Daniel

The carriage was too finely built to jostle, but Daniel could still feel the weight of its occupants pressing inward like gravity.

He sat near the rear, facing forward, the robes of court formalwear draped over his knees. Nathan lounged beside him like they were headed to a tavern, not the most politically charged event in the Empire. Gavin and his wife, Su Lin, sat across from them—she pristine and polished in a gold-and-ice gown that hugged her figure, fingers loosely folded over a gemstone fan she hadn’t yet opened. Lucas occupied one of the remaining seat near the window, his wife, Lady Ren Yaling, seated calmly at his side.

Ren Yaling hadn’t spoken yet, but her presence was felt all the same—quiet, assured, absolute. Her hair was pinned in layered coils with jade and steel, and her gown shimmered in subdued green-gray tones that somehow absorbed more light than they reflected. Daniel had never met her before. This was actually the first time he had seen her since marrying into House Li.

He studied her while trying not to make it obvious. She had a reputation. But she looked… plain. Not particularly pretty. Not like Su Lin, and certainly not like Vivian. But that didn’t matter.

Vivian had once mentioned, offhandedly, that Lucas was her father’s right hand in logistics and management, while Gavin was the military mind. Oddly, there didn’t seem to be much rivalry among the brothers—at least not that Daniel had seen—which was strange considering Vivian was the most likely heir, and while female heirs aren't totally out of the ordinary, they aren't exactly common.

He guessed even fantasy worlds could surprise you.

Still, Ren Yaling might look unremarkable, but he made no mistake—she was dangerous. The sort of woman who could destroy reputations with a nod and elevate ministers with a single, well-timed silence.

Gavin and Su Lin—at least for now—were the face. But Lucas and Ren Yaling? They were the most terrifying couples in the internal hierarchy of House Li.

And tonight, they would be watching everything.

Their carriage followed directly behind the General’s—a more austere but still gilded vessel marked with the Li family crest and the Imperial seal. Escort riders flanked both vehicles, moving like a single organism. No one had spoken since the last gate checkpoint, save for Nathan’s occasional fidgeting.

He kicked at Daniel’s boot lightly.

“Hey. You still breathing in there?”

Daniel nodded. “Barely.”

“Good. Don’t forget to smile for the Path Icons. Apparently, they like pretending this is about joy.”

Gavin exhaled through his nose—a dry sound. Su Lin didn’t bother hiding her glance at Daniel—sharp and measuring.

“You wear formality better than you used to,” she said, her tone light but edged.

Daniel gave a slight nod. “It’s heavier than it looks.”

Lucas, still reviewing the ceremonial placement scroll in his lap, didn’t look up. “When we arrive, stand one pace behind the General. Don’t speak unless spoken to. Don’t offer opinions unless you absolutely cannot avoid it. And under no circumstances are you to react to anything Lady Yaling or Lady Su Lin choose not to respond to.”

Nathan groaned. “That last one’s impossible.”

“I’m aware,” Lucas said, almost smiling.

Beside him, Ren Yaling finally spoke. Her voice was low, calm, and cool enough to carry authority without force.

“You all act like we’re walking into a storm,” she said. “But this is not a battlefield. It’s a mirror hall set with pitfalls and traps. Step poorly, and no one has to strike you. You’ll cut yourself.”

When Ren Yaling spoke, people listened. Geez, what a woman.

The carriage fell silent.

Daniel studied her for a moment longer—her stillness, the way Lucas seemed to defer to her; it was against everything he had seen in this world.

He considered the rumors about Ren Yaling.

She was consider brilliant and unshakable in the face stress or controversy. She was also strategically gifted enough that her husband had rewritten at least one alliance map based on her input alone. No title, no battlefield record, and yet every major family in the inner court sent her gifts on the winter solstice.

She hadn't said a word to him directly.

And that, somehow, made her more intimidating than the entire Imperial Guard.

“You should’ve seen her at Academy,” Ethan said, his voice low, as if she could hear him.

“Scary?”

“You have no idea.”

Daniel turned toward the window just as the red-gold towers of the Imperial District crested the horizon.

