Novel Full Chapter 430 Prince Son-In-Law sent By Heavens!
Rushing through the clouds, the Supreme Sword Magus Elarin streaked like a comet, cutting through the sky toward the Heavenly Abode of the Blue Planet Wizard Association. This is where all Prime families and the main stronghold of the Wizard Association live.
The sound of his descent resonated through the skies as he approached the majestic open sky meeting hall situated near a breathtaking waterfall.
By the time Sword Magus Elarin’s feet touched the ground, all the other Supreme Mages were already seated, waiting in anticipation.
The Supreme Sword Magus landed with grace. He gave a sharp nod to his peers before occupying his seat with a firm, yet calm demeanor.
With a serious look, Elarin asked, “What is the need for this urgent meeting?” His voice echoed in the gathering.
Before anyone else could respond, the Supreme Wand Magus, Alaric, who was practically bubbling with excitement, stood up hastily. Stay updated through empire
“Ha ha ha… Sword Magus! You’ve really surprised all of us this time. To have a relative and disciple like Kent, it’s truly a source of pride for the entire association!” His voice brimmed with admiration, as did the expressions of those loyal to him.
Supreme Serpent Magus Kriya nodded enthusiastically, her sly smile betraying her eagerness to flatter. “Indeed, Kent is truly a rising star.”
Dagger Magus Thallic leaned forward with a smirk. “Kent will bring great prestige to our blue planet. Perhaps even… elevate our association.”
But Elarin remained unyielding, his face stern and eyes cold. His silence made the hall feel suddenly much smaller, a tension rising as the other magi shifted uncomfortably in their seats.
“What is the true purpose of this meeting?” Elarin asked, his gaze narrowing toward Alaric. The temperature seemed to drop, and Alaric, despite his previous exuberance, faltered momentarily, his smile becoming awkward.
With a forced laugh, the Wand Magus covered his unease. “Supreme, we’ve gathered here today to discuss an important matter—Kent’s coronation ceremony. We wish to bestow upon him the title of Supreme Arch Magus officially. It is time for him to stand among us, not just as a distant relative or a disciple but as an equal in rank and title!”
The other Magi nodded in agreement, but Sword Magus Elarin’s expression remained unmoved. Alaric, sensing the tension, hurriedly added, “And… and as you know, in a few months, the Spirit World will open its gates again. Jason Mama, head of the Nine Realms Association, has promised us a few slots for entry. We believe it would be wise to grant one to Kent right away.
His potential… it’s undeniable, isn’t it?”
The Supreme Wand Magus puffed up his chest, clearly expecting Elarin’s approval. The hall remained silent, the Magi waiting with bated breath for Elarin’s response.
To their surprise, the Supreme Sword Magus chuckled. It was not a laugh of amusement but one dripping with sarcasm.
“Alaric, I really wonder how naive you can be sometimes.” Elarin spoke in a funny tone as he stared at Alaric’s face.
The chuckling stopped, and now only the sound of the waterfall persisted in the silence that followed.
“You really think the head of the Nine Realms Association, after witnessing what happened to his own son, will simply offer us slots to the Spirit World? You think Kent’s power is something you can hold in this territory?” Elarin’s words cut like a blade, and Alaric’s face drained of color.
“Stop with your pathetic games of flattery, Alaric,” Elarin said, his voice sharper now, the authority in his tone undeniable. “Behave like a proper leader, for once. You already messed up with the Immortal Beast Spirit Gathering. Don’t make another foolish mistake that could jeopardize us all.”
Elarin’s gaze swept across the room, piercing through each of the Supreme Magi. They felt it—the weight of his words, the truth that none could deny.
“Kent has already surpassed the level of this planet,” Elarin continued, his voice unwavering. “He is beyond your schemes, beyond your titles. Stop trying to recruit him for your own gains. He is no longer of your world. He is far, far above you.”
The gravity of his words left the room in stunned silence. Alaric, who moments ago had been filled with pride and confidence, now looked as if he had been struck down by a sword he never saw coming. His mouth opened and closed, but no words came.
Without another word, the Supreme Sword Magus stood up. His movements were graceful, yet final, like a sword being sheathed after a decisive blow. With one last glance at the assembly, he turned on his heel and walked out of the hall.
Following him, the Supreme Staff Magus, Lady Ruchi, gave a brief nod to the others before also exiting the meeting. One by one, the other Supreme Magi followed suit, realizing that the conversation had ended, and that they were playing in a game where they no longer held any control.
–
The sun never truly set over Molten Gold City, casting its eternal amber glow across the landscape. The city gleamed with riches, its golden decorations and opulent buildings reflecting the never-ending twilight, a symbol of wealth and power.
The reason for the prosperity of Molten Gold City is Celestial Sun Fire Sect.
In the heart of this vibrant city, the Bai family’s sprawling mansion stood tall, a palace among palaces.
In the luxurious lounge, a fat young man lay sprawled on a lavish silk sofa, one arm lazily draped over his ample belly. This was none other than Fatty Ben, a man whose fortunes had shifted in ways even he couldn’t have imagined.
Around him, an army of servants attended to his every whim. Plates piled high with delicacies from all corners of the world were presented before him: roasted meats, platters of fragrant rice, bowls overflowing with rich desserts, and countless varieties of spiritual fruits. Several bottles of fine wine sat open on the table, their ruby-red contents shimmering in the candlelight.
Fatty Ben grinned as he grabbed a leg of meat and took a hefty bite. “This is the life,” he mumbled, his voice muffled by food. Around him, girls stood with large fans, gently cooling him with the rhythmic swish of their arms.
Every now and then, one would lean closer to refill his wine cup, their faces flushed. Fatty Ben was no longer the poor, overlooked man he once was.
“More wine!” Fatty Ben roared, raising his goblet. One of the servants rushed forward, carefully pouring the finest vintage into his cup.
He lifted his cup to his lips, glancing toward the servant girl closest to him. “You know, a few months ago, none of you would’ve dared to look my way,” he chuckled, his voice thick with pride.
The girl blushed but said nothing, her eyes darting nervously to the other servants. They had heard the stories—how this once lowly man, practically an outcast, had suddenly risen to untouchable heights. It was the stuff of legends, and none could argue with the power of the fortune that now surrounded him.
“Ahh,” Fatty Ben sighed, leaning back as he wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his robe. “This is the life I was meant for.”
Across the room, Mei Bai, the eldest daughter of the Bai family, watched her lover with a content smile. She had fought hard to convince her family to accept him, but in the end, his newfound wealth had made the decision all too easy.
With the inheritance from the Fortune God, Fatty Ben’s status had skyrocketed, and now the Bai family treated him like a prized son-in-law descended straight from the heavens.
Mei Bai walked over to Ben, sitting beside him and resting her head on his shoulder. “You’ve truly won the hearts of my family. Soon, everyone in Molten Gold City will come to join my family business.”
Fatty Ben grinned, feeling the weight of his success. “They already do, my love. And soon, they’ll know much more.” His eyes gleamed as he imagined the future ahead of him—filled with wealth, power, and endless opportunities.
In that moment, surrounded by luxury, he had everything he ever wanted. But somewhere deep within, a small voice reminded him that with great fortune came great risk. And Molten Gold City was not a place for him to grow his strength.
–
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