Morning arrived like prophecy.
Scarlet skies stretched above Ember Pearl City, laced with drifting formation clouds that pulsed with ceremonial qi. Spirit flags unfurled from every tower—each representing one of the 150 competing sects and families who had gathered for the continent's most prestigious tournament.
Now, they stood together in harmony—if only for a day.
A vast ceremonial terrace had been built atop the city's highest pavilion: a ring of lotus-shaped platforms joined by floating walkways of translucent flame-glass. It shimmered with prestige, reserved only for history's greatest victories.
At the northern dais sat the Royal Family of Ember Pearl, cloaked in robes of sun-thread and imperial starlight. Emperor Phillip occupied the central seat, his expression composed, his presence weightier than stone. His children flanked him—each adorned in fire-bound silk and ceremonial phoenix crests.
Beside them were the Three Great Sects—Stormveil, Verdant Fang, and Ironshore—seated on glowing jade thrones that pulsed faintly with power.
The Twelve Major Families of Emberfall occupied an arc to the east, their banners rising high and proud.
The five Dominant Clans, having watched every battle and betrayal, remained anchored like shadows in gold.
And all around, the participants—the remaining competitors, elders, and disciples of Ruona's sprawling network—stood in formation.
Here, victory wasn't just earned.
It was remembered.
At the eastern wing sat the Flare Family.
Simon Flare stood at the helm, his imperial cultivation exuding quiet command. His robes were obsidian trimmed in molten red, flame-patterned armor etched faintly across the shoulders—as if he wore both ceremony and battlefield.
Beside him, Jana Flare radiated timeless grace. Her gown was dusk-gold, with threadwork that whispered of ancient phoenix courts. A single fan rested on her lap—closed, untouched, but dangerous.
And then came the spark.
Rana Flare descended in silence.
Her dress was woven from phoenix silk and wildfire lotus—a blend once reserved for imperial matrons. Her hair fell in white-gold braids down one shoulder, eyes bright but unreadable, each step graceful enough to make air hold still.
Young nobles froze mid-toast. Prominent cultivators turned their heads. A few even forgot their titles.
Even the Crown Prince's advisors exchanged glances—respectfully, quietly.
And yet she remained composed—bowing where appropriate, nodding where expected.
But she did not linger.
When Emperor Phillip rose, the entire terrace bowed in instinct. His voice rang like a gong across continents.
"We gather not to end, but to honor. This tournament was not just conflict—it was awakening. Of talent. Of legacy. Of revelation."
He extended his hand toward his fifty-first and youngest son, Jin Ember Pearl, who stepped forward in ceremonial robes—every stitch pulsing with harmonic resonance.
A hovering orb of glowing fire descended: the Ember Pearl Flame, shaped from the city's core qi and sealed by imperial decree.
"Champion," the Emperor said, "receive your reward."
Jin bowed, accepting the orb with reverence.
Cheers followed. Applause echoed. The banners shimmered with light.
And yet—
The attention, like a tide, drifted east.
Continental Recognition
As formalities gave way to celebration, the three top sects and major families of the Ruona Continent made their rounds. Important dignitaries from other continents toasted the Emperor and his heirs. Elders presented tributes to Jin—scrolls, emblems, and words of honor.
But many found their way to the Flare Family.
Sect and Clan leaders bowed toward Simon. Envoys addressed him with practiced charm. And a few dared to ask the question:
"May we ask," said one, the patriarch from Verdant Fang, "about the young man who defended Lady Rana? The one whose qi... shattered expectations. Where is he? Why isn't he at the celebration?"
Many ears tuned in, awaiting Simon's reply. Even the royal family—Jin included—paused to glance toward the eastern wing.
But Simon didn't speak.
He didn't need to.
Jana's smile remained polite—but thin.
"Sorry to burst everyone's bubble, but that spoiled son-in-law of mine hates festivities such as this."
No one asked further.
They bowed and moved on.
Then the fireworks resumed—scarlet bursts across the sky, detonating in formation glyphs that danced like phoenix wings.
