Emperor's Reckoning

Chapter 1292: That is All The Respect You Get

The seraph with the Red Lotus huadian traced a delicate finger along the edge of her lotus-shaped forehead ornament, her gaze lingering on the distant mountain summit. "Hmmm..." she murmured, her sharp eyes narrowing slightly, as if sensing the faint echo of a powerful presence lingering there.

Before the thought could deepen, Luce approached with an effervescent smile, clapping her hands together warmly. "Ah, welcome, welcome!" she greeted, her charm filling the air.

The banquet crowd responded with excitement, faces lighting up at the sight of the two seraphs. Whispers spread like wildfire, with conversations brimming with admiration and respect. Some of the guests even adjusted their postures and outfits in a subtle attempt to appear more presentable.

The patriarchs and matriarchs wasted no time, moving quickly to greet the newcomers with respectful nods and firm handshakes. Alistair Skyblade, towering and stern, clasped hands with the male seraph, his usual reserved demeanor softened in the presence of such powerful beings.

Amara of the Red Lotus, however, took a more measured approach. Her keen gaze lingered on the woman with the Red Lotus huadian. "Older sister..." Amara whispered under her breath, almost as if testing the words aloud, her usually unwavering confidence giving way to a flicker of awe and uncertainty.

The seraph with the huadian smiled faintly, though her expression carried the wisdom of someone who had witnessed centuries pass. She didn’t acknowledge the familial term openly, instead allowing the moment to hang in the air, leaving Amara to grapple with her emotions quietly.

The male seraph, standing beside her, was a picture of quiet strength, his wings folded neatly behind him. His piercing gaze swept across the banquet hall, sharp as a blade, as if measuring everyone present. Yet, his presence lacked hostility—only a calm and steady authority that commanded respect.

The patriarchs and matriarchs formed a subtle ring around the seraphs, eager to engage in polite conversation. Even among the elite, it wasn’t every day that beings of such stature descended to their level. Flutes of the finest wine were raised, smiles exchanged, and bows offered.

Amidst the excitement, Luce remained at the center, gracefully fielding questions and compliments as she orchestrated the perfect flow of the event. The two seraphs, despite their grand presence, seemed to meld naturally into the gathering.

And as the small ripples of conversation swirled around them, the seraph with the Red Lotus huadian cast one last fleeting glance toward the summit, as if expecting something—or someone—to emerge from the darkness of the mountain.

"I am Aella, the seraph who will be overseeing the battle tomorrow, along with my partner, Rufus," declared the woman with the Red Lotus huadian, her voice steady and authoritative as she stepped forward. The faintest smile graced her lips, but it held no warmth—only the serene calm of someone who had seen countless such gatherings.

The room seemed to still at her words, the gravity of her presence settling over the crowd like a soft mist. "May I see the promising cultivators who wish to ascend—the ones who will surely put their hearts into tomorrow’s arena?" Aella continued, her gaze scanning the banquet hall with a quiet, piercing intensity.

At her request, the six young masters—Mavis, Ning, Azleid, Lyra, Yuri, and Esmeralda—stepped forward in unison. Their movements were precise, as though rehearsed a thousand times, each one carrying the weight of their clan’s hopes and expectations on their shoulders.

One by one, they knelt before Aella and Rufus, showing deference to the seraphs who would oversee their fate tomorrow. Mavis was the first, his back straight, his sharp features filled with resolve. Ning followed, her grace unmistakable as she dipped into her bow, her eyes unwavering. Azleid, sturdy and composed, offered a deep bow. Lyra, with her head held high, knelt with elegance and poise. Yuri’s expression was cold, but his movements carried the same respect as the others, his demeanor unfazed by the looming challenge.

Esmeralda, however, was the last to kneel, her movements slower than the others. There was a moment of hesitation, a flicker of nervousness in her eyes as she stole a glance toward Aella. Despite her confidence, she couldn’t hide the curiosity and tension gnawing at her. The weight of being the young master of the Ouroboros Clan seemed heavier now in the presence of beings so far above mortal power. Yet, she knelt with dignity, trying to steady her breath as her gaze lingered a moment longer on the seraph.

Aella observed them all, her eyes narrowing slightly as she took in the subtle differences between each young master. Her gaze lingered on Esmeralda for just a heartbeat longer before shifting back to the group as a whole.

"These are the ones," Aella remarked, her voice carrying an ethereal quality that sent a shiver down a few spines. "I will watch their performance closely tomorrow."

Her partner, Rufus, remained silent, though his sharp eyes glinted with quiet interest as he sized up each of the young masters. His wings shifted ever so slightly, a faint flicker of white feathers stirring the air as his attention turned toward Esmeralda, his gaze lingering on her late bow with subtle curiosity.

Rufus’s sharp gaze locked onto Esmeralda, his expression cold and unreadable. "You," he said, his voice carrying the weight of quiet authority. His outstretched finger hovered like a blade aimed directly at her. "What’s the matter? I saw your hesitation."

Esmeralda’s breath hitched, but before she could answer, Aella gave a small wave of dismissal, her tone light yet soothing. "Not now, Rufus. I’m sure she’s just nervous, like the rest of the five." A chuckle escaped her lips, reminiscent of someone recalling a distant memory. "Besides," she added with a knowing smile, "I was in their shoes once."

Esmeralda gave a respectful nod, her lips parting as she summoned the courage to speak. But just as the words formed on her tongue, another voice rang out—confident, casual, and sharp enough to command the room’s attention.

"There is one more..."

A ripple of murmurs swept through the banquet hall as every head turned toward the unexpected speaker. Who would dare interrupt the conversation between seraphs?

The crowd’s confusion didn’t last long, though. For the audacious one didn’t remain hidden. She stood, raising her hand with a playful ease that defied the gravity of the moment.

