The Wicked Female Is Wild and Scheming, Living in a Love Battlefield Every Day Chapter 521 - 394: Clan Register

Sylvanus Phoenix had yet to state his position.

Corbin Crowley’s gaze swept past the five eggs, his voice cold: "Ordinary clan mbers? Wishful thinking. Stillborns nourished by the resentnt and gloom of The Beast Graveyard—who knows what kind of temperant they’ll develop once hatched? If they never learn the truth of their origins, perhaps all is well, but if they ever discover they’re born of the old Clan Leader’s bloodline, do you think they’ll reconcile themselves to life as re commoners? And then there’s the blood feud for their mother’s death. Hmph... who knows what they’ll do, then?"

Zeke Veridian nodded in agreent, his voice indifferent, "Corbin speaks wisely. These five atavisms are born of resentnt, and they harbor a grudge against Sylvanus, too. For now, unaware and ignorant, they pose no threat. But once aware of their lineage, they’re sure to beco seeds of disaster. Showing rcy and sparing them is hardly prudent."

Kian Sterling silently agreed as well—leaving a hidden threat was truly unwise.

Yet, recalling the mysterious workings of fate, he opted for silence.

After all, this was Sylvanus’s issue; to kill or spare was his to decide.

No need to comnt further and accrue more blood debt on himself.

Sylvanus, unaware of Kian’s inner deliberations, fixed his peach blossom gaze on the five eggs, fingertips unconsciously rubbing his feather fan.

That wretched bitch Ruby had been slain by a single blow from him.

These five eggs, though his half-siblings, still carried that grudge.

Kill them?

Five unborn lives, still in their shells—undeniably innocent.

Leave them?

As Corbin and Zeke pointed out, the hidden danger was bottomless.

For once, he fell silent.

Rhys Blackwood, seeing Sylvanus hesitate, suddenly spoke coolly: "Hidden threats must be crushed before they sprout. If you can’t do it, I’ll handle it."

So saying, he raised a foot, ready to stomp the five eggs to pulp.

"Wait."

Sylvanus suddenly raised a hand to block Rhys, his attention drawn to a faint tremor from the five Phoenix Eggs, their faint red glow seeming to dim further.

He raked a hand through his hair, irritably. "Tch... word gets out I’ve killed a bunch of eggs, what would people say of this Clan Leader? Makes look guilty as hell."

His lips curled in a wry smile, peach blossom eyes narrowed once more, returning to that rakish, unrestrained air: "So, five eggs, is it? Raise them—what then? You think this Clan Leader would fear a handful of brats overturning the heavens? Erase all trace of their origins, toss them to so loyal, childless Old Beastman to foster, and have them raised like any other ordinary Phoenix cubs. Anyone who dares leak a word, I’ll pluck his feathers and break his phoenix bones."

He turned to Zeke: "Poison Bamboo, aren’t you the purest among the Wood Spirit Root? I recall Luna taught you the Purification Technique, yes? Purify them, just in case there’s anything truly inauspicious lurking inside before they hatch."

Having spoken, he looked askance elsewhere: "As for the Old Beastman foster parent, I’ll make a careful choice—absolutely trustworthy, so no one can make mischief with this later."

Rhys Blackwood shot Sylvanus a brief, indifferent glance, said nothing, and withdrew his foot in silence.

He suddenly felt a bit ddleso.

Jade’s erald eyes flickered; he nodded, "It can be done."

He stepped forward, slender fingers pointing in the air over the five eggs.

Green light, as fine as threads, wove around them; ribbons of ashen-black miasma were coaxed out from the eggshells, dispersing into the air.

The red light within the shells seed to beco brighter and purer, infused with warmth.

With this resolved, the vague irritation in Sylvanus’s heart also dissipated.

He waved a big hand: "Enough, enough, pack up these little headaches and take them away—find a loyal Old Beastman to raise them. This Clan Leader still has to worry about how to show you all around Aetheria—who has ti to brood over a few eggs?"

Malachi Arcanus chuckled, "Exactly—what’s the big deal?"

The group took a few jabs at him, and the atmosphere instantly lightened.

Sylvanus bundled up the five eggs and handed them to an Old Beastman he trusted, strictly forbidding any disclosure of the five children’s true parentage.

With this matter settled—

He turned with a smile to Corbin and the others, "Co on, let’s go watch The Dragon Clan’s ancestor worship. Their festival is a rare spectacle—would be a sha to miss it."

Watching the ancestral rites was one thing; more importantly, he was missing Luna—it had been days since he’d last seen her.

Corbin frowned, "Ancestor worship in The Dragon Clan—what business do outsiders like us have there?"

Rhys kept an impassive expression and nodded, "It’s against custom."

"Custom?"

Sylvanus raised a delicate brow, feather fan fluttering with roguish flair. "We’re not going inside—just watching from afar. Besides, don’t you all miss Luna?"

Luna, as the Young Master’s consort, wasn’t even allowed near the altar—couldn’t even go in—just had to wait outside.

Sadly, that was The Dragon Clan’s rule.

No one lacking true Dragon Blood could enter—not even a mate.

At the ntion of Luna Sutton, everyone fell silent.

Corbin thought of Luna waiting all alone outside, and felt a pang in his heart.

He frowned, considered a mont, then nodded first: "Fine. I’ll go."

"Then let’s go."

Rhys had no objection, turning to depart at once.

Jade’s gaze swept over Sylvanus, and he spat out two words coolly: "Lead the way."

Kian and Malachi had even less reason to object—if anything, they were eager to fly over imdiately.

Sylvanus smiled, deeply satisfied: "Now that’s the spirit."

......

Three days passed in a flash.

The Dragon Clan’s ancestral grounds—the Altar of the Progenitor Dragon.

