My Taboo Harem! - Chapter 399: The Void’s Chuckle

Chapter 399: The Void’s Chuckle

Phei moved down the corridor like a blade of black frost given form—silent, unstoppable, the violet strip-lights carving long, predatory shadows that seemed to crawl ahead of him, hungry.

Eira drifted just behind his left shoulder, her small crystalline body humming with barely contained tension, wings half-folded, razor edges glinting in the dim light.

The moment the lackeys saw him, the entire line—twenty-two boys in dark shirts, a dozen girls in shimmering dresses—bristled like cornered animals. They knew. David bleeding out on marble inside. Emily already half-broken, drugged, and about to be raped by three legacy princes who thought money and names made them untouchable.

They could smell the violence coming off Phei in waves.

They couldn’t let him pass. Orders were orders. Paige’s word. The princes’ word. Their lives.

Six of the biggest stepped forward at once, forming a wall of meat and sneers across the hallway. Broad shoulders, thick necks, gym-rat arms crossed like they actually believed size mattered here.

The leader—tree-trunk neck, veins bulging—cracked his knuckles with a wet pop. “Turn around, freak. This room is closed tonight. No simp bullshit allowed.”

Phei stopped three metres away.

A low chuckle rolled out of his chest.

It wasn’t loud. It didn’t need to be. The sound was alive—cold, ancient, edged with something that made the violet lights flicker as though afraid. It slid down the corridor like black ice fracturing under immense pressure, carrying the promise of absolute, merciless ruin.

Eira’s wings stuttered mid-flutter; she actually shivered, glacial blue-white flaring in her void-black eyes. To her, it was perfection: the Ice Prince’s elegant cruelty fused with the God of the Abyss’s

divine savagery, now sharpened by a raw, personal rage that made even her ancient soul clench.

Phei took one slow step forward.

“Move,” he said. Voice deep. Resonant. The kind of tone that vibrates in your ribs and reminds your body it is fragile.

The wall laughed—nervous, forced bravado. Two more stepped up, chests puffed, trying to look bigger. “You deaf? Fuck off, simp. They said no one—”

Phei nodded once. Almost politely. As though he had expected nothing less.

His amethyst eyes flicked across every face—calculating. Teenagers. Stupid. Arrogant. Brainless. He could snap their spines like dry twigs without breaking a sweat. But he didn’t need corpses.

He only needed them gone.

But they chose to stand here. They chose to guard the door while Emily screamed inside. That made them accomplices.

He inhaled once.

Dominance Aura rolled off him like an invisible avalanche—no focus, no mercy, just Level 10 unleashed in full.

Every single boy felt it simultaneously.

Their knees buckled. Shoulders hunched forward. A collective, involuntary shiver ripped through them like liquid nitrogen poured straight into their veins. Their bodies and cocks shrivelled instantly inside their trousers—sudden, humiliating, irreversible failure.

One boy whimpered outright, hands flying to his hammering heart in blind panic. Another’s face drained to corpse-white, eyes wide with animal terror. They felt small. Broken. Every last one of them suddenly understood, bone-deep, that they were nothing in front of him.

The girls flushed crimson—cheeks burning, thighs clamping together, breaths shallow and ragged. A few bit their lips until blood welled, pupils blown wide with unwanted, overwhelming lust.

Phei took the second step.

The biggest boy—idiot bravado still burning—lunged.

Phei’s leg blurred.

A side kick—fast, clinical, devastating—slammed into the boy’s floating ribs with the force of a sledgehammer.CRACK. Multiple ribs gave way like wet branches.

The lackey’s body folded around the impact; he flew six full metres backward, slammed spine-first into the wall with a meaty thud, and crumpled like a discarded rag doll, coughing bright arterial blood onto the floor.

Before the echo even died, Phei was already moving.

A straight punch. One. His fist drove upward under the next boy’s chin with a wet, crunching snap—teeth shattering, jaw dislocating, head whipping back so violently the boy’s feet left the ground completely.

He sailed backward in a limp arc, unconscious before he crashed into the opposite wall and slid down in a heap.

Seven more went down in the space of three heartbeats—each one a single, perfect, annihilating strike.

An elbow to the temple—crunch—skull ringing like a bell, body dropping instantly. A rising knee to the solar plexus—whump—air exploding from lungs in a wet wheeze, ribs cracking inward.

An open-palm slap to the ear—crack—eardrum bursting, equilibrium gone, boy spinning to the floor clutching his head. Fists, knees, heels—every blow carried his insane physical stats behind it. No wasted motion. No hesitation. Just force so overwhelming it felt like physics itself had betrayed them.

The hallway became a slaughter pen of wet impacts, clattering bodies, terrified gasps, and the coppery reek of blood.

Phei stopped.

He looked at the remaining boys—pale, trembling, some openly sobbing, hands still clutching useless crotches—and then at the girls whose faces were flushed scarlet, pupils dilated to black pools.

“Go,”

he said quietly.

The girls shrank back with soft whimpers, then bolted—heels clacking wildly, dresses fluttering like frightened birds. The boys followed a heartbeat later, stumbling, limping, some crawling, all of them broken in body and soul.

Only two remained—too terrified to even twitch.

Phei pointed at the wreckage of the main door and opened, only the sight of wrecked David was there. “Pick him up.”

They obeyed instantly, hands shaking so badly they nearly dropped David twice.

David lay slumped on the marble just inside, half-conscious, face a grotesque ruin of dried blood, fresh bruises, and swelling. When the two lackeys lifted him under the arms, he groaned, one swollen eye cracking open. His gaze found Phei.

“Save… Emily…” he whispered, voice a broken, wet rasp. “Please… they’re going to—”

“I know,” Phei said—tone flat, almost gentle.

The two boys carried David out without another word, practically fleeing down the corridor.

Phei turned toward the inner door—the one that led to the private bedroom. It was still closed, but the sounds leaking through were unmistakable: low, ugly laughter, the metallic clink of belts unbuckling, the wet slosh of a glass being set down, and a girl’s broken, drugged moan.

His eyes went cold as the abyss itself.

Today the legacy boys would learn what it meant to touch what was his.

No leverage. No proxies. No hiding behind family names or money.

They had laid hands on the people he had chosen to protect in this new life.

The audacity.

Phei’s fingers flexed once. The temperature in the corridor plummeted—frost blooming in fractal patterns across the walls.

He took one step toward the doorframe, a cold aura flaring around him like black frost made visible, sharpening every shadow, weighting every sound, making the coming moment feel inevitable.

Then he kicked the door.

The heavy panel exploded inward—hinges shearing clean off with a metallic scream, the slab crashing to the floor with a thunderous BOOM that shook the entire VVIP suite and cracked the marble beneath it.

Inside, Aiden, Anderson, and Zack froze mid-motion—pants half-down, hands still groping Emily’s fevered, drugged body, her torn dress bunched around her waist, her battered face flushed and lost in chemical lust, lips swollen and bleeding.

Phei stood framed in the doorway—silhouette edged in violet light and swirling black frost, eyes burning with a promise of suffering so complete it would follow them for the rest of their worthless, ruined lives.

“Get your fucking hands off her.”

His voice was quiet.

It was the last gentle thing any of them would ever hear from him.