Nestled in the center was a tiny box. No larger than a matchbox—perhaps smaller.
It had no glowing runes, no shimring gold trim, no aura of spiritual energy that most artifacts gave off.
It looked almost... forgotten. It was made of plain wood, dark and grainy, with corners that were uneven and slightly rough to the touch.
The edges were not symtrical, and the entire thing bore the subtle marks of having been hand-carved, likely by soone using simple tools and unrefined techniques.
It was, by all appearances, a humble thing.
But humility, in the world of cultivators, was sotis a disguise.
And Julius knew that better than most.
The mont his eyes landed on the box, his expression shifted in an instant.
Gone was the composed, regal patriarch who had just spoken with elegance and grace.
In his place stood a man stunned—montarily stripped bare by shock.
His eyes widened.
His breath caught in his throat.
A soft gasp escaped him before he could stop it, and his shoulders stiffened.
For a split second, he looked as though he had seen a ghost from a past he had long buried.
The sound of cheerful conversation around them dulled, as if the room itself leaned in to listen.
Julius’s gaze didn’t leave the box.
He stared at it with growing disbelief, his eyes scanning every imperfect line, every uneven edge.
His lips parted slightly, but no words ca out.
And when he finally reached forward to take it, his hands—those sa hands that once forged divine weapons and withstood infernal fla—trembled visibly.
He stopped, inches away, as if afraid his touch would break it... or worse, confirm it was real.
"This..." Julius murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.
"This shouldn’t exist. Not anymore."
He looked up at Riley, searching the younger man’s eyes for answers.
There was no smugness there. No arrogance. Just quiet affirmation.
Riley gave him a single, knowing nod.
The room fell into deeper silence.
Most of the guests couldn’t see the object, but the change in Julius’s deanor sent waves through the hall.
Conversations tapered off. Goblets were lowered.
Even the musicians, sensing sothing amiss, began to play more softly, allowing the weight of the mont to settle over the gathering like a gentle fog.
Evangeline tilted her head slightly, watching with quiet curiosity.
Ruby’s eyes narrowed, catching her patriarch’s reaction and sensing that sothing significant—sothing ancient—was at play.
The elders of the Raven Clan exchanged glances, so surprised, others knowingly silent.
Finally, Julius reached forward again.
This ti, he accepted the box with both hands.
Reverently.
As though receiving the ashes of a long-dead god.
He held it gently, as if even its weight ant sothing.
The corners pressed against his palms like mories, and he closed his eyes for a breath—perhaps to compose himself, perhaps to listen for whispers from a forgotten past.
"How..." he said at last, still not lifting his gaze. "How did this co into your hands?"
"I found it," Riley replied simply.
"In a ruined city beneath a burning ground, wrapped in cloth and sealed by old runes. It was protected by three curses and a slumbering guardian. I took nothing else."
Julius’s hands tightened around the box. His jaw clenched.
And though he said nothing more, the significance of Riley’s words was clear.
Whatever the box was, it was priceless—not in gold or spirit stones, but in aning.
And by offering it freely, Riley had done more than make ands.
He had offered honor.
He had offered trust.
He had offered history itself.
The Forge Clan’s patriarch slowly turned toward his son, who had sat quietly throughout the exchange.
Their eyes t—father and son—and though no words were spoken, sothing passed between them.
A silent understanding. A reminder of legacy.
When Julius finally looked back at Riley, there was sothing new in his eyes.
Not just gratitude.
But respect.
Deep and enduring.
"You do not give small gifts, Master Riley," Julius said softly. "And I will not forget this."
Riley gave a faint smile. "I never do anything small, Master Julius."
The music rose again in the background, but now the mood had shifted. Subtly.
Permanently.
Sothing had changed between the Raven and Forge Clans—and everyone in the room could feel it.
The feast would continue, but the story of that mont would be told for centuries.
"Hahaha!"
