Wizard: I Have a Cultivation System

Chapter 397: Chapter 86: The Ancients All Lived Past a Hundred Years

Kaiden carefully handed a cup of warm wine to Alina. With a lingering blush on her cheeks, she held the cup in both hands and took a small sip.

Aurora sat back down on the bench beside Murphy. She gently placed a cup of wine on the low table next to him and handed another to Eleanor.

The firewood in the hearth crackled softly, casting a warm glow over the living room.

Aurora began asking Eleanor about her research on plant cultivation. Meanwhile, Kaiden excitedly discussed with his father the crop rotation plan for the newly tilled land to the east of their territory. He would occasionally chime in to ask his mother for a detail or two about diet during pregnancy.

Alina leaned against the soft cushions of her chair, listening to her family’s conversation. A gentle, contented smile never left her face as her hand drifted unconsciously to her stomach from time to time.

As Eleanor answered her mother’s questions, her gaze would occasionally meet her father’s serene one. The weight on her heart, born of the world outside, began to lift amidst the simple conversation and the family’s warmth.

Time flowed by peacefully in their warm conversation. Outside, the moon seemed to climb higher, its clear light growing ever brighter.

But on a peaceful night of family reunion such as this, the unexpected always has a way of arriving unannounced.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!

Lucian’s voice, tinged with gravity, came from beyond the door. "My Lord, my Lady. A messenger from the Holy City, Knight Holt, has arrived outside the castle. He bears an urgent dispatch and requests to present it immediately."

"Holt?" Aurora’s brow furrowed slightly as she exchanged a glance with Murphy.

Holt was no ordinary Knight. He was a high-ranking member of the Templar Order and a Great Knight in his own right. For him to personally deliver an urgent dispatch, traveling through the night, meant it was a matter of great significance.

"Have him wait in the reception hall." Murphy’s voice was placid, as if he were merely handling a routine matter of business.

"Yes, my Lord." Lucian’s voice faded as he withdrew.

The atmosphere in the living room shifted subtly.

Kaiden’s expression grew solemn. Alina sat up straighter, concern in her eyes, while Eleanor watched her father with her calm, dark eyes.

"Carry on," Murphy said to his family, maneuvering his wheelchair toward the door. "I’ll go see what this is about."

Aurora rose and moved behind him, naturally taking the handles of his wheelchair. "I’ll go with you."

The couple left the cozy living room, traversing the castle’s quiet corridors on their way to the reception hall.

The reception hall was brightly lit.

Knight Holt was already waiting.

He wore the standard silver-white Temple Knight’s light armor, covered by a dark gray traveling cloak embroidered with the Holy Emblem. He was travel-worn, his face etched with the fatigue of a long journey, yet his posture remained ramrod straight.

Upon seeing Murphy and Aurora enter, he immediately placed his right hand over his chest and performed a standard Knight’s salute. "Your Excellency, the Thunder Sword. Lady Aurora."

"At ease, Holt," Murphy said, gesturing for him to rise. "What matter required you to make this journey in person?"

Holt straightened up and retrieved a thick, wax-sealed envelope from within his tunic. Stamped with an intricate Holy Emblem, he presented it with both hands.

The wax of the seal was a fresh, deep red, its impression crisp and solemn.

"Lord Melfield, Lady Aurora. This is a formal invitation from the Holy City, issued in the name of the College of Cardinals." Holt’s voice was clear and steady, though he spoke a little faster than usual. "It is an invitation for you, the Thunder Sword, Governor of the Monte Territory in the Vilt Kingdom, to travel to the Holy City. You are invited to attend the Grand Ceremony of the Resounding of the Morning Star Bell, and... the coronation of the new Pope, presided over by the Saint Cyril Cardinal."

He paused, then added, "The ceremony is scheduled for the fifteenth of next month. All influential nobles, Lords, and Legendary Powerhouses across the Continent, as well as representatives from all the major powers, have received an invitation."

Aurora accepted the envelope on Murphy’s behalf. Her fingertips felt the distinct texture of the parchment and the slight hardness of the wax seal.

She didn’t open it right away, looking instead to Murphy.

Murphy’s expression remained neutral, his gaze merely lingering for a moment on the striking Holy Emblem of the wax seal.

’A new Pope’s coronation...’

’Saint Cyril...’

’The Resounding of the Morning Star Bell...’

"I understand," he said slowly, his voice devoid of emotion. "You’ve had a long journey, Holt. Lucian will arrange a place for you to rest. Send word back to the Holy City that I have received the invitation."

"Yes, my Lord." Holt bowed again. Without any further pleasantries, he turned and crisply exited the reception hall.

The door to the reception hall clicked shut, silencing the world outside.

Only then did Aurora break the wax seal and slide out the exquisite parchment within.

The invitation was worded in a grand and solemn manner, filled with reverence for the Thunder Sword and earnest anticipation for this grand ceremony "destined to enter the annals of history and witness a new era of faith."

At the bottom was the ornate, handwritten signature of the Saint Cyril Cardinal, alongside the joint seal of the College of Cardinals.

"The fifteenth of next month..." Aurora murmured the date. She looked up, her azure eyes reflecting the flickering candlelight and the profile of Murphy’s stoic face. "That’s not much time. Even with a smooth journey, it would take an ordinary carriage nearly thirty days to reach the Holy City. Besides..."

She trailed off, but Murphy understood.

The Holy City was currently the eye of the storm, the very center of a vortex of shifting power.

This so-called "Grand Coronation" and "Resounding of the Bell" was less a religious ceremony and more a meticulously planned political exhibition—a crucial step for Saint Cyril’s faction to solidify its authority and awe its rivals into submission.

Inviting the Continent’s most powerful figures to gather was a demonstration of strength, but it also carried the veiled threat of forcing everyone to choose a side.