Crown Prince Cornered
When Crown Prince Kia Ember Pearl approached the Flare wing, he wore charisma like silk—offering spirit fruit wine and half a smile.
"Lady Rana," he said smoothly, "beauty becomes you. But elegance... that is earned. Shall we toast?"
Rana bowed respectfully.
"Thank you for your kind words, Your Highness."
She accepted the drink, nodded once, and turned gracefully to greet another guest.
The prince blinked. Then smiled.
But his grip on the chalice tightened.
__
Later, as the crowd shifted, the delegation from the Vernon Continent moved as one. Not just the Hewitts but the remaining nine major families, their elders, and young disciples—all aligned in formation.
Their presence had been constant since the tournament began. But now—after all the battles and upheaval—they stepped forward in renewed formation.
They stopped at the Flare wing.
Simon offered a nod. Jana greeted them with soft authority. Rana bowed respectfully—poised yet untouchable.
Then, quietly, Sion Carros stepped forward.
He bowed to Rana, posture crisp but sincere.
"Thank you, Lady Rana," he said quietly. "For stepping in yesterday. I owe you. And I'll repay that kindness."
Rana met his gaze, calm and unwavering.
"That's unnecessary," she replied with a faint smile. "I did it because it was the right thing to do."
Sion nodded once. Slower. Not in debt—
But in honor.
Their exchange rippled softly—no grand gesture, just mutual respect earned in flame.
What followed stirred a deeper reaction.
Several Ember Clan elders, including Patriarch Riven and Elder Shia, personally welcomed Patriarch Ronald Hewitt, Silver, and the elders of the Hewitt family, inviting them to share drinks at the inner ring flame-table reserved for high honors.
The other nine top families from the Vernon Continent accompanying them were taken aback by the gesture.
Just when had the Hewitts forged a connection with such a prestigious clan?
They were suspicious, but none asked questions.
Eventually, they too were invited—but only out of courtesy.
And it didn't stop at drinks.
Elder Shia turned her gaze toward Sion Carros and Delra Hewitt, both of whom had shown remarkable endurance and technique during the final round.
"We've seen promise," she said. "If you're willing, we'd be honored to welcome you into the Ember Sect's inner disciple ranks. Full resource access. Guided progression."
Patriarch Ronald glanced at Sion and Delra—then bowed.
"It would be an honor. Prestige grows with worthy bonds."
Other families murmured in agreement.
Three other Vernon Continent disciples—Selene Ainsworth, Lira Danvers, and Neris Sylvester, whose performances stood out despite elimination—received similar invitations from Ember Clan elders aligned with other noble houses.
Not formal recruitment.
But courtesy was extended.
Opportunity offered.
And the continent noticed.
___
Beneath a quiet canopy, Emperor Phillip and Simon Flare stood apart from the celebration.
"Imperial Realm suits you, Lord Simon. Congratulations."
"Thank you, Your Majesty," Simon nodded.
Phillip was tempted to ask how Simon had achieved it so quickly in such a short span.
But he refrained. It would be seen as impolite.
"The boy," Phillip continued. "He's not a normal prodigy."
"That brat is really impressive, isn't he?"
"Impressive" is an understatement. If it weren't for respect for your family, I'd be interrogating him right now."
"You think I'm shielding him?"
"Aren't you?"
Simon chuckled softly.
"No. I'm watching. Just like you."
That stunned the emperor.
"So... he belongs to someone? A hidden sect? A lineage?"
Simon turned toward the sky.
"All I can tell you, Your Majesty, is this: he's no threat to you or the empire. Unless you try to make him one."
Phillip nodded slowly.
"Then let's enjoy the night."
"Agreed."
As Simon walked away, a silent figure stepped beside Emperor Phillip—a strategist in moon-threaded robes.
"Did you find anything?"
"Yes," the man replied. "But none of it makes sense."
"Explain."
Through his spirit sense, the figure relayed all he had discovered.
The emperor frowned.