcements. No celebratory proclamations. No imperial edicts carved into the sky.

And yet, everyone felt it.

Something had changed.

Imperial arbiters no longer hovered openly above Crimson Hawk territory. The temporary judicial spires dissolved one by one. Inspection teams departed without comment. Even the neutral enforcement zones that had once ringed the capital quietly deactivated their formations.

It was as if the Empire had taken a step back.

Not retreating.

Repositioning.

Inside Crimson Hawk territory, the change was even more apparent.

Trade that once flowed cautiously now moved with confidence. Merchant guilds that previously negotiated through intermediaries began requesting direct charters from Lord Vahn’s administration. Cultivation academies expanded enrollment. Mortals, who had lived for generations under shifting banners and uncertain protection, began settling instead of fleeing.

For the first time in living memory, the Eastern Continent felt… stable.

Vahn observed all of it from a distance.

He did not indulge in praise. He did not allow celebrations to spiral out of control. Instead, he redirected resources immediately.

Three new administrative capitals were established across the continent, each linked by Void-stabilized transit arrays. Renka personally oversaw the selection of governors, favoring competence and adaptability over lineage or raw cultivation.

“Vahn, You are deliberately avoiding high-profile figures,” she noted during one planning session.

“Yes,” Vahn replied. “Those who crave authority usually misuse it.”

Zutian snorted. “That rules out half the Immortal Realm.”

Vahn did not deny it.

The restructuring was relentless.

Former sect territories were broken apart and redistributed into smaller governance zones to prevent power consolidation. Cultivation taxes were standardized, not increased. Military levies were capped. For the first time, Crimson Hawk soldiers were rotated out of active duty on schedules designed to prevent burnout.

Some commanders complained.

Vahn listened.

Then ignored them.

Results mattered more than comfort.

Within a month, the Eastern Continent’s productivity surpassed its pre-war output. Crime dropped to levels that astonished even imperial observers. The Void-bound oath system ensured loyalty without constant surveillance, freeing resources for expansion instead of suppression.

And that expansion was no longer limited to one continent.

Renka brought the proposal to Vahn one evening as they stood overlooking the capital.

“Vahn, You cannot remain isolated anymore,” she said. “Other worlds are watching us now. Not just Astralis Border Seven.”

“I know,” Vahn replied.

“You will need external backings,” she continued. “Alliances. Intelligence. Supply chains that do not depend on imperial goodwill.”

Vahn turned to her. “You are suggesting off-world expansion.”

“I am suggesting preparation,” Renka corrected.

He considered it in silence.

The Void within him stirred slightly, not in hunger, but in agreement.

“Begin scouting adjacent worlds,” Vahn said at last. “Low-visibility worlds. Minimal imperial presence. Trade-focused or knowledge-based.”

Renka nodded. “I already have candidates.”

That did not surprise him.

The first world he chose to visit personally was not a battlefield.

It was a library world.

Known officially as Orialis Minor, it was a mid-tier Immortal Realm world with no major sect dominance. Its value lay in its archives. Ancient records, cross-empire histories, cultivation treatises abandoned by more aggressive powers.

It was also neutral ground.

Perfect for gathering information without provoking immediate response.

Vahn traveled alone.

No honor guard.

No banners.

Just a simple Void-stabilized vessel that slipped between worlds without drawing attention.

Orialis Minor greeted him with soft golden skies and cities carved into floating rings of stone. Spirit lamps glowed along bridges filled with scholars, cultivators, and archivists rather than soldiers.

It felt almost… peaceful.

Vahn stepped into the Grand Record Hall without resistance. The attendants recognized him immediately, not by insignia, but by presence.

One elderly archivist bowed deeply. “Lord Vahn. We were informed you might come.”

“By whom?” Vahn asked.

The archivist smiled faintly. “By the future.”

Vahn let that pass.

He did not come here to intimidate.

He came to learn.

For three days, he immersed himself in records.

Imperial chronologies.

Galactic sovereign registries.

Fragmented histories from fallen empires.

And always, the same anomaly surfaced.

The Seven Galactic Sovereigns.

Six active.

One absent.

They appeared in records at roughly the same era. Not born into power, but emerging fully formed, each within a different sector of the Immortal Realm. No shared origin. No recorded ascension process. No master.

As if the universe itself had placed them.

Vahn studied the timelines carefully.

According to Orialis records, the first public appearance of Sovereign Aria predated his arrival in the Immortal Realm by nearly four hundred years.

