Chapter 8

"So, did you help Mother with her flowers?" Lyra asked, a big smile lighting up her face. The joy in her eyes was undeniable; she knew she had finally won the heart of the most sought-after man in the city. Her maidservants, who had teased her relentlessly, would now have to acknowledge her triumph. She had brought them many magical gifts from the sect, which she hoped would soften their jests and earn their admiration.

"Of course. With just a touch, even a dead plant shall thrive once more," Rowan replied, his voice filled with quiet confidence. His ability to breathe life into the withered and forlorn plants in her mother's garden was just one of the many reasons she admired him.

"That's wonderful. Mother will be so pleased," Lyra said, her happiness evident. "Now, we need to go inside and eat. Father has prepared a great feast to celebrate my homecoming."

As they walked towards the house, hand in hand, Lyra felt a sense of contentment she had never known before. The grandeur of her family's estate was matched only by the warmth and love she felt within its walls. The flowers in the garden seemed to bloom more brightly, as if reflecting her own happiness.

Entering the grand dining hall, the aroma of roasted meats and freshly baked bread filled the air. The table was laden with an array of dishes, each more sumptuous than the last. Her father, a proud and imposing figure, stood at the head of the table, beaming with pride at his daughter's return and the man she had chosen.

"Welcome home, Lyra," he said, his voice warm and welcoming. "And welcome, Rowan. It is an honor to have you here."

"Thank you, Father," Lyra replied, her heart swelling with gratitude and love. "It is good to be home."

Rowan nodded respectfully. "Thank you, sir. It is an honor to be welcomed so warmly."

As they took their seats, the conversations flowed easily, filled with laughter and shared memories. The feast was a celebration not just of Lyra's return, but of new beginnings and the promise of happy days ahead. Surrounded by family and love, Lyra and Rowan knew they had found their place in the world, and nothing could dim the brightness of their future together.

The feast lasted for seven days, each day more magnificent than the last, with a steady stream of guests and visitors arriving from all over the city. The city lord's grand estate became a hub of activity, drawing in people from every corner of the region. Representatives from the major clans also attended, their presence a blend of diplomacy and espionage, as they discreetly gathered information on the city lord's affairs and alliances.

The grand halls and lavish gardens buzzed with conversation and laughter, yet beneath the surface, a subtle tension lingered. The women, enchanted by Rowan's charm and aura of mystery, couldn't take their eyes off him. His mere presence seemed to command attention, and whispers of admiration followed him wherever he went. Meanwhile, the men in attendance were equally captivated by Lyra, their gazes filled with a mix of admiration and barely concealed desire. Her beauty and grace were unparalleled, and her status only added to her allure.

Despite the undercurrents of rivalry and desire, the guests maintained a veneer of politeness, aware that the city lord's watchful eye missed nothing. He was a powerful figure, and offending him would bring severe consequences. His authority loomed large over the festivities, ensuring that even the most ambitious guests restrained themselves and behaved with decorum.

The city lord himself moved among the guests with ease, his presence commanding respect and deference. He was pleased to see his daughter so happy and proud to show off her choice in Rowan. The feast featured entertainment from the best performers in the region, and the tables were laden with the finest foods and wines, symbolizing the wealth and influence of the household.

Throughout the celebrations, Lyra and Rowan remained the center of attention. They moved gracefully through the crowd, exchanging pleasantries and enjoying the festivities, but always with a sense of unity and connection that was evident to all. Lyra's eyes sparkled with joy, and Rowan's calm, assured demeanor provided a perfect counterbalance.

As the days passed, alliances were formed and strengthened, and the city lord's power and influence grew even more pronounced. Despite the underlying currents of ambition and desire, the feast was a resounding success, marking not just Lyra's homecoming but also the promise of a bright future for her and Rowan. The celebrations cemented their place within the city's elite, and they looked forward to the many happy days that lay ahead, confident in their love and the strength of their bond.

On the 8th day of the grand feast, Lyra received a summons from her father, the esteemed city lord, for a private audience. It was a rare and significant occasion for Lyra, offering her a precious opportunity to seek counsel on her cultivation challenges. Her father, known for his wisdom and influence, was equally eager to hear about her experiences and progress within the esteemed Nine Heavens Sect, a prestigious institution renowned for its teachings in martial arts and spiritual enlightenment.

As Lyra made her way to her father's chambers, the bustling festivities continued unabated throughout the estate. Guests mingled in the opulent halls, exchanging pleasantries and forging alliances, while servants attended to every need, ensuring the seamless continuation of the celebratory atmosphere.

Meanwhile, in another part of the estate, a figure silently made her way through the corridors. The woman, whose beauty was as striking as it was enigmatic, moved with grace and purpose. Her destination was clear: Rowan's chamber, where he lay peacefully asleep, oblivious to the world outside his dreams.

"Is he already asleep?" she whispered softly upon entering, her voice barely a breath in the stillness of the room. The moonlight filtering through the window cast a gentle glow upon Rowan's features, highlighting his strong jawline and tousled hair. Her gaze lingered upon him, captivated by his youthful appearance and undeniable charm.

"At thirty years of age and not a single wrinkle in sight. You truly take after your father," she murmured with a hint of admiration, her fingers lightly brushing against Rowan's cheek. The comparison to his father, a man known for his striking good looks and charisma, was not lost on her. Yet, in her eyes, Rowan possessed a magnetic allure that surpassed even his esteemed parent. Rowan was probably a trillion trillion times more handsome than his father could ever be. 

She paused, contemplating the implications of her presence in his room. Her motives were shrouded in mystery, her intentions unclear as she stood at the bedside, entranced by the slumbering figure before her. The air was thick with anticipation, as if the very walls held their breath, awaiting her next move in this clandestine encounter.