A symbolic mirror hall.

He wasn’t sure which was worse—that she was right, or that he’d already started counting reflections.

The capital’s outer districts faded behind them in layers—trade alleys turned into spiraling garden walls, residential towers gave way to sky-lit atriums and monolithic guildhalls.

But it was the inner ring that truly belonged to the Empire.

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

As the procession passed through the second-tier gate, Daniel felt it in his bones: the air itself changed. The mana density increased—not in pressure, but in clarity. Everything here was cleaner, brighter, impossibly well-kept. Not just wealth, which was obvious. Not just magic, which was everywhere, but Order. Order on an Imperial scale.

Enchanted trees lined the roads, blooming in seasonal harmony despite the calendar. The avenues were broad and unnaturally smooth, laid with hex-carved white stone inlaid with copper runes that kept them temperature-balanced. Statues stood at each intersection—war heroes, royal saints, mythical beasts not seen in centuries.

And high above, the heart of it all: the Imperial Citadel.

It loomed across the sky like a palace carved from divinity—towers of white-gold stone veined with mana-glass, bridges that shimmered with starlight and didn't touch the ground, and banners tall enough to catch the wind from every cardinal direction. The entire structure floated just slightly above the hilltop ridge, tethered to the earth by nothing Daniel could see.

The display of power was awe-inspiring—and more than a little unnerving.

“The whole Imperial complex sits on a convergence point of two massive leylines,” Ethan remarked unprompted

. “It was actually how humanity survived the first demon war. They couldn’t break the Citadel’s defenses. Eventually, reinforcements came and routed the horde.”

Daniel acknowledged the lore with a thought and continued to stare out the window.

Their carriage wound toward a lower-tier pavilion near the base of the Citadel—still technically within Imperial grounds, but far enough from the central spire to avoid direct oversight. Even here, the people they passed wore robes lined with spell-thread and shoes that never touched dust. Royal stewards moved like dancers. Temple scribes murmured invocations as they walked.

Everything here gleamed. Nothing here was normal.

The carriage finally slowed beneath an arched gateway marked with the House Li crest and an Imperial seal layered above it—signaling that their presence had been cleared, but not yet accepted.

A steward in silver-and-indigo formalwear opened the door with a bow.

“Welcome, Young Masters and Ladies,” he intoned. “Your House has been placed in the Seventh Pavilion of the Grand Hall. The Path Icons are already gathering.”

Nathan was the first to step down, stretching like he hadn’t a care in the world. Gavin followed, offering a tight nod—his hand holding Su Lin’s, who smiled graciously.

Daniel came last, stepping into a corridor of light and judgment.

He saw his in-laws, the General and his wife, just in front of them, and they all moved slowly, practiced.

The entry courtyard alone was vast—wider than any training field he’d walked, and half-covered by an illusion canopy that projected the sunlight despite the evening hour. At the far end stood a wide-set staircase flanked by mana-powered torches that never flickered. Every step glowed faintly beneath polished soles.

Guards stood in full ceremonial armor—not to protect, but to impress. Their helmets were feathered with bluesteel fans, their halberds crowned with ritual seals instead of blades.

They didn’t move. But they saw. And they judged.

Daniel adjusted his cuffs, conscious of the way the signet on his wrist caught the light.

“Still breathing?” Nathan asked under his breath.

Daniel snorted. “How do you put up with this constantly?”

Nathan shrugged. “Always been this way, brother-in-law. Happens when you’re important.”

Daniel rolled his eyes. “I’m not important.”

Nathan nodded toward a pretty hostess as she directed attendees toward the stairs. She blushed as he blatantly looked her up and down.

“Not important my ass,” Nathan said. “My sister’s going to run the House. Everyone knows it. And you’re her husband—even if she hasn’t claimed you. The only way you could be more important is if you decided to father a baby with the Imperial Princess.”

Nathan gave him a sharp look. “Wait…brother-in-law! You bastard. You’re not, right?”

Daniel let out a genuine laugh. Nathan…he was special. “Why in the name of the gods would you ask that?”