The others followed within decades.

That alone should have been impossible.

Unless time itself had fractured.

Or unless the Immortal Realm did not experience causality the same way Dalu did.

The archivist hesitated when Vahn requested deeper access.

“Some records are restricted,” he said carefully. “Not by the Empire, but by consensus.”

“Consensus of whom?” Vahn asked.

“Of those who survived the last epochal correction.”

That caught his attention.

“What correction?” Vahn asked.

The archivist sighed. “Every few eras, something goes wrong. An imbalance grows too large. Empires collapse. Sovereigns vanish. Laws rewrite themselves subtly. Most never notice.”

“And the Seven?” Vahn asked.

“They are believed to be Primodial Stars,” the archivist said. “Stabilizers placed by existence itself.”

Vahn’s fingers tightened.

Anchors.

That word echoed uncomfortably with what he had felt in the Void.

“And the Seventh? Who is that?” he asked.

The archivist shook his head. “No confirmed manifestation. Only references. Some believe the Seventh Star never activated. Others believe it was lost.”

Or delayed, Vahn thought.

That night, alone in his chamber overlooking Orialis Minor’s endless libraries, Vahn finally allowed himself to confront the possibility he had been avoiding.

What if his wives had not ascended in the way he expected?

What if they had been pulled into a role far larger than personal cultivation?

What if he himself was meant to be the missing piece?

The Void did not answer.

But it did not deny it either.

On the fourth day, Vahn departed Orialis Minor.

His destination was not Crimson Hawk.

It was another world.

A trade nexus under partial imperial oversight where one of the Galactic Sovereigns had been sighted decades ago.

He did not expect to meet her.

Not yet.

But he needed confirmation.

The journey took weeks.

When Vahn finally returned to his territory, he found Crimson Hawk stronger than when he left.

Renka had not wasted time.

Two neighboring minor worlds had signed protection accords. Trade routes expanded. A Void-compatible cultivation academy had been established, attracting talent from across the region.

Zutian greeted him with a grin. “You leave for a month and come back to an empire.”

“This is not an empire,” Vahn replied.

“Not officially,” Zutian said. “Yet.”

Renka met his gaze. “You found something.”

“Yes,” Vahn said. “And I did not.”

She understood immediately. “No direct confirmation.”

“No,” he said. “But enough to know the truth is worse than ignorance.”

That night, Vahn convened a private council.

Renka.

Zutian.

Three of the most trusted Golden Immortals.

“I will begin extending influence beyond Astralis Border Seven,” Vahn said calmly. “Not militarily. Economically and informationally.”

One of the Golden Immortals frowned. “That will draw attention.”

“Yes,” Vahn agreed. “That is the point.”

Renka inhaled slowly. “You want the Sovereigns to notice you.”

“I want them to have no choice,” Vahn replied.

Silence followed.

Zutian laughed softly. “You really are insane.”

“Possibly,” Vahn said. “But waiting achieves nothing.”

Plans were drafted immediately.

Void-stabilized trade caravans capable of inter-world travel.

Information exchanges disguised as academic partnerships.

Mercenary detachments reclassified as security consultants.

Everything legal.

Everything deliberate.

Within weeks, Lord Vahn’s influence began appearing in places far beyond the Eastern Continent.

And with it, whispers followed.

Not of a butcher.

Not of a devourer.

But of a ruler who built systems where none existed.

Somewhere far away, Celestine felt it again.

A pressure, subtle but persistent, brushing against the edges of her perception.

She frowned, staring into the starfield from her sanctum.

“He is moving outward,” she murmured.

An attendant bowed. “Should we intervene?”

Celestine hesitated.

“No,” she said. “Not yet.”

She did not know why, but a part of her wanted to see where this path led.

Back in Crimson Hawk’s capital, Vahn stood on the same observation deck where his rise had truly begun.

The continent below thrived.

But his gaze was fixed beyond it.

Beyond worlds.

Beyond empires.

If the Seven Galactic Sovereigns existed as Primodial Stabilizers, then the Void within him was not a weapon.

It was a correction.

And corrections always came with a cost.

Vahn clenched his fist slowly.

“Let them watch,” he murmured.

The Void pulsed in agreement.

The Immortal Realm had accepted his rule.

Now it would be forced to accept his purpose.

And the moment the Seven finally stood before him, the truth would no longer be able to hide.