The sun had barely managed to peek over the jagged horizon of the Thousand-Cloud Peaks when the first megaphone blast shattered the morning silence.“And if you look to your left, folks, you’ll see the legendary Grotto of the Slumbering Sage!” a voice boomed, amplified by a cheap wind-manipulation charm. “Local legends say he’s been asleep for five hundred years, meditating on the fundamental truths of the universe. Don't mind the laundry hanging on the rock; that’s just, uh, sacred ceremonial garb!”Aetherion groaned, pulling a moth-eaten blanket over his head. It didn’t help.“Hey, look! There’s a guy in there!” a child’s voice shrieked. “Is that the Sage? He looks kind of dusty, Mom.”“Don’t be silly, Timmy,” a woman replied. “The Sage would be glowing or floating. That’s probably just a squatter. The sect really needs to hire better security for these premium tours.”Aetherion sat up, his hair a bird’s nest of silver-blue tangles. He blinked at the crowd of tourists huddled behind

Aetherion’s groan was still echoing through the rafters of the Silver Moon Pavilion when a firm, calloused hand gripped his elbow. The Sword-Saint didn't just walk; she moved with the inevitable momentum of a landslide, and currently, Aetherion was caught in the path of destruction.“Move,” Zinnia commanded, her voice regaining its icy edge, though her cheeks still held a faint, betraying pink. “The carriage is waiting. We’re leaving before the Imperial Envoys start asking for a blood sample or a genealogy report.”“The ribs, Zinnia! Think of the ribs!” Aetherion pleaded, casting a longing glance back at the buffet. “They’re sitting there, cold and unloved. It’s a tragedy.”“You’ve eaten enough for three men and a small horse,” she snapped, practically lifting him off the ground as she marched him toward the exit. “You’re coming with me to the Everdawn Estate. We have… things to discuss. Mostly involving why you’re pretending to be a beggar when you can shatter jade pillars with your

The golden carriage of the Everdawn House didn’t just roll; it soared through the clouds, towed by winged stallions that looked far too expensive to be real. Aetherion, however, was currently more interested in the silk curtains than the majestic view of the Empire’s sprawling heartland.“Put the grape down, Aetherion. We’re going to practice.”Aetherion sighed, his hand hovering inches from a bowl of chilled emerald fruits. “Zinnia, it’s a six-hour flight. Why can’t we just enjoy the altitude? Look at that mountain over there. It looks like a sleeping cat. That’s quality entertainment.”“That is the Peak of Eternal Vigilance,” Zinnia said, her voice dropping into her ‘Saint’ tone. She reached over and snatched the grape bowl away, replacing it with a wooden practice sword she’d pulled from a hidden compartment. “And the Emperor is going to expect a hero, not a professional glutton. If you can’t even hold a blade correctly, they’ll think I’m playing a prank on the throne.”“But I am a

The golden herald’s voice still vibrated in the humid air of the Rose Garden as the crowd began to part, forming a nervous, whispering lane toward the center of the palace grounds. There, rising like a jagged needle of obsidian toward the swirling mists of the capital’s sky, stood the Pillar of Trials. It hummed with a low-frequency thrum that made the silverware on the banquet tables rattle.“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Aetherion muttered, his last grape forgotten in his hand. “The Star-Bound Path? That sounds like a brand of expensive shoes, not a dungeon. Can’t we just tell the Emperor I’m allergic to pillars?”Zinnia didn't look at him. Her silver eyes were fixed on the obsidian surface of the tower, her breath coming in short, sharp bursts. “It’s not a joke, Aetherion. The Pillar is an ancient construct. It doesn't test your strength or your cultivation level. It tests your soul’s resonance with your partner. If the connection is false, the Pillar… it consumes the fragments of

The golden shimmer of the portal hadn’t even fully faded from their skin before Zinnia swung around, her hand clamping onto Aetherion’s shoulder with enough force to bruise a normal man. Her eyes, usually a calm, icy silver, were practically vibrating with a mix of adrenaline and profound, soul-deep confusion.“Aetherion,” she said, her voice dropping to a dangerous, low-register hum. “Stop walking. Stop looking for snacks. Stop breathing for a second and look at me. What. Was. That?”Aetherion winced, gingerly trying to pry her fingers off his silk robe. “Ow. Zin, easy on the fabric. This is Imperial-grade silk. And if you’re talking about the cultist guy, I already told you. He had a very dramatic reaction to my face. Some people just can't handle a strong jawline.”“He was a Tier-9 Peak Master, Aetherion!” Zinnia shouted, her voice echoing off the garden’s marble statues. “He had enough dark essence to drown a province! He looked at you and screamed about the ‘Eternal One’ like he’