Ascending into the heavens in the cultivation world was supposed to be a solemn, terrifying trial.
Ancient scriptures described the Ascension as an apocalyptic rite of passage: nine-colored heavenly tribulations, raging violet thunderbolts tearing flesh from bone, and ancient ancestors weeping blood as they fought their way past the planar boundary.
On Solitude Spire, the ascension began with a creak of wicker and a half-eaten roasted sweet potato.
Felix Vance adjusted his position in his zero-gravity wicker recliner.
He leaned his head back against the stuffed linen headrest, pulling his violet void-silk robe snug around his shoulders.
On the right armrest of the chair, Barnaby the Clockwork Owl gripped the woven reed with his polished brass talons.
The black rubber stopper sat firmly wedged in Barnaby's beak, keeping the screeching whistle silent.
Tick... tock... click.
The owl’s sapphire bearings rotated smoothly, his copper feathers catching the morning sunlight.
Felix tapped the gravitational buoyancy controls on his AetherDeck.
Felix tapped [1. ASCEND] with his thumb.
Deep within his dantian, the Level 50 white dwarf companion core shifted its orbital angle by zero point zero two degrees.
The colossal 1,000,000 g/cm³ gravitational anchor, which normally pressed a soothing five-hundred-pound weighted blanket against Felix's ribs, reversed its outward polarity.
A soft, weightless sensation lifted Felix’s chest.
With a gentle, whispering creak of seasoned wicker, the recliner rose from the cedar porch floorboards.
It lifted six inches.
Then two feet.
Then, floating as smoothly as a child’s soap bubble caught in a calm summer breeze, the wicker recliner drifted over the porch railing.
It began to ascend straight into the morning sky at a steady, leisurely thirty miles per hour.
Down on the stone pathway, Grand Inquisitor Morvath and twelve former disciplinary elders stopped their brooms in mid-sweep.
Morvath's jaw fell open so wide his lower lip touched his tunic collar.
The bamboo broom slipped from his numb fingers, clattering loudly against the stone tiles.
"The... the Master..." Morvath stammered, pointing a shaking hand toward the clouds. "The Master is ascending!"
The elders dropped to their knees, their eyes bugging out of their heads.
There was no flying sword beneath his feet.
There was no shimmering lotus throne.
There was no defensive spirit talisman, no protective lightning armor, and no dragon steed.
The Senior Brother was simply lounging in an ordinary wicker lawn chair, wearing a straw hat and frayed hemp slippers, floating into the highest vault of heaven while chewing on a sweet potato!
"No tribulation clouds?" an elder cried out, clutching his hair in absolute disbelief. "Where is the Violet Cloud Heavenly Tribulation? Where is the Nine-Fold Divine Lightning that punishes those who defy the mortal boundary?"
"The Heavenly Dao dares not strike him!" Morvath wept openly, slamming his forehead against the stone path. "The Heavens are parting their clouds to welcome their rightful Emperor! Look at how the clouds bow beneath his wicker legs!"
Down in the courtyards of the Radiant Dawn Academy, thousands of disciples poured onto the training grounds.
Tutors dropped their wooden practice swords.
Alchemists abandoned their bubbling cauldrons, sprinting out of the pill pavilions with soot-covered faces.
High up in the Astral Observatory, Chancellor Valen and forty senior astrologers were crowded around the Grand Celestial Mirror.
"Chancellor!" Vice-Chancellor Morgana cried out, pointing a trembling finger at the mirror’s shimmering surface. "Look at the spatial distortion around the Senior Brother’s chair! The Astral Void Gale... the terrifying razor winds that shred ninth-tier spirit treasures into powder... they are parting before him like gentle morning mist!"
Valen wiped a drop of cold sweat from his spectacles.
"He does not even deign to erect a defensive ward," Valen whispered, his voice trembling with profound religious awe. "The primordial warmth leaking from his physical vessel creates an absolute domain of eternal spring. The harsh laws of the upper cosmos bow to his personal comfort!"
High in the sky, easily visible to the entire mountain range, a solitary wicker chair was floating gracefully through the cloud layers.
The three Abyssal Star-Whales swam beside the chair like loyal dolphins escorting a fisherman’s boat.
Whenever the chair approached a cold tropospheric cloud bank, the lead whale let out a deep twenty-two hertz pulse, parting the mist into sparkling sheets of iridescent vapor.
Felix leaned his elbow on the armrest, looking down through the gaps in the clouds.
The entire continent of Aethelgard stretched out beneath him like an intricate miniature painting.
He could see the silver ribbons of the Great Dragon River winding through the eastern plains.
He could see the jagged obsidian spires of the Radiant Dawn Academy looking like tiny toy blocks on a green carpet.
