As Max continued reading, a look of intrigue crossed his face. One particular notification stood out—a summoning for all 2-star geniuses to gather at the Lecture Hall. An elder would personally guide them on elental comprehension, answering their questions and offering direction based on their elental affinities.
"They guide geniuses on their chosen elents too?" Max muttered, impressed. This system of education and support was far more advanced than he had anticipated. It was no wonder the Great Ruler Empire remained one of the strongest factions in the Middle Domain.
However, his expression shifted slightly as he kept reading. "I missed seven of these classes already..." he muttered, counting the dates. Each class was one per day—and he had been in isolation training for exactly seven days straight.
While he didn’t regret the progress he had made, especially with the Sky Shattering Invincible Sword Art and the Storm King’s Inheritance, he now realized he had unknowingly missed out on so crucial learning opportunities.
Though he didn’t care much about the lecture.
"It’s good that these classes aren’t mandatory," Max muttered under his breath, eyes still on the last notification. While the idea of guidance from an experienced elder sounded useful on the surface, it ultimately didn’t align with what he truly needed.
He knew himself. The teachings here might help others advance their elental understanding, but for soone like him—who had battled against the Storm King, who walked the line between elental dominion and bloodline transcendence—they simply weren’t enough
They couldn’t push him beyond his limits, couldn’t sharpen the razor’s edge he was walking.
Max had always believed that real understanding ca in the midst of chaos—on the battlefield, when everything was at stake or in silent comprehension. And for that, lectures and theories would never compare.
With that thought, he shook his head lightly and put the holowatch to better use. He sent a quick ssage to Lyra, finally following up on the idea they had spoken about before.
She replied almost instantly, her ssage short and clear—she wanted to et. There were people she wanted him to et, geniuses who operated under her faction’s banner.
Max raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. Lyra didn’t seem the type to waste ti with formalities, so this invitation must have weight behind it. "Delight Craven Restaurant..." he read the na aloud as he scrolled to the details she had sent.
It sounded like a fancy place, maybe one where influential figures mingled behind casual atmospheres. He tapped on the address, and a map opened up on his holowatch. A glowing dot blinked just a few streets away. "It’s not far from here," Max noted.
Slipping on his coat, he stepped out of his new 2-star sector house, locking it behind him. The wide, paved pathways of the Great Ruler Empire’s 2-star sector were filled with quiet prestige—well-dressed mbers moving about with focused expressions, each one likely a prodigy in their own right.
But Max paid them no attention as he moved forward, his destination clear, his thoughts steady. Whatever this eting was about, he was ready.
The restaurant wasn’t located outside the Great Ruler Empire but within the heart of the Ruler City itself—a place that, at first glance, looked no different from any other modern tropolis. Wide, clean streets, sky-reaching towers, bustling pedestrian bridges, and glowing neon signage gave the illusion of a regular, high-end city built on wealth and culture.
But those who belonged to the Great Ruler Empire knew better. Beneath the seemingly mundane facade were layers upon layers of hidden formations, protective arrays, and surveillance networks—all intricately interwoven into the architecture and managed by the core chanisms of the Empire itself.
Ruler City was a fortress and a sanctuary disguised as a city. And at its heart stood establishnts like the Delight Craven Restaurant—exclusive, elite, and anything but ordinary.
Max arrived at the location after a few minutes of following his holowatch’s navigation. What stood before him was a majestic nine-storey building, each floor with its own design the and aura.
The lower levels carried a cozy, golden-lit aesthetic, filled with soft music and elegant glass panels reflecting the glowing runes embedded in the walls.
The middle levels were more extravagant, with ornantal balconies, spirit beast statues carved from obsidian, and streams of ethereal water running through transparent ceiling panels.
The top three floors, however, were clearly restricted, veiled by thick layers of elental mist that shimred with shifting colors—proof of strong formations and powerful wards. They exuded an atmosphere of secrecy, strength, and privilege.
The entrance itself was wide and welcoming, attended by smartly dressed receptionists who wore formal robes with glowing silver trim. Their polite smiles masked the fact that each of them was likely a genius in the upper Champion Rank at minimum. Max didn’t hesitate and entering the restaurant.
The mont Max stepped through the shimring glass doors of the Delight Craven Restaurant, his eyes instinctively narrowed in surprise. He had expected a restaurant—an actual place with tables, waiters, and the scent of grilled spirit at or brewing elixirs wafting through the air.
Even the outer poster displayed images of extravagant dishes, rare fruits, and crystal-clear wine glasses—exactly what one would associate with a high-class dining spot. But what lay inside was far from anything Max had imagined.
"It’s definitely not because I’m from the Lower Domain," he muttered to himself with a sigh, already realizing this place operated on a different level entirely. It wasn’t just a restaurant. It was a palace dressed as a dining hall, a social arena where elegance and power mingled under veiled smiles and priceless chandeliers.
The vast reception hall opened up into a grand atrium illuminated by suspended crystals that shifted color with the ti of day, emitting soft auras that changed the atmosphere. Sculptures of divine beasts carved from starlight ore stood proudly at the corners, and ethereal steps led to floating platforms instead of regular elevators.
Each floor above was connected by what appeared to be skybridges, made of translucent energy, pulsing gently beneath the feet of those walking on them. He could even see so young n and won dressed in opulent robes sipping spirit tea as they glided up with the help of levitating platforms escorted by uniford staff.
It wasn’t just the opulence that startled him—it was how the place disguised its purpose. Yes, food was served. But the real function of the Delight Craven Restaurant, as he was beginning to understand, was to act as a eting ground for powerful young elites, noble scions, and faction leaders. Business, deals, political arrangents, marriage talks, inheritances—everything happened here. The food was just the excuse.
And now, Lyra had called him to the very top. The ninth floor.
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