To survive, I had no choice but to take a fourth wife.

That fact itself might not have been such a big problem.

No—it clearly wasn’t.

These were women who loved me so deeply they would rather die than see me die.

Just as Zimjo had said, my wives would surely prefer I stay alive, even if it meant sharing their shares a little.

Their 33.3 percent each would now become 25 percent, and the happy nights would grow a bit farther apart, but they would definitely choose my life over losing me entirely.

However—

The fact that my fourth wife wasn’t human but a bird was a very, very big problem.

Starting from my sexual identity—or was it sexual preference?

This could cause... all kinds of complications.

And that “white thing,” too.

At that moment, a realization hit me.

'Wait. Did she say she wanted to be filled with the white thing to conceive? Didn’t she call it white venom earlier?'

Because of the tense situation, my brain spun fast enough to connect it. Indeed, earlier, Zimjo had asked whether I could recreate that “white venom.”

She must have been referring to the fused venom I had been thinking about—the one combining all my children’s toxins.

I’d lost consciousness while attempting it, but it seemed I’d succeeded.

Judging by her asking me to fill her with it to conceive, Zimjo must be a spirit creature that can only conceive after absorbing venom.

When we first met, she’d been eating nothing but snake heads, hadn’t she?

If that was because she needed venom, it made sense.

'Th-thank goodness. It’s not... a cloaca thing.'

A deep sense of relief washed over me.

For a moment I had feared my wedding night with my “bird bride” would turn into some bizarre experience involving... both front and back integration. Thankfully, that wasn’t the case.

Still, the way she’d said it—my wives would definitely misunderstand.

After all, the white thing that comes out of me isn’t only venom.

And I was sure my wives were thinking of the other white thing.

I shouted quickly,

“M-misunderstanding!”

But Zimjo’s sulky voice immediately followed.

"[A misunderstanding? How can a man speak with two tongues? Did you not clearly say you would become the father of my child!?]"

Right after that came my wives’ voices.

“Husband? What does she mean by that?”

“Master?”

“So-ryong? It’s not what we think, right? ...Right?”

And the princess—what was she thinking?

She was smiling awkwardly... but the corners of her mouth were trembling.

I hurriedly turned to Zimjo.

“No, if you say it like that, my wives will get the wrong idea.

I did promise to be your child’s father in exchange for my life, yes—but what you actually need from me is my venom, isn’t it? You need venom to conceive—well, to lay eggs, right? Isn’t that it?”

"[Hooh. So you realized that much? Truly worthy of being the father of my child. Correct.]"

As I laid out what I’d deduced so my wives could clear up their misunderstanding, Zimjo confirmed it with satisfaction.

The relief that followed almost made me collapse.

Honestly, even as I explained it, part of me had been terrified—What if I was wrong?

That awful idea of a “full integration experience” had been replaying in my mind like a cursed tune.

'Phew... thank goodness.'

But my relief didn’t last long.

Because Zimjo continued speaking.

"[But that’s also not entirely correct.]"

“Huh?”

Her next words—“not entirely correct”—sent a chill up my spine.

Because her eyes weren’t the same lofty, superior gaze she’d shown before.

Now they were filled with... desire.

When we first met, her eyes had looked down on me from above, like I was a lowly being.

But now, her eyes were the same as my wives’—burning with longing, craving.

"[It is true that I need venom to conceive. But I have decided to accept you completely.]"

“Eh? No, I-I don’t think that’s really necessary...”

Something about her tone made me nervous.

I tried to say there was no need for that, but she continued.

"[For a race of my exalted rank, there are two ways to bear offspring.

First, by absorbing venom as energy, refining it with my own qi, and conceiving offspring that way.

Or, by accepting the qi of another being of matching rank and creating life together.]"

“Isn’t that basically the same thing?”

When I asked that, Zimjo shook her head.

To me it sounded identical—but she explained the difference.

"[No. If I refine venom and create life myself, the child is entirely mine. But if I accept your venom and mix it with my own qi, then that child will be ours—truly yours and mine both.

Because both of our energies will be wholly combined.

You are still lacking now, but you have great potential. So I, in my grace, have decided to permit you to accept me completely.]"

From what I gathered, Zimjo considered herself a high-ranked species that produced offspring by using venom energy, much like my spirit beasts consumed qi as nourishment.

At first, she must have intended to create a parthenogenetic child using only my venom—but since she’d taken a liking to me, now she wanted to bear a “proper” child with both our energies mixed.

It was fortunate that I could just provide venom and be done with it, but still... the fact that she called that child “one hundred percent mine” was a bit shocking.

'Wait, I didn’t even do anything! I mean, I wasn’t going to, but still—that’s responsibility without pleasure!'

Responsibility without pleasure—that’s what this was.

Still, she did save my life.

Fine. I already have a centipede daughter anyway; one chick more won’t make much difference.

I wasn’t someone who discriminated among my children.

And though I hated fur, feathers were just the evolved scales of advanced reptiles.

I could live with that.

If it meant surviving, adopting one bird child didn’t seem too unreasonable.

I looked at my wives and said,

“S-so that’s how it is.”

If they’d been listening, they should have understood everything by now.

