James Johnson sat on his throne-like chair, exuding the kind of authority that made even the air around him stand at attention.
"Smith family sent an invitation," he declared. "Their ancient ancestor has returned, and they're looking to marry him off. You should go—if we can ally with the Smiths, it'd be a win for our family!"
He looked at his youngest daughter, Ava, with a mix of affection and exasperation. She was his late-life surprise, the apple of his eye, and currently, the source of his biggest headache.
"Dad, Apollo Smith is ten thousand years old," Ava groaned, rushing over to massage his shoulders in a desperate bid to sweeten him up. "I'm not marrying some fossil! I'd rather stay here with you!"
"Age is just a number," James countered, waving a dismissive hand. "Apollo Smith has no cultivation, just like you. You two might actually get along! Plus, legend says he drank an immortality potion by accident—still looks like a dashing young man, never been married, and comes with royal status. Marrying him is basically winning the cosmic lottery!"
"No. Way." Ava crossed her arms, pouting like a toddler denied candy.
"Ava." James' voice turned stern. "Our family's power is fading. Every other faction is eyeing us like vultures. This isn't just about marriage—it's survival." He softened slightly. "Besides, it's not like Apollo Smith will definitely pick you. Think of it as… a diplomatic field trip."
Ava perked up. "Wait, so I might not have to marry him?"
"Exactly. Just go, smile, and try not to offend anyone."
"Fine, I'll go," she sighed dramatically. "But only because you said it's optional!"
"Good. And take your Aunt Emily with you—she could use some fresh air."
Ah, Emily. James' younger sister, a woman so beautiful that poets wept at the sight of her. Three thousand years had passed, yet time had only polished her elegance into something even more devastating.
Back in her youth, Emily had been sweet, kind, and drowning in suitors. But then she fell for that guy—some no-name charmer who vanished overnight, leaving her heartbroken. The betrayal turned her into the legendary Scourge of Heartbreakers, a woman who made cheating men regret their life choices (briefly, before she ended them).
James sighed. Behind that icy exterior, he knew she still mourned that wretched man. Three thousand years, and she still cried in secret. If he ever found out who the bastard was…
Oh, there would be consequences.
"Aunt Emily, come with me, pleeeease?" Ava latched onto Emily's arm, deploying her best puppy-dog eyes.
Emily's frosty demeanor melted instantly. Ava was the only one who could crack her defenses.
"Alright," she said, patting Ava's head with a rare smile. "I'll go. But only to keep you out of trouble."
Ava cheered. "Yes! Girls' trip!"
Meanwhile, at the Smith Estate…
The place was packed. Nobles, cultivators, and ambitious social climbers swarmed the grand hall, all bearing gifts—and, more importantly, their most beautiful daughters.
"Congratulations on your ancestor's return!"
"May the Smith dynasty prosper for millennia!"
"To the happy couple—whoever she may be!"
The Smiths had gone all out. Gold-plated furniture, enchanted chandeliers, servants circulating with trays of delicacies—it was obscene wealth.
A young girl tugged her grandfather's sleeve. "Grandpa, look! Even the chairs are made of gold!"
The old man hushed her. "Hush, child! The Smiths could buy our entire family with the napkins here."
Then the fanfare began. Trumpets blared, guards marched in formation, and the crowd fell silent as the doors swung open.
"All hail the Ancestor!"
A figure stepped into the light—tall, golden-haired, with the kind of face that made poets question their life choices.
Ava's jaw dropped. "That's Apollo Smith?! But he looks like he's twenty!"
Emily, however, went utterly still.
Her fingers clenched. Her breath caught.
Because standing there, impossibly young, impossibly unchanged…
Was the man who had shattered her heart three thousand years ago.