"Man, the view distance in this engine is breathtaking," Felix remarked to Barnaby. "Look at the terrain LOD. Even the distant western desert is fully rendered. You can see the sand dunes from here."
Barnaby clicked his brass beak in agreement.
Felix reached into his robe pocket and pulled out the second warm roasted sweet potato.
He peeled back the brown paper wrapping.
The sweet, caramelized scent of the golden potato flesh drifted through the crisp air, perfectly contained within the seventy-degree thermal bubble generated by his accretion ring.
Felix took a hearty bite.
"Still warm," Felix smiled with deep satisfaction. "Having an internal stellar core is basically like having a built-in microwave oven. Food never goes cold."
He reached into his pocket once more and pulled out the small bamboo flask of roasted barley tea.
He unscrewed the cap and poured a mouthful of the amber brew into a tiny ceramic cup.
In the microgravity environment of the upper atmosphere, the liquid didn't spill.
It formed a perfect, trembling golden sphere that hovered right above the rim of the cup.
Felix simply leaned forward and sipped the floating droplet right out of the air.
"Zero-gravity snacking is pretty fun," Felix chuckled. "Mess-free tea."
An Inspector HUD tooltip hovered near the corner of the wicker armrest, analyzing the environmental conditions.
【Environmental Buffer: Accretion Ring Radiative Envelope】 【External Stratospheric Temperature: -65.0°F [Absolute Freezing]】 【Internal Cockpit Temperature: 70.0°F [Spring Morning Comfort]】 【Atmospheric Resistance: 0.0 N [Frictionless Gravitational Sheath]】 【Inspector Note: The user's relativistic accretion ring bends the harsh supersonic stratospheric slipstream harmlessly around the wicker frame. Prevents drafty ankles and keeps roasted snacks at optimal serving temperature. Zero turbulence guaranteed.】
Felix nodded approvingly at the readout.
"Zero turbulence," Felix chuckled. "Commercial airlines on Earth could really learn a thing or two from this idle game."
As the wicker recliner crossed the ten-thousand-pace altitude mark, it entered the lower orbital parking corridor of the 108 Western Sky dreadnought moonlets.
On the flagship *Sovereign Dawn*, the forward lookouts shrieked into their brass speaking tubes.
"Incoming celestial craft ascending on vector zero-nine!" the lookout screamed. "Speed thirty-five knots! Size... two paces in diameter!"
Grand Marshal Vane-Talon rushed to the starboard bridge wing, raising his heavy gold-plated telescope.
Through the crosshairs, Vane-Talon’s breath completely stopped.
The craft bore no resemblance to an enemy dreadnought.
It was the Master.
He was reclining comfortably with his legs crossed, wearing his violet robe and straw hat, casually holding a steaming sweet potato in his left hand while examining a glowing slate with his right.
Beside him, an iron clockwork owl puffed its brass feathers on the armrest.
"All hands, attention on deck!" Vane-Talon bellowed through his speaking trumpet, his voice cracking with pure terror and reverence. "Present arms! Dip the ensigns! The Supreme Lord is inspecting the fleet from his wicker throne!"
Along the three-mile-long iron hull of the flagship, eight thousand armored marines snapped to rigid attention, slamming their fists against their breastplates.
The massive gun batteries dipped their crystal barrels downward in solemn salute.
Felix floated right past the flagship bridge, no more than fifty yards from the brass observation windows.
He looked over, saw several thousand soldiers standing frozen at attention with their hands on their chests, and gave them a casual, friendly wave with his half-eaten sweet potato.
"Nice ship, guys!" Felix called out through the vacuum, his voice carried effortlessly by the gravitational carrier wave of his core. "Keep up the good work!"
Vane-Talon fell to his knees on the bridge catwalk, tears streaming down his weathered cheeks.
"He... he acknowledged us..." Vane-Talon wept into his cuffs. "He offered the holy greeting of the Great Solstice with the sacred golden root of heaven!"
Felix checked the AetherDeck screen in his lap.
The signal indicator in the corner was updating as the altitude ticked upward:
*Altitude: 14,200 Paces.*
*Connecting to Server... [Ping: 42 ms]*
The signal bar turned from amber yellow to a vibrant, glowing green.
"Forty-two milliseconds," Felix muttered, his eyes brightening. "Getting closer. But forty-two is still a little high for competitive PvP. Let's see if we can get above this outer magnetic belt and hit that sweet twelve-ping holy grail."
He looked up at the sky.
The deep azure blue of the mortal sky had completely vanished, replaced by the deep, infinite velvet blackness of the cosmic void.
Glittering diamond-bright stars burned without flickering in the vacuum.
Felix took another bite of his sweet potato, leaned his head back, and let the wicker chair continue its gentle climb into the starry sea.