Three hundred leagues north of the Radiant Dawn Academy, the ancestral citadel of the Ashford Clan stood atop Mount White-Silver.
For eight centuries, House Ashford had governed the Frostveil Duchy with an iron fist.
Their clan was renowned for two things: flawless winter-steel rapiers, and ruthless aristocratic pride.
Inside the Grand Ducal Hall, Duke Raymond Ashford sat behind a colossal mahogany desk, reviewing tax ledgers with his cold, calculating gaze. At fifty winters old, with sharp silver-blond hair and a jaw of chiseled granite, he had spent his life crushing rivals and purging weak branch families.
Two months ago, during a bitter succession purge, he had signed the order exiling his own third daughter, Lyra Ashford.
When she had refused an arranged marriage to a decrepit northern warlord, Raymond had issued an imperial arrest warrant to track her down, strip her cultivation, and bring her back in chains.
The heavy mahogany doors of the ducal hall burst open with a resounding bang.
Elder Garrett, the clan’s Chief of Intelligence, stumbled into the hall with his silk robes disheveled and his face as pale as a fresh snowfall.
"My Lord Duke!" Garrett cried, dropping to his knees and sliding across the polished marble. "The capital... the academy... the midnight sun!"
Raymond did not look up from his papers.
"Control yourself, Garrett," Raymond said coldly, dipping his quill into black ink. "You are an elder of House Ashford. What does the imperial capital’s astrological panic have to do with our ledgers?"
"Everything, My Lord!" Garrett stammered, his hands shaking so violently that a stack of intelligence scrolls clattered to the floor. "The miniature sun that ignited last midnight did not rise in the capital! It ignited on the Seventh Spire of the Radiant Dawn Academy!"
Raymond paused, the quill hovering a fraction of an inch above the parchment.
"The Seventh Spire?" Raymond muttered, his brow furrowing. "The forgotten peak? What of it? Some ancient hermit broke through. The Imperial Inquisition will handle it."
"My Lord, you do not understand!" Garrett wept, wiping cold sweat from his forehead. "Our intelligence agents stationed at the academy just forwarded the emergency registry reports! The identity of the woman residing upon that peak... the woman serving the Solar Sovereign!"
Raymond set the quill down slowly. A strange, cold premonition crept up his spine.
"Who?" Raymond demanded.
"It is Lady Lyra!" Garrett choked out. "Your daughter! She has been living on Solitude Spire for three months!"
The grand hall fell into a silence so profound that the ticking of the grandfather clock sounded like falling boulders.
Raymond froze like an ice sculpture.
"Lyra?" Raymond whispered, his voice cracking. "Lyra... is on the Seventh Spire?"
"Yes, My Lord!" Garrett hurried on, words tumbling out in a frantic torrent. "She is not dead in a ditch! She is not hiding in the slums! Arch-Inquisitor Valen was spotted on his knees at the foot of her mountain! Witnesses saw the ancient Nether Ghost King raking her clover yard! And last midnight, when the celestial sun opened its eyes, Lady Lyra was standing directly beside the god himself, bathed in primordial Yang light!"
Raymond’s hands began to tremble.
He stared at his own fingers, watching them twitch with uncontrollable terror.
"The arrest warrant..." Raymond murmured, his voice rising in panic. "The arrest warrant we issued two months ago... the order to drag her back in iron chains..."
"It is still active, My Lord!" Garrett cried, tearing at his robes. "Thirty bounty hunters from the Blood-Hound Guild were dispatched to the southern valleys four days ago!"
"BURN THEM!" Raymond roared, slamming both hands onto the mahogany desk so hard the wood split straight down the center. "BURN EVERY SCROLL! BURN THE REGISTRY! BURN THE BLOOD-HOUND GUILD IF YOU HAVE TO!"
The Duke leaped to his feet, knocking his high-backed leather chair to the floor.
"If that sovereign learns we sent bounty hunters after his companion, our entire mountain will be turned into a puddle of boiling magma!" Raymond yelled, pacing frantically across the marble tiles. "He cracked seventy-two divination mirrors twelve thousand leagues away! He could erase House Ashford from history with a single sneeze!"