Nathan shrugged, eyes back on the hostess. “I don’t know. You seem the type.”

“He has a point,” Ethan added.

“What are you implying?” Daniel said incredulously.

Further conversation was cut short as the doors to the Imperial Ballroom opened.

And the moment he crossed that threshold, there would be no more hiding behind silence or intent. He would walk in as Ethan Zhou, husband of Lady Vivian Li. And walk out as something the court had not yet decided how to name.

The light changed again as they stepped past the final archway becoming sharper. Mana-threaded stones unfurled in a long crimson pathway ahead of them—polished until the glasswork glowed beneath their feet. Every step rang with precision, soft but deliberate. A line of ceremonial fire-lanterns floated just above the carpet’s edges, casting warm golden arcs across the path. Beyond them, rows of nobles and dignitaries stood in high balconies, watching like priests from temple alcoves.

The red carpet wasn't just decoration. It was declaration.

Lucas walked at the front of their group just behind their father, composed in a silver jacket that somehow made him look even more capable than usual. His steps were exact, shoulders squared, gaze locked ahead. He walked hand in hand with Ren Yaling.

Gavin, arm in arm with Su Lin, followed—more casual but still polished—his expression wry, like he found the whole thing absurd and couldn’t stop himself from enjoying it anyway. Su Lin was soaking in the attention like a vampire bat at a feast. She moved like a woman born for this stage: spine straight, chin high, her steps timed to the music drifting faintly from the ballroom beyond. Her smile wasn’t wide, but it was suggestive—just sharp enough to suggest everyone else had dressed tonight to be compared against her.

Several nobles glanced their way as they passed—one whispered something behind a folded fan, staring at her backside as she walked by. Su Lin didn’t flinch. She didn’t even glance. She simply adjusted the fall of her sleeve, tightened her grip on Gavin’s arm by half a finger’s width, and smiled as if the world were already hers.

“She is not as attractive as Vivian. Someone should remind her.” Ethan said with a snort.

Daniel had to choke on the laughter.

Nathan grinned as if he were walking into a party he planned to ruin for fun. Daniel half thought he was going to pull out the finger guns.

Daniel walked last, feeling the weight of a thousand unspoken expectations settle on his shoulders like snow. He leaned slightly toward the quiet in his own head.

“You could have warned me about this.”

Ethan’s voice answered with zero guilt. “What, the floating chandeliers or the nobles watching like hawks? Come on. It’s a gala. What did you think it was going to be—finger food and small talk?”

“You could have mention the judgment parade.”

“Right. My bad. It’s not like I ever came to one of these. You think I was on the guest list for crown-tier galas? Please. I was a side note in the Academy records, not a headline.”

Daniel exhaled through his nose. Ethan wasn’t wrong. But it didn’t help.

The carpet wound forward through a gauntlet of attention—less like an entrance, more like a trial. Each noble they passed turned their heads. Some nodded politely. Others whispered to their aides. A few didn’t even try to hide the curiosity in their eyes.

Every glance seemed to ask the same thing: The Son in Law of the House Li...who is he really...

Daniel didn’t answer. He just kept walking.

Behind the final set of gates, the Imperial Ballroom opened into view. It was staggering—wide as a stadium, lit with floating crystal chandeliers that pulsed with slow, celestial rhythm. The ceiling arched high overhead in a dome of refracted mana glass, reflecting stars that were visible in the real sky. Mana orbs drifted through the air like slow comets. The floors shimmered with a layered spell-lacquer that caught reflections but never glare.

At the far end, a raised dais glowed faintly beneath a vertical banner bearing the Imperial crest: a dragon coiled through a moon-ring, its eyes set with mirrored obsidian. Music drifted on air—soft, elegant, far too coordinated to be anything but magically enhanced.

And beneath it all, the murmur of power. Of Houses old and new. Of Path Icons and Whisperlords. Of rivals.

Daniel didn’t stop moving, but something inside him shifted. He didn’t belong here that much was obvious, but he was here anyway.

And they were going to have to deal with that.

He tried to keep the smile off his face. "Show time."