Three thousand women filled the palace.
They were like living jade statues: different in shape, temperaments borrowed from every goddess. Some playful and coy like Xiao Wu, some cunning and sly like Hu Liena, some hot-tempered like Liu Erlong, others ice-cool and regal like Bibi Dong.
They looked human, but they were not.
These three thousand female dead soldiers were weapons forged by the system for Subei. Loyal, obedient, untouchably beautiful—yet without true hearts. They looked the part, but emotion was absent. Their laughter, their voices, even their flirtations were acts of programming, like dolls moved by an unseen hand.
For companionship, they sufficed. For battle, they were terrifying. But their cold perfection was also uncanny.
Subei once imagined: If I really "shared a bed" with them, what would it be like?
"Baby, I want it!"
"Please enjoy it, Master."
"Baby, take it off."
"Please enjoy it, Master."
"Baby, I'm coming in—!"
"Please enjoy it, Master."
He nearly wept laughing. What kind of experience is this? Like kissing a rubber doll, or worse, a voice robot breathing "please enjoy" like a broken record.
The truth was clear: as mighty as his "gift harem" was, no simulation could replace genuine affection. Thank god for Ziji's chaos, Xiao Wu's blushes, Bibi Dong's longing…
Still, the three thousand were essential in palace management. Divided into four corps, each played a role:
Maid type – warm, attentive, skilled in every detail of service. Subei nicknamed them "Shi + number."
Officials – rational and calm, overseeing accounts, law, and routines, titled "Palace + number."
Generals – fierce combatants, knights and soul warriors, named "Will + number."
Technicals – rare talents: singing, dancing, cooking, artistry. Their titles: "Day + number."
The perfect mechanism of a kingdom, built from faceless perfection.
Inspection
As Subei strolled the polished jade corridors, a tall girl in white-and-blue uniform walked beside him, holding a scroll. Embroidered on her chest was the "Palace" emblem. She was Gong Yi, his appointed head official and first assistant.
"Master," she said, unrolling her parchment, "the current headcount gathered for today: 1,998 attendees."
Subei blinked. "...1998? That exact?"
"Yes. Six hundred and sixty-six civilians. Six hundred and sixty-six soul masters—scholars and clergy. And six hundred and sixty-six maidens and noblewomen."
6-6-6.
Subei had to laugh. "What an auspicious number. Truly magical."
Gong Yi's crystal eyes didn't waver. "Due to capacity, I admitted only that number. It felt most... balanced."
Another nod. She added: "Eight hundred female generals patrol the palace grounds. Any who misbehave are removed at once. Beyond that line, stronger guests are under monitoring by Pope Bibi Dong's forces."
Subei's smile stiffened. So many powerful people, lured by nothing but… my face. I only wanted a small castle, ten rooms at most, a cozy warm home. Now what? With corridors wide enough to need lightness skills just to fetch tea? Palace life might kill me before the enemies do.
Only if you have a harem to staff such a fortress does it make sense. Otherwise—it's insane.
The Grand Hall
At last, the curtains drew aside. Before him lay the great stage.
Crystal pillars lined the platform. Black-gold gemstones shimmered along the walls, absorbing the sun rather than reflecting it, glowing cool against the marble. The design was flawless—a balance of majesty and comfort.
Along the stairs below, female knights in shining armor stood silent, casting halberds like steel forests. Their discipline radiated intimidation more than any growl of beasts.
Musicians plucked strings, the bell sounded thrice, and the moment struck—the auspicious hour of unveiling.
The crowd grew restless. Painters raised brushes. Scholars leaned forward. Beast hunters squinted. Nobles whispered furiously. Even ordinary travelers, half drunk already on free wine, craned necks breathlessly.
Tong Yan Wang
And among the crowd, bitter muttering stirred.
"Damn him," a burly man spat. "Ever since my wife glimpsed him at Lanba Academy, she won't lay in my bed. Says she guards her virginity for her white moonlight!"
Another roared, "Brother, you're not alone! My woman too—won't even let me visit brothels anymore! All because of some boy's face!"
"Scourge," the first man growled. "He isn't Douluo's greatest beauty. He's Douluo's number one disaster!"
And yet… even in their curses, none dared deny curiosity. None dared stop staring at the stage.
They had nicknamed him already: Tong Yan Wang. Child-faced King. A title passed grudgingly, yet impossible to erase.
His Appearance
At the peak of anticipation, someone screamed hoarsely—"There he is!"
The palace stilled.
From the high platform, he walked out. Not flanked. Not adorned by illusions, fireworks, or tricks. Only himself.
Northern Jiangsu.
Golden robes draped his small frame, a silver coronet catching sunlight. But nothing of clothing mattered. Every eye was captured by that face.
Unbearably perfect.
It wasn't charm. It wasn't grace. It wasn't even beauty as humans measured it. It was transcendence.
If human attractiveness once peaked at a "score" of one hundred, Subei's existence shattered the measure. His presence redefined the axis. He was infinity itself.
The crowd fell into silence—not from apathy, but because breath itself caught in their throats. Shouts evaporated on tongues. No voice dared break the spell.
Painters' hands shook, lines smearing across parchment, faces wet with failure. Impossible. No brush can carry him.
The Plaque
With quiet steps, he approached. On the towering stage stood the plaque, covered in crimson cloth.
He raised his hand.
The cloth fell away.
Light spilled.
Gemstone—priceless multicolored stone, cut and inlaid with black iron edges. An oblong plaque larger than a man, shimmering with threads of rainbow. Even the empires reserved such jewels only for imperial seals.
Three characters, carved in bold stroke, exploded into sight:
"Shenyan Hall."
The Hall of Divine Beauty.
The title itself burned into the eye, the name destined to spread like fire across continents.
Subei murmured it softly, gaze scanning the hushed audience.
And with that glance, silence shattered.
Collapse into Chaos
"He looked at me! His eyes—on me!" a girl shrieked.
"Lies! Clearly me—he smiled at me!"
"I—I can't—oh gods, I'm going to faint!"
Another froze, then gasped in horror. "Aah—no, I… I peed—"
The dam burst. Screams, wails, declarations, swoons. Women clawed forward as guards locked arms to hold them back. Men, even the jealous, gritted teeth as waves of awe shook them speechless.
Tong Yan Wang had spoken with no words, conquered without lifting a hand.
And Shenyan Hall had opened its gates to a world forever changed.
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