CHAPTER 467: TOURING

By the time the first light of dawn crept over the horizon, the manor was still and quiet. The golden glow of morning filtered through the tall glass windows, falling across the sleeping figures scattered around Asher’s room.

He rose quietly, careful not to wake the others. Catherine stirred slightly beside him, murmuring his name in her sleep before settling again. For a moment, he simply stood there—watching the peace that had eluded them for so long finally rest upon their faces.

Then, with a faint smile, he turned toward the window. The sky above the higher realm shimmered faintly, streaks of aurora-like light twisting across the pale clouds. It was beautiful—serene, yet humming with quiet power.

He knew peace would not last long.

By the time everyone had woken and gathered in the main hall, the air was filled with a gentle sense of anticipation. Servants—manifestations of Asher’s will—moved efficiently, preparing breakfast and bringing travel cloaks.

Valeris stood beside the stairway, fastening her silver armor beneath a long black coat. "You mentioned registration yesterday," she said, her tone calm but alert. "Is it truly necessary?"

Asher nodded, slipping his gloves on. "Yes. The moment we arrived, the Realm Association would’ve detected our soul signatures. Any unregistered group from lower realms is treated as an invasive presence. If we don’t report and register our identities within a day, the local Sentinels will mark us as potential invaders."

Freya frowned, brushing a strand of red hair from her eyes. "Typical bureaucracy. Even here, the heavens run on rules."

He gave a faint, amused look. "Rules keep power in check. But yes—sometimes they serve as chains."

Catherine adjusted her cloak, her expression thoughtful. "Then the Association serves as a governing body?"

"More like a regulator," Asher replied. "They monitor all spatial breaches, migration flows, and foreign cultivators. Every city in this realm has a branch, and the one nearest to us—Velstrand Keep—is where we’ll go first."

Veyra joined them, her crimson hair tied loosely behind her. "What kind of people run this Association?" she asked quietly.

"Old souls," Asher answered. "Some were warriors from lost eras. Others are remnants of ancient sects that swore to maintain order here. Don’t provoke them. They may appear polite, but they can erase small sects with a word."

Marina gave a soft nod. "Understood. Then let’s get it done quickly."

Arnold and Maxwell met them near the courtyard gates, both already prepared. The elder gave Asher a look of approval. "Good to see you up early. I take it we’re heading out?"

Asher nodded. "Yes. The sooner we’re registered, the safer we’ll be."

Arnold chuckled. "Safer, maybe. But in this realm, safety’s a relative thing."

They stepped out into the bright morning air. The path leading from the manor wound through a valley of mist and silver trees, their leaves catching the sunlight like shards of crystal. In the distance, the sprawling silhouette of Velstrand Keep rose—ancient spires and radiant towers surrounded by floating wards that shimmered like faint stars.

As they began their walk, Freya glanced toward the distant city and whistled softly. "You weren’t joking when you said this realm was built differently."

Catherine smiled faintly. "Even the air feels heavier. It’s as if every breath contains a whisper of power."

Valeris’ eyes narrowed slightly, scanning the faintly glowing symbols etched in the distant air. "Defensive wards. And strong ones."

"Velstrand is home to over two dozen high-rank sects," Asher said. "Even the weakest among them could destroy kingdoms in the lower worlds. So, yes—expect everything here to feel heavier."

They reached the outer gates by midday. The city guards, clad in armor infused with celestial runes, stood watch beside a towering sigil platform. One of them stepped forward, his tone formal yet cautious.

"Halt. Identify yourselves and state your purpose in Velstrand territory."

Asher lifted his hand, producing a faintly glowing seal from his soul ring. "Asher Magnus. Origin: lower realm of Volarisa. Accompanied by my family and retainers. We seek registration under the Higher Realm Migrant Accord."

The guard’s eyes widened slightly at the name, then softened. "Magnus.... Very well, Lord Magnus. Follow me. The Association will verify your entry."

As the gates opened, the group stepped inside—into a city alive with radiant architecture, markets filled with ethereal light, and cultivators whose presence alone could warp the air.

Freya leaned close to Asher, voice low. "It looks both grand amd dangerous."

He smiled faintly, eyes fixed ahead. "Yes. From here on, every step we take shapes our place in this realm."

They moved deeper into Velstrand Keep, the city revealing its vast scale as they went. Towering spires rose like lances of light, their tips piercing the clouds. Floating platforms ferried merchants and cultivators between upper and lower districts, each platform powered by runes that pulsed in rhythm with the city’s leyline network.

The streets were broad, paved with luminous stone that glowed faintly beneath their feet. Vendors called out from stalls that sold everything from spirit fruits to forged relics, while cloaked figures passed in silence, radiating pressure that made even seasoned warriors step aside.

"This place..." Freya murmured, looking around in quiet awe. "It feels alive."

"It is," Asher replied. "Every structure here was built with infused spirit stone—each one connected to the city’s central Heart Core. That’s what gives Velstrand its pulse."

Catherine tilted her head. "Then this entire city is one enormous formation array?"

"Exactly," he said. "It’s designed to repel foreign invaders and stabilize realm fluctuations. The Association’s Hall is built at its center, where the leyline density peaks."

They followed the main avenue until the road opened into a colossal plaza. At its center stood the Velstrand Association Hall—a grand structure of obsidian and silver glass, its doors framed by two enormous guardian statues that shimmered faintly with divine aura. Streams of cultivators entered and exited, their robes bearing marks of dozens of sects and orders.

Asher led his group forward. The guards at the entrance—both High Star-Rank cultivators—bowed slightly when they sensed the pressure rolling from him, subtle yet immense.