The morning fog rolled across the suspension bridge like a river of chilled milk.
Felix Vance trudged down the path toward the gondola station, his frayed straw slippers scuffing softly against the stones. He wore his gray hemp tunic, loose pajama pants, and an oversized coat that had seen better decades.
In his right hand, he cradled his chipped ceramic tea mug. In his left hand, he held his cracked obsidian slate.
Half a step behind him, Lyra Ashford marched with crisp, military discipline.
Her dark blue Ashford traveling cloak was fastened with a silver pin, her rapier resting at her hip. In her right hand, she carried a heavy brass kettle filled with fresh jasmine tea. Under her left arm, she held a small wooden folding stool.
"Senior Brother," Lyra said softly, scanning the mist. "Are you certain you do not wish me to deploy an astral concealment veil? If common disciples behold your sovereign form, it may incite public hysteria."
Felix took a tiny sip of lukewarm tea and stifled a yawn.
"Lyra, it's eight-thirty in the morning," Felix mumbled, rubbing his eyes with his sleeve. "Nobody has the energy for public hysteria. If anyone stares, it's just because my hair looks like a bird's nest. Did you bring the extra tea bags?"
"Two pouches of premium high-mountain jasmine, Senior Brother," Lyra replied instantly. "Harvested from the imperial tribute chests and brewed with mountain spring water."
"Good," Felix said. "If this school assembly takes longer than thirty minutes, I'm going to need a refill."
They arrived at the gondola platform.
The Seventh Spire station was a dilapidated wooden shed with a rusted iron turnstile and moss growing between the floorboards. Tethered to a celestial iron cable was the academy transit gondola—a floating carriage carved from cloud-cedar and suspended over the open sky by glowing runic pulleys.
Felix pushed through the rusty turnstile without paying a copper.
He climbed into the empty cabin, shuffled straight to the far corner, and slumped onto the curved bench beside the glass window. He stretched his legs out into the aisle and let out a long sigh.
"Ah," Felix muttered, closing his eyes. "Corner window seat. The morning commute is off to a great start."
Lyra stepped inside, placed the wooden stool beside his knees, set down the brass kettle, and remained standing at rigid attention by the door like an imperial guard.
*Ding-dong.*
The brass bell above the cabin door chimed. With a heavy groan of enchanted pulleys, the gondola slid away from the wooden dock, gliding smoothly out across the open sky along the glowing suspension cable.
Below the glass floor, an abyss of white clouds stretched for miles. Felix didn't look at the skybox. He had already pulled his cracked obsidian slate from his pocket and pressed his thumb to the center brass groove.
The screen lit up with a soft amber glow:
Felix nodded in mild satisfaction.
"Twelve miles per hour," Felix grumbled under his breath. "The mass transit in this realm has terrible bandwidth. Even an ancient municipal bus could hit thirty."
He tapped the screen twice to collect his accumulated idle watts, then rested the slate on his thigh.
Three minutes later, the gondola slowed to a gentle halt.
*Clang-clatter.*
The car docked at the Second Spire station—the Blade Spire, home of the academy's elite martial order. The brass doors slid open with a hiss of compressed air.
A burst of laughter and perfumed silk filled the quiet car as half a dozen students strode inside.
At the front of the group walked a tall youth in pristine, silver-trimmed white robes embroidered with the sun-crest of the Golden Griffin Clan. His golden hair was immaculately styled with scented pomade, and an astral jade pendant swung from his silk sash with every step. At his hip hung a slender, gold-plated rapier.
Young Lord Julian had arrived.
Surrounding Julian were three sycophants and two high-born academy maidens, all carrying gilded satchels and chattering with loud laughter.
"The Head Instructor personally guaranteed my True Yang Core will break into Tier Five this month," Julian boasted. "The Measuring Stele today will merely confirm what the clan already knows."
"Young Lord Julian is truly a dragon among men!" one sycophant cheered.
