"This…" Alvin hesitated, his lips pressing together as he considered his words carefully.
Though he was young—barely eighteen—he was not naïve.
Life in Azure Cloud City had shown him every shade of human desire, from starving beggars clawing for scraps to arrogant nobles drunk on their own wealth.
Born poor, hardened by hunger and hardship, Alvin had learned quickly that to survive in this city one needed more than just luck.
His eyes, his ears, and his instincts were his weapons.
He had to read people correctly—or end up as just another nameless corpse drifting down the Turtle Shell River.
And now, watching the tall figure before him, Alvin felt that same instinct stir.
His new master, this impossibly handsome man named Dorian, did not radiate the aura of a simple cultivator, nor the stiffness of an elder.
No, there was something deeper in his gaze—something wild, playful, and hungry.
Alvin deduced one thing with near certainty: Master Dorian was a man who delighted in women.
A womanizer, perhaps… but the kind whose charm and power made resistance impossible.
Still, that was none of Alvin's concern. His role was not to question but to serve.
He straightened, gathering his courage.
"There are many fair maidens in Azure Cloud City, Master Dorian," Alvin said at last.
His voice trembled at first but soon steadied as he warmed to the topic.
"So many that I couldn't name them all even if I tried. Yet… a few stand above the rest. Names that everyone whispers about in awe."
His tone grew animated, his eyes sparkling with youthful excitement as he leaned closer.
"They say Young Miss Liana Croft has a beauty that defies reason. Men claim that one look from her will leave you restless for nights on end. Her smile, they say, can turn a hardened warrior into a fool, and her tears… her tears can shatter the coldest of hearts. For many, she is not simply a woman, but a dream they long to touch, knowing they never will."
Alvin paused for a breath, then continued with more fervor.
"Then there is the peerless Sword Maiden—Seraphine Light. Unlike Miss Croft, she is as untouchable as the moon above the clouds. Her swordsmanship is unmatched, and her pride is even sharper than her blade. Countless suitors have lined up for her hand—sons of nobles, young geniuses of great clans, even visiting elders from sects beyond the city. They say her suitors are so many that if they all stood together, they could form an army strong enough to besiege the city itself! And yet, not one has ever succeeded in moving her heart. She remains unclaimed, an eternal mystery of ice and steel."
Alvin's voice softened, dropping lower until it was almost reverent.
"And last—perhaps the most mysterious of them all—is the prodigy of the Smith Clan, Young Miss Cassandra Smith. Her story is unlike any other. On the night of her birth, the heavens themselves stirred. Phoenixes were seen soaring across the horizon. Blossoms of lotuses bloomed from nothing, filling the clan's estate with fragrance. And starlight rained down like a celestial blessing. The elders declared that she was touched by destiny—that Cassandra Smith would one day rise above all and claim her place as a great immortal of the future."
His eyes gleamed as he finished, as though even recounting these legends filled him with awe.
His chest rose and fell with the intensity of his words, and for a moment, Alvin forgot he was speaking to his new master.
He was simply a young man, dazzled by stories of greatness, dreaming of a world far beyond his reach.
Dorian listened quietly, his expression calm, though inwardly his thoughts turned.
Three names… three flowers spoken of by every tongue in this city. A seductress, a warrior, and a prodigy chosen by the heavens themselves.
His lips curved into the faintest of smiles.
How interesting.
Dorian's entire former life had been consumed by cultivation.
From his earliest memories, every breath, every thought, and every heartbeat had been aligned with one singular goal: ascension.
To rise above mortality. To conquer the heavens.
To pierce the endless veil of the Dao and become something more than man.
It was a lonely path.
Cultivation demanded sacrifices that most would never dare to make.
He had severed ties, cut away emotions, and drowned every trace of weakness in relentless discipline.
To endure pain without flinching, to sit through millennia of silence without madness, to live in eternal solitude without once giving in to longing—this was the price he had paid.
As a man, he had been forced to resist what most would consider life's greatest temptations: the intoxicating call of warmth, intimacy, and mortal pleasures.
That was why, even after countless billions of years, Dorian remained untouched.
A virgin.
Yet, virginity did not equate to ignorance. Far from it.
His divine senses, capable of sweeping across entire multiverses, had witnessed more acts of passion than any mortal or god could dream of.
Every sigh beneath silk sheets, every whispered cry in the dead of night, every fevered coupling between mortals, cultivators, or even celestial beings—he had seen it all.
Such things were impossible to miss when his very perception could pierce all barriers and observe the entirety of existence itself.
Knowledge he possessed in abundance. Experience, however, he had none.
And now, with his new beginning, he no longer felt the cold shackles of restraint.
His heart, once burdened by the crushing weight of destiny and the endless march of cultivation, was lighter than it had ever been.
For the first time in eternity, Dorian wanted to live—not as a weapon, not as a peak cultivator bound by fate, but as a man.
"Now then…" his voice was low, contemplative, as his divine sense stretched outward. "Let's see how they truly are—the three women Alvin spoke of."
His gaze swept effortlessly through Azure Cloud City, locating each name in turn.
Liana Croft, radiant as legend claimed, with a smile that could bend men's hearts.
Seraphine Light, proud and untouchable, her sword aura sharper than the suitors who groveled at her feet.
Cassandra Smith, the prodigy touched by the heavens, her every movement cloaked in the aura of destiny itself.
Dorian observed them silently, and for a fleeting moment, he felt the stirrings of curiosity.
But just as quickly, it faded. He sighed, long and weary.
"Oh, endless Daos… these women are only in their twenties," he thought, a trace of disappointment curling in his chest.
"Children in my eyes. Barely sprouted seedlings."
To the cultivators of this world, they were dazzling flowers—rare, precious, unrivaled.
But to him?
To someone who had lived through ages upon ages, who had seen empires rise and collapse into dust, who had endured untold trillions of years… they looked fragile.
Incomplete.
Pursuing them would be like lowering himself into play with infants of time.
He shook his head. "No. That isn't what I want. Not now, not in this life."
What he longed for was not youthful beauty, but the richness of maturity.
A woman whose eyes carried stories, whose presence spoke of fire and steel tempered by years.
A woman who had walked through both sorrow and joy, who knew the weight of desire and the sting of restraint.
Someone seasoned, someone whole.
"I want someone older than twenty… at least," Dorian declared inwardly, firm in his resolve.
"A woman who understands what it means to live."
His divine sense roamed the city once more, flowing through every corner of Azure Cloud City.
He was in no rush.
He could have searched for years if need be—for what was time to one such as him?
Yet, fate seemed eager to answer, for he did not have to search long.
His awareness brushed across a presence that immediately made him pause.
She was unlike the others—her beauty was not the raw, unshaped allure of youth but the refined elegance of a woman who had lived, who had endured, and who had grown only more captivating because of it.
Her features held the balance of grace and strength, and even from afar, Dorian could feel the quiet fire that smoldered within her heart.
When his divine sight lingered on her, he found himself smiling—a slow, genuine smile that lit his face with rare warmth.
"She's perfect," Dorian whispered, as if the words themselves were a seal upon fate.
For the first time in this new life, he felt a spark of anticipation that had nothing to do with cultivation or power.
It was the anticipation of a man about to embark on a pursuit far different from any he had known before.