The moon hung like a pale jade disc above the Cultivation Assessment Hall, casting long shadows across its eight-sided structure. Spark sat alone on the pavilion's eastern steps, a clay bottle of contraband wine beside him. Though the sect didn't explicitly forbid alcohol, they didn't sell it either—this particular bottle had made its way through a chain of Adept disciples who occasionally went into mortal towns for such goods.

Spark took another sip, wincing as the harsh liquor burned his throat. It was nothing like the refined spirits served at his mother's court, but right now, its crude bite matched his mood perfectly. The golden-eyed youth stuck out his tongue slightly, trying to ease the burning sensation that had settled in his stomach.

"Hey there, gorgeous wolf boy! Is that you brooding up there?"

The voice made Spark's shoulders tense. He'd recognize that overly enthusiastic tone anywhere—it belonged to that strange girl from dinner, the one in the gray-blue robes with short black hair. Raven, he recalled with a grimace.

The rapid tap of footsteps on stone made Spark consider making a run for it, but his pride wouldn't let him flee like some startled pup. Instead, he straightened his back and schooled his features into the aloof expression he'd perfected at his mother's court.

"Come to pester me about my eyes again?" he asked dryly, not bothering to look in her direction. Perhaps if he was rude enough, she'd leave him to his solitude.

"Of course, you're so beautiful!" Raven's multiple rings jingled musically as she plopped down beside Spark. He could feel her warmth as she started to lean against him. Spark pushed her away with his right hand, his lip curling in distaste as he created some much-needed space between them.

Raven stopped her attempts to snuggle closer, instead hugging her shoulder bag to her chest. Her voice took on a honeyed, coaxing tone. "Oh, I asked around about you. Your name's Spark, right? I'm Raven, Raven Cipher..." She tilted her head, causing her metal hair clip to catch the moonlight.

"I have no interest in knowing you," Spark replied, his voice as cold as winter frost.

"Don't be so distant, handsome wolf boy." Raven Cipher's eyes sparkled with mischief as she studied his profile. "I can tell you're upset. Just got rejected by your girlfriend? Oh... maybe not even officially girlfriend yet..."

Spark's face flushed red, though whether from the wine or embarrassment was hard to tell. "Shut up!" The words came out as a growl.

"Come on, you're drinking all alone—don't you want someone to talk to?" Raven Cipher gestured at the wine bottle, her rings flashing with each animated movement. "I heard you're from the Inferno Wolves, right?"

"Yes." Spark grabbed his left upper arm with his right hand, with the wine bottle in his left hand, avoiding the woman’s potential physical harassment towards himself. At least if she tried to touch him again, he'd be ready to block her advance. The defensive posture wasn't lost on Raven, but it only seemed to amuse her more.

"Oh! The Inferno Wolves territory lies within The Mountain Heart Kingdom, right?" Raven's eyebrows quirked up with interest as she leaned forward, careful not to invade Spark's personal space again. Her rings clinked softly as she adjusted her position. "Must be quite different from here."

Spark exhaled heavily, though his posture relaxed slightly as his thoughts drifted to his homeland. "Yes." He paused, then surprisingly found himself continuing, "Though we're further southwest than most human settlements. Where the mountains grow too steep for mortals to thrive."

He took another sip of wine, this time savoring its warmth. "The terrain there... it's all jagged peaks and deep valleys. Gorges that seem to have no bottom, filled with morning mist that never quite burns away." His golden eyes grew distant, reflecting the moonlight. "We trade with The Mountain Heart Kingdom sometimes. Seraphic Citrine and Star Essence Crystals that only form in the high altitudes where we hunt. In exchange for refined metals and cloth."

"Seraphic Citrine?" Raven's eyes lit up as she made circular motions near her temple with her ring-adorned fingers. "Oh yes, I've seen those - they're that yellow gemstone, aren't they? Just like your eyes, so pure, so..." Her gestures quickened as she searched for the right words, "So golden, like pure gold itself."