Julian smiled with smug superiority, turning toward the private seats.
Then his eyes fell upon the far corner of the cabin. Julian stopped dead in his tracks, his nose wrinkling in disgust.
Slumped across the wooden bench was a scruffy youth in wrinkled gray pajamas and frayed straw slippers, nursing a chipped clay mug like a beggar warming himself over a trash fire.
"What in the heavens is that?" Julian sneered, pointing a manicured finger. "Who allowed a vagrant kitchen servant into the upper-tier academy gondola?"
One of Julian's cronies leaned in, squinting at Felix’s messy hair.
"Wait, Young Lord!" the crony gasped. "That is the squatter from the Seventh Spire! Felix Vance, the useless disciple of the missing Master Vivienne!"
The group erupted into mocking laughter.
"The junk hermit!" Julian scoffed. "The legend who has accumulated zero academic credits for three whole years! I heard Arch-Inquisitor Valen was marching up to his peak this morning to throw his mattress into the abyss!"
Julian took two swaggering steps down the aisle, his boots clicking sharply.
Then Julian noticed the slender figure standing beside the slacker's knees. Julian's smirk instantly froze, his eyes bulging with shock.
"Lady... Lady Lyra?" Julian stammered, stepping back. "Lyra of the Ashford Clan? What are you doing here?"
The other disciples gasped, whispering in utter bewilderment.
Everyone knew of Lyra Ashford—the prodigy swordswoman who had defied the Imperial Sky-Fleet. Yet here she stood, dressed in plain traveling gear, holding an ordinary brass tea kettle like a scullery maid.
"Lady Lyra," Julian said, his voice rising in indignation. "Have you lost your mind? Why stand beside this meridian-crippled beggar? Has he laid an enchantment upon you? Step away! I shall cleanse this carriage of his presence at once!"
Lyra didn't flinch.
Her golden eyes grew colder than glacial ice. Her hand dropped to the silver hilt of her rapier, her knuckles white.
"Mind your tongue, mortal," Lyra warned in a lethal whisper. "One more insolent syllable toward Senior Brother, and I will sever your vocal cords before your blade clears its scabbard."
Julian’s face flushed deep crimson.
"Senior Brother?!" Julian roared, humiliated in front of his peers. "You call this sleeping trash your Senior Brother?! I am an elite of the Golden Griffin! I will show you what a true master looks like!"
Julian raised his right hand, channeling his spiritual dantian.
*Fwoosh!*
A scorching corona of golden heat erupted from Julian's palm. The air inside the gondola warped with violent thermal ripples. The temperature in the carriage spiked instantly, causing the wooden walls to groan.
It was the signature Tier-Four True Yang Aura—a blazing spiritual flame capable of melting iron and suffocating weaker cultivators with atmospheric pressure.
The sycophants cheered, while the maidens fanned themselves with gasps.
"Fall to your knees, beggar!" Julian bellowed, thrusting his glowing hand toward Felix’s chest. "Kneel before the power of the True Yang!"
Felix blinked. Translucent brackets snapped into focus over Julian's glowing face:
【Target: Young Lord Julian of the Golden Griffin Clan】 【Cultivation: Tier 4 Adept Peak / True Yang Aura In-Training】 【Threat Level: Aggro-Prone Tutorial Elite】 【Inspector Note: Spends 80% of his monthly spirit allowance on jasmine hair pomade and silk tassels. Possesses a 1.4-second windup delay on all sword arts—any competent player could parry his opening thrust with a wooden spoon while half-asleep.】
Felix didn't fall to his knees. He didn't even sit up straight.
Deep inside Felix's chest, the 1.0-Earth-Mass terrestrial core rested in passive idle equilibrium.
When Julian’s scorching heat wave struck Felix’s body, it didn't burn him. To a condensed planetary mass containing billions of tons of compressed molten iron, a human heat aura was like throwing a warm wet towel against a mountain.
