"It''s Princess Lindsay meheart! She''s the beloved daughter of Ignatius


    meheart, head of Earthfire Pavilion," someone eximed. "What is she doing here, though?"


    "I heard Princess Lindsay is a prodigy. She may be young, but she''s already at Heavenly Immortal Realm Level Five. Mr. meheart and the elders at Earthfire Pavilion love her to bits. She rarely leaves the Pavilion, yet here she is, marching beside Elder meheart himself."


    "Look—she keeps ncing at that guard named Jared Chance."


    "Tsk tsk. Lucky devil. A single look from Princess Lindsay could make a man happy for life."


    Soft murmurs rustled through the air like wind over dry leaves, swelling, fading, swelling again.


    Vermilion Demon Lord nudged Jared in the ribs, his voice sliding along a private tide of sound that only Jared could hear. "Not bad, Jared. You''ve barely set foot in level eleven, and you''re already collecting admirers. This youngdy is the daughter of Earth Pavilion''s leader. Win her over, and Earthfire Pavilion could be at your bidding."


    Jared threw him a warning stare. "Stop it, Mr. Vermilion. She''s only looking at me out of curiosity."


    Vermilion Demon Lord chuckled. "Out of curiosity? I doubt it. That look held more than curiosity. Seize the opportunity, young man. She''s lovely, noble, gifted-exactly your type. And since you neverck for women, what harm is one more on level eleven? Besides, every youngdy you''ve encountered eventually sumbs to your charm."


    "Stop right there," Jared interrupted with a weary wave of his hand. "We have enough problems as it is. Let''s not invite more."


    Even so, why does her gaze feel so oddly warm-almost as if she somehow approves of me? Lindsay meheart''s her name, yes? Her eyes are clear as spring water, shimmering with something beyond mere interest-recognition, perhaps, even a strange, delicate familiarity. Is it because I possess chaotic celestial energy and the Golden Dragon Bloodline, which triggered a response from her sensitivity to fire-type spiritual energy and draconic energy?


    Just then, a young disciple from Earthfire Pavilion descended on a swirl of wind, bowed, and spoke with polished courtesy that failed to hide his subtle scrutiny. "Mr. Chance, Her Highness requests yourpany in the carriage."


    Jealous heat red around them, dozens of eyes stabbing forward like tiny daggers dressed in envy.


    Jared hesitated only a breath, then inclined his head. "Very well."


    Vermilion Demon Lord''s grin stretched wide and knowing as Jared followed the disciple down to the road and toward the lead carriage shimmering in the noon re.


    The door swung open, releasing a puff of cool, perfumed air that wrapped Jared in relief. Clearly, intricate cooling arrays hummed within, holding back the desert heat like invisible walls.


    "Mr. Chance, please step inside," the maid who had earlier utched the window said as she waited at the carriage''s steps.


    Her posture was straight, her hands folded before her waist, and her voice carried the soft elegance of well-trained service as she invited him inside.


    Jared mounted the short stairs and crossed the threshold. The interior was farrger than the carriage''s modest exterior suggested-an intimate salon lined with mink soft furs, moon stone panels that gave off a candle-warm glow, and lowcquered tables set with jeweled tes of spirit fruit and delicate porcin teacups.


    At the head of this mobile parlor, Lindsay meheart lounged sideways on a cushioned bench. One elbow propped her chin, and fiery amber eyes tracked Jared with an almost childlike curiosity.


    All this satin and privacy-surely the princess didn''t summon me here because she wants a little carriage adventure, did she?


    Upon noticing how intently Jared was staring at Lindsay, the maid''s voice dropped to


    a scolding whisper. "You stand before a princess. Mind your manners."


    "Jared Chance pays his respects to Your Highness," the man hurriedly said and bowed—neither servile nor arrogant, just enough deference to satisfy courtly decorum.


    "Don''t worry about the formalities. Sit."


    Lindsay''s tone rippled like water over stone-bright, musical, impossible to ignore. "I heard from Elder Zuver that you shattered a Level Seven Combat Puppet''s me Dragon sh with your bare hands during the test. Is that true?"


    She blinked, wide-eyed, no royal stiffness about her more the inquisitive girl next door, desperate for a good story.


    Jared settled opposite her as the maid poured translucent tea that steamed with faint crimson wisps.


    "It was just a parlor trick. Forgive me if it disappointed Your Highness," he replied, letting the steam mask an unreadable half-smile.


    Lindsay''s lips puckered in disbelief.


    "A parlor trick? Elder Zuver swore your sword energy punched straight through a Level Six Trial


    his entire lifetime. Also, the


    Pir Csomething he hasn''t seen in


    Spirit-Measuring Crystal couldn''t even detect your cultivation level and shed seven colors of chaos. You''re quite the mystery, eh?"


    The next second, she leaned forward, her eyes like living me. "Tell me—what''s your cultivation level? Are you really only at Heavenly Immortal Realm Level One? I don''t buy it. And your cultivation technique is strange. Your aura feels familiar, yet foreign at the same time..."


    Jared''s pulse ticked once-just once-but he masked it behind a sip of tea. Deep down, he was truly impressed by Lindsay''s keen perception.


    "My cultivation level is only at Heavenly Immortal Realm Level One," he answered calmly. "I admit my technique is unconventional. It lets me strike above my level, nothing more. The strange aura you sense likelyes from that technique." "Nothing more?" Lindsay uttered as she cocked her head. "A Heavenly Immortal Realm Level One cultivator smashes a Level Seven Combat Puppet, and that''s ''nothing more?'' If that''s the case, how are the rest of us supposed to survive?"


    Lindsay leaned across the swaying carriage window, amber eyes sparkling like live coals. "So tell me mysterious stranger-where did youe from? Who taught you? Why slip into Crimson me City What drives you to sign up for quard duty? The Earthfire Pavilion offered to make you an inner court disciple, yet you refused. What, then, could you possibly be after?"


    The volley of questions hit Jared like a hail of sparks against dry tinder. He straightened, managed a faint, respectful smile, and bought himself one long breath before answering.