The morning mist on Solitude Spire had long since vanished by the time Felix Vance finally rolled out of bed.
He yawned until his jaw gave a loud *pop*, stretching his arms as the noon sunlight streamed through the pine shutters.
Deep inside his chest, his 1.0-Earth-Mass stellar core rotated smoothly, radiating a steady, comforting warmth that kept his body in peak physical condition without doing a single push-up.
Up on the cedar ceiling beam, Barnaby the clockwork owl sat stiffly on his perch.
The black rubber stopper remained wedged tightly in the owl's brass beak, keeping his ears blessed with quiet. Barnaby's glowing amber eyes glared down with muffled mechanical outrage: *"Mmph! Grr-mmph!"*
"Good morning, Barnaby," Felix said cheerfully, patting the table as he walked past.
Under the front right leg of the wooden dining table, the Sovereign Heart Seal gleamed faintly in the dust, keeping the tabletop completely flat and sturdy.
Felix poured himself a fresh cup of warm water from his Mythic Nine-Dragon Teapot, took a slow sip, and stepped out onto the front porch.
The cool mountain air tasted crisp and sweet.
Out in the overgrown yard, the five-star Sun-Lotus Cabbage fluttered its radiant golden leaves, basking happily in the midday sunshine.
"Another peaceful day," Felix murmured, leaning against the porch railing. "Time to plan today's nap schedule."
Before he could finish his thought, the rhythmic boom of ceremonial drums echoed from the mountain pass below.
*THOOM. THOOM. THOOM.*
Felix froze, his teacup halfway to his lips.
"Are you kidding me?" Felix muttered, his brows furrowing in irritation. "Who is making all that racket during prime lounge hours?"
Down the stone pathway leading to Solitude Spire, a grand procession of over eighty people was slowly ascending the peak.
At the front of the procession walked Grand Chancellor Alistair.
The Chancellor looked completely transformed. His once-gray hair was now a thick mane of lustrous raven-black, his skin was youthful and glowing, and an invisible halo of purple-and-gold Saint Realm authority pulsed around his shoulders.
Beside him walked Arch-Inquisitor Valen, holding a golden silk pillow that carried a massive, gem-encrusted platinum seal.
Right behind them was Chief Rune Master Oakhaven, who was carefully cradling Felix's examination wireframe inside an ornate frame carved from celestial spirit-jade.
Following them were Grandmaster Ignis and seventy-two senior peak masters, all dressed in their most formal ceremonial silk robes.
Even Lyra Ashford was walking alongside them, her golden eyes shining with profound, reverent pride.
The entire procession halted at the edge of Felix's front yard.
They stood in two neat lines, careful not to crush a single blade of grass near the glowing Sun-Lotus Cabbage.
Alistair stepped forward onto the dirt path.
He looked up at Felix standing on the weathered wooden porch in his frayed straw slippers and faded hemp tunic.
Without a word, Grand Chancellor Alistair dropped to both knees in the dirt.
Behind him, all seventy-two elders and peak masters dropped to their knees in unison, their foreheads bowing toward the ground!
Felix stared at the sea of kneeling elders, his left eyelid giving a tiny, nervous twitch.
"What is going on here?" Felix asked, looking around. "Did somebody lose their contact lenses on my lawn?"
Alistair looked up, his eyes moist with emotional devotion.
"Senior Vance!" Alistair proclaimed, his voice resonant with Saint Realm power that gently vibrated the mountain air. "The Radiant Dawn Academy owes its very existence and future to your boundless benevolence!"
Felix blinked. "My what?"
"Yesterday, your divine brush bestowed upon us the Sacred Blueprint of the Heavens, revolutionizing three thousand years of formation craft!" Alistair declared, gesturing toward Oakhaven's jade frame. "And at the Alchemy Pavilion, your boundless compassion delivered the Elixir of Primordial Salvation, purging the two-hundred-year Frost Poison from my heart and granting me passage into the Saint Realm!"
Felix looked at Alistair, then glanced down at his tea.
*Wait,* Felix thought, his gamer instincts rapidly connecting the dots. *The leftover spicy noodle broth from yesterday? He drank the bottom of the instant ramen bowl? And that cured his frost debuff?*
Felix shook his head inwardly. *Man, the health recovery stats on god-tier ration drops are completely broken. The developers need to nerf the soup.*
Alistair gestured to Arch-Inquisitor Valen, who stepped forward on his knees, raising the golden silk pillow high above his head.
Sitting upon the pillow was a colossal imperial seal carved from pure star-platinum, wrapped in nine golden dragon ribbons.
"Senior Vance," Alistair said with utmost solemnity. "The Grand Council has convened in an emergency assembly. By unanimous decree of all seventy-two peaks, we humbly beg you to accept the supreme seat of authority!"
Alistair bowed his head until it touched the grass.
"We beg you to become the Grand Imperial Chancellor of the Radiant Dawn Academy!"
A sleek blue system box materialized directly in front of Felix's eyes:
【 Job Offer: Grand Imperial Chancellor | Threat: Critical Danger to Sleep Schedule | Slacker Note: 400 petitions and 5 AM meetings is unpaid overtime disguised as prestige. Reject immediately. 】
Felix read down the glowing blue list of responsibilities.
His blood ran cold.
*5:00 AM morning roll calls?!*
*Reviewing four hundred budgetary petitions every single day?!*
*Sitting through four-hour administrative banquets listening to old men talk about tax yields?!*
Felix's chest tightened in pure, unadulterated horror.
This wasn't a promotion. This was a death sentence!
This was turning his peaceful, ultra-chill idle game experience into a sixty-hour-a-week corporate middle-management nightmare!
