I froze in confusion as Isabelle''sughter cut through the deadly tension in the room. The killing intent that had suffocated the air moments before vanished like mist in sunlight.


    "What?" I managed to say, looking between Isabelle and her grandfather.


    To my astonishment, Michael Ashworth''s stern expression melted into a warm smile. The transformation was soplete that he seemed like an entirely different person.


    "You passed, young man," he said, his voice no longer hard as steel but rich with amusement. "Not many stand their ground when facing the full pressure of the Ashworth family''s intent."


    Isabelle skipped over and linked her arm through mine. "I told you Grandfather would test you. He does this with everyone he meets."


    "That was... a test?" My heart was still racing, my body primed for a fight that apparently wasn''ting.


    Michael Ashworth chuckled, retaking his seat. "Did you think I would actually harm the man my granddaughter has chosen? I merely wanted to see what you''re made of."


    I took a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves. "You have a unique way of getting to know people, sir."


    "In my position, one must assess character quickly and urately," he replied, gesturing for us to sit. "Fear reveals truth that politeness conceals."


    The hidden guards I''d sensed earlier emerged from the shadows, bowed to Michael, and left the room without a word. I counted four of them—all at least at Martial Master level. The disy of power was deliberate, reminding me just how influential the Ashworth family truly was.


    "Tea," Michael ordered, and a servant appeared almost instantly with a tray. "Now, let''s talk properly."


    As we settled intofortable chairs, the atmosphere shifted from confrontational to something approaching cordial. Michael studied me over the rim of his teacup.


    "Isabelle tells me you''re quite the alchemist," he said. "Trained under Mariana Valerius herself."


    I nodded, still wary of another sudden test. "I''ve been fortunate to learn from her."


    "Fortunate indeed. Mariana doesn''t take students lightly." He set down his cup. "She and I have known each other for many years. Her endorsement carries significant weight."


    Isabelle beamed. "I told you Grandfather would approve once he met you properly."


    Michael raised an eyebrow at her. "I didn''t say I approve yet, just that I''m willing to have a conversation." But the gentle look he gave her betrayed his affection.


    We talked for nearly an hour. Despite my initial terror, I found Michael Ashworth to be surprisingly engaging. He asked pointed questions about my background, my ambitions, and my views on the current politicalndscape of Havenwood City. I answered honestly, asionally earning a nod or thoughtful hum.


    "Come," he said eventually, standing with surprising agility for his age. "Let''s y another game of chess. I find it reveals more about a person than hours of conversation."


    As we set up the board, Isabelle excused herself. "I''ll check on dinner preparations," she said, cing a quick kiss on my cheek before leaving.


    Alone with Michael, the air grew serious again, though not threatening.


    "She cares deeply for you," he said, moving his first piece.


    I advanced a pawn. "The feeling is mutual, sir."


    "Then you should know what you''re getting into." His voice lowered. "The Ashworth name isn''t just wealth and power—it''s a target. There are those who would harm her simply for being born into this family."


    "I''m aware," I replied, making my move. "And I''m bing strong enough to protect her."


    Michael''s eyes gleamed with interest. "Are you? I''ve heard rumors about your recent... aplishments."


    We continued ying, each move more aggressive than thest. Unlike our first game, which I''d approached cautiously, this time I attempted several bold strategies. Michael countered each one masterfully, but I could tell he appreciated the effort.


    "Check," he announced after capturing my bishop.


    I studied the board, finding a narrow escape route. As I reached for my king, Michael suddenly clutched his chest, his face contorting in pain.


    "Mr. Ashworth?" I stood quickly, knocking over several pieces. "Are you alright?"


    He waved dismissively, but I saw a trickle of blood at the corner of his mouth. "It''s nothing. An old man''s ailment."


    "This isn''t nothing," I insisted, moving to his side. My medical knowledge immediately kicked in as I observed his symptoms—paleplexion, irregr breathing, and a subtle dark energy swirling around his chest, visible only to those with trained senses.


    Dashiell ckthorne''s warning echoed in my mind: "Old man Ashworth won''tst much longer."


