“How cultured celestial cultivators must be,” Jared replied, voice mild. “Odd, though… I have heard rumors that many cultivators in Celestial Palace dabble in black magic, and they too claim to be celestials.”

Yuliana blinked, lips parting. Then forced a light laugh. “There are so many celestials, so a few rotten twigs are inevitable. The cultivators of Celestia, however, remain paragons of grace.”

A wry curve tugged at the corner of Jared’s mouth, there and gone like a ripple across still water, offering no agreement, only amusement.

“Tell me, Ms. Fiala, what tomes do your students study so devoutly? Classics? Histories? Hidden doctrines?” Jared asked the question lightly, yet his gaze drifted over arched colonnades and silent courtyards of the academy, noting how a faint, unseen current of spiritual energy shimmered in the air, so unlike the clamorous streets outside, as though some secret pulse slept beneath the flagstones.

“If you are that curious about the academy, follow me. A proper tour will speak louder than my words.”

With that, Yuliana swept out of Lunar Tower, silk slippers gliding, and Jared fell into step beside her. As the vast academy rose ahead, marble domes, silver-leaf eaves, Jared’s eyes widened in open fascination.

Yuliana caught the look, a spark of triumph flickering behind lashes, and led beneath the looming gate.