That massive black altar was carved whole from a block of Mystic Crystal Stone, its surface etched with arcane, exquisite Dragon Clan totems radiating an aura of ti-honored mystery.

The air was steeped in a solemn hush, as if even ti itself had co to a standstill.

At the base of the altar, Horace Valerius stood at the fore, the clan’s pure-blooded Dragon Clan scions standing at rigid attention behind him.

Mael Valerius took up a spot just behind his father, dressed in an onyx Dragon Sacrificial Robe embroidered with gold dragons, which made his features seem all the colder and more august—those dark gold eyes as calm and deep as an abyss.

On either of his wrists coiled Goldie (Aurelius Valerius) and Little Azure Dragon (Sol Valerius).

For once, the two little ones were uncharacteristically quiet, eyes wide and round, taking in the scene curiously from every angle.

In the altar’s center, The Dragon Clan’s High Priest was garbed in a robe adorned with stars and moons, holding a milky-white staff set with a Dragon Ball at its head.

His voice, old and sonorous, chanted a string of lengthy, abstruse prayers.

This was The Dragon Clan’s core, most sacred rite—only those with the blood of the Ancestor Dragon flowing in their veins had the right to set foot here.

Beyond the altar, an invisible barrier blocked all from entry.

Luna Sutton sat idly on the grass outside, twirling a stalk of foxtail grass round and round her finger.

Though kept out by the barrier, she was utterly unbothered.

She wasn’t of the Dragon Clan, had no Ancestor Dragon blood within—why partake in ancestor worship?

They weren’t her ancestors.

Still, her gaze drifted to the ancestral grounds within, settling on Mael Valerius and the two young dragon cubs, a faint smile curling on her lips.

Her man was, indeed, the most outstanding present—standing out among the Dragon Clan’s scions like a crane in a flock of chickens, dazzling and radiant.

The other young dragons paled in comparison—nondescript, almost dull.

So kin, mates without the right of entry, and branch clan mbers—

And guests who had co to The Dragon Clan for the spectacle—all gathered in little knots nearby.

Their glances, so open, so covert, fell on Luna Sutton—whispered gossip following inevitably.

Few in Aetheria had t her, but there were always so who recognized her.

"See her? That’s the Young Master’s woman from The Lower Domain... Or is it the Beast God Envoy? Haha—she can’t even enter the Dragon Clan’s ancestral grounds, simply left waiting outside."

"So what if she birthed dragon cubs? The Dragon Clan’s Sacred Land isn’t for the likes of her."

"Heard she’s been quartered in the Athyst Palace? What a waste. Princess Willow of the Celestian Clan—how is she any lesser?"

"Shhh... the Young Master’s inside..."

"What’s there to fear? It’s not like she can hear—"

...

Luna Sutton acted as though she hadn’t heard a word, twirling the foxtail grass even more rrily around her fingers.

Suddenly, commotion rose within the barrier.

All eyes instantly turned toward the altar in the ancestral land.

It was Horace Valerius, holding a carving pen, inscribing the two young dragons’ nas onto the Ancestor Dragon Stele with ceremony.

Aurelius Valerius, Sol Valerius!

When he reached the line for "Mother"—

His pen hesitated, his gaze flicking sidelong to the slender figure outside the barrier.

"Clan Leader?"

The High Priest looked up, puzzled.

Horace Valerius’s expression twisted with conflict; he frowned, but eventually wrote "Luna Sutton."

The characters seed to bite deep into the stone, as if charged with a spiteful force—his jaw set.

He might dislike Luna Sutton, but the two boys’ mother could hardly be rendered as "air."

Outside the barrier, an uproar swiftly erupted.

"He actually entered her into the clan register?!"

"What right does a woman from The Lower Domain have?"

...

Luna Sutton arched a brow, genuinely surprised that Horace Valerius would inscribe her na; it struck her as amusing.

Just as she was finding the whole thing funny, she sensed sothing and looked skyward.

"Luna."

Sylvanus’s flamboyant voice descended from the clouds—his fiery-red form cutting through the sky.

As he touched the ground, he resud human form.

Corbin and the others leapt lightly from his back, landing by her side, capturing everyone’s attention at once.

"What brought all of you here?"

Her eyes lit up with joy; she instantly stood, brushing grass and leaves from her clothes.

Sylvanus Phoenix swept open his feather fan, walking over with a bright smile, "Of course, we missed you."

He gave the barrier a sidelong glance, "Oh? Seems we arrived just in ti for the good part?"

His eyes fell instantly on the Ancestor Dragon Stele’s inscription: "Luna Sutton."

Corbin, Rhys, Kian, Zeke, and Malachi all noticed, naturally.

Corbin’s eyes flashed, "Well, at least you’re not being wronged."

As for weddings, such a concept simply didn’t exist in the beast realm.

Being entered into the clan register amounted to acceptance.

Luna Sutton chuckled softly, gazing at her na on the Stele, lips curved in a gentle smile, "Wronged? Hardly—I never cared for that anyway."

Inside the barrier, Mael Valerius seed to sense sothing; his dark-gold eyes looked through the veil at her.

Seeing Sylvanus and the others, his brow creased—just barely discernible.

"Young Master, it’s your turn."

The High Priest’s voice snapped him back to the present.

Mael Valerius withdrew his gaze, guiding the two little dragons forward.

He condensed a drop of blood essence at his fingertip and dotted it on the Ancestor Dragon Stele.

Goldie and Little Azure Dragon copied him, clumsy claws leaving their own traces on the stone.

The entire ancestor-worship ceremony lasted a full day.

At last, as the sunset’s final rays tinged the cloud sea red, the barrier finally faded, and the Dragon Clan scions began to file out one after another.