An Ice Flower III

When the day of Seraphina's eighteenth birthday finally arrived, Mo Zenith couldn't take his eyes off his daughter. She seemed radiant, as if her very presence had the power to light up the grand halls of Mount Hua. Her smile was bright, a rare and beautiful departure from her usual composed demeanor.

Her dress was a masterpiece of design—a flowing blue gown that shimmered like frost under moonlight. It framed her silver hair, cascading down her shoulders, and brought out the icy brilliance of her blue eyes, a gift from her late mother. Adorning her was a platinum tiara that rested regally upon her head, paired with a sapphire necklace and earrings that glinted with every turn of her head.

Mo's heart swelled, a complicated mix of emotions tugging at him. She was no longer the little girl he once held in his arms, but a young woman standing confidently in her own light. The thought filled him with both pride and a quiet ache. Watching her grow up was like witnessing the passing of seasons—beautiful but inevitable.

But as Seraphina's gaze flicked toward him briefly before turning away, Mo's chest tightened. She didn't linger, didn't smile at him like she did at others. He sighed inwardly.

"Father," Seraphina said, her voice calm but tinged with anticipation, "we need to pick up Arthur first."

Mo nodded slowly, pushing his thoughts aside as he walked beside her. There's an old saying that no father truly likes his daughter's boyfriend. For Mo, this sentiment rang particularly true. It wasn't that he disliked Arthur; it was simply that he found himself scrutinizing the boy more closely than he would anyone else.

'She's happy. That's what matters,' Mo told himself. And yet, it didn't ease the knot in his chest as he followed her to Arthur's room.

The modern door slid open with a faint hiss to reveal Arthur, standing impeccably dressed in a tailored suit. He was calm, poised, and every bit the gentleman. Mo had to admit, begrudgingly, that the boy carried himself well.

"Greetings, Your Majesty," Arthur said, bowing respectfully. His voice was steady, and he met Mo's gaze without faltering. It was a small gesture, but it carried weight.

Mo inclined his head in acknowledgment, his own expression unreadable. However, his attention was quickly drawn to Seraphina. Her cheeks had turned a faint shade of red, and her smile grew even wider as she took Arthur's arm.

Mo let out a quiet sigh, his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer before they began their walk toward the grand hall. 'She doesn't need to see it. She just needs to feel it,' he thought. But the ache in his chest didn't lessen.

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The sound of enchanted strings filled the hall as I led Seraphina to the center of the floor. Her hand rested lightly in mine, her ice-blue eyes meeting my gaze with unwavering confidence. There was no hesitation in her expression, no trace of nervousness. This was Seraphina Zenith, proud, radiant, and entirely my equal in this moment.

I guided her into the first steps of the waltz, and we moved together as though we had rehearsed for years. Her dress shimmered with every turn, a river of silver and blue that seemed to reflect the light of the chandeliers above. Every movement she made was deliberate yet effortless, and I couldn't help but admire her.

"You look stunning tonight," I said softly, letting my words carry between us as I spun her.

Her lips curved into a teasing smile. "And you look... acceptable," she replied, a mischievous glint in her eye. "But don't get used to compliments, Arthur. I still plan on defeating you in our next spar."

I chuckled, leaning closer as I matched her steps. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

The music carried us further across the floor, her every step deliberate yet fluid. As we danced, she leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a whisper only I could hear. "Father's still glaring at you, isn't he?"

I cast a brief glance toward the edge of the hall, where Mo Zenith stood, a monument of stoic intensity. "Glaring? Not quite. Contemplating how to best make my life difficult? Absolutely."

Seraphina let out a soft laugh, the sound both sharp and melodic. "Don't mind him. He doesn't care about things like this." There was a slight edge to her tone, a bitterness carefully veiled beneath her usual composure. "He's more worried about his legacy than his daughter."

I tightened my grip on her hand slightly, just enough to let her know I heard her. "That's not true."

She glanced up at me, her sapphire gaze flickering with something unspoken before she shrugged, her expression smoothing over again. "It doesn't matter. I've learned not to expect much."

I wanted to push further, to tell her she was wrong, but now wasn't the time. Instead, I spun her gently, letting the music fill the momentary silence between us. When she returned to my arms, I spoke quietly, my words meant just for her. "You mean more to him than you think."

Her lips pressed into a thin line, and she glanced away briefly. "If that's true, he has a strange way of showing it."

There was so much I wanted to say, but I held it back. Instead, I smiled faintly. "Well, I'm here for you."

Her steps slowed just slightly, her eyes meeting mine again. There was a softness there, a flicker of vulnerability she rarely showed. "You always are."

