In the early morning, Golden Statue Tree Street was even more deserted than the day before.
When Ian awoke from his Meditation, a few rays of bleak sunlight were already filtering through the branches and leaves of the old sycamore tree.
The Magic Concentration in the air here was noticeably higher than in Anoraya, but it also felt "heavier."
It was as if it were being suppressed by some invisible Order, making its flow sluggish.
When he pushed open the door to his room, Aidele was already waiting in the courtyard.
She had changed into a formal, dark teal Long Robe, her hair neatly tied back to reveal her small, delicate face.
Delia stood half a step to her side, holding a small leather document pouch.
Old Finn peeked out from the front hall of the Workshop. He looked at Aidele, his lips moving as if he wanted to say something.
In the end, he just lowered his head in silence and continued polishing the object in his hands.
"Let’s go," Aidele said, her voice calm.
They were in the southern part of the city, where the buildings were mostly old and low-rise, and the streets were narrow.
The farther east they walked, the wider the streets and taller the buildings became.
The invisible pressure in the air also grew heavier.
Ian’s Spiritual Perception spread out cautiously, like the finest spider silk.
He could "hear" the auras of at least four Level One Peak Wizards in the five-story stone building to their left.
From beneath the tower to their right came the faint hum of an Energy Furnace, mingled with the clanging of forged metal—an Alchemy Workshop.
And farther in the distance stood a building constructed entirely of massive, dark cyan stones, its spire piercing the low-hanging clouds...
The Time Trace Tower.
Even from a great distance, Ian could feel the vast, abyssal fluctuations radiating from the tower.
It wasn’t a simple accumulation of Magic Concentration; it was something deeper, more profound.
Ripples of the Time Rule washed over the entire city in invisible tides, wave after wave.
Within his Sea of Spirit, the pale gold Crystal Core trembled slightly.
The Seed of the Stars he cultivated touched upon the fringes of the Time Rule and the stars.
The tower’s aura caused the Power of the Stars within him to stir ever so faintly.
"That’s the clan’s main tower."
Aidele followed his gaze, her voice devoid of emotion.
"It’s where the Elder Council and core members reside. It’s also... the last place my father was before he fell into a coma."
Ian retracted his gaze and said nothing.
After another twenty minutes of walking, Aidele stopped in front of a particularly massive gray stone building.
The building was a rectangular monolith, devoid of any carvings, looking like a giant boulder that had been forcibly polished flat and brutally slammed onto the land.
Above the lintel, three cold words were carved in an ancient script.
Clan Affairs Hall.
Two Guards in Dark Silver Armor stood at the entrance.
Ian noticed their auras were not those of Wizards. They were more like some kind of enhanced Warriors, with condensed presences and bulging muscles.
Seeing Aidele, one of the Guards stepped forward, barring the way with his halberd.
"Identity."
His voice was like grinding stones, completely flat.
Aidele produced a palm-sized silver Badge. The Guard took it and pressed it onto a recessed Stone Slab by the door.
The Stone Slab lit up with a faint glow that swept over the Badge’s surface like a scanner.
Three seconds later, the Guard handed the Badge back and stepped aside.
"Please enter."
Inside the door was a long, dimly lit corridor.
Ian could feel gazes from behind the closed stone doors on either side of the corridor, watching them through peepholes or sensing Runes.
The gazes were mostly cold and scrutinizing, as if assessing the value of goods.
At the end of the corridor was a giant, five-meter-tall black Metal door.
Aidele stopped before the door, took a deep breath, and placed her hand on her Badge.
Silver patterns lit up, spreading like ripples across the entire door.
The heavy sound of machinery came from within, and then the giant door slid inward without a sound.
Behind the door was an exceptionally spacious hall.
The ceiling was a single, smoothly polished slab of black Crystal, reflecting hundreds of floating, silvery-white spheres of light below.
In the center of the hall were a dozen or so rows of long tables made from black wood.
On either side of the hall, several corridors led deeper into the building, their entrances manned by Guards with even more condensed auras.
At the moment, besides the staff going about their daily work, a few scattered groups of people were also standing in the hall.
They were all dressed in Long Robes of various styles but made of fine fabrics, and were accompanied by attendants or Guards.
They kept a clear distance from one another, and when their gazes occasionally met, an invisible sharpness filled the air.
Aidele’s arrival caused the noise in the hall to drop instantly.
A dozen or so gazes shot toward them from different directions.
There was curiosity, scrutiny, unconcealed contempt, and deeply hidden calculation.
Ian stood half a step to Aidele’s side, the hem of his black Long Robe hanging still, his face expressionless.
He had retracted his Spiritual Power to the absolute minimum, maintaining only the most ordinary level of a Level Two Initial Stage Wizard, like an unremarkable Stone.
Gaga huddled deep in the hood on his shoulder, its breathing shallow.
Aidele ignored the stares, her back straight, and walked directly to a lone counter on the right side of the hall.
A middle-aged Warlock sat behind the counter.
He wore dark gray robes with a silver clan affairs officer’s Badge pinned to his chest.
Level Two Middle Stage. His aura was solid, and his eyes were as shrewd and cold as the beads of an abacus.