Spark gave Raven a weary look, which she met with an ingratiating smile. "You're really handsome, wolf boy."

A sly expression crossed her face as she leaned forward conspiratorially. "Say... has your not-quite-girlfriend ever told you how handsome you are? What was her name again... Flint?"

At the sound of her name, Flint froze mid-step as she approached the Cultivation Assessment Hall. She caught sight of Spark and the short-haired girl from earlier - Raven, she recalled. Something made her hesitate, and she quietly stepped back behind the corner of the hall's main entrance, which faced south.

The wine had loosened Spark's tongue more than he'd intended. He could no longer maintain his cold demeanor, and instead found himself reflecting melancholically on his experiences with Flint. She had never actually commented on his appearance, had she?

"No... I don't think she has," Spark murmured, almost to himself.

"Then she doesn't know how to appreciate beauty," Raven continued enthusiastically. "Look at your strong brow, your noble profile, and those eyes..."

From her hidden spot around the corner, Flint found herself thinking, Actually, I think he looks cuter in his wolf form.

Spark let out a dismissive huff at Raven's flattery, though his tone had noticeably softened, likely due to the wine. "Enough with the empty compliments."

"They're not empty at all!" Raven protested with mock indignation. She reached into her bag, which she had placed on her right side, and pulled out what appeared to be a flat crystal display panel. It was roughly the length of her forearm, with a 16:9 ratio and copper-framed corners.

"Let me show you something fun," she said, her rings catching the moonlight as her fingers danced across the surface. The screen flickered to life, revealing an animated raven navigating between pillars of varying heights.

"It's a game I created - Flying Raven." She tapped the screen to set it to 'Ready to Start' before offering the panel to Spark. "Want to try?"

From her hidden vantage point, Flint watched with growing interest. She seemed to have seen this kind of display device when registering for the Celestial Sword Sect, but the one in Raven’s hand looks more advanced. And what did Raven say? A game created by herself?

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

Spark hesitantly took the crystal panel, his curiosity getting the better of him. As his finger touched the screen, the animated raven sprang to life, and he found himself absorbed in guiding it between the shifting pillars. The game's simple mechanics belied its challenging nature - each move required precise timing and careful attention.

The moon cast a silvery glow over the crystal display, complementing the soft light emanating from the screen. In the gentle illumination, Spark's golden eyes reflected the raven's movements with an almost predatory focus, his natural hunting instincts engaged even in this simple game.

Lost in concentration, he failed to notice Raven inching closer until she was practically leaning against his shoulder. Her eyes weren't on the game at all, but rather studying his face with undisguised admiration. When her fingers reached up to trace his eyebrow, the unexpected touch startled him. He jerked away, frowning, and in that moment of distraction, the digital raven crashed spectacularly into a pillar.

"I'm also from The Mountain Heart Kingdom, you know," Raven said brightly as she reclaimed her panel, seemingly unfazed by his rejection. "We're practically neighbors!"

Spark took another deep gulp of wine, letting the taste linger on his tongue. "Oh," he responded softly. Despite his attempt to sound indifferent, the alcohol had softened his voice, giving it an almost intimate quality.

"Of course, I'm with the Mystic Enigma Pavilion now, in The Azure Coast Kingdom, east of my hometown," Raven continued, her rings dancing in the moonlight as she gestured. "When they tested my spirit roots, they found both my Stasis and Void were Gifted level. But they only really needed Gifted in Stasis." A dreamy smile played across her face as she added, "It's quite a profitable sect, you know." Her expression turned wistful, as if already counting future riches.

"What about your spirit root?" Raven quickly steered the conversation back to Spark, her eyes bright with curiosity.

"My Light Spirit Root is Transcendent." Though Spark tried to keep his tone neutral, a hint of pride crept into his voice, as unmistakable as the golden gleam in his eyes.

