The Imperial Edict of Solaris was inscribed upon nine yards of woven spun-gold silk.
Sealed with the personal dragon-blood wax of Emperor Aurelius himself, the decree echoed through the Grand Council Chamber with the finality of an ancient law.
"From this day forth," Emperor Aurelius commanded, standing tall before his assembled court, "Felix Vance of Solitude Spire is named the Supreme Solar Patriarch of the High Sun Empire. He is exempt from all imperial taxation, mortal jurisdiction, and military conscription. His mountain peak is recognized as a sovereign celestial sanctuary."
The Emperor paused, looking sternly across his ministers.
"Furthermore," Aurelius continued, "the imperial treasury shall commission a specialized sky-barge. On the first day of every lunar month, the Ministry of Rites shall dispatch ten thousand imperial glazed roast meats, five-spice crispy ducks, honeyed steam buns, and hundred-year mountain mist teas. If that young man feels even a passing moment of hunger, the Grand Chancellor's head will roll."
Grand Chancellor Morzan dropped to his knees, trembling so hard his ceremonial silk cap slipped over his forehead.
"Your Imperial Majesty's wisdom rivals the heavens!" Morzan cried. "The Ministry of Provisions has already mobilized three hundred imperial chefs! We shall load the grand barge immediately!"
Within thirty-six hours, the Grand Imperial Provision Barge *Solar Bounty* took flight from the capital docks.
It was no ordinary vessel.
The seventy-yard transport galley was lined with enchanted cooling wards, thermal warming trays, and jade stasis cabinets to ensure every roast pig, roasted pheasant, and savory bun remained piping hot as if pulled straight from the palace brick ovens.
By ten in the morning, the golden-hulled barge breached the southern cloud bank of the Radiant Dawn archipelago.
Standing at the prow, Grand Chancellor Morzan clutched the imperial decree with white knuckles.
Beside him, Duke Varis wiped cold sweat from his forehead with a silk handkerchief.
"Chancellor," Varis whispered, his voice shaking against the mountain wind. "Are we certain the Sovereign will not vaporize our vessel on sight? Grand Inquisitor Drake said the ambient heat alone melted third-tier ward barriers."
"Speak with reverence, Varis!" Morzan hissed in terror. "We come bearing food, not steel. No supreme cosmic entity strikes down a delivery cart unless the buns are stale!"
The *Solar Bounty* slowed its engine arrays, drifting gently toward the outer edge of Solitude Spire.
The imperial crew peered over the polished brass gunwales, holding their breath in petrified silence.
They expected to see a terrifying fortress of roaring solar flames, bone-strewn altars, and swirling void vortexes.
Instead, they looked down upon a peaceful, slightly messy country backyard.
In the clover meadow, the colossal golden Thunder Gryphon was curled into a massive feathery ball, snoring loudly with its hind legs twitching like an overgrown puppy.
Near the garden fence, three translucent figures in ragged spectral cloaks were diligently pulling weeds.
At the head of the weed-pulling squad was Lord Nether-Bane, the legendary Ghost King of the Void whose name had terrorized imperial nursery tales for three thousand years.
The terrifying ancient necromancer was wearing a stained hemp apron, holding a rusty iron trowel, and gently nudging a worm away from a head of cabbage so it wouldn't get bruised.
"B-By the Sun God..." Duke Varis choked, clutching his chest. "That is Lord Nether-Bane. He has subdued the Ghost King into an agricultural laborer."
On the covered cedar porch, the wooden screen door clicked open.
Lyra Ashford stepped out onto the porch planks.
She wore her crisp white practice tunic, her ancestral rapier sheathed at her hip. Her posture was straight as a drawn bowstring, radiating the cold, peerless dignity of an Ashford swordmaster.
Her icy blue eyes locked directly onto the hovering imperial barge.
"State your business," Lyra said, her voice quiet yet carrying the weight of mountain stone. "Senior Brother is resting. If your engines exceed six decibels, I will dismantle your steering rudder with a single stroke."
Grand Chancellor Morzan nearly fell off the gangplank in his haste to disembark.
He hurried down the wooden ramp, his silk robes trailing in the grass. He held the golden silk scroll high above his head with both hands, dropping to his knees fifteen paces from the porch steps.
"Imperial messenger Morzan of the High Sun Empire greets the Lady Guardian of the Spire!" Morzan gasped, pressing his forehead into the clover. "We come by order of Emperor Aurelius! We bring the official imperial decree appointing Senior Brother Felix Vance as the Supreme Solar Patriarch!"
Morzan gestured frantically behind him toward the crew unloading massive lacquered cedar crates.
"We bring ten thousand portions of the capital's finest glazed pork ribs, braised beef shanks, crispy roast ducks, and honey buns!" Morzan said, his voice quivering with desperate humility. "Along with fifty barrels of Supreme Mountain Mist tea leaves harvested from the Emperor's private garden! This tribute shall arrive every thirty days without fail!"
Lyra stared at the groveling Grand Chancellor, then glanced at the endless line of imperial stewards hauling steaming, fragrant crates onto the grass.
Her sharp mind raced through seven layers of tactical deductions.