He was holding a Rune Pen, looking down and checking a Crystal Plate in front of him. He didn’t even raise his head at the sound of their footsteps.
"Number, reason for visit." His voice was dry, as if he were reciting regulations.
"Aidele Justice, seventh-in-line heir."
Aidele’s voice was calm. "Submitting a registration for an Honored Guest Elder, and my return papers."
The middle-aged officer finally looked up.
He sized up Aidele, his gaze lingering on her face for a moment before the corner of his mouth curved into a faint, almost mocking arc.
Then his eyes swept over Delia behind her, finally landing on Ian.
The gaze was like a knife, scraping him from head to toe.
"Name, background," he asked Ian, his tone clearly impatient.
"Ian Marcus, Level Two Initial Stage, from the East Coast."
Ian’s answer was concise. ’No one here knows me, so I don’t mind using my real name. Besides, I’m worried these big clans might have some strange lie-detecting Witchcraft. Trying to be clever with a fake name could backfire.’
"The East Coast?" The middle-aged officer’s brow furrowed, as if he’d heard something foul.
"That chain of backwater islands?"
From among the groups of people standing around the hall came low snickers.
The sound wasn’t loud, but it was particularly jarring in the quiet hall.
Ian’s expression didn’t change, but a silver glint in the depths of his eyes flared for an instant before quickly dying out.
"According to clan rules, a Level Two Wizard is qualified to register as an Honored Guest Elder."
Aidele’s voice remained steady. "Please process the registration."
The middle-aged officer shot her a glance, pulled a yellowed Parchment form from a drawer, and tapped the counter with his Rune Pen.
"Indeed. Fill this out."
The form had many fields: name, age, place of origin, affiliated faction, area of expertise in Witchcraft, special bloodlines or Talents, past achievements...
There were dozens of items in total.
Ian took the form, picked up the spare Feather Pen next to it, and began to fill it out.
In the age field, he wrote "sixty-five." ’It seems like a more appropriate age,’ he thought, though he was only twenty-one.
He paused when he reached the "Area of Expertise" field.
Aidele stood beside him, her eyes fixed on the form, her fingers unconsciously tightening.
Ian lifted the pen and wrote in that field: "Tier One Alchemist."
The moment the nib touched the paper, the middle-aged officer’s eyebrow twitched.
From the groups that had snickered earlier, the sounds of derision grew more pronounced.
"A Tier One Alchemist?" a somewhat shrill voice called from the left, filled with undisguised mockery.
"Miss Aidele, what kind of treasure did you dig up from some countryside workshop?"
The speaker was a young Level Two Warlock in a dark red, gold-embroidered Long Robe. Beside him stood a grim-faced Level Two Late Stage Wizard.
’To dare mock Aidele in public, this young Warlock must be one of the other heirs,’ Ian deduced.
He currently had his arms crossed, a mocking smile playing on his lips as he watched them.
Aidele neither turned around nor responded.
She simply looked at the middle-aged officer. "Please continue."
The middle-aged officer’s mouth twitched. He took the form Ian had filled out, glanced at it, and then retrieved a silver Badge, about half the size of his palm, from under the counter.
The front of the Badge bore the Justice Clan’s crest, while the back was engraved with Ian’s name and a temporary number.
He tossed the Badge onto the counter.
"The temporary Honored Guest Elder Badge grants access to the clan’s non-core areas and a ten percent discount on basic materials in the internal market.
You must report your whereabouts to the Affairs Hall monthly. The badge is valid for three months.
After three months, the recommending heir must re-evaluate and sponsor you for it to be renewed."
He spoke quickly, as if reciting regulations, his tone cold and impersonal.
Aidele picked up the Badge, her fingertips pausing for a moment as they touched the cool Metal.
’Three months.’ This was the clan’s "observation period" for new Honored Guest Elders. It was also a way to put pressure... on the recommending heir. ’If I can’t prove this Honored Guest Elder’s value within three months, or if I myself lose my competitive standing, this Badge will become invalid. And an Honored Guest Elder with an invalid badge will either be expelled or... poached by another heir.’
She handed the Badge to Ian.
Ian took it and sent his Spiritual Power into the Badge, discovering a precise Rune Array inside.
There was also a faint monitoring fluctuation connected to some central location.
He pinned the Badge to the lapel of his dark gray Long Robe.
In the hall, the disdain in the onlookers’ gazes became even more undisguised.
"Return papers." The middle-aged officer pulled out another form. "Sign."
Aidele took the form, scanned it quickly, then picked up a Feather Pen and signed her name at the bottom.
The middle-aged officer took the form, entered the information into the Crystal Plate, and then waved his hand dismissively.
"You’re done."
The entire process took less than ten minutes.
Aidele turned to leave.
Just as she turned, two people emerged from a corridor on the left side of the hall.
The one in the lead was a middle-aged Warlock in a deep blue Long Robe. He was a Level Two Late Stage, with a refined appearance and a gentle smile on his lips.
His eyes, however, were like two deep wells, their bottoms impossible to see.
Following behind him was a young Level One Peak attendant, holding a stack of documents.
When the middle-aged Warlock saw Aidele, he paused slightly, a perfectly measured look of surprise on his face.