    "Let me help," I said, reaching toward him.


    Michael pulled back. "I said I''m fine."


    "With all due respect, sir, you''re not. That''s internal bleeding." I kept my voice firm but respectful. "You should be in a hospital."


    His expression darkened, not with anger but with resignation. "Hospitals can do nothing for me." He wiped the blood from his lips with a handkerchief. "I''ve seen the best doctors in Veridia City. They all say the same thing—less than a year."


    The revtion stunned me. "Does Isabelle know?"


    "No," he said sharply. "And she won''t—not until necessary."


    I hesitated, torn between respecting his wishes and my concern for both him and Isabelle. "The Celestial Apothecary Guild has treatments beyond conventional medicine. I could speak with Pavilion Master Valerius—"


    "You think I haven''t tried?" Michael interrupted. "This condition defies even their methods." He straightened his posture with visible effort. "Now, not another word about this. Especially not to Isabelle."


    "But sir—"


    "This is not a request, young man," he said, his voice regaining its authoritative edge. "My granddaughter has already lost her parents. I won''t have her spending my final months watching me deteriorate, drowning in grief before I''m even gone."


    I understood his position, even if I didn''t agree with it. "At least let me examine you properly. I might see something others have missed."


    Michael considered this for a moment. "Perhaps another time. Isabelle will return soon, and I won''t have her suspicious."


    True to his prediction, Isabelle walked in minutester, her face brightening the room. "Dinner''s ready! Did Grandfather beat you again, Liam?"


    I nced at the disrupted chess board. "We didn''t finish. Your grandfather is a formidable opponent."


    "The young man shows promise," Michael said, all traces of his earlier pain carefully hidden. "With practice, he might actually challenge me one day."


    Isabelle led us to a sumptuously appointed dining room. The table could easily seat twenty, but it had been set intimately for three at one end. Crystal sses sparkled under the chandelier light, and silver dishes awaited our meal.


    "I hope you like it," Isabelle said nervously as servants brought in the first course. "I actually made one of the dishes myself."


    I looked up in surprise. "You cooked?"


    "Don''t sound so shocked," sheughed. "I''m notpletely helpless in a kitchen."


    Michael chuckled. "This is a first. I''ve never seen Isabelle voluntarily enter a kitchen before you came along, young man." <q ss="ref-0e0d38">This chapter is part of the collection on *.</q>


    Isabelle blushed. "Grandfather! That''s not true. I''ve made...tea before."


    "Heating water doesn''t count as cooking, dear," Michael teased.


    Their easy banter revealed a close rtionship I hadn''t fully appreciated before. Watching them, I felt a pang of worry for what Isabelle would face when she eventually learned of her grandfather''s condition.


    When the main course arrived, Isabelle proudly pointed to a dish of zed salmon. "This one''s mine. I had the chef talk me through it, but I did all the work myself."


    I took a bite and was genuinely impressed. "It''s delicious."


    "Really?" Her face lit up with pleasure. "You''re not just saying that?"


    "I wouldn''t lie about food," I assured her, taking another bite to prove my point.


    Michael tasted it as well, his eyebrows rising in surprised approval. "Well done, Isabelle. Perhaps there''s hope for you yet."


    We were halfway through the meal, the conversation flowing naturally, when amotion at the entrance caught our attention. Heavy footsteps approached, and the dining room door swung open without ceremony.


    A broad-shouldered man with silver-streaked hair and cold, calcting eyes strode in. He wore an impably tailored suit that did nothing to soften his intimidating presence. I immediately sensed powerful energy radiating from him—a cultivator of considerable skill.


    The warm atmosphere evaporated instantly. Isabelle''s smile faded, and Michael''s face hardened into a mask of formal politeness.


    "Corbin," Michael acknowledged coolly. "We weren''t expecting you this evening."


    Corbin Ashworth''s gaze swept over the intimate dinner setting beforending on me. His eyes narrowed with undisguised contempt.


    "I see," he said, his voice deep and cutting. "Family dinner with an... outsider. How interesting."