"What do we do, My Lord?!" Garrett cried in despair. "The imperial sky-fleet is already mobilizing! If the Inquisition reaches her first, or if Lady Lyra mentions our persecution to the Sovereign—"
"We reframe the truth!" Raymond shouted, his sharp mind racing through every political survival maneuver he had ever learned. "We never exiled her! House Ashford would never mistreat its most brilliant daughter!"
Garrett blinked, bewildered. "We... we didn't?"
"Of course we didn't!" Raymond exclaimed, grabbing Garrett by the shoulders and shaking him violently. "It was a holy, secret assignment! We recognized her celestial beauty and boundless wisdom! We sent her to the Seventh Spire to secure a grand alliance with the supreme master of the cosmos!"
Garrett’s jaw fell open. "A... a marriage alliance?"
"A divine courtship!" Raymond bellowed, his eyes blazing with desperate madness. "Open the ancestral vaults! Fetch the keys to the Grand Treasury! Bring out the eighty chests of Dragon-Bone Jade! Bring the Phoenix-Feather bridal silks! Bring every thousand-year spirit-pearl we possess!"
He shoved Garrett toward the doors with all his might.
"Ready the Wind-Rider Sky-Carriage!" Raymond commanded, his voice echoing through the corridors. "Load the treasures! Draft an official decree naming Lady Lyra the Sole First Heir and Matriarch of House Ashford! And write a letter of humble tribute to the Solar Sovereign, begging him to accept our modest dowry!"
"Right away, My Lord Duke!" Garrett screamed, scrambling to his feet and racing down the hall.
Within twenty minutes, a magnificent, gold-crested flying carriage drawn by four winged pegasi launched from the peaks of Mount White-Silver.
The carriage was loaded so heavily with jade chests, celestial silk rolls, and rare jewels that its magical suspension groaned under the strain, streaking south across the sky at maximum velocity.
***
Meanwhile, on Solitude Spire, the afternoon sun shone warm and bright.
Felix Vance was still reclining comfortably in his wicker deckchair, resting the empty porcelain teacup on his stomach.
Beside him, the ancient three-star iron stir-spoon sat quietly on the cedar armrest, gleaming innocently in the light.
Down in the clover patch, the Thunder Gryphon was still snoozing on its back, snoring softly with its four paws twitching in the warm mountain air.
Suddenly, a high-pitched sonic boom cracked across the valley below.
*BOOM!*
A streak of white and gold cut through the cloud layer, banking sharply around the outer perimeter of the Seventh Spire.
The gilded Ashford Wind-Rider carriage came to a shuddering halt fifty yards away from the boundary suspension bridge, its four pegasi panting with white foam dripping from their bits.
Arch-Inquisitor Valen, who was still personally guarding the bridge in his starched robes, immediately drew his brass sword with a cold glare.
"Halt!" Valen barked. "No sky-vessels are permitted within five leagues of the Sovereign’s sanctuary! State your business before I sever your keel!"
The carriage door flew open, and Elder Garrett practically tumbled out onto the wooden planks, weeping and holding a golden ducal cylinder over his head with both hands.
"Peace! Peace, Arch-Inquisitor!" Garrett shrieked in absolute terror. "I am Garrett of House Ashford! We bring no weapons! We bring tribute! A sacred dowry of eighty chests of Dragon-Bone Jade for Lady Lyra and the Supreme Sovereign!"
Valen paused, lowering his blade slightly. His eyes narrowed with sudden, calculating respect.
*House Ashford is offering a dowry?* Valen thought, stroking his chin. *Clever dogs. They realized they possess the only living connection to the Solar Sovereign, and now they are attempting to cement an eternal blood alliance!*
"Deliver the missive to the porch," Valen ordered grimly. "Leave the heavy chests at the base of the mountain. If a single jade stone scratches the Sovereign's clover, your entire clan will be fed to the gryphon."
"Understood! Thank you, Arch-Inquisitor!" Garrett sobbed with gratitude.
He attached the golden scroll cylinder to a white-feathered messenger dove, whispered an alignment spell, and released it into the breeze.
On the porch, Lyra Ashford was busy wiping the low tea table with a damp cloth.
She heard the soft flutter of wings.
A pure white dove with golden ribbons tied around its claws drifted down from the sky, landing gently on the wooden railing right beside Felix's wicker chair.
