The sky above Solitude Spire ceased to look like a normal skybox.
It resembled a cracked sapphire dome burning from the inside out.
The silent clouds parted in massive, rolling waves as Dragon King Ignis-Azureus descended into the middle atmosphere.
His serpentine body spanned three miles across, coiling through the upper winds like a living mountain range of azure storm-metal.
Ten thousand years of atmospheric lightning crackled across his interlocking dorsal plates, bathing the valley below in an intense, electric-blue glare.
Because Master Volume was still locked at zero percent, the apocalyptic beast moved in eerie, absolute silence.
No wind howled against his wings.
No thunder heralded his approach.
The dragon king hovered directly above the courtyard, his massive golden eyes burning with ancient, sovereign arrogance.
He looked down at the tiny wooden cottage, the humble vegetable patch, and the stone porch.
Then, his draconic chest began to expand.
Deep within his primordial throat, a blinding orb of azure plasma lightning took shape.
It swelled from the size of a carriage to the size of a palace hall, radiating pure, concentrated destruction capable of melting continental bedrock.
Arcs of silent blue fire danced along his razor-sharp fangs.
Down in the luxury roost, the Thunder Gryphon cracked open one eye, saw the three-mile-long sky lizard, and let out an unimpressed chirp.
The gryphon turned around on its mountain straw bed, burying its beak beneath its tail feathers to block out the blue glare.
Out in the garden beds, Lord Nether-Bane rested his skeletal hands on his rake.
The former Ghost King adjusted his hemp apron, his hollow eye sockets glowing with deadpan irritation.
"Look at the wingspan on that oversized gecko," Nether-Bane clicked his teeth toward his two corsair deckhands. "If he flaps those wings too hard, he’s going to blow dry leaves all over our fresh mulching."
"Shall we fetch the dragon-slaying harpoons, Lord Captain?" the first corsair asked, leaning on his wheelbarrow. "A creature of that scale might provide several cartloads of bone meal for the outer pumpkin patches."
"Waste of energy," Nether-Bane replied, picking up a stray pebble and tossing it into the wheelbarrow. "And far too messy."
"Do you know how much ash an astral dragon sheds when it dies? It ruins the soil acidity."
"Besides," Nether-Bane added, pointing a bony finger toward the kitchen window, "the Master is currently finishing the dishes. He dislikes interruptions when the water is running."
The corsairs nodded with profound respect.
Inside the cottage kitchen, Felix Vance stood by the stone sink.
He had just finished a very pleasant, very peaceful lunch consisting of two steamed lotus buns and a pot of Nine-Sun mountain tea.
The kitchen was spotless, swept clean by the passive airflow array, smelling faintly of toasted sesame and dried mountain mint.
Felix picked up his white porcelain Infinite Cozy Teacup, admiring how clean the porcelain remained even after brewing rich tea.
He carefully rinsed the amber tea dregs into a wooden cedar wash bucket, and wiped the porcelain rim dry with a clean linen cloth.
The bucket was half-full of soapy, lukewarm washwater, discarded tea leaves, and gray dish suds.
Felix carried the teacup back out to the porch.
He stepped over the threshold, his straw slippers clicking neatly against the cedar boards.
Down below the edge of the porch, the fifty-foot Abyssal Storm-Slate Eviction Tablet lay firmly embedded beneath the eaves, serving faithfully as a gutter splash board.
A few stray droplets of mountain mist rolled down its ancient, carved eviction runes, channeling cleanly into the side ditch without splashing a single fleck of mud onto his clean floor.
Felix smiled faintly at the smooth drainage.
He set the teacup down carefully on the low cedar table, right next to the glowing Soul-Pearl paperweight that held down his gacha notes.
Grandmaster Vivienne’s purple Sovereign Heart Seal held the table rock-solid beneath his touch.
On the brass perch, Barnaby the clockwork owl remained happily silenced by the thick black rubber stopper jammed into his mandibles.
*Tick... tick... tick.*
The chronal anchor gear inside the brass owl’s chest pulsed with soothing regularity, keeping time with absolute mechanical perfection.
Felix reached into his pocket and pulled out the AetherDeck.
He tapped the obsidian glass to check the system clock.
Felix stared at the screen, his eyebrows twitching.
One minute and forty seconds until two o'clock.
He looked up from the screen.
The massive, three-mile-long blue dragon was hovering barely fifty yards above the front gate, completely blotting out the warm afternoon sun.
The azure plasma orb in the dragon’s jaws was glowing with enough intensity to blind an ordinary cultivator.
Felix raised his hand to shade his eyes.
He summoned his Inspector HUD to scan the trespasser.
【Target: Ignis-Azureus, Primordial Azure Dragon King】 【Rank: Sovereign Realm Upper Strata Overlord】 【Age: 12,400 Years】 【Current Action: Charging Maximum Yield Plasma Annihilation Breath】 【Threat Assessment: Minor Lawn Hazard / Major Sunlight Obstruction】 【Inspector Note: A massive, stubborn reptile suffering from chronic meridian congestion and an overinflated ego. His hovering presence is dropping the local ambient temperature by casting an unwanted shadow across your cloud-silk hammock. His posture strongly violates standard suburban residential zoning etiquette.】
Felix let out a heavy, tired breath.