As the music began to draw to a close, Seraphina leaned in closer, her silver hair brushing lightly against my cheek. "Thank you for being here, Arthur."

"Always," I said simply, the word carrying more weight than I expected. "For you? Always."

A flicker of warmth passed through her gaze, and she leaned in closer, her voice dropping into an intimate whisper. "I'll need you later as well."

My heart gave a small jolt at her words, though I kept my expression steady. "Will that include another one of those awkward lunches with your father?"

"Lunch? Not breakfast?" she countered smoothly, one brow arching with a perfect blend of challenge and amusement.

"Well, I doubt we'll wake up early enough for breakfast," I teased, grinning as a faint flush rose to her usually pale cheeks.

Her usual composure faltered for just a moment before she leaned in even closer, her lips brushing against my ear. "I'll find out tonight, Arthur."

The warmth of her breath and the weight of her words sent a spark through me, but she wasn't finished. "And yes, you should have lunch with my father if you want to marry me. Necessary sacrifices and all that. Even if you don't see eye to eye."

I let out a slow breath, my grin softening into something more genuine. "I know. Anything for you."

Her blush deepened, and for the briefest moment, Seraphina's usual poise gave way to something delicate and entirely hers. I committed that moment to memory, knowing it was rare and precious, a gift only she could give.

After dancing with Seraphina, I moved seamlessly to Rachel and Cecilia, sharing the same familiar rhythm that had become second nature to us all. Their laughter and warmth filled the air, but my focus kept wandering elsewhere.

I found my gaze repeatedly drifting toward Mo Zenith.

From an outsider's perspective, he looked every bit the part of a King: a towering figure of authority, command, and unyielding strength. But I could see the cracks beneath the polished exterior. The shadows in his silver eyes betrayed a truth that few dared to acknowledge.

Mo Zenith was a King in decline.

His once unshakable aura was now haunted by inner demons he couldn't banish. His relentless drive for strength, fueled by an inferiority complex, had consumed him. The Mount Hua sect's most prized Grade 6 art, Violet Mist Divine Art, was his obsession—an obsession born from the humiliation of being utterly outclassed by Magnus Draykar. No matter how much he pushed himself, he couldn't match Magnus's mastery. That failure had eaten away at him.

In his desperation, Mo turned inward, devoting himself entirely to refining his art. But this fixation came at a cost. He neglected everything else—his leadership of Mount Hua, his duties as a King, and worst of all, his relationship with Seraphina.

As I sipped my drink, I recalled what would happen in the novel. Mo's negligence created a vacuum of power within Mount Hua, one that Sun Zenith—a prodigiously talented yet utterly corrupt adopted son—was all too eager to fill. Sun systematically rallied the Masters and Elders to his side, eroding Mo's authority bit by bit. And Seraphina? She became a target for Sun's hatred, a living reminder of the Zenith bloodline he could never truly claim as his own.

In the novel, Sun's greed culminated in an unthinkable betrayal. He plotted to kidnap Seraphina and sell her to the Wudang sect, reducing her to a mere tool for her immense talent. But that was where Lucifer came in.

Lucifer Windward's March Up Mount Hua became legend. At low Immortal-rank, alongside his father Arden Windward, Lucifer scaled the mountain and laid waste to the corrupted sect. It was a feat of unparalleled might and determination. Together, they uprooted the cancer within Mount Hua, annihilating all who had betrayed its principles.

Lucifer himself faced Sun Zenith, who had ascended to peak Immortal-rank. It was during that climactic battle that Lucifer, pushed to his absolute limits, finally bonded with the Legendary-grade sword his father had gifted him. The duel was fierce, but Lucifer triumphed, marking one of the greatest victories of his life.

But the cost was devastating. Mount Hua was left in ruins, its power diminished beyond recognition, and its reputation tarnished by the corruption that had festered within.

I didn't want history to repeat itself.

I set my glass down, determination hardening in my chest. If I could act now, if I could guide Mo away from his self-destructive path, perhaps I could save Mount Hua from that fate. The sect deserved better. And Seraphina deserved a father who would stand beside her, not one consumed by shadows.

Mo caught my gaze briefly, his expression unreadable. For a fleeting moment, I thought I saw a flicker of regret in his silver eyes before he turned away.

"Arthur, are you alright?" Seraphina's soft voice pulled me back to the present. She stood by my side, her sapphire eyes filled with quiet concern.

I smiled at her, letting her presence ground me. "Just thinking, Sera. About you. About your future."

Her cheeks flushed faintly, but she didn't press further. Instead, she slipped her hand into mine, her touch a silent reminder of why I couldn't let this world fall apart the way it had in the novel. Not for her, not for anyone.

If I could rewrite destiny, I would. And it would start here.