"Wow! A Transcendent spirit root!" Raven clasped her hands together, making her rings chime like tiny bells. "You must advance so quickly! It took me five years just to reach Middle Initiative, and they say getting to Late Initiative takes even longer." She sighed dramatically, slumping her shoulders. "All my earnings go to buying cultivation pills from Crimson Aurora Valley..."

Raven softened her voice to an almost theatrical tenderness, drawing out his name with exaggerated sweetness. "Spark..." She leaned forward slightly, her voice dropping to a whisper. "What's your cultivation level?"

Spark's cheeks puffed out slightly before quickly deflating - a brief, unconscious gesture of irritation at being reminded that Flint had surpassed him. "Me? I've only been cultivating for a year. Still at Early Initiative. Tested last winter solstice, and now..." He trailed off, uncertain. Though it had only been five months since his last assessment, he couldn't be sure if he'd advanced to Middle Initiative yet.

From her hidden position, Flint felt a strange tightness in her chest as she watched the interaction unfold. She found herself gripping the corner of the building a little harder than necessary, her knuckles turning white against the cool stone.

This is the Cultivation Assessment Hall - surely Spark isn't thinking of getting tested right now? Flint glanced around anxiously, but found only the training grounds before her, offering no place to conceal herself. Though a small voice in her head suggested that perhaps she wasn't the one who should be hiding.

"I don't know. That's not important." Spark took another long drink, draining the last drops from the bottle before setting it aside with a gentle clink against the stone steps. The burning liquor had transformed into something almost pleasant now, like a warm massage down his throat, leaving behind a peculiar tingling sensation. His golden eyes had taken on a slightly unfocused gleam - the wine was definitely affecting him.

Flint felt herself relax slightly, continuing to focus on their conversation. Through the widened crack in her mental barrier - which had grown larger after experiencing countless resentful souls' memories - she could sense Spark's faint contentment, a warm ember of emotion floating in the night air.

Raven, either oblivious to or ignoring the "Cultivation Assessment Hall" sign when she had came here, slid her hand across Spark's back in a gentle caress. This time, Spark didn't push her arm away, seeming to have resigned himself to the situation. After all, no matter how many times he'd rejected her advances, this shameless woman kept finding ways to touch him.

"You know..." Raven's voice took on a subtle melancholy, a stark contrast to her previous playfulness. "My father was a gemcutter. When I was little, our home was filled with brilliant gems, but father always reminded me that none of them belonged to us. Not a single one."

"Some of the jewels your Inferno Wolves trade - they passed through my father's hands for cutting." She told Spark with a teasing lilt, though something deeper lurked beneath her light tone.

"Oh." Spark found himself genuinely responding, his attention caught by her story. His curiosity about this seemingly carefree woman grew - why did someone who appeared so perpetually cheerful harbor such wistful memories?

"That's why I love your eyes," she continued softly. "They remind me of that yellow gemstone, what was it called again..." Her ringed fingers paused mid-gesture as she pretended to think.

"Seraphic Citrine," Spark supplied, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Yes, that's it. And now they're exactly where they should be - in your eyes." Raven gently cupped Spark's face with her right hand, her rings cool against his wine-flushed skin.

Their eyes met in the moonlight, and Spark felt a flutter of embarrassment in his chest. Along with it came an unsettling sense of betrayal sprouting in his heart, like a thorny vine wrapping around his ribs.

He removed Raven's hand from his face, but his touch was gentle now, lacking the previous harsh rejection. The movement was almost reluctant, as if he were fighting against himself.

From her vantage point, Flint felt her heart beating faster, though she couldn't quite understand why. The crack in her mental barrier seemed to throb in time with her pulse, sending confused signals of emotions that weren't entirely her own.

Raven understood the art of conversation perfectly - share just enough about yourself, then give young men room to tell their own stories. The more they talked about themselves, the more likely their hearts would open. She steered the conversation skillfully: "What about your father? What kind of person is he?"

"Father?" Spark's golden eyes narrowed thoughtfully, his mind drifting to the crowd of male consorts that always surrounded the Mother Empress. Which one had sired him? He realized he'd never really cared about the answer - in the Inferno Wolves, only mothers mattered. "I only have the Mother Empress."

