Oddly, he found 'himself' looking down a throne of magnificence, yet instead of assuming the regal figure within the halls of that seat, he observed the unfolding scene like a fleeting butterfly.
The throne elevated on a grand dais, and suspended in the vast expanse of the immortal realm, was ascended to such a towering height that even the bravest souls among the audience dared not meet the eminent.
The dais itself was a marvel of craftsmanship, adorned with precious gems that sparkled even in the celestial light.
Each gem seemed to capture and reflect the ethereal glow of the surrounding stars, casting a soft, otherworldly luminescence across the open space.
Golden inlays traced intricate patterns along the edges of the dais, their lines flowing like constellations in the cosmic tapestry.
Behind the throne, a Loong - intricately carved out of stone yet impressive, akin to a living creature.
The dragon's scales seemed to ripple with a lifelike sheen, and its eyes, set with precious stones, gleamed with an almost sentient light.
Clouds coated its body, extending to the heavens above, as if the very air around it pulsed with heavenly energy.
Cranes flew, basking in its presence, their elegance adding a serene ambiance to the solemn atmosphere.
People knelt and bowed their heads in reverence, their whispers merging with the celestial chorus, creating an aura of transcendent majesty and awe.
The multitude of worshippers formed a mosaic of vibrant silks and somber robes, their presence adding to the celestial splendor of the scene.
Rich banners depicting ancient tales hung from the pillars of light that dotted the celestial landscape, their colors blending seamlessly with the heavenly hues, each thread contributing to the grand narrative of the immortal realm.
"Your…" A voice called out to him; its origin shrouded in an ethereal haze.
He turned his head toward the direction of the sound, yet THEIR face remained elusive, obscured by a veil of mist.
In that fleeting moment, a deafening ringing reverberated through his ears, disorienting him in the surreal landscape of his mind.
"...humbly seek...the promised…" THEY uttered, THEIR words echoing with an otherworldly chill.
The voice was fragmented, its cadence disjointed and unintelligible, like a whisper carried on the wind. As he strained to make sense of the enigmatic message, the figure before him seemed to dissolve, its features melting into a blur of indistinct shapes.
In a moment, the dream vanished like smoke, disappearing into nothingness. His mind danced on the edge of recognition, teasing him with fragments of an event he couldn't quite grasp.
Was it simply a play of his creative mind or a distant memory now lost in the past? The question lingered, floating in the air like a whisper from forgotten realms.
He pondered the possibility, his thoughts weaving through the labyrinth of his subconscious, searching for answers buried beneath layers of time.
Soon as he opened his brilliant hazel eyes framed with black eyelashes, he was greeted by a flat ivory-colored ceiling with intricately gold-carved design, lighted by a rosewood golden-gilded medium sized lantern, its panels adorned with symbolic paintings.
The soft glow of the lantern cast a warm, inviting ambiance, bathing the room in a gentle radiance.
He stared at it openly, forming no thought. The silence in his room was oddly loud, amplifying the stillness of the moment and enveloping him in a cocoon of introspection.
A knock sounded on the gaboon ebony door, and a soft voice followed, attempting to attest if he had already woken up from his slumber. "Young Master, have you woken up yet?" The words floated into the room, delicate as a feather carried by a gentle breeze.
He gave no response, his mind still lingering on the threshold between wakefulness and dreams, caught in the liminal space where reality and imagination intertwined.
"It appears he is still sleeping," his personal female maidservant murmured to herself, her voice a soft ripple in the tranquil atmosphere.
"It would be unpardonable and insolent of a servant like my humble self to disturb his Master's rest," she added, her words tinged with reverence and respect.
As the maid contemplated her next action, a sense of duty and propriety guided her decisions.
She knew well the importance of respecting her master's rest, especially in the hallowed halls of their ancestral home. With a gentle sigh, she resolved to wait outside the door, ready to assist at a moment's notice should her presence be required.
In the stillness of the corridor, she stood with silent vigilance, her ears attuned to the faintest sound from within.
Time seemed to stretch, marked only by the soft ticking of the clock in the foyer. Yet, she remained steadfast, her loyalty unwavering as she maintained her watch over the household.
In moments such as these, the traditions of service and deference were upheld with utmost reverence, a testament to the timeless values that bound servant to master in an unspoken bond of mutual respect.
And so, she stood guard, a silent sentinel in the dim light of dawn, her presence a testament to the unwavering dedication of those who served the noble house of her master.
Recollecting his consciousness, he gently rose from his bed, its pristine surface as inviting as ever.
The mattress, plump and luxuriously soft, seemed to cradle him in a cocoon of comfort, a testament to the meticulous care with which it was maintained.
Indeed, anyone fortunate enough to lie upon this bed would find themselves lulled into a state of blissful slumber, an experience that spoke volumes of his privilege upbringing.
With practiced grace, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and planted his feet firmly on the polished wooden floor.
The cool touch of the floorboards served as a gentle reminder of the world beyond his chamber, a world waiting to be navigated with poise and purpose.
As he stood, his movements exuded an effortless elegance, a reflection of the refined manners instilled in him from a young age.
Each gesture spoke of an upbringing steeped in tradition and refinement, a legacy passed down through generations of his esteemed lineage.
With a final glance around his chamber, he took a moment to appreciate the serene beauty that surrounded him.
From the delicate tapestries adorning the walls to the ornate furnishings that graced the room, every detail spoke of a life of privilege and prestige.
As he walked a few steps away from his bed, his gaze was drawn to the gold-crafted cheval mirror standing sentinel in the corner, supported by rich mahogany wood.
Its reflective surface captured his youthful appearance from head to toe, revealing him clad only in his lower garment.
The mirror offered a candid view of his toned abs and defined muscular arms, features that often drew attention and exuded a sense of strength and allure. Notably, his forearms boasted prominent veins, adding a rugged yet alluring charm to his overall demeanor.
His chest, too, was prominent and well-developed, contributing to the V-shaped contour of his back, which further accentuated his muscularity and created a commanding silhouette.
His physique struck a delicate balance between muscularity and youthful vitality, a testament to his dedication to physical fitness and self-care.
In addition to his impressive physique, his black and long hair cascaded loosely around his shoulders, framing his face with a natural elegance. The hair above his face was parted gracefully, adding a touch of sophistication to his appearance.
In the reflection, he saw a figure characterized by strength, and undeniable attractiveness—a presence that made him a standout figure not only in his immediate surroundings but also in the expansive domain of the cultivation world.
With a simple gesture of his two fingers, pieces of clothing imbued with Qi materialized out of the thin air, each rendering blue color with embellishments made from precious metal gold, accolades on his elegant and firm demeanor. The clothes slipped through his body as though they had their own thoughts.
The ornate door securely locked opened in an instant, and the female maidservant waiting near outside his chamber attended to him, her sleeves modest and straightforward, moderately wide and loose, covering her hands as she placed her fist in the palm of the other hand, accompanied by a slight bow—a sign of deference, politeness, and reverence towards him, acknowledging his seniority and higher status in society.
"Greetings, Young Master Tianyu. How was your sleep last night?" she asked, her voice soft and respectful.
Tianyu Zhou nodded, acknowledging her presence. "Meiying."
"Please excuse me," Meiying responded with a deferential tone. "I shall prepare your meal at once."
"Very well," Tianyu Zhou replied, dismissing her departure with a subtle nod.