His APM would skyrocket. His downtime would plummet to zero. His precious naps would be permanently deleted from his daily schedule!
Felix took a deep breath, looked down at Alistair, and spoke with absolute, unwavering resolve.
"No," Felix said flatly. "Keep that thing away from me."
The entire courtyard went completely still.
Alistair looked up in utter bewilderment, his mouth parting slightly. "S-Senior Vance? You... you refuse?"
"I refuse," Felix said, waving his hand as if swatting away a fly. "Take that heavy metal block and bury it in a hole. I am not touching it."
Arch-Inquisitor Valen gasped in shock. "Senior Vance! This is the Grand Imperial Chancellorship! It commands seventy thousand disciples, thirty-two sky-cruisers, and the boundless treasury of the nine imperial provinces! With a single wave of your hand, empires will bow!"
"Does it command someone to wake up at five in the morning?" Felix countered, crossing his arms.
Valen blinked. "Well... yes. The morning council convenes at dawn to align with the rising sun—"
"Then it's garbage," Felix interrupted bluntly. "Waking up at five in the morning causes permanent emotional damage. And signing four hundred sheets of paper a day? My wrist would cramp up in twenty minutes. That's not a job, that's carpal tunnel with extra steps."
The elders stared at him, their brains struggling to comprehend the words.
To refuse the supreme throne of the continent... because the morning wake-up call was too early?
"Senior Vance," Alistair stammered, his hands trembling. "If the Chancellorship is beneath your divine notice... is there no title in our humble academy worthy of your presence? We would carve a new throne into the mountain if you command it!"
Felix sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
He knew how persistent quest NPCs could be. If he didn't pick an option from the menu, they would keep camping outside his front door every day with exclamation marks over their heads.
"What is the lowest, most useless position on your administrative roster?" Felix asked.
Alistair blinked. "The... the lowest?"
"Yeah," Felix nodded. "The job with zero meetings, zero paperwork, zero reports, zero subordinates, and an absolute ban on anyone speaking to me before one in the afternoon."
Alistair and Valen looked at each other in mounting panic.
Valen frantically unrolled a thick scroll of academy bylaws, his fingers blurring as he scanned four hundred pages of organizational charts.
"There... there is one," Valen whispered, pointing a shaking finger at a faded line of ink at the very bottom of the oldest parchment. "Four hundred years ago, when the Seventh Spire was first designated as an outer buffer zone, the founders created an honorary sinecure: **Senior Grounds Overseer**."
"What does it do?" Felix asked, leaning forward.
"Nothing," Valen admitted in a quiet squeak. "It has no budget. It has no authority over disciples. It requires zero reports, zero meetings, and carries no administrative duties whatsoever. The official duty description is literally: *'Observes the state of the surrounding grass.'*"
Felix's face lit up with pure, unbridled joy.
"That's it," Felix declared, pointing a finger at Valen. "I'll take Senior Grounds Overseer. Effective immediately."
Alistair stared at Felix in petrified silence.
Then, tears welled up in the Grand Chancellor's eyes.
*Drip. Drip.*
Heavy tears fell from Alistair's cheeks, soaking into the dry soil beneath his knees.
Beside him, Chief Rune Master Oakhaven began to tremble so violently that his silver beard whipped against his chest.
Arch-Inquisitor Valen clutched his heart, his breath hitching in pure, religious awe.
"Senior Grounds Overseer..." Alistair whispered, his voice cracking with unbearable reverence. "He... he looks upon the supreme power of the mortal realm—the armies, the gold, the imperial fleets—and treats it like dust beneath his feet!"
"He chose the grass..." Oakhaven sobbed, burying his face in his hands. "He chose to watch the grass! The foundational soil upon which the world rests! To observe the earth without disturbing its natural flow... this is the highest, purest state of Transcendent Wu Wei!"
"He rejects all mortal vanity!" Valen wailed, tears streaming down his wrinkled cheeks. "He stays in this humble wooden cottage, sweeping away worldly ambition to protect the spiritual roots of our mountain in quiet obscurity! Such boundless, terrifying humility!"
Lyra Ashford stood behind them, her chest heaving with fierce, devotional pride.
*Senior Brother Vance,* she thought, wiping a solitary tear from her golden eye. *You are truly the anchor of this world. You carry the weight of the heavens upon your shoulders, yet you ask for nothing more than to watch the grass grow in peace.*
Felix watched the seventy-two old men weeping and banging their foreheads against his lawn.
He let out a long, tired sigh.
"Great," Felix said, setting his empty teacup down on the porch railing. "Now that the paperwork is settled, please vacate the premises quietly. Don't step on the cabbage, and keep the noise down."
Felix turned around and pushed open his front door.
"The sun is warm," Felix added over his shoulder, "and my bed is calling."
He stepped inside and clicked the wooden door shut.
Outside, Grand Chancellor Alistair slowly rose to his feet.
He turned to the seventy-two weeping elders, raising a solemn, commanding hand.
"You heard the Senior Grounds Overseer," Alistair whispered with sacred reverence. "Tiptoe. If anyone makes a sound that wakes the Sovereign, I will personally banish them to the outer borders."
The seventy-two elders nodded frantically, holding their breath as they backed away from the cottage on tiptoe, retreating down the mountain path in absolute, reverent silence.
Inside the quiet bedroom, Felix kicked off his straw slippers and flopped face-down onto his soft wool cot.
He buried his face into his linen pillow, letting out a blissful groan of absolute contentment.
"Promoted to professional grounds sleeper," Felix mumbled into the mattress. "Zero daily quests. Best build in the game."
Within two minutes, the cottage was filled with the rhythmic, peaceful sound of his snoring.