"Empress?" Raven's voice lifted with delighted surprise, her rings catching the moonlight as she clasped her hands together. "You're a prince?"

"Uh... yes." Spark shifted uncomfortably, puzzled by the sudden excitement in Raven's voice.

"Then you must be wealthy, with lots of gemstones at home!" Raven continued enthusiastically, her eyes sparkling as if she could already see herself surrounded by precious stones. Her rings clinked together as she gestured animatedly.

Spark considered this, remembering the jewel-encrusted walls of his mother's palace, the precious stones that adorned even the most mundane objects. He nodded slowly, the wine making his head feel pleasantly heavy. "Yes... I suppose so."

Despite Raven's general plan to collect many handsome men in her lifetime, the revelation that she was talking to an actual prince made her heart skip a beat. Perhaps she could win Spark over first, secure some money or gems...After all, Spark was so handsome. That was not a bad idea.

For such a goal, playing the role of a deeply emotional lover seemed worth it. After all, cultivators could live for centuries.

Though excitement bubbled inside her, Raven carefully composed her features into a melancholic expression. "Oh, being a prince, you must be surrounded by beautiful women..." She let out a delicate sigh, her rings catching the moonlight as she lowered her gaze. "And Flint... she must be from a prestigious background too... ah..."

Around the corner, Flint nearly choked at hearing her name. How did I suddenly become prestigious? she thought wryly, fighting the urge to roll her eyes.

Beautiful women? The question made Spark recall his second brother, Oleander Lumin, crying as he complained about having to serve a female wolf - a high-ranking minister, the spouse chosen for him by the Mother Empress.

"Um..." Spark chose his words carefully, the wine making his thoughts slightly fuzzy. "Actually, there aren't any, and as for Flint..."

What exactly is Flint's background anyway? The question floated through his wine-addled mind. "She's... probably just an ordinary person."

The moonlight cast long shadows across the steps as silence fell between them. Through her mental barrier's crack, Flint could sense a mixture of confusion and uncertainty in Spark's emotions as he spoke about her. The night air suddenly felt cooler against her skin as she pressed herself closer to the building's corner.

"Oh, how dare she reject your love!" Raven's voice rose with manufactured indignation, her rings flashing as she gestured dramatically. "A mere commoner!"

The words hung heavy in the night air, making Spark shift uncomfortably on the stone steps. His golden eyes darkened slightly as he responded, "That's her freedom, isn't it?" He let out a soft sigh that seemed to carry more weight than his light tone suggested.

"Oh, I just feel it's unfair to you," Raven's voice mellowed into honeyed sympathy, her rings catching the moonlight as she reached toward him but stopped short of touching. "You deserve better." She pivoted smoothly, her voice taking on a gentle, coaxing quality. "Let's talk about something else. What about your Mother Empress?"

Around the corner, Flint felt a rush of warmth at Spark's defense of her choice, even as her stomach twisted at being called a "mere commoner." Through her mental barrier's crack, she could sense Spark's discomfort with Raven's words, like a sour note in an otherwise pleasant melody.

The moonlight seemed to grow colder as it cast long shadows across the training grounds, and Flint found herself unconsciously leaning closer to hear what Spark would say about his mother.

The night air carried the faint scent of wine and the soft chime of Raven's rings as she waited for Spark's response, her calculating eyes masked by a facade of genuine interest.

Spark remained silent, the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air. Both Raven and Flint, from her hidden corner, waited in their respective silences - one calculating, the other concerned.

Finally, Spark drew in a deep breath, the sound barely audible in the still night air. At that moment, through the widened crack in her mental barrier, Flint felt it - a wave of sorrow that had been steeping for twenty years, washing over her consciousness like a melancholic melody. It resonated through her being, as pure and clear as a single note struck on a jade chime, carrying all the loneliness of a wolf cub crying for attention that never came.