The heat was instantly absorbed into Felix's thermal baffles without raising his internal temperature by a single micro-degree.
The only thing Felix noticed was a pleasant warmth drifting across his knuckles.
Felix glanced down at his chipped ceramic mug. The jasmine tea had gone completely cold during the walk to the station.
Felix tilted his head, looked at Julian’s blazing palm, and casually extended his mug toward the glowing fingers.
"Hey, thanks man," Felix said, his voice flat and deadpan. "My tea went cold five minutes ago. Can you hold that hand there for like ten seconds? The microwave on my peak is broken."
Julian froze. The sycophants froze.
The golden fire dancing across Julian's fingertips flickered violently, like a candle caught in a draft.
"What... what did you say?" Julian croaked.
Felix gave the mug a tiny shake, letting the cold liquid slosh against the ceramic rim.
"Just ten seconds," Felix repeated patiently. "Maybe pump up the wattage a little bit? I like my tea steaming hot. If you can get it to a rolling boil, I'll give you five copper coins."
Silence descended upon the cabin. Only the faint hum of the gondola’s runic pulleys could be heard through the floorboards.
Julian’s arm began to shake.
He was pouring seventy percent of his spiritual reserves into his True Yang Aura, enough heat to roast a wild boar. Yet this ragged boy was casually holding a cheap clay cup three inches from his fingers, waiting for his tea to warm up like he was at a roadside soup stall.
Felix's messy brown hair remained unburnt. No sweat formed on his forehead.
Beside them, Lyra watched with unshed tears of divine revelation in her eyes.
*He uses the divine flame of the Golden Griffin Clan as a kitchen kettle!* Lyra wept internally. *Young Lord Julian thought to humiliate him with Tier-Four True Yang mana, but Senior Brother simply treated his supreme art as a mundane heat source for breakfast tea! What terrifying dominance!*
Julian’s face went from crimson to purple, and finally to ash-white.
His pride shattered. He snatched his glowing hand back, clutching his wrist as if he had touched a frost-bitten corpse.
"You... you demonic freak!" Julian hissed, his voice cracking. "What cursed heresy are you practicing?!"
Felix let out a disappointed sigh, pulling his mug back.
"Still cold," Felix grumbled, shaking his head. "Terrible heating element. Zero out of five stars on the vendor review."
"You mock me?!" Julian shrieked, backing away toward his entourage, chest heaving with rage. "You dare mock the Golden Griffin Clan?! Enjoy your insolence while you can, squatter! We are approaching the Central Spire! When we reach the Measuring Stele of Nine Dragons, the patriarch's star-jade will expose your fraudulent cultivation to the entire world!"
Julian pointed a trembling finger at the door.
"You will be stripped of your robes and banished to the mortal rim!" Julian shouted. "And I shall personally witness your ruin!"
Felix leaned his head back against the cedar wall, his eyes half-closed as he tapped his AetherDeck.
"Yeah, yeah," Felix murmured. "Tell your story walking, pal. You're blocking the air vent."
*Ding-dong.*
The gondola bell chimed. Through the front windows, the colossal white marble spires of the Central Spire came into view, bathed in brilliant morning sunlight. Thousands of disciples in colorful robes could be seen milling across the vast plaza below.
The cabin doors hissed open.
Julian glared at Felix with pure hatred, spun on his heel, and stormed out onto the marble platform with his entourage trailing behind him.
Felix stretched his arms, popped his knuckles, and slowly pushed himself up from the wooden bench.
"Finally," Felix said, slipping his feet back into his straw slippers. "Time to hit the plaza, tap the daily check-in button, collect my five hundred crystals, and catch the nine-thirty car home."
He looked over at Lyra.
"Come on, Lyra," Felix said, shuffling toward the door. "Let's go get our free gacha pulls."
Lyra bowed deeply, picking up the brass kettle with absolute reverence.
"Yes, Senior Brother!" Lyra said, her heart pounding with anticipation. "Let the mortals witness your descent!"