They were brilliant women—of course they would grasp it immediately.

But suddenly—

“What?”

“Master, what do you mean?”

“Husband?”

All three of them spoke as if they hadn’t understood a single word.

Maybe the explanation had been a bit too complex.

I could understand it because I knew about things like parthenogenesis, but my wives didn’t.

If you didn’t know modern biology, it was indeed a difficult concept.

So I explained again, slowly.

That way, they’d feel at ease.

“You see, Zimjo absorbs venom—it’s like her food, and it’s also how she reproduces. So inside the mental landscape, she asked for my venom in exchange for becoming my spirit creature.

That’s what this is about. But she said the child born from my energy would truly be my child...”

I felt terribly guilty as I explained it, since my wives also wanted children, and yet somehow a bird child had come first.

But before I even finished speaking, they reacted again—exactly the same.

“So-ryong? Why aren’t you saying anything?”

“Explain it.”

“So-ryong?”

Wait—what?

They were looking at me like I hadn’t said a single word.

“But I just did...”

I tried again, explaining in more detail.

This was important—it had to be fully understood.

But even after I finished, the same puzzled voices followed.

“So-ryong?”

“Is it hard to talk about?”

“Husband, it’s okay. You can tell us. We’ll understand.”

“Eh? But I have told you, several times already!”

“What are you talking about? You didn’t say a word.”

“Master?”

Just as I was about to lose my mind in confusion, Zimjo spoke.

"[Hmm. It seems their rank is too low to comprehend anything that concerns me.

Their souls must instinctively reject it. Otherwise, just hearing this could kill them outright.]"

“What!?”

"[No matter how many times you explain, they won’t understand.]"

Her words hit like a death sentence.

No matter how many times I explained—they wouldn’t get it.

And if they somehow did, it could kill them.

So I stripped the explanation down as far as I could, simplified it to the point where they might understand—even if it made no sense.

“Zimjo said she’d die unless I accepted her as my wife, so I... gave my permission.”

“I... see. You had no choice, right? It’s okay.”

“Hmm... I thought something like this might happen someday. So it’s finally come to this.”

“It’s alright, So-ryong. Better this than losing you. «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» We’ll accept Zimjo without prejudice.”

Tears streamed down my face.

***

The very moment I confessed before my wives that I had, in fact, taken a bird as a wife—

From the entrance of the Beast Palace, where the Blood Cult warriors had been densely packed, came a sound that shook the chest.

Doom. Doom-doom. Doom-doom-doom.

“Huh? This sound!?”

I turned my head. Because of Zimjo’s influence, the Blood Cult members who’d been crowding the entrance had all vanished.

And in that empty space appeared a magnificent formation of cavalry clad in black iron armor.

Hiiing!

The lead horse whinnied as its rider, an old general, spun it halfway around and drew his crescent-bladed halberd, pointing it forward.

I knew that man.

General Maeng—the very same.

My acquaintance, the one who commanded the Iron Cavalry Division.

His commanding voice thundered.

“Charge! Don’t let a single one escape!”

Behind him, the black cavalry surged forward like a dark tide.

Apparently, reinforcements had arrived swiftly.

Doo-doo-doo-doo-doom!

Man and horse merged into one, pounding across the ground in unison.

When they passed through, golden-armored troops followed in their wake.

Behind them came martial artists in garments of every color, storming forward as well.

“Go! Exterminate the Blood Cult! Leave none alive!”

“Waaaaah! Long live the Central Plains Murim!”

“Strike them down!”

Then, from far behind in the Beast Palace, the voice of the wounded Alliance Leader erupted, charged with inner energy.

“What are you all standing around for!? Join the fight!”

At once, the martial artists gathered within the Beast Palace drew their weapons and dashed forward using light steps.

They charged from both sides of us—me and my wives caught in the middle of their rush.

That’s when Gun Hye-rin spoke.

“Master, if you’re recovered, we should go too. The Blood Demon might not be dead.”

“What do you mean?”

Not dead?

I asked what she meant, and Hye-rin explained the situation.

“Zimjo appeared and melted everything—even the Blood Demon. But he might have left a Blood Crystal behind. Or perhaps transferred into another body.”

At her words, I sprang to my feet.

“Could someone bring me some clothes?”

If he was alive, I had to finish him for good.

That bastard was the reason I’d turned into such a strange man in the first place.

'The grudge of a man runs deep!'

Just as Hwa-eun handed me clothes and I put them on, I started thinking about how to track him down.

Even after reaching the Life-and-Death Realm, I couldn’t sense his presence at all.

“How do we even find him?”

At that moment, the sky shimmered—and my sister Jeokwol appeared.

Her voice rang bright and cheerful.

Sshhh— “『So-ryong! You’re going after that tasty-looking woman from earlier, right? I know where she is. Her blood smell is so strong.』”

“Really? Let’s go, Sister.”

I quickly leapt into her arms as she took off, and in a bashful tone, she asked,

Ssshhh. “『If I catch her, can I eat a bit?』”

Apparently, to Sister Jeokwol, the Blood Demon was more of a nutritious snack.

All the better.

“Eat as much as you like, Sister.”