There was no hesitation in his tone, no trace of doubt. Alvin could only nod.
The road sloped upward slightly as they continued deeper.
The further they went, the more magnificent the scenery became.
Elegant stone bridges arched over flowing streams; lanterns hung from ancient trees that lined the streets; and tall marble statues watched silently over the road.
The air here carried a faint, refreshing fragrance—like blooming flowers mixed with spiritual energy.
Alvin couldn't help but glance to the sides every few seconds.
He had never imagined such beauty existed within the same city.
The houses here were not mere homes—they were estates, each one grander than the last.
Silver-tiled roofs, massive gates engraved with runes, and banners bearing the sigils of powerful families fluttered gently in the wind.
Finally, after a few more turns, the carriage came to a stop before a massive gate at the end of the road.
It was unlike anything Alvin had ever seen.
The gate stood over twenty feet tall, forged from black iron and laced with golden inscriptions that shimmered faintly under the sunlight.
Beyond it, through the narrow gaps between the bars, stood a cluster of majestic buildings—ancient structures with sloping roofs, carved pillars, and walls inscribed with glowing sigils of protection.
They looked as though they had stood there for thousands of years, untouched by time.
Alvin's jaw dropped open in awe. His heart pounded in his chest, both from fear and astonishment.
"Master… where are we?" he stammered.
Dorian gazed out through the carriage window, his expression unreadable.
A faint smile curved his lips as his eyes reflected the grand estate before them.
"We've arrived," he said softly, his tone carrying a quiet weight that made even the children fall silent.
Indeed, they had arrived—at the threshold of a place that only the most privileged could dream of entering.
The group descended from the carriage one by one, the sound of boots and sandals clicking softly against the polished stone pavement.
Before them stood a pair of colossal gates—black iron plated with silver veins that shimmered faintly beneath the sunlight.
The walls surrounding them stretched endlessly on both sides, like an ancient fortress separating the mortal world from a divine domain.
The air here was heavy and solemn, carrying a faint pressure that made the servants uneasy.
Even the horses grew restless, stamping their hooves as if aware of the powerful aura lingering beyond the gate.
"This must be it…" Alvin murmured under his breath, his eyes wide in awe.
Dorian said nothing.
He stood tall and composed, hands clasped neatly behind his back, his expression calm—serene, even.
To him, the massive gate was not an obstacle, but a formality.
His bearing alone carried a quiet authority that made the servants instinctively straighten their posture beside him.
"Alvin," Dorian said after a moment, his tone level and measured, "announce our presence."
Alvin froze for half a second. "Announce… our presence?"
"Yes." Dorian's lips curved slightly, almost amused. "It would be rude to simply stand here and wait for the Light Clan to notice us."
Alvin's heart began to race.
The words Light Clan alone were enough to make his throat dry.
Everyone in the city knew of them—an ancient and powerful clan that held great influence, not only in the city but throughout the entire province.
Rumor had it that even a low-ranking elder from the Light Clan could flatten entire sects with a flick of his sleeve.
And yet, here they were, standing boldly before its gates, as if it were nothing.
Alvin swallowed hard and stepped forward.
He thought quickly, trying to form a respectable introduction.
He couldn't very well shout that his master was here to see his fiancée-to-be—that sounded ridiculous, even dangerous.
The guards might laugh, or worse, attack them on sight for disrespecting their lady.
Instead, he decided on a bolder approach—one that would make them listen before acting.
Straightening his back, Alvin took a deep breath and projected his voice as loudly as he could.
"The great immortal Dorian Axe requests an audience with the lady of the Light Clan!"
His voice boomed across the silent street and echoed faintly between the surrounding walls.
A gust of wind swept through the area, carrying the words farther than he expected.
Alvin's heart pounded as he waited, his palms slick with sweat.
He risked a glance back—and saw his master's faint smile of approval.
That single look made the fear in his chest lessen just a little.
A few breaths passed in silence. Nothing happened.
The servants began exchanging uneasy glances.
The air felt thick, tense, as if the very world held its breath. Then—
Boom.
A low rumble echoed from deep within the walls.
The massive gates trembled, and a surge of spiritual energy spread outward, brushing against their skin like a wave of invisible force.
Alvin nearly lost his footing, while the two younger servants instinctively clung to each other.
Only Dorian stood still, unmoving, his expression as calm as ever.
With a deep, grinding groan, the giant gates began to open.
The intricate runes carved into their surface glowed faintly as ancient mechanisms stirred to life for the first time in years.
The air shimmered with light, and slowly, the path beyond the gate was revealed.
An old man stepped out, his white robe fluttering in the wind.
His long silver hair was tied neatly behind his back, and his eyes, though aged, were sharp enough to pierce through lies and pretension.
A faint aura radiated from him—a quiet yet overwhelming power that marked him as a true cultivator of high standing.
His gaze swept across the group before him, pausing briefly on Alvin, then settling on Dorian.
"Who seeks entry into our Light Clan?" he asked, his voice calm but carrying a commanding weight that made the servants bow their heads instinctively.
Dorian took a single step forward.
His movements were smooth, deliberate, his confidence almost tangible.
When he spoke, his tone was polite yet carried a quiet authority of its own.
"Tell your mistress," Dorian said, his lips curling into a faint, knowing smile, "that Dorian Axe has come."
The old man's expression shifted ever so slightly—his brows furrowing as if in thought.
He was the gatekeeper of the Light Clan, a man whose duty was to recognize every influential figure who might have business with his clan.
Yet the name Dorian Axe stirred no memory within him.
He had never heard of such a person—not among the noble families, nor among the known sects or wandering cultivators of renown.
Ordinarily, anyone who dared to approach the Light Clan's gates without invitation or formal notice would have been immediately dismissed, if not driven away outright.
It was the rule, and he had enforced it countless times without hesitation.
But this time… something stopped him.
His gaze lingered on the young man standing calmly before the gate.
The stranger wore plain black robes—no crest, no embellishment, no hint of ostentation.
And yet, somehow, he made those simple garments look more regal than the silk attire of nobles.
The way the fabric hung from his shoulders, the way he stood—tall, straight-backed, and perfectly composed—exuded a quiet, natural authority.
There was no arrogance in his posture, only the effortless confidence of someone long accustomed to command.
It was the bearing of a man who did not need to prove his worth because power itself seemed to bow before him.
The old man felt an inexplicable pressure settle over his chest, subtle yet undeniable.
He realized that this Dorian Axe might not be ordinary—perhaps he was even a great expert hiding in plain sight.
For a brief moment, he considered using his spiritual sense to probe the man's cultivation level, but he immediately dismissed the thought.
To do so uninvited would be the height of disrespect, and if this man truly was as formidable as he appeared… such an act could easily invite disaster.
No—better to observe quietly and report carefully.
He made a mental note to look into this Dorian Axe after the meeting—to uncover his origins, his sect, his lineage, anything that could explain the presence of such a man at the Light Clan's gate.
"Wait here," the old man finally said, his tone respectful yet firm.
"I shall inform the lady."