Mittel Manor had arrived.
When the two fierce stone lions, carved from solid black ironstone, came into view, even Nalan Yanran felt a weight settle over her heart.
She had not come today as the Misty Cloud Sect's young sect master, but as a granddaughter seeking a sliver of hope for survival.
The carriage came to a stop. Nalan Ye's face immediately filled with a fawning smile as he personally stepped forward to lift the curtain for her.
"Miss Nalan, what an honor to have you here. I'm sorry we weren't there to welcome you. Please forgive us!"
This chief steward, a man powerful enough to call the winds and summon the rain in the Imperial Capital's business world, now carried himself with utmost deference, even with a hint of barely perceptible ingratiation.
Nalan Yanran paid no heed to his pleasantries.
She stepped down from the carriage and swept her gaze over the luxurious, heavily guarded manor before her. Her chest rose and fell ever so slightly, and with that, she pressed down every tumultuous thought within her.
From the moment she had left Nalan Mansion, she was no longer the girl who had wept helplessly beside her grandfather's sickbed.
She was Nalan Yanran.
She was the personal disciple of Yun Yun, the Misty Cloud Sect's sect master.
She was the most dazzling genius of her generation in the Jia Ma Empire.
Even when asking someone for help, she had to preserve the last vestiges of dignity and honor belonging to her sect and family.
The pallor and weariness faded from her pretty face, replaced by a cool frost. She walked with unhurried grace, her ethereal bearing like that of an immortal who had fallen into the mortal realm. Every step carried an untouchable poise and pride.
Nalan Ye led