It was Cecile.

The room stilled, disbelief hanging in the air. The patriarchs and matriarchs exchanged glances, some stunned, others visibly curious. Even Aella’s playful smile faltered for a moment, replaced by intrigue.

Rufus narrowed his eyes, wings shifting slightly as if he was preparing to respond to this unexpected interruption. "And who—"

Before he could finish, Cecile lowered her hand with a smirk that could topple empires. "Lyon," she said casually, as if merely stating an obvious fact.

The mention of his name sent a new wave of murmurs through the crowd, and the expressions on the six young masters visibly shifted. None masked their surprise.

Aella’s golden eyes sharpened, a curious gleam hidden beneath her calm demeanor. "And where is he?" she asked, her voice gentle but expectant.

Cecile’s gaze didn’t waver. "If he’s not here now, he will be tomorrow."

Rufus’s expression darkened, his wings twitching slightly in irritation. "That is disrespectful toward Paradise," he said sternly. "Doesn’t he know the seraphs are here, honoring this banquet with their presence?"

"He does," Cecile answered with a cool, unwavering voice.

Aella observed Cecile carefully, and in that moment, she realized—this woman was no ordinary mortal. Even in the presence of seraphs, Cecile exuded an aura of command and confidence that made her seem almost... untouchable. There wasn’t an ounce of fear or hesitation in her demeanor.

"He is showing disrespect!" Rufus repeated, his voice firmer now, clearly agitated by Lyon’s absence.

Aella, sensing something unusual, tilted her head slightly. "Who are you to him?" she asked, eyes narrowing ever so slightly.

Cecile’s lips curled into a subtle smirk. "His wife. Along with these two," she said, nodding toward Maria and Selena, who flanked her on either side.

Aella’s brows lifted in slight amusement. "A man of power, I see. But whether powerful or not, he must show up tonight. Otherwise..." She let the words hang, a delicate threat wrapped in politeness. "...he will have given neither me nor Paradise any face."

Aella’s gaze flicked toward Luce. "Luce Veritas," she said with a graceful but firm tone, "Do you know where he is?"

Luce opened her mouth, clearly about to explain. "Well, over—"

Before she could finish, a voice cut through the hall like a warm breeze before a storm.

"Sorry I’m late—"

All heads turned at once toward the entrance, where a figure appeared, casting a long shadow across the hall as the dim glow of twilight framed him from behind.

Lyon grinned, looking both carefree and smug, his black hair slightly tousled from the wind. "...I always am."

The entire banquet fell into stunned silence. Even the seraphs were momentarily taken aback by the man’s audacity—arriving late to a banquet hosted by Heaven’s finest, as if it were nothing more than a casual gathering of friends.

Cecile crossed her arms, her smirk deepening, as if to say, I told you so.

Aella, for the first time in a long while, felt a curious flicker—an odd mix of amusement and intrigue—as she studied the man who dared to make such an entrance.

Rufus, on the other hand, narrowed his eyes, a glimmer of irritation beneath his cold gaze.

Lyon stepped forward, unbothered by the weight of countless gazes locked on him. With a playful shrug, he met Aella’s eyes directly. "I heard there was a banquet?"

Aella smiled—just a little. "Indeed there is," she said softly, "and you’ve certainly made it... interesting."

Rufus’s expression darkened, his wings twitching in irritation. "Come here and kneel with the others," he commanded, his voice sharp as thunder.

Lyon, without missing a beat, casually strolled toward the six young masters. The entire banquet hall held its breath, watching with rapt attention. Esmeralda’s eyes flickered with curiosity, while Yuri’s expression remained cold and stoic. Even Mavis shifted uneasily, wondering if Lyon would actually kneel.

As Lyon stopped before the group, silence hung in the air, heavy and expectant. All eyes were on him—waiting for the moment his knee would touch the ground.

Instead, Lyon’s gaze remained steady, his smirk slowly spreading across his face.

"I won’t even bow to someone more powerful than me," he said, his voice calm but sharp as a blade, cutting through the tense atmosphere like a knife through silk.

The room felt as if it had frozen in time, each breath suspended in disbelief.

Then, with a tilt of his head and a grin that could only belong to him, Lyon added, "Let alone you."

The banquet erupted in stunned silence.

The other six young masters, still kneeling, couldn’t mask their disbelief. Ning’s jaw dropped slightly, while Azleid’s eyes widened with a flicker of admiration. Even Yuri, who rarely showed emotion, arched a brow.

The patriarchs and matriarchs exchanged glances, their expressions ranging from amusement to disapproval, but none dared to speak.

Aella, standing with her arms folded, allowed a small chuckle to escape her lips, though she quickly stifled it behind a hand. Interesting indeed, she thought to herself.

Rufus’s expression hardened, his wings flaring slightly in frustration. He took a step forward, eyes locked on Lyon, clearly brimming with anger. "You dare—!"

But before he could finish, Lyon gave him a lazy shrug. "I’m already standing in front of you, aren’t I? That’s all the respect you’ll get."

Cecile, from her spot by the banquet table, smirked. Maria let out a quiet snicker, and Selena’s cold eyes glinted with satisfaction.

Kesya nudged Ian playfully. "I told you, this is why I follow him."

Ian grinned, leaning against a pillar. "And he didn’t even last a minute before stirring the pot."

Aella’s lips curved slightly in a mixture of exasperation and intrigue. "You’re certainly not what I expected," she murmured under her breath.

Rufus’s fists clenched, but Aella rested a hand on his shoulder, calming him. "Not yet," she whispered.

Lyon crossed his arms, standing tall among the kneeling young masters. "Now," he said with a mischievous glint in his eyes, "let’s get on with it, shall we?"