"One fifty-eight," Felix muttered. "I swear, people have zero neighborhood etiquette these days."
In Felix's gaming days, there was nothing worse than toxic players camping outside your house instance, spamming flashy particle effects to lag your screen while you were trying to log out.
And in the real world, loud neighbors mowing their lawns or revving motorcycles during designated afternoon nap hours deserved immediate eviction.
"Two o'clock is nap time," Felix grumbled. "It's an unwritten rule of civilized society."
Up in the air, Dragon King Ignis-Azureus reached full charge on his celestial breath weapon.
The azure plasma orb crackled with enough heat to vaporize an ocean.
*Mortal worm,* Ignis-Azureus thought, his telepathic voice radiating ancient, wrathful fury across the astral plane. *You silenced my children with void sorcery. You dared to use our sacred decree as an entryway stone.*
*Now, you shall witness the primordial wrath of the Upper Strata!*
*Turn to ash beneath the Dragon King’s Judgment!*
Ignis-Azureus opened his jaws wide, preparing to unleash the concentrated beam of plasma down upon Solitude Spire.
Right at that exact second, the kitchen door creaked open again.
Felix Vance stepped out onto the porch, carrying the round cedar wash bucket in both hands.
The bucket was half-full of sudsy gray water, soapy bubbles, and floating Nine-Sun tea dregs.
The tea dregs, having been steeped in water infused by Felix's internal Sol-Class stellar core, faintly glowed with invisible, fifteen-million-degree Solar Dew potential.
To Felix, however, it was just dirty dishwater that needed to be dumped before it started smelling like stale soap.
Felix walked with slow, unhurried steps to the wooden porch railing.
He looked up at the colossal, three-mile dragon hovering directly over his clover lawn.
He looked at the blinding ball of azure plasma glowing in the beast’s mouth.
Felix frowned, shaking his head like a tired landlord dealing with rowdy teenagers on the front sidewalk.
"Hey!" Felix shouted up toward the sky.
His voice broke the silence of the porch, carrying clear and flat across the courtyard.
Ignis-Azureus paused his breath weapon for a fraction of a second, his golden eyes narrowing in utter bewilderment.
The mortal was holding a wooden wash bucket.
He was wearing wrinkled linen trousers, loose hemp robes, and faded straw slippers.
He possessed no weapon, no shield, and zero battle stance.
Felix gripped both handles of the cedar bucket.
With a lazy, two-handed heave, Felix swung the bucket back, stepped forward, and tossed the gray washwater over the railing.
*Whoosh.*
"Quiet hours start at two PM!" Felix yelled at the dragon, his voice full of deadpan annoyance. "Go play somewhere else!"
Down on the flagstones, Lyra Ashford stopped breathing.
Her heart practically leaped into her throat as she stood frozen near the front pillar.
She watched the arc of soapy washwater fly outward from the porch.
*Senior Brother...* Lyra’s thoughts shattered into pure, incomprehensible shock.
*The Primordial Sovereign of the Azure Court stands ready to unleash the extinction-level Plasma Flare of Nine Hells.*
*A single spark of that flame could burn the Western Continent to glass.*
*Yet Senior Brother walked out with his dirty tea basin...*
*And threw dishwater at an ancient god!*
*He told him quiet hours start at two o’clock!*
*This is not mere boldness! This is absolute, unadulterated cosmic disdain!*
*To Senior Brother, an ancient Dragon King commanding the skies of the Upper Strata is nothing more than an unruly stray cur barking in the alleyway!*
The gray arc of soapy water sailed upward through the air.
Under normal laws of physics, a splash of water thrown from a porch would travel ten feet and splash into the grass.
Under the passive, reality-bending gravitational gradient of Felix's Sol-Class stellar core, however, normal physics took the afternoon off.
The soapy water did not fall downward.
It caught the micro-gravitational vector of Felix’s careless arm swing.
The splash of water accelerated skyward in a tight, shimmering crescent, cutting straight through the atmospheric turbulence like a liquid spear.
Right at the center of the arc, three tiny, iridescent droplets of steeped Nine-Sun washwater separated from the suds.
They did not look dangerous.
They looked like ordinary dew drops caught in the sunlight.
Yet deep within their atomic structure, saturated by the residual runoff of a 1.0-Earth-Mass Sol-Class stellar core, they pulsed with the pure, concentrated primordial essence of fifteen million Kelvin.
The arc of soapy water shot straight up into the air, flying across fifty yards of open space.
High above, Ignis-Azureus didn't even bother to dodge.
To the Sovereign of the Upper Strata, the idea of dodging a splash of dirty mortal water was a joke.
His body was shielded by seven layers of Primordial Storm Dragon Scales, impervious to immortal swords and astral lightning.
The dragon sneered, releasing his plasma breath downward:
*Die, arrogant insect!*
The azure beam of plasma erupted from his jaws.
At the exact same instant, the three droplets of dishwater reached the dragon king’s nose.