The gates of Orilan opened once more.
Master Luren, Qingsai's stoic father, arrived on horseback with dust clinging to his travel robes. His face was unreadable, as always—but beneath the surface, his eyes flickered with concern.
He had ridden without rest for two days after receiving the royal summons.
Now, he was brought through polished marble halls, past golden statues of ancestors and portraits of past kings, until he stood in the Thronelight Chamber, where three men waited:
King Zhuanyi Daoren, seated high in his sunstone throne.
Prime Minister Fengrui Jinzhu, hands folded like a serpent at rest.
Court Mage Lu Yanshou, his violet eyes glowing faintly with spirit energy.
"Master Luren," the king said smoothly, "we thank you for your haste."
"I came for my son," Luren said without bowing.
"Of course," the prime minister offered with a silken smile. "But allow us to speak first… of his future."