The sound of Julius’s booming laughter rang out like thunder across the massive banquet hall, echoing through the marbled corridors of the Cloudfall Pavilion.
The feast had raged for three days and three nights without interruption.
Dancers moved like flowing silk, musicians played divine lodies, and dishes made from rare spiritual beasts and celestial herbs were served endlessly.
But above all, it was Julius’s hearty laughter that punctuated the celebration, a true testant to the joy and camaraderie that filled the air.
Throughout those days, Riley remained calm and composed, speaking little but always with wisdom and weight.
He drank the finest wines and shared stories of distant realms, of immortal beasts and ancient legacies—but never once did he boast.
And though others grew weary or needed rest, Riley remained as composed and alert as ever, as if even ti itself dared not touch him.
Julius had watched carefully, and with each passing mont, the admiration in his eyes deepened.
This was no ordinary cultivator. No charlatan cloaked in mystery.
This was a man who stood at the summit—perhaps even beyond.
When the ti finally ca for Riley and the Raven Clan to depart, the atmosphere shifted.
The endless celebration dulled to a solemn silence, and many of the elders and younger generation stood respectfully as the great flying ship prepared to take off.
Julius stepped forward, his expression sincere and his bearing far more humble than when they first t.
He looked Riley up and down one last ti, as if trying to imprint the image into his mind.
"It’s hard to see you go, Master Riley," he said, clasping his hands together and bowing deeply.
"This has been one of the most morable gatherings of my life. To think, I’ve spoken, laughed, and shared drinks with soone like you... One of these days, I’ll co visit the Raven Clan myself. And when I do, I hope you won’t mind if I trouble you for a few pointers."
Riley smiled faintly.
The wind rustled his dark robes as his long hair fluttered behind him, glowing faintly under the sunlight.
"You’re always welco, Master Julius," he replied calmly.
"The doors of the Raven Clan are open to you and your family. But..."—he paused, his eyes gleaming with a trace of amusent—"sohow, I doubt that visit will happen anyti soon. You’ll have your hands full in the coming years—perhaps even the next few decades. After all, the path you’ve chosen won’t allow for much leisure."
Julius chuckled, though a trace of nervousness hid behind it. "You say that like you’ve already seen my future."
"I’ve rely seen enough of the past to guess what cos next," Riley said, his voice cryptic, but not unkind.
A gust of wind swept through the pavilion as the Raven Clan’s great flying vessel—larger than a palace and inscribed with ancient sigils—began to rise into the sky.
Dozens of lesser skyships floated around it like stars orbiting a moon, while immortal beasts soared through the clouds, letting out low roars that shook the heavens.
Julius, his people, and the many cultivators who had gathered to witness the feast watched in silence as Riley took his place at the prow of the main ship.
With a final glance back, Riley raised a hand in farewell.
"Until we et again," he said.
Then, like a shooting star cutting through the sky, the entire fleet vanished into the horizon, leaving behind only swirling clouds and a lingering sense of awe.
Julius stood motionless for a long ti, his gaze fixed on the heavens where the ships had disappeared. His hands were still clasped behind his back, but his heart was burning—not with envy, but with inspiration.
"To reach that level..." he murmured, almost to himself. "I must work ten tis harder. No, a hundred tis. I must forge a legacy worthy of being rembered alongside his."
And thus, a new fire was lit within the master of the immortal forge clan—a fire that would one day shake the immortal realm.
And true to Riley’s words, Julius was indeed imnsely busy in the days that followed.
Deep within his secret realm, the rhythmic clang of hamr striking tal echoed day and night like a steady heartbeat.
Sparks flew in every direction as divine flas danced around the forge, casting his silhouette in flickering light.
A wide, satisfied grin stretched across Julius’s face as he worked tirelessly, his bare arms gleaming with sweat and spiritual energy.
Each strike of the hamr was precise and filled with purpose, as if he were sculpting not just a weapon, but a dream.
He wasn’t just forging steel. He was forging a new future, one strike at a ti.
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