Primordial Villain With A Slave Harem-Chapter 793: Arrival to Zhenwu [Bonus]

Chapter 793: Arrival to Zhenwu [Bonus]

Zhenwu.

A land unbound by stars and systems. A realm where the elements ruled as law, and men chased enlightenment with bloodied fists and broken bones.

No universal status screens, no spell slots, no floating numbers to measure worth. Only what the body could endure—and what the spirit could conquer.

Here, every sunrise promised the same thing: nothing. Nothing but another chance to fall, to rise, or to die trying.

And on this particular day—like so many before it—none of Zhenwu's denizens could have foreseen that their sky would spit out a true monster in the skin of a human.

*Thud!*

A young man landed on both feet, dust curling around his boots, as the earth groaned beneath the weight of a creature from beyond this world.

His combat robes billowed from the impact of his landing, his eyes flickering with confusion as if trying to recalibrate in real time.

His name was none other than Quinlan Elysiar.

The Primordial Villain.

The Harbinger of Ruin.

The Primordial Subjugator.

The One True Necromancer.

But Zhenwu did not care for such lofty titles.

Before the echoes of his landing could fade, a piercing shriek rang out from nearby, sounding desperate.

"P-Please! Someone! Anyone! Help me!!!"

Quinlan didn't even flinch.

Despite the desperate scream of a girl in need echoing through the quiet forest air, his posture remained relaxed.

His sharp eyes scanned the surroundings, taking in the lightly wooded biome that stretched around him. A dirt road cut through a clearing not far ahead, with the remnants of cart tracks etched into the soil.

Another shriek sounded. Coming from closer now, high-pitched and desperate. A young girl's by the sound of it.

Quinlan rolled his neck with a sigh, "Kids these days. So damn loud."

He glanced down, finally taking stock of himself.

His Soul Reaper still hung at his side, taken out of his pocket ring that was nowhere to be seen. The saber was sheathed in its dark scabbard. Good.

But his clothes were different: gone were the tactical layers and dark armor he'd become used to. In their place was a deep black combat robe, high-collared and embroidered with silver wave-like trim across the hems. On his robe's back, the ghostly silhouette of a serpent coiled around a crescent moon could be seen. He looked like something ripped from a xianxia legend—and he wore it well.

"HEEEELP!!!" Another cry sounded. Closer once again.

For the first time since landing in this strange world, Quinlan took a step.

And nearly fell flat on his face.

His legs felt wrong, sluggish. Unresponsive. His body had betrayed the speed his mind demanded, like trying to sprint through mud. He caught himself, but only barely, with his balance wobbling before he steadied with a grimace.

"Hnn… Should've expected that one."

He lifted one hand. It felt… heavy. Heavier than he remembered.

The muscle memory was still there, the mastery carved into every movement, but his body no longer had the strength and speed to keep up. His arms moved a fraction slower than he expected. His reflexes stuttered. His skin didn't feel protective now that his Vitality stat was reduced. His bones… frёeωebɳovel.com

It felt as if he had returned to being made of mortal flesh.

His lips curled into a faint smirk.

"So that's what having a level one body feels like. Strength, Agility, and Vitality all have been reduced," he muttered, flexing his fingers.

But already, he was adjusting. The sluggish delay swiftly faded. His balance improved. His joints obeyed quicker. His body was adapting at a frightening pace.

And so was his brain.

Quinlan stood up straighter, rolled his shoulder once, and exhaled slowly.

"Yep," he said, smirking wider now, voice low with satisfaction. "Still a primordial."

Classes, stats, spells—the Souls Records could take all of it.

But he was no longer a human.

He was born from something older. Something deeper. Primordials didn't rely on numbers alone. They adapted. They overcame.

With a casual roll of his wrists and one last glance at his strange getup, Quinlan turned toward the source of the screaming.

Time to see what all the fuss was about.

Quinlan walked forward at a leisurely pace, the sluggishness in his limbs fading with every step. The dirt path came into full view as the trees thinned, just in time for him to see a girl burst into the clearing ahead. Her breaths were ragged and panicked.

She was young. Maybe fourteen, reminding him of Princess Felicity. They seemed to be about the same age, and she was thirteen.

This girl's long black hair was tied in a loose bun that had came free during her mad dash, making loose strands whip around her pale face. She wore flowing pale-blue robes stitched with lotus patterns. Crafted from luxurious silk, it was an expensive make, though not one meant for fighting. Her figure was slender, fragile-looking as she stumbled forward, glancing back with terror writ across her features.

(Picture)

With a disgusting smile, a teenage boy few years older was chasing her, barreling down the road with fury and fire in his eyes.

(Picture)

His outer robe flared dramatically as he gathered water beneath his feet.

"Hoh? I thought magic didn't exist here… If it exists, why were my stats sealed? Hmm… How interesting," Quinlan muttered as he observed.

…

The boy's voice rang out, proud and arrogant as he surged forward.

"Tide Serpent Step!"

A ring of rippling water coiled beneath his boots as he launched off it with a burst of speed, soaring across the dirt road like a skipping stone. His robes flared behind him as if he were in flight. Mist trailed from his heels, leaving wet footprints in the air itself as he closed the distance.

The girl let out a startled cry as she tripped on a root. Before she could recover, the boy slammed into her from behind, tackling her to the ground with a grunt.

"Ugh-! No! Stop-! Please!" she whimpered, struggling beneath him as tears streamed from her eyes.

Her palms scraped against the gravel. She kicked and twisted, but he was stronger, heavier, fueled by rage and indignation.

"You dare run from me?!" the boy snarled, fists clenched as he wrestled her down. "Do you know how much face I'll lose if the clan hears about this?!"