Clutched in its talons was a heavy scroll made of woven platinum silk, sealed with the roaring frost-lion crest of the Ashford Clan.
Lyra’s breath caught in her throat.
"The clan seal..." Lyra whispered, her fingers going cold. "Have... have the clan executioners tracked me here?"
Felix cracked open one sleepy eye, glancing at the bird.
"Hey, look at that," Felix muttered lazily. "Carrier pigeon delivery. Didn't know this server had a direct mail system. What is it, junk mail?"
Lyra stepped forward, her heart racing with grim anticipation.
She untied the platinum cylinder, cracked the wax seal with her thumbnail, and unrolled the shimmering parchment.
She prepared herself for harsh denunciations, demands for her surrender, or threats of family execution.
Instead, the opening lines of bold, gold-leaf calligraphy punched her straight in the soul:
*To our most beloved, radiant, and supreme jewel of House Ashford, First Matriarch and Eternal Heir, Lady Lyra Ashford:*
Lyra’s eyes went wide. "First... First Matriarch?!"
She read frantically down the parchment:
*Your noble father, Duke Raymond Ashford, writes with tears of joy and endless repentance. We celebrate your glorious, universe-shaking courtship with the Supreme Solar Sovereign of the Seventh Spire! All previous misunderstandings and minor disciplinary decrees have been cast into the family furnace and eradicated from the archives!*
*As a humble token of our clan’s eternal devotion to our new divine Son-in-Law, eighty carriages laden with Dragon-Bone Jade, Nine-Heaven Silk, and the ancestral Phoenix Crown are en route to your mountain terrace! Please, our beloved daughter, inform the Supreme Sovereign that House Ashford stands ready to serve as his humble imperial in-laws!*
*With boundless reverence, your devoted father, Raymond.*
Lyra stood completely frozen on the porch deck.
Her face went from pale porcelain, to light pink, to blazing, incandescent crimson.
Her ears burned with so much heat they felt ready to melt.
Her knuckles turned white as she crushed the platinum parchment in her grip.
*Supreme jewel?!* Lyra screamed internally, her brain short-circuiting into total panic. *Eternal devotion?! Divine Son-in-Law?! IN-LAWS?!*
She wanted the wooden deck beneath her feet to split open and swallow her whole.
She wanted to jump off the cliff, dive into the clouds, and swim to another continent where language did not exist.
*Father, you shameless, spineless old fox!* Lyra mentally wailed, her eyes tearing up from pure, unfiltered mortification. *Two months ago you wanted to lock me in an iron dungeon! Now you send eighty chests of wedding jade and call Senior Brother your son-in-law?! If Senior Brother reads this, he will think I am an insolent lunatic trying to claim his divine hand!*
【Target: Lyra Ashford】 【Mental State: Terminal Mortification】 【Body Temperature: 104°F (Blushing)】 【Status: In-Law Panic】 【Inspector Note: Dying of second-hand aristocratic embarrassment. Actively considering faking her own death to escape family cringe.】
Felix shifted in his wicker chair, looking up at her with mild curiosity.
"Everything okay over there?" Felix asked, noticing her bright red cheeks. "You look like you just swallowed a whole chili pepper. What did the letter say? Did your family send coupons or something?"
Lyra frantically jammed the crumpled platinum scroll behind her back, her posture turning as stiff as an iron rod.
"N-No, Senior Brother!" Lyra stammered, her voice squeaking two octaves higher than normal. "It is... it is nothing! Just... just unsolicited promotional flyers from distant relatives!"
"Promotional flyers?" Felix chuckled, shaking his head. "Man, even fantasy worlds have aggressive marketing. What were they trying to sell? Insurance?"
"Yes! Exactly! Mountain insurance!" Lyra yelled, nodding with frantic, wide-eyed intensity. "Very overpriced! Completely useless! I will burn it immediately!"
"Good call," Felix said, closing his eyes again. "Never buy the extended warranty. It's always a scam."
Lyra let out a trembling, ragged sigh of relief, leaning back against the porch pillar with her knees practically shaking.
Out on the mountain bridge, eighty gilded chests of dragon jade were being unloaded under the watchful eye of Arch-Inquisitor Valen.
And on the quiet cedar porch, the supreme recluse leaned his head back, letting the warm afternoon breeze lull him back toward another peaceful nap.