*Incredible,* Lyra thought, her heart swelling with overwhelming awe. *Senior Brother did not dispatch a single message. He did not issue a single threat. He merely took an afternoon nap while venting a sliver of his primordial core.*
*And the High Sun Empire—the most arrogant, war-hardened human dynasty on the continent—has surrendered its sovereignty without a fight!*
*They have reduced their entire imperial court to Senior Brother's personal delivery kitchen!*
*This is the supreme pinnacle of the Dao of Inaction. Conquering the three realms while wrapped in a blanket!*
【Target: Lyra Ashford】 【Comprehension: Dao of Effortless Subjugation (Absolute)】 【Inspector Note: Has decided that Emperor Aurelius delivering roast ducks is proof of your 10,000-year geopolitical master plan. Thinks you are three steps away from crowning yourself God-Emperor of breakfast.】
Lyra maintained her impassive, majestic expression.
"The Sovereign acknowledges your sincerity," Lyra said smoothly. "Stack the crates neatly near the kitchen pantry. Do not block the path to the hammock. And take your boots off before stepping on the flagstones."
"Yes, Lady Ashford! At once, Lady Ashford!" Morzan sputtered, waving his hands wildly to direct the barefoot imperial porters.
Inside the bedroom, the heavy cedar door creaked open.
Felix Vance stepped out onto the porch, squinting against the morning brightness.
He was wearing an oversized hemp tunic that hung loosely from one shoulder, faded checkered trousers, and a pair of worn straw slippers. His hair looked like a startled crow had attempted to build a nest in it, and he was scratching his left collarbone with a sleepy scowl.
"What is that smell?" Felix muttered, sniffing the air.
His nostrils caught the rich, savory aroma of sweet plum glaze, roasted garlic, crispy duck skin, and spiced pork fat.
Felix blinked, rubbing the sleep crust from the corners of his eyes.
He looked over the railing.
The front yard was filled with thirty barefoot imperial officials dressed in opulent gold silk, quietly and reverently stacking seventy towering wooden chests of steaming food beside his woodshed.
In the center of the yard, an elderly man in a ridiculous tall hat was kneeling on all fours in the grass, holding up a shiny golden scroll.
Felix pulled his AetherDeck from his tunic pocket and tapped the screen.
A bright blue game alert was pulsing on the home dashboard:
Felix let out a low whistle of genuine satisfaction.
"Finally," Felix murmured, tapping `[CLAIM ALL ATTACHMENTS]`. "The developers finally fixed the stamina economy. I was getting so tired of eating plain salted radish porridge every morning."
He walked down the porch steps, his straw slippers rustling through the clover.
Grand Chancellor Morzan held his breath, trembling violently as Felix drew near.
To Morzan's spiritual senses, Felix's arrival felt like an entire galaxy drifting onto the lawn.
The air grew dense and warm.
The scent of burning ozone and sweet sun-dew filled the atmosphere, so pure and intoxicating that Morzan felt his aging cultivation bottleneck crack open simply from inhaling Felix's morning breath.
"S-Supreme Solar Patriarch..." Morzan stammered, offering the golden scroll with trembling hands. "The High Sun Empire pledges eternal obedience to your celestial hearth! We beg the Patriarch to accept this humble token of imperial fealty!"
Felix reached out, taking the golden scroll from the old man's hands.
【Item: High Sun Imperial Sovereign Edict】 【Grade: Seventh-Tier Human Dynasty Artifact】 【Durability: 500/500】 【Material: Spun-Gold Silk, Phoenix-Feather Wax, Dragon-Blood Ink】 【Inspector Note: Written with extreme poetic panic. Confers total imperial authority over four hundred cities. Highly absorbent material; makes an excellent dishcloth for wiping greasy dumpling steamers.】
Felix looked at the gold scroll, then looked toward the kitchen window.
On the porch sill, a terracotta flowerpot containing a sprig of wild mint was sitting slightly tilted, threatening to slide off the ledge whenever the wind blew.
Felix folded the golden imperial decree in half, walked over to the window, and shoved the billion-gold decree firmly beneath the base of the terracotta pot.
The flowerpot leveled out with a satisfying *thunk*.
"Perfect," Felix muttered, dusting his hands off on his pants. "That was bugging me all week."
Grand Chancellor Morzan stared at the windowsill with wide, glazed eyes.
The Supreme Imperial Edict of Solaris—an artifact that could order the execution of imperial marshals and command three million soldiers—was now serving as a wedge for an eight-copper herb pot.
*He... he treats the imperial mandate of the heavens like a chip of scrap bark!* Morzan's mind screamed in ecstatic terror. *To a living primordial god, mortal empires are but specks of dust! He accepted our tribute without even deigning to read our names!*
Morzan bowed until his nose was buried in the moist dirt.
"The Patriarch's transcendence is boundless!" Morzan weeped, tears of spiritual enlightenment wetting the weeds. "We shall return every month with double the roast pork!"
Felix turned toward the stacked food crates.
He popped open the lid of the nearest box, pulling out a massive, golden-brown roasted duck leg that was sizzling with fragrant spiced oil.
He took a huge, juicy bite.
The skin was impossibly crisp, the meat was tender enough to melt on his tongue, and the five-spice seasoning had soaked all the way down to the bone.
"Oh man," Felix said, his eyes lighting up with genuine gamer joy as he chewed. "That is top-tier stamina food. A-plus optimization."
He looked over at Lyra, who was watching him with solemn reverence.
"Hey, Lyra," Felix called out, waving the half-eaten duck bone. "Grab a plate and help me move these buns inside before the gryphon wakes up and eats them all. And tell the delivery guy he can leave five stars on the service review."
Lyra bowed deeply, her voice filled with unwavering loyalty.
"It shall be done, Supreme Patriarch."
Felix blinked, shaking his head as he tore off another mouthful of crispy duck.
"Whatever," Felix mumbled, walking back up the porch steps. "As long as the meat stays